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mixolya · 3 days ago

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ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : chapter 017 !

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, head tilted slightly as you debated your next move.

should you put in effort? do your makeup, wear something decent? or should you just throw on a hoodie and go in your pyjamas?

technically, this was a business arrangement, not a date. just a simple conversation about rules and boundaries. nothing that required anything more than the bare minimum.

and yet ...

with a sigh, you grabbed your concealer and quickly blended it under your eyes. just enough to make yourself look awake. then mascara. a tiny flick of eyeliner. a swipe of tinted lip balm. there. casual but put-together.

for your outfit, you settled on something comfortable but still presentable: bootcut jeans, a long-sleeve, your warm puffer jacket, and a scarf.

once you were satisfied, you checked the time and grabbed your phone and headed out. the crisp air bit at your cheeks as you walked, but the warmth of your scarf and the quiet hum of the city made it a pleasant trip.

when you stepped inside the café, the smell of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon greeted you. you scanned the room, easily spotting sae at a corner table.

he sat by the window, casually scrolling through his phone, dressed in a dark sweater.

your steps slowed when you noticed the two cups on the table in front of him.

you approached with a raised brow. “did you meet someone before?”

sae glanced up at you, then at the cups, before shaking his head. "no. it's for you.”

you blinked. "oh.”

yeah, oh.

you hadn't expected that.

you slid into the seat across from him, eyeing the cappuccino for a moment before saying, “i could’ve gotten it myself, you know.”

"obviously," he looked you in the eye, "but you recommended it so i assumed it's your favorite drink here."

you sighed, wrapping your hands around the cup anyway. it was warm against your fingers, and you hated how thoughtful it was.

"thank you," you said.

you leaned back and exhaled, sae eyeing you.

"so, rules. we need rules."

sae quirked a brow. "rules?"

"yes, rules. it's lowkey a deal, no? i don't want things getting messy."

a flicker of amusement crossed his face, but he nodded. "go on."

"no kissing," you said immediately. "no hand-holding unless absolutely necessary. nothing more than just.. being near each other."

his lips twitched like he was holding back an amused smirk. “okay...”

“you do know couples are supposed to act like they like each other, right?”

"well, some things are fine. just nothing over the top. and if we post about each other, we have to ask first."

sae sipped his drink, eyes never leaving yours. "what else?"

"that's it for now," you said, watching him carefully. "what about you?"

sae leaned back in his seat, fingers lazily tapping against his cup as he regarded you with an unreadable expression. “nothing, really. i'm fine with whatever.”

you blinked, taken aback by how unbothered he seemed. “seriously?”

he shrugged. “yeah. you're the one who seems worried about it.”

“i am not worried,” you scoffed, though the way he was watching you, like he could see right through you, made you shift slightly in your seat.

his lips twitched, this time not bothering to hide his amusement. “right. not worried.”

you huffed, gripping your cup a little tighter. “this is my reputation too, you know. i just don’t want things getting out of control.”

sae tilted his head slightly, his gaze still locked onto yours. “and what would ‘out of control’ look like to you?”

you hesitated. the idea of people actually believing the two of you were in love, of the media twisting stories, of fans picking apart every interaction - it was a lot. but more than that, you weren’t sure you wanted to deal with whatever it meant to be associated with sae itoshi beyond just this agreement.

“just… unnecessary drama,” you settled on, not wanting to over-explain.

he studied you for a moment before nodding. “alright. no unnecessary drama.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you're agreeing too easily again.”

“would you rather i fight you on it?”

“…no.”

“then quit complaining.”

you exhaled sharply, bringing your drink to your lips in an attempt to mask your frustration. this was already exhausting.

sae smirked, clearly entertained by your reaction. “relax. you're making it sound like this is a life-or-death contract.”

“it might as well be,” you muttered.

he chuckled, and the sound was low and brief, but still enough to catch you off guard. you hadn’t expected him to laugh.

you shook your head, pushing past the thought. “fine. since you apparently have no concerns, i'll just assume we’re sticking to my rules.”

“sure,” he said, finishing the last of his coffee. “but i do have one request.”

you tensed slightly, wary. “…what?”

he placed his empty cup down, leaning forward just enough that you could catch the flicker of something in his gaze.

“if we're going to do this, you have to at least pretend to like me.”

you lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

sae tilted his head, watching your reaction with quiet amusement. “think you can handle that, superstar?”

you stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or just messing with you. but sae didn’t waver, his expression calm, expectant. the flicker in his gaze was something you couldn’t quite place, something challenging, like he was daring you to say no.

pretend to like him?

you huffed, setting your cup down a little harder than necessary. “i think i can manage,” you said, lifting your chin slightly. “can you?”

his smirk deepened, like he had been waiting for you to say that. “obviously.”

your eyes narrowed. “you don’t even like people, sae.”

“i like some people,” he countered.

you scoffed. “name one.”

for a second, he just looked at you, something unreadable flickering across his features. but then he leaned back again, casually stretching his arms along the back of the booth. “wouldn't you like to know?”

you rolled your eyes, deciding not to entertain whatever game he was trying to play. “as long as you don’t make it obvious that this is fake, i don’t care what you do.”

sae tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp but still unreadable. “you think people will doubt it?”

you hesitated, because yeah, you did. you and sae itoshi weren’t exactly the type of people the world would naturally put together. even if your name had been linked before, it started because of him saying that you were his celebrity crush. it wasn't supposed to develop into something more.

you were stubborn, fiery, and always said exactly what you meant. sae was… well, sae.

“i think people will find it hard to believe that you’d put up with me,” you admitted.

sae hummed, considering your words. then, with the most irritating smirk, he said, “i think people will find it hard to believe you don’t already have a crush on me.”

you choked on air. “pardon?”

he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “you're the one who insisted on rules. you're the one making this complicated. almost like you don’t trust yourself.”

yozr jaw dropped. “you are insufferable.”

his smirk didn’t fade. “and you’re avoiding the question.”

you glared at him. “for the record, i do not have a crush on you.”

sae's gaze softened just a fraction, but his amusement remained. “sure, superstar.”

you exhaled through your nose, trying not to let him get to you. “are we done here?”

sae glanced at his watch before nodding. “yeah. i'll text you details about the wedding.”

“great,” you muttered, standing up and grabbing your coat. “looking forward to it.”

this was going to be hell.

chapter 016 > here > chapter 018

taglist is open ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

a/n: is anyone good at digital art bc im losing my mind at these graduation shirts my classmates did wtf is this

taglist: @darling-dearesttt @saeslove @yuukiririix @sof888a @beepbopzlorp @luvrrin @narcjsistx @catukin @megumismyhusband @morgyyyyyyy @levihanmyotp @kaz-0e @nensi @vaelils @loverryxx @kunascutie @bbladie @swagkittybear @alexiaray @kaidostwin @black-swan-blog27 @syarc0re @vayahatesu @yangx2isawhore @pinkfqiry @treeguzzler @shumeow-h @modxbea @90s-belladonna @rory-cakes @sapph1r3x @yuiearyi @pctterheadd @thecallofmedusa @whisperofae @belovedfedya @anqelkoz @yukari1k @dontmindtheevie @pookalicious-hq @pan-kojiwa @spookysoowpprince @mivqko @chuuyalvover @viviinpt @h1sllvr @luvvmae @renchai @yourlocaleffy @x3nafix

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sunsetsover · 3 days ago

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i wish i wasn't so exhausted because i want nothing more than to sit here and properly pick apart the inherent but unconventional ways their dom/sub dynamic presents itself between kant and bison. bc it's definitely always been there esp in these last few episodes but in episode 10 it was in everything. everything.

the pool scene was obvious. i already pulled that apart. but it was also in the way kant's reaction to being told off for being distracting during the mission was so different from the way bison reacted when kant told him off - bison basically looks like he's indulging a pouting child, while kant's face drops and he gets all sad looking. and it's in how different their reactions were to the being distracted too, how kant whined about how bison had promised not to distracted while bison firmly tells kant off for even trying.

and it's in how pissed and hurt kant when he finally saw bison in that car park - imo not so much because bison had told him they needed to stay away from each other, but because bison had been sneaking around watching kant when kant had no way of seeing bison or knowing he was alright at all, and that was so unfair to him, because that's not how it was supposed to work between them. they had just found their equilibrium and here bison was knocking it off kilter by giving and receiving while simultaneously withholding kant's ability to give and receive back. and that's not how they were supposed to work.

and it's in how silly kant was. how rambly and cute when he talked about the titanic experiment he saw or when he tried to get bison to reenact the king of the world scene. but also the way kant was just a brat the entire episode - going kinda rogue while on mission and mentioning the narc thing when he knows it pisses bison off and constantly pushing and pushing and pushing bison to find where the line is where bison will stop indulging him and start reprimanding him.

and it's the way bison does reprimand him and how kant listens. and it's in the way kant's eyes got all big and pleading when bison got all pissy and asked him if he wanted another scratch - and dare i say that and the pool scene were the first real little glimpses we see of what kant's like in actual subspace. and it's in the way you see bison notice that and realise kant's reacting positively, and how he reacts to that reaction with clear desire, but also decides to store that info away as opposed to acting on it bc it's not the time or place.

and most of all it's in kant asking bison to teach him to be like him. in kant handing himself over to bison the assassin and going 'use me. please please make use of me. mould me into a weapon you can wield.' and bison refusing to do that. refusing to make a killer of the boy he loves. in bison knowing kant's limit when kant doesn't and not crossing it. of protecting him from himself. but also making use of him anyway. knowing kant well enough to know that that's what he needed. to be used. because being used is being useful, and being useful is what kant has learned will have him kept around. and bc right now they don't have the time or spare energy to start unpicking that knot, bison meets it where it is: he finds uses for kant while also doing everything he possibly can to give kant agency and control: you don't have to do this. i can take it from here. will you help me with one more thing?

i know i've missed so much that i will kick myself for later. i also know this is incoherent. i've got maybe 10 hours of sleep in the past week. but i can't stop thinking about this fucking dynamic. it's so unique and yet so well defined in what it is. and i know the people that don't get that dynamic won't get what i'm trying to point at with this post. and tbh i get it! as obvious as it is there's also something elusive about it! it reminds me of that kaveh akbar quote where he's says trying to describe god is like trying to imagine a bladeless knife with no handle. the more language you try to put to kant and bison's dynamic, the more it recedes from view.

#kantbison #the heart killers #thk meta #i wish i could psychically project what i see into all of your brains. bc sometimes i do feel like im kinda shaking ppl by the shoulders #and going 'you see it too right???? right ?????'#it's literally dynamic of all time to me i don't think anything is ever gonna top this. fkt or otherwise.#it's like everything i've ever wanted but constructed just differently enough that it feels brand new #literally i think abt kantbison i feel like a dog that's having that one spot strached. my legs start kicking and shit

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hamiltonfc · 2 days ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆⭒˚｡⋆ MOTH TO A FLAME; JUDE BELLINGHAM (Chapter One)

➤ Summary: Kaia tells Jude about her new beau, throwing yet another spanner in the works of their already complicated relationship.

➤ Pairing: Jude Bellingham x F!OC

➤ Warnings: Swearing, Food mention.

➤ Discussion tag: #my works: moth to a flame (if you ever have any questions about the story, release schedule, etc. my inbox is always open.)

➤ Word Count: 2,254

TAGLIST | SERIES PLAYLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Kaia’s POV

The dial tone wasn’t unfamiliar when it came to my relationship with Jude. Over the past few years, phone calls between us have been the main way of communicating with my best friend. With him away in either Germany or Spain, or with myself at my home in Surrey, or away on a film set somewhere, phone calls or long text threads were the best I could get.

But this call was different. Jude was finally back home in England. Not for long, just for a week or so during the winter break in the Spanish season. It just so happened that I had made the journey up from Surrey to be home with my family for Christmas, so it was only a matter of time before I picked up my phone, ready to call him.

“Hello?” I heard at the other end of the line when Jude picked up. “Who’s this? The number kinda looked like this girl who last spoke to me about three weeks ago, but, you know, I could be mistaken.”

“Jude,” I say, deadpan. “I swear to God, the day you answer a phone call in a somewhat normal way, that’s when I’ll know the aliens have invaded.”

“I find offence in the fact that’s not the first time you’ve referred to aliens when talking about me,” his smirk was obvious through the way he spoke, it’s not like I’d never heard him speak that way before. “Anyway, stranger, what’s up? Miss my pretty face?”

“Always. But no, I need you to come over,” I stand up from where I was lying on my bed and walk over to my desk, taking a seat on the chair in front of it.

“You need me to, huh? You should’ve said, Baby, I’d have been over already.”

“Jesus,” I pinch the bridge of my nose, slumping further back into the chair in feigned annoyance.

“My name’s Jude, actually, but close enough.”

“Please, Jude. I need to tell you something,” I twist my body, swinging the desk chair side to side a little, nerves creeping up to my heart, which is pounding in my chest.

“God, I love it when you beg,” Jude whispers, voice a little more serious than it had been before. “Sorry, uhm, I’ll be over in ten. See you soon, Darling.”

****

*knock knock knock*

“FBI, open up!” Jude yells, in the worst American accent I might’ve ever heard (and I’ve been an actor my whole life so I’ve heard some terrible ones), from the other side of my door. He swings the door open, and his beaming face is the first thing I see when he’s revealed.

I furrow my brows, staring at him with a disappointed look on my face for a few seconds. “Remind me, Jude, why the fuck are we friends?”

Jude places his hand against his chest, mouth open in fake, way too dramatic, offence. “Because we love each other, duh? Did you like it, though? It’s like that show you like, Criminal Brains or whatever it’s called.” He throws himself onto the bed beside me, landing on his stomach, before pushing up onto his forearms, leaning in towards me with only one thing on his mind.

“No,” I whisper, my hand gently placed on his collarbone as I push him back. “I need to talk to you first.”

“Oh,” Jude says with a nod. He grabs one of the many pillows on my bed and tucks it under his head, getting into a more comfortable position so he can look at me properly. Before Jude speaks, I see a look pass across his face, one that I can read instantly. “It’s serious enough that you don’t want to kiss me? Okay,” he drags out the vowels, chocolate brown eyes landing on mine, and at that moment I can do nothing but stare into them.

My eyes flutter away from his, too scared to look at him during what I’m about to tell him, the weight of his gaze upon me enough to knock my mind off balance.

“We can’t do this anymore,” I say softly, lips barely moving, but they fall loud and clear upon Jude’s ears.

“We can’t do what anymore?” He knows. I knew he’d know what I would tell him when I refused to kiss him. But that’s what Jude is like, he is always going to give me space to tell him in my own time. He knows that’s how I want this to go.

“Whatever we’ve been doing for the past however many years,” it’s then when I look at him, the image of his face etched into my brain of what I imagined he looked like in the moment, and I wasn’t wrong.

Jude shakes his head, breaking eye contact, his jaw tight, before looking right back at me. “Why?”

“I have a boyfriend.” Silence washes over the room. Only sounds of our breathing can be heard and the ruffling of the bedding when I shift my body towards Jude. “We, uhm, we met on set a few months back and we hit it off, so… yeah. We’re now together.”

I give Jude a tight-lipped smile. He nods slowly in response, eyes wandering around my room. “I’m happy for you.” There it is. Four simple words, but they’re exactly what I expected him to say. He is so predictable.

“So,” Jude slaps his thighs as he moves to sit up, almost falling backwards due to the lack of support from the mattress underneath him, but his strong core just about manages to complete the manoeuvre. “What’s your mom cooking?”

“A roast, but ab-”

“A roast? Oh, get in, I fucking love your mom’s roasts. Don’t tell my mom but, if I’m being completely honest, I prefer your mom’s Yorkshire puddings,” he smiles, but I can tell in the way he’s moving, his body language, the way his eyes can’t hold contact with mine for longer than three seconds, that he’s trying to distract himself from everything that’s going through his mind. “Mine does do better roast potatoes, though. They’re crispier.”

“Jude,” I say sharply, placing a hand on his thigh in an attempt to bring him back to reality a little, as I stare at his heaving chest. “Slow the fuck down, yeah?” My stare is wide and long as my hand moves up and down his thigh, the only thing separating our skin are his grey sweatpants. “Take a breath, next time.”

He nods, his hand instinctually moving to grasp mine, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go, knowing that if he held on any longer he wouldn’t want to let go at all. “Quick question,” his eyes meet mine. “Why are we having a roast when you’re coming round mine for Christmas dinner in three days?”

I shrug. “Think of it as a pre-roast. You know how my mum gets when she’s not hosting, she can’t sit still to save her life, the roast dinner is just a product of that.”

“Cool,” Jude nods. “Two roast dinners in a week is a lot better than all the nutritional shit I have to eat throughout the season, anyway.”

I let out a quiet laugh, pulling my hand out from underneath his. “Anyway,” I take a deep breath. “As I was trying to say, about the dinner, Noah, my boyfriend, is coming over to eat with us.”

“Okay,” Jude’s voice fades out as he says, a confused look on his face.

“I mean,” I tell him. “It’s up to you, you can stay and meet him if you want, I don’t mind. Like I understand if you don’t want to, but, like I said, it’s completely up to you.”

Jude scoffs. “And like I said, I want that roast dinner. Of course, I’m staying.”

“Right then, I get up from my bed, stretching and letting out a yawn, catching Jude looking at the sliver of my belly that appears when I raise my hands over my head. “We best get downstairs and set the table, because we both know that sister of mine won’t have done it.”

****

“You do know you have legs, right?” I say to my fifteen-year-old sister, Olivia, as soon as I enter the dining room only to find that the table hadn’t already been set like I had previously hoped.

My sister only lets out a grunt and shrugs at my words.

“You alright, Liv?” Jude grabs the coasters, placing one in front of each chair, making sure to count one extra than usual for Noah.

Olivia gives Jude the same grunt as the one that she gave me.

“Remember when we were like that?” I nudge Jude with my elbow, setting up everyone’s cutlery.

“What, when we hated everyone and everything that wasn’t on our phones? Yeah, that was rough,” a reminiscent look passes across Jude’s face before I slap him in the tummy with the placemats.

“Come on, slacker, you going to put them down before I whack you round the head with them, or what?” I giggle, making my way into the kitchen to see if my mum needs any help.

I see Jude smile at me over my shoulder as he watches me walk away. “You alright, Mum? Need help with anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks, Love. You go and sit down, I’ll bring the food through in a bit,” she flashes a smile at me before opening the oven up, and checking on the beef and potatoes.

I turn on my heel, walking back into the dining room when my little brother appears at the doorway. “Judey!” he yells as soon as he spots my best friend.

My youngest sibling, Leo, runs at Jude, causing him to stop everything he’s doing before he leans down to pick up the little boy.

“Hello, little man, how are you doing?” Jude squeezes him as tight as he can. In the time that Jude and Leo had known each other, which was the entirety of Leo’s seven years on the planet, they had built up an amazing relationship. Leo considered Jude to be one of his best friends and even went as far as saying that Jude loved him more than me. If he only knew.

“I’m not too good,” I watch as Leo pouts up at Jude after he’s placed him back on the ground.

“Why not, Kid?” Jude’s brows furrow, continuing his work setting the table while also giving the small boy as much attention as he can.

“I’ve been doing my homework all day because Mummy said I had to and if I didn’t I wouldn’t be able to play Roblox later.”

“Well, we can’t be having that, can we?” Jude smiles when Leo shakes his head and lets out a heavy sigh. “So, did you get it all done?”

“I did,” Leo nods, a proud smile on his face.

“Good kid,” Jude ruffles his hair before he spots me, leaning against the doorframe, watching their interaction.

“Go and take a seat, Leo,” soft thuds against the floor can be heard as he runs to his chair next to his older sister. “Mum says dinner will be ready soon.”

I sit down in my usual spot, with Jude going to take the seat right next to me before changing his mind and walking around the table to sit in the seat directly across from me instead.

Jude and I engage in barely thirty seconds of conversation before it’s broken up by the sound of the doorbell ringing. I feel my expression change immediately, to one full of nerves. Jude notices that immediately, watching me in anticipation as I get up from my seat.

“That’ll be him,” I say, leaving no room for Jude to reply because I’m out of the room in seconds, making my way towards the door.

“Hey, Babe,” Noah says in his thick American accent as soon as I open the door.

I move to the side, signalling for him to come in. “Hi,” I say, my words a lot more muted than the bubbly voice that he’s used to.

Noah shrugs his coat off as he steps inside and I grab it from him, turning to hang it on one of the hooks beside the door. He leans down, pressing a quick kiss on my lips. “You okay?” His brows furrow together as he analyses my face.

“Yeah,” I nod, smiling up at him. “There’s someone here I’d like you to meet,” I tell him, leading him into the dining room after about a minute of being gone.

As soon as Noah and I enter the room, I notice Jude look Noah up and down the moment his eyes land on him. He takes in his outfit, his tanned skin and his blonde hair. I can practically see the moment where he acknowledges that he’s not my type, no that that matters, he doesn’t know my type to be anything other than himself.

“Noah,” I turn to him, a slight smile on my face. “You’ve already met my brother and sister,” I can feel Jude watching me as I point at the kids beside him. I can also see his face change slightly, most likely to show his disdain at the fact that I let Noah into my house before ever telling him about our relationship. “And this,” My gaze falls upon Jude, prompting Noah to look at him for the first time this evening. “Is Jude. My best friend.”

Taglist: @eunoiasgoal @4evermyownmuse

If you would like to support my work make sure to like and reblog this post, and if you're able, consider buying me a pastry! (I also take writing commissions if anyone would like one).

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham fanfic #jb5 #jude bellingham x oc #jude victor william bellingham #hamiltonfc.writes #my works: moth to a flame

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thislovintime · 3 days ago

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Audio from Connecticut Public Radio, April 25, 2013.

“‘My parents were only-child type adults and their attitude when I was a baby and demanded attention, was, ‘Let him cry, he’ll get over it.’ As a result I’ve always felt a slightly abnormal need for extra affection. Until I was twenty, my life was overwhelmed by the pressures of discipline. The informality of The Monkees and the popularly of the show satisfies me.” - Peter Tork, interviewed by Lou Larkin for Photoplay, September 1967 “I had pathological self value. I really didn’t have a sense of it at all. I didn’t get why. I thought I had been picked almost at random. I didn’t have any sense of myself bringing anything except that character to the Monkees. What I thought they hired me for was that character, and I think to this day that that had a lot to do with it. I didn’t recognize how that sprung forth from whom who I really am. I thought I was faking them out. I thought I was handing them a lie and they were buying the lie — and so how could I value myself? Any time you compliment somebody and they can’t take the compliment, what they’re saying to you is, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ That’s the message that anybody with low self-esteem gives back when somebody compliments them. Which is where I was. All that played into this fame thing. And it plays backwards, too. The reason that I got into the fame game was because I didn’t have any sense of value. I thought, ‘Jeez, if I can get the millions to love me then I’ll be all right.’ I got the millions to love me — and it still wasn’t all right. What a surprise. Ha, ha, ha.” - Peter Tork, Toxic Fame: Celebrities Speak on Stardom (1996) Audio transcript: “No, no, no, I wanted to lose myself (chuckles), it was all about, bye-bye, I didn’t like the guy I was. I… the whole thing about—…do you want to talk about fame and why fame and charisma and why those things? Because I’ve been thinking about this stuff for a long time and we can get, it’ll get kind of serious if we do. The long and the short of it is that I don’t believe that anybody gets to be famous without needing the adulation as a substitute for reasonable affection and love in the early on. And of course you need, you need a certain amount of support anyway, you need parents who are—who provide healthy, physically healthy, and aren’t there for you at some—or at least you perceive them to be. I have to say, I don’t know whether my parents were emotionally neglectful; I know that I felt neglected. It may not be on them at all, it may just be a, you know, a quirk of nature. I’m discovering that I’m not built like a lot of other people In a lot of ways, but be that as it may, the sense of being isolated leads me to think that if I can only get the millions to love me then it’ll be all right, you know. And of course no amount of times that I tell you, or how many, how I go about telling you what it was like would prepare you to walk out and suddenly be in the middle of that. But in fact the rest of it is… I mean, it’s all human anyway. Nothing human is denied anybody human, basically; I really believe this very strongly.” - Peter Tork, Connecticut Public Radio, April 25, 2013

#Peter Tork #Tork quotes #60s Tork #00s Tork #10s Tork #The Monkees #Monkees #long read #can you queue it

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nightwingsgypsyrep · 3 hours ago

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So I definitely feel like I will be adding to this post quite a bit, and this first addition is coming after @jjohnnyutah’s fantastic reply, which kinda summarised the history a bit more.

As I said earlier, I was really umming and aahing about making this post, because I’m still new to a lot of the comics, so this was really inspired by what I have been able to get my hands on (literally… I started out borrowing my friend’s comics last year) whilst I’m slowly making my way through what’s available online. As it is, you can probably see that I was able to read more of the modern stuff than the older stuff so far. I didn’t really want to make a post until I had read more but hey I’m adhd as hell and intended to just make a small one in reply to the tags and it spiralled from there. I did try to find some info of what I missed online but apparently that left out a lot! So this post is gonna have constant updates of me doing a DC and retconning stuff as I learn more.

So, anyway, jjohnnyutah’s reply addressed a couple of things. Firstly was Mary’s origin as a dental hygienist, rather than being from the circus herself originally. Can’t lie, I actually love this for her. Is it super unusual from a how-gypsies-work perspective? Sure. But like I say, a lot of my cousins are Diddakois, and I kinda love the idea of Mary coming into the fold, when just as often, the gypsy partner ends up leaving it. Of course, there’s nothing to say for sure that Mary did not have Romani ancestry (like I say, in the N52 modern stuff, she was friends with other Romani characters, so she wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the Romani sphere) - I, myself, am a gypsy with a degree, so it’s not exactly like getting a different job cancels your Gypsy Card. Although I do really love the idea of Mary being a gypsy and working as a dentist for the simple reason that, although attitudes to education have greatly improved in recent years, my family would have lost their shit if I got my degree twenty years ago, as it would have been seen as ruining my prospects. So from a feminist perspective, I really love the idea of Mary having at least some Romani heritage too.

The other is Dick not knowing much about his heritage and wanting to learn more, and let me tell you, I feel that. Even growing up surrounded by it, my dad’s side of the family never told me anything. I didn’t even get confirmation of how many siblings my grandmother had until she died. My mum’s side was much more forthcoming. Like I say, I’ve had a lot less opportunity to read the (let’s face it) better older stuff so seeing what I have of it, it seemed more of a given that Dick knew something. The reason for this presumption was mostly of how much Romani he’s seen to know even early on?? As I’ve said on previous posts, in the modern day, Romani is a lot less complete for actual use, so how much he knows is impressive. But yeah, this has just made me so much more excited to continue reading. But at the same time, fully expect another post from me six months from now when I’m more caught up calling myself an idiot. Ta x

Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

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sparklespirit · 2 days ago

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Just finished Heavenly Tyrant by Xiran Jay Zhou and it was incredible, have many thoughts on Qin Zheng that I must share. Spoilers below the cut (major ones are marked but the post has lots of spoilers so read with caution if you want to avoid)

Ok so he’s such a compelling character. He’s human and idealistic and ruthless and terrifying. He demands to be taken seriously. However I also think that on a conceptual level he is simply so funny. None of these moments are humorous in context but like. You will understand what I mean

featuring such hits as

“No I wasn’t being sexist, I was just literally dying and did Not wanna move thanks very much”

Being so incredibly disappointed that society is somehow more sexist and capitalistic than in his day 200 years ago. Like “aren’t you people better than this? No? You’re gonna get less sexist real fast or I’ll sic my wife on you. The capitalism I will solve myself using her ex-boyfriend’s underground crime networks”

his coronation speech was literally “in my capacity as the legendary god-emperor who founded your country, which I have done through my control of a massive fuck off dragon robot that can and will turbo-murder you, I declare that we WILL be having a communist Revolution whether you like it or not. All power to the people but no I will not resign my position or give up control of my bigass mecha thanks very much”

he simply will Not Think About how his new empress has been married before, kinda. And also her other boyfriend is now his head advisor which isn’t awkward at all, and no he’s not insecure but also anyone to copilot with Zetian had better be a eunuch for Perfectly Reasonable Reasons That Have Nothing To Do With Insecurity

Canonically does not understand dick jokes

he’s the only main character that hasn’t murdered his family so you would think he might be more hinged, and yet is responsible for the massive reign of terror, and is somehow even less hinged than Wu Zetian who has to be the reasonable one (and that is. Saying Something given that Wu Zetian in the last book was the angriest most ruthless character I’ve ever read and now she has to be the comparatively hinged one??)

worryingly literal about “no gods no masters”

and, crucially, the funniest one in my humble opinion:

Less than zero understanding of consent and bodily autonomy UNLESS AND UNTIL he’s actively fucking. Like man learned exactly One Lesson on consent but dude, making sure you have a safeword does not make up for the whole [MASSIVE SPOILER] nonconsensual egg harvesting and foot reconstruction and all that shit! [END SPOILER] Genuinely it’s hilarious to me that he is responsible about getting consent but ONLY about the sex shit and NOTHING ELSE which is arguably the more important shit (especially the you know, less-fake-than-agreed-upon pregnancy, which uh. Should definitely be a joint decision!!)

anyway this book was an experience and I will probably turn around and reread it before I need to return it to the library because I just KNOW theres things I’m not getting because I just wanted to Know What Happened

[HUGE SPOILER FOR END OF THE BOOK] and also the end of the book was just the meme of two astronauts looking at earth with Qin Zheng going “wait it’s all capitalism?” And the Heavenly Court going “always has been” which I will probably make at some point that is not 4am!

#Iron widow #heavenly tyrant #heavenly tyrant spoilers #xiran jay zhao #iron widow spoilers #<- this whole post assumes you’ve read the first book so yeah spoilers for that I guess #qin zheng #Wu Zetian #I have more thoughts on this book but it is four a m and I need rest so they will wait

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companionjones · 13 hours ago

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Days, Weeks, Months, Years (9/10)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Fandoms: MCU, Marvel

Warnings: Coma, Cursing, Implied almost self harm

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10

*******

In the days you were gone, I mean physically there but mentally gone, the compound was at a standstill.

The only person who didn't understand it all was Valentina. She had expected to be interrogated and grilled. Maybe even tortured or maimed by Bucky or someone, but she was just locked in a room and fed three times a day. It was like she was already in prison. Which didn't make sense to her because no one knew why she did it.

****

The Avengers took shifts being in that room with you, but Bucky never left. He slept with his head on your bed and his hand holding yours. Sometimes, he was convinced to eat, but after a certain point, it was to keep himself from passing out during the day.

The Avengers took shifts being in that room with you, but Bucky was also given some time alone with you. When it was just you and him, Bucky would pray like he never had before, which he hadn't, not since the 40s, anyway. Bucky would talk to you, too.

"...Everyone...Everyone always talks to people when they're in your position. But...I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, doll...Not just for not being able to s-save you, but for...for not being able to be with you...Really with you. Like you deserve.

"When you first got here, I knew I was in trouble. You were everything. Smart, beautiful, badass, sexy; I barely knew what to do with myself around you. So, I did what I always do. I shut down completely, and I waited for you to go away.

"But you never did. Wherever I went, you were always there at my side. At first, I found it annoying because I could never be at ease around you, but soon, that all went away. Soon, you were you and I was me and there was nothing that could keep us apart. And...that scared me.

"Then, that first night happened. We were alone, watching that cheesy movie you love, and I...I couldn't help myself. God, that night was perfect. You were perfect. I mean, you're always perfect--But I'm getting ahead of myself.

"Despite how amazing everything was that night, I don't remember being more scared than that morning after--excluding the past few days, of course.

"I woke up that morning, I looked at you, you were still asleep, and all I could think about was fucking this up--fucking you up.

"God, I am such an idiot. I preach about how much I don't want to hurt you, yet that's what I've been doing all this time. God, why can't I just get my shit together--" Bucky's hands were shaking as he flexed them in front of his face. It looked like he was going to hit something, maybe himself.

"Stop." Your voice, barely audible, told him. You gently touched his hand that was closest to you, your weak a hand a stark contrast to his strong one.

Bucky gasped when he heard your voice and felt you touch him. "Y/n?" He wondered if you were really there.

He saw your eyes barely open to look at him.

"Hey," he softly greeted, took a big breath, then repeated, even softer, "Hey." Bucky adjusted himself accordingly to get closer to you.

The smallest of smiles appeared on your face. "Missed you."

Bucky let you take his face into your hand. He whispered, "Missed you, too."

*******

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it! I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

*******

Tag List: @sidraaaaaaaaa // @dontworryboutitsweetheartxx-blog // @mayusenpai666 // @onceithough // @greatenthusiasttidalwave // @shadowzena43 // @ampersam // @sebastians-love // @cjand10 // @silentwhisper666 // @superaveng // @vicmc624 // @ltsaradharkness

#bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #companion jones #days weeks months years #dwmy

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s4svnn · 22 hours ago

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Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Thirty One

Jungkook leaned back in his leather chair, one hand gripping the phone to his ear while the other drummed impatiently against the dark mahogany desk. His office was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, where the city stretched out in endless golden streaks against the night.

His jaw was tight, his voice low and steady. “I need you to do a job for me.”

A pause.

The voice on the other end was smooth but skeptical. “Didn’t think you’d be calling me of all people. You sure about this?”

Jungkook’s grip on the phone tightened. “Find out whatever you can about Aylah Jace Banks.”

There was a brief silence. Then, a low chuckle. “A name. That’s all you’re giving me?”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, his patience thinning. “I don’t have much else. But you’re good at what you do, aren’t you?”

A rustling noise came through the line, followed by the faint sound of keys clacking against a keyboard. “Alright, alright. I’ll bite. You want a standard background check or… something deeper?”

Jungkook hesitated for half a second. Then— “Everything. Where she is, who she’s with, what she’s doing. I don’t care how long it takes, just get me answers.”

A low whistle. “Must be one hell of a girl.”

Jungkook’s jaw flexed. He didn’t answer.

The man on the phone didn’t push. “Alright, I’ll see what I can dig up. Might take a few days, might take longer. Depends on how easy she is to track.”

Jungkook’s fingers tapped against the desk, his mind already racing through the possibilities. “Just let me know the second you find something.”

“Fine, fine. But let me ask you something first.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “What?”

A pause. Then, the man’s voice dropped into something almost amused. “What exactly are you hoping to find?”

Jungkook clenched his teeth, the answer sitting heavy in his chest.

That she’s okay.That she doesn’t hate me.That she’s still mine, even if she never was to begin with.

Instead, he simply said, “Just do the job.”

The man chuckled again. “Whatever you say, champ.”

Aylah’s POV:

I swirled my straw absently in my caramel frappuccino, watching the golden-brown liquid mix with the melted ice as my mind drifted back to yesterday.

The way Adam had reacted. The way he had towered over me in the storage room, his arms caging me in, his voice laced with barely contained irritation. His eyes—dark, unreadable, but holding something underneath. Something I couldn’t quite place.

I sighed, taking another slow sip of my drink. What the hell is his problem? One minute, he was acting like I didn’t exist, and the next, he was catching falling boxes and getting all up in my space like—

“BOO!”

“OH MY GOD!” My entire body jolted as I nearly spilled my drink, clutching my chest as my heart tried to recover from the near heart attack.

Cyrus burst into laughter, doubling over at my reaction. “Damn, AJ, I didn’t think you’d jump that hard. Didn’t realize you were so deep in thought.”

I exhaled sharply, placing my cup down before I actually dropped it. “Jesus, Cyrus! I swear, one of these days, you’re gonna be the reason I go into cardiac arrest.”

He smirked, plopping into the seat across from me. “Sorry, girl, but you were looking way too serious. What’s got you all spaced out?”

“Nothing,” I muttered quickly, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”

Cyrus gave me a look like he knew I was lying, but to my relief, he didn’t push it. Instead, his lips curled into a grin, his entire demeanor shifting as he clapped his hands together excitedly.

“Anyway, forget all that! It’s Bank Holiday, which means—” He stretched out the words dramatically. “—we can close up early.”

My head snapped up so fast I probably gave myself whiplash. “Wait, really?” It was like life suddenly flooded back into my body.

“Yep,” he confirmed, looking way too smug at my enthusiasm. “So, how ‘bout me, you, Serena, and Leah hit up that pizza place in Central? You know the one.”

I let out a groan, pressing my hands together in mock prayer. “Oh my God, yes. I’d kill for pizza right now.”

Just as I was about to start fantasizing about all the cheese and carbs I was about to inhale, the café door swung open, and Leah and Serena strolled in, looking suspiciously guilty.

“Guys,” Leah started, her tone careful. “We… may have a slight change of plans.”

Cyrus narrowed his eyes. “What? Why?”

Leah winced, rubbing the back of her neck. “Soooo… I may have mentioned to Adam what our plans were.”

My stomach immediately twisted.

Cyrus blinked. “Okay… and?”

Leah let out a slow breath. “Aaaand… he’s kinda coming with us.”

The entire café went silent. Even the coffee machine seemed to stop making noise.

Cyrus leaned forward. “Wait. He agreed?”

Serena nodded, eyes still wide like she couldn’t believe it herself. “Yeah, I was literally listening to their conversation, and I was shocked when he said yes. He always turns us down when we ask him to hang out.”

Leah groaned. “That’s why I asked! I didn’t want to be rude and not invite him, but I wasn’t expecting him to actually say yes.”

Serena suddenly grinned, nudging my shoulder. “Maybe it had something to do with little miss over here.”

My mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

Cyrus wiggled his eyebrows. “I mean, think about it. He’s never hung out with us outside of work before, and now—suddenly, after your little run-in with him today—he magically decides to come?”

I crossed my arms, scowling. “That’s ridiculous.”

Serena smirked. “Is it?”

“Yes!” I said firmly. “Adam doesn’t even like me.”

Leah hummed, tapping her chin. “Mmm… Are we sure about that?”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Guys, seriously. He’s coming because he wants pizza, not because of me.”

Cyrus grinned. “Suuure, AJ. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

I grabbed my frappuccino and took a very aggressive sip. “I hate you all.”

They burst into laughter.

Before I could argue any further, the door chimed again. We all turned at the same time—

And there he was.

Adam was dressed in a black hoodie and dark jeans, his usual cap pulled low over his eyes, his sharp jawline illuminated by the café lights. He stepped inside quietly, his gaze sweeping over the four of us before locking onto me.

My breath hitched.

His stare was unreadable. Not necessarily hostile, but… intense. As if he was trying to figure me out, trying to understand something about me that even I didn’t know.

I swallowed. What is with this guy?

Leah cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. “Uh, hey, Adam. Ready to go?”

Adam tore his gaze away from me, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah.”

Cyrus leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Girl, I felt that in my coochie, and I ain’t even got one.”

I shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

He smirked but didn’t push it further.

Leah clapped her hands together. “Alright then, let’s go get some damn pizza.”

The cool evening air wrapped around us as we stepped out of the café, the sky painted in deep shades of purple and navy as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The streets were still buzzing with life—cars honking, groups of friends laughing as they passed by, and the scent of street food wafting from nearby vendors.

Cyrus jingled his car keys in his hand as he led the way, grinning like he was up to something. Leah walked beside him, scrolling through her phone, while Serena and I trailed just behind them. Adam, as usual, was silent, walking slightly apart from the group with his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.

I tried not to think about the fact that he was right next to me. Tried being the keyword.

“So, what car are we taking?” I asked, mostly to fill the silence.

“Mine,” Cyrus answered over his shoulder. “Biggest one out of all of us.”

Leah smirked. “And you just love driving us around, don’t you?”

Cyrus scoffed. “Please. You peasants should be grateful you get to experience my excellent driving skills for free.”

Serena snorted. “Oh yeah? Tell that to the parking ticket you got last week.”

“That was a setup,” he argued. “The parking sign was misleading, and I refuse to take responsibility.”

Leah shook her head, laughing. But then, her eyes flicked to Cyrus, and her expression shifted slightly—mischief flashing behind her gaze.

Cyrus slowed his pace, letting the distance between us and them grow just enough before he leaned toward Leah and whispered, “I’ve got a plan.”

Leah arched a brow. “Oh? Do tell.”

A devilish grin spread across Cyrus’s face. “So, you know how I have two boxes of weights on my back seat? The ones I use to work out at home?”

Leah nodded slowly, catching on. “Yeah…?”

“Well, I conveniently forgot to take them out, and there’s no space in the boot.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Which means our dear AJ is gonna have to sit on Adam’s lap.”

Leah gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Cyrus. I love the way you think, my friend.”

They shared a sneaky high-five behind us, completely unnoticed by Serena, Adam, and me.

As we continued walking toward the car, completely oblivious to the scheme unfolding behind us, I let out a content sigh, stretching my arms. “Man, I can already taste that pizza.”

“Right?” Serena chimed in. “I’m getting extra cheese on mine.”

Adam, as expected, didn’t say anything. But I could feel his presence beside me, a silent but undeniable weight in the atmosphere.

Leah and Cyrus, on the other hand, were grinning like two kids who just got away with something very bad.

As we finally reached Cyrus’ car, he suddenly gasped dramatically, throwing a hand to his forehead like he had just remembered something crucial. “Oh no,” he said, voice laced with faux distress.

I blinked at him, confused. “What? Oh no what?”

“My weights!” He motioned toward the car like it was some tragic scene. “I completely forgot I had them in the back seat.”

I frowned. “Weights? What weights?”

Cyrus sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I work out at home, obviously,” he said, flexing his arms for emphasis. “And I bought some new ones yesterday, but I completely forgot to take them out.”

Adam, who had been mostly quiet the entire time, finally spoke. His deep, calm voice cut through Cyrus’ theatrics. “Why don’t you just move them to the boot?”

Leah perked up immediately, jumping in right on cue. “Ohhh, yeah, about that…” She winced, rubbing the back of her neck. “I may have borrowed Cyrus’ car a few days ago and may have forgotten to take out my shopping bags. Sooo… the boot is kind of full.”

I glanced between them, something about this situation feeling oddly off, but I wasn’t sure what exactly. “So… what are we gonna do? There are five of us and only four available seats.”

Leah smirked, and I swore I saw something mischievous flash in her eyes before she spoke. “Well, Cyrus is driving, obviously. And I’m a passenger princess so that seat is mine.”

I turned to Serena, already knowing what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.

“Yeah, no way am I squeezing in the back with someone,” she said, shaking her head. “I get motion sickness way too easily so I need my own seat.”

Which left—

My stomach dropped.

Leah’s smirk grew wider. “Sooo that leaves you and Adam.”

Before I could even begin to protest, Cyrus clapped his hands together like it was the most obvious solution in the world. “AJ, you can just sit on Adam’s lap.”

I swear my entire body combusted on the spot.

“What— no, absolutely not—”

Before I could finish, a low, impatient voice cut me off.

“Fine. Get in the car.”

I turned to Adam so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. He was standing there, looking completely unfazed, scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t just agreed to this situation with zero hesitation.

Behind me, Leah, Cyrus, and Serena squealed excitedly, but the moment I turned my head, they immediately coughed and looked away, trying (and failing) to contain their delight.

I was so going to kill them for this.

But, at this point, what choice did I have? Everyone was already climbing into the car, and I’d look even weirder if I kept standing there, refusing to move.

Taking a deep breath, I reluctantly opened the back door. Adam was already seated, legs spread slightly as he leaned back, one arm draped over the headrest as he scrolled through his phone. He didn’t even look at me.

I hesitated, shifting my weight between my feet as I stared at him from outside the car.

That’s when Adam finally glanced up, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

“You getting in or what?” His tone was even, unreadable.

“O-oh, yeah, yeah, I am,” I stammered, feeling beyond awkward.

Gripping Leah’s seat for support, I carefully climbed into the car, lowering myself onto Adam’s lap with extreme caution. I tried to leave as much space as humanly possible between my back and his chest, my entire body rigid with tension.

Well, that was until Adam suddenly grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back flush against him.

My breath hitched.

“Sit properly,” he murmured against my ear, his voice low and firm. “Or you’re going flying forward when he brakes.”

I swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “O-okay.”

I tried to ignore the warmth of his tattooed hand resting around my waist, the heat of his body pressed against mine, the way his scent—something dark and woody—wrapped around me like an embrace.

In front of me, Leah and Cyrus exchanged triumphant smirks.

I had just fallen perfectly into their trap.

Jungkook’s POV:

Jungkook sat in his office, the dim glow from his desk lamp casting shadows across his features. He exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the cool surface of his desk as his phone buzzed beneath his palm. His patience was wearing thin.

He had given it two hours. That was already more waiting than he was used to.

Without hesitation, he picked up his phone and dialed the number, pressing it to his ear. The call barely rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

“Yo.”

Jungkook didn’t bother with greetings. “Did you find anything?”

A dry chuckle came through the line. “Bro, you called me two hours ago. I told you it would take a few days to get all the information you wanted.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw. Days? He didn’t have days.

“I’ll pay you triple,” he said flatly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Make it quick.”

Silence.

Then, the unmistakable sound of the guy sucking his teeth, clearly irritated. But Jungkook knew money talked, and sure enough—

“Well,” the guy sighed, his tone shifting. “She’s in South London. Works at some café.” There was a brief pause before he added, almost amused, “So far, that’s all I’ve got.”

Jungkook sat up straighter, his grip tightening around his phone. His brain latched onto two word.

South London.

His pulse quickened as he processed the information, but he kept his voice calm, steady. “Send me her address.”

The guy let out a low chuckle. “Damn. Not even a ‘thank you��? Thought you’d want more details. Like, I don’t know, what she’s been up to, who she’s hanging around, maybe even why she left—”

“You can find all that out and tell me later,” Jungkook interrupted, his patience wearing thinner by the second. “Just send me her address. Now.”

The line was quiet for a moment before the guy finally sighed. “Whatever you say, man. Sending it through right now.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzed almost instantly. He pulled it away from his ear just in time to see a notification pop up on his screen—an address in London.

His lips curled slightly.

Found you.

Before he could hang up, a thought gnawed at him. He brought the phone back to his ear.

“How’d you even find her?”

The guy snorted. “Man, it was easy. To be honest, you could’ve found her yourself.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

The guy let out an exasperated chuckle. “That iPad you gave her? It’s still logged into your Apple ID. You could’ve tracked her using the Find My app.”

Jungkook froze.

Then, realization slammed into him like a punch to the gut.

Fuck.

How had he forgotten about that? The iPad—he had given it to her back when—

His jaw tightened. He shoved the memory away before it could drag him under.

Doesn’t matter. He knew where she was now. That was all that mattered.

“Right. Got it,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah,” the guy drawled lazily. “Anything else?”

Jungkook inhaled deeply, running a hand through his curls. “No. That’s all.”

“Alright, man. I’ll keep digging. You’ll hear from me soon.”

Jungkook ended the call without another word and tossed his phone onto the desk, staring at the address glowing on the screen.

He leaned back in his chair, letting the information settle. The city that had swallowed her up, kept her hidden from him all this time—he was finally about to break through.His fingers tightened around his car keys, the cool metal pressing against his palm.

He didn’t know why he felt this rush of adrenaline. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find when he saw her again. All he knew was that he had to see her again.

A smirk ghosted across his lips as he pushed himself up from his chair.

"London, here I come."

Aylah’s POV:

The heat in the car was stifling, the kind that pressed down on your chest and made every breath feel a little too shallow. It was more than just the summer warmth, though; it was the overwhelming sensation of being so close to Adam. His hand was still on my waist, a firm, constant presence that sent a strange fluttering sensation spiraling in my stomach. What was worse, though, was the way he casually moved his fingers in small, slow circles, as if it was no big deal. It made everything feel a little too intimate, a little too personal, especially considering the tension between us.

At first, I tried to ignore it, focusing on the blaring horns and the constant stop-and-go of the traffic around us. But with each passing second, I felt his touch more acutely, the warmth of his palm pressing into the soft skin of my midriff. The fabric of my crop top offered no barrier between us, leaving my body fully aware of his presence.

His touch was making my heart race, my thoughts scatter. I was trying to make sense of it all, trying to figure out why he was acting this way. He didn’t like me; of that, I was sure. But then why was he here? And why did he feel the need to touch me, to keep his hand where no one else’s hand should be?

Just stop thinking about it, I mentally told myself, but the words did nothing to quiet the chaos in my mind. The car seemed to grow smaller, the air thicker. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on anything but him—anything but the way his hand felt on my body.

But then, as if the universe decided to add another layer to my already overwhelming thoughts, the car jerked forward. Cyrus had swerved suddenly, his eyes wide as he tried to avoid a drunk man who had somehow found it necessary to start twerking in the middle of the road. It was an absurd sight, one that should’ve made me laugh or at least acknowledge the ridiculousness of it, but I couldn’t. My attention was still on Adam.

“Get out of the way, you nitty!” Cyrus yelled, leaning out the window to shout at the man who seemed completely oblivious to the chaos he was causing.

Leah’s laughter echoed through the car, a sound of pure amusement at the ridiculousness of the situation. But I couldn’t join her in her laughter. I couldn’t even appreciate how comical the moment was because everything around me seemed distant. Adam’s hand. His touch. His proximity.

My head snapped back to reality as Adam spoke, his voice laced with mild concern. “You’re going to hit your head on the headrest if you don’t move.”

I blinked, confused for a second, before I realized that the car had stopped moving, and I had been inches away from slamming my face into Leah’s headrest. Without thinking, I tilted my head downward, my cheek now resting against Adam’s shoulder.

There was no escaping it now. His scent, the warmth of his body, the proximity—it was all too much, too close. I could feel his breath against my skin, and it made the air between us feel thick. It was uncomfortable, yes, but also strangely intimate, as if the whole world had narrowed down to this moment, to the feeling of his body against mine.

I barely had time to process the discomfort before I felt his hand move again. This time, it wasn’t on my waist, but on my upper thigh. His fingers stretched across my skin, draped lazily but firmly there, resting in a way that made me acutely aware of every muscle in my body. The contact, the subtle pressure, the warmth of his touch—it was impossible to ignore. My body tensed instinctively, and my heart skipped a beat.

I couldn’t keep my focus. Every breath felt too short, too shallow. Every shift of the car made his hand feel more invasive, more overwhelming. He wasn’t even paying attention, scrolling through his phone with the kind of casual indifference that made it feel like this was normal.

Desperate for a distraction, I turned my head to glance at Serena. She was slumped in her seat, her head tilted back in a deep, seemingly effortless sleep. It almost made me angry. How could she be so relaxed while I was practically suffocating in this charged silence?

Motion sickness, my ass, I thought bitterly.

I shifted my gaze back to Adam’s phone. I needed to focus on something else, anything but the way his hand felt on me. That’s when I saw it—sketches. Detailed, beautiful sketches of the café. The lines were sharp, the shading precise, and the designs looked almost like something out of a high-end architectural magazine. I was mesmerized by the intricate detail, by the way each curve seemed to flow effortlessly into the next.

“Wow,” I muttered, unable to hide my awe. “These are amazing.”

Adam didn’t look at me. He didn’t seem to notice my growing fascination, his attention still fixed on the screen of his phone. But then his voice cut through my thoughts, teasing but with an edge to it.

“Didn’t know you were nosey.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the humor in his voice or because I was trying to ignore the fact that my pulse was racing, but I let out a breathless chuckle. “Hard to miss when your phone is practically right in my face.”

He smirked, his lips curling into that trademark expression of his. I felt it—a slight brush against my cheek, a fleeting contact that only made everything worse. My stomach fluttered again.

“Fair point,” he replied, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

I wasn’t ready to stop there. Not with these incredible designs in front of me. My curiosity was overpowering. I had to know more.

“So, whose sketches are these?” I asked, leaning in a little closer.

“They’re mine,” Adam said without hesitation, his voice sounding almost bored, as if it was no big deal.

I couldn’t stop myself from blinking in surprise. “Wait, these are yours?” I repeated, my voice a little too high-pitched. “You designed the café?”

He shifted in his seat, his hand adjusting on my thigh as he did so. The sudden pressure made me gasp, but I quickly tried to regain control of myself. “Yeah,” he said casually, almost as if it were nothing special. “Interior design was my thing. It’s what I studied.”

My mind was racing. “No way,” I whispered, still processing what he was saying. “I studied design too. But in car design.”

Adam’s eyes met mine then, and for a brief, fleeting moment, there was something in his gaze—something soft and sincere. It was gone as quickly as it came, but for a second, it felt like we were connected in a way I couldn’t explain.

“It’s a rewarding degree,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter now. “Hard, but rewarding.”

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the moment sink in. “Yeah, you’re right,” I murmured softly.

But as I looked at him, at the way his hand still rested so comfortably on my thigh, the question that lingered in my mind was no longer about design. It was about us—about what the hell was happening between us, and why it felt like everything was shifting so quickly, too quickly for me to keep up.

For once, I didn’t have an answer.

Sure, let’s extend and enhance this scene:

We pulled up in front of the famous pizza place, its familiar neon lights blinking in the early evening dusk. The whole group, myself included, had been craving this pizza all day—the kind of pizza with the crisp crust, gooey cheese, and just the right amount of toppings that made it the local legend. But as we approached the door, Cyrus came to an abrupt stop, his face turning from eager anticipation to utter disbelief.

“No fucking way,” he muttered under his breath, his hand falling away from the door handle as he stared at the sign on the window. I leaned in to get a better look, and my stomach dropped when I saw the bold letters.

Closed for Bank Holiday.

I groaned, staring at the sign in shock. The pizza, the one thing that had been keeping me going today, was now off the table. Serena, who had been half asleep in the backseat, suddenly jerked awake, her face contorting in disbelief.

“It’s closed?!” she said, her eyes wide, as if hoping that maybe the sign was some kind of cruel joke. “No fucking way!”

Leah, standing at the front, looked equally shocked. “What the hell? These guys are never closed on a Bank Holiday! What gives?” She knocked on the door as if trying to will it open.

We all stood there, staring at the closed doors like they held all the answers to life’s problems. The weight of disappointment settled in my stomach, making it feel even emptier than before.

“So what now?” I asked, glancing around at the group. Nobody seemed to have an answer.

Cyrus sighed, looking up at the sky like he was trying to draw some cosmic inspiration. “I vote we go back to the café. We can cry while eating dessert,” he said dramatically, throwing his hands in the air.

Leah perked up, nodding enthusiastically. “I second that. There’s nothing better than drowning in your tears while eating cookies and cream ice cream.” She glanced at me, giving me a playful grin.

I let out a little laugh at that, trying to shake off the frustration. As much as I hated to admit it, there was something comforting about the idea of heading back to the café and indulging in something sweet to lift my mood. I was about to agree when my phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me out of the moment.

I glanced at the caller ID: Kayla.

I slid the phone open, lifting it to my ear. “Hey, Kayla!”

“Where are you?” Her voice was warm and chipper, but there was an underlying curiosity in her tone.

I sighed, glancing at the group. “I’m just with my coworkers. We were going to grab lunch, but that famous pizza place in Central is closed.”

Kayla let out a dramatic groan. “Awe, man, I would’ve killed for some pizza.” Her voice was light, but I could tell she was just as disappointed as I was.

I smiled, a little amused by her over-the-top reaction. “I know, right? It was the only thing you ate in college.”

She laughed at that, the sound soft and easy. “True, true. But hey, I just got back from work. If you guys aren’t going anywhere, how about you bring them all to my place? I’ll whip something up.”

The offer was tempting. Kayla could cook, and her meals were always incredible. I looked back at the group, trying to gauge their reactions.

I spoke up, excitement creeping into my voice. “Hey, guys,” I called. “What do you think about eating at Kayla’s place?”

The change in Cyrus’s demeanor was immediate. “Kayla? The Kayla? The one you said cooks like she came from heaven?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly excited by the idea.

Leah’s eyes lit up too. “Is it that Kayla?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, that’s her.”

Serena, who had been unusually quiet up until that point, perked up. “Then what are we waiting for? To Kayla’s, it is!”

I nodded, pulling my phone away from my ear to tell Kayla we’d be there in a bit. “Cool, I’ll get started on the food. See you soon,” she said before hanging up.

I felt a familiar pull—a strange twinge in my chest as I looked at the wallpaper on my lock screen. It was a picture of Jungkook’s car, the one I had designed. My pride and joy.

Adam, who had been standing beside me, glanced down at my phone as I put it away. His eyes lingered on the screen for a moment before flicking up to meet mine. “Is that an F1 car?” he asked, his voice genuine, curious.

I nodded, feeling a slight rush of pride at his attention. “Yeah. I actually designed it about a month ago for the Monaco Grand Prix.”

His eyebrows raised, clearly impressed. “Wow. I didn’t know you were that talented.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. I wasn’t used to this—getting compliments, especially from someone like Adam. It felt a little surreal. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

His eyebrows quirked, and he leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on mine. “Oh yeah?” There was a challenge in his tone, playful but layered with something else I couldn’t quite place.

I felt a knot twist in my stomach at his words. My heart picked up pace, but I wasn’t about to let him see how much he affected me. “Well,” I said, holding his gaze. “If you stick around, maybe I’ll tell you.”

The tension between us grew, thick and unspoken. For a second, the air around us seemed to hum with something almost electric. But before anything more could happen, Leah’s voice cut through the moment as she whispered into my ear.

“Let’s get going before you two start fucking each other in front of us,” she teased, giving me a playful nudge.

I snapped out of it, feeling my cheeks warm slightly. “Right, right. Let’s go to Kayla’s. I’m starving.”

And with that, we all piled back into the cars, the mood lifting slightly as we drove through the streets. But as we made our way toward Kayla’s place, I couldn’t help but feel that strange mix of excitement and nervousness again.

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inkedinfusions · 6 hours ago

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𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 | geto suguru chapter 1

⊱𖤓⊰ | In which you, a thief, meet the lost prince of the kingdom.

── ★ ˙ ̟ . ⚜️ .ᐟ.ᐟ masterlist

next–⊱

𝟎𝟏 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐟𝐭

chapter word count: 4.1k

content warnings: normal warnings for the tangled movie lol

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TWIN!!!!! He is ooc in this because he isn't racist ☺️ Anyway, I'm going to take this opportunity to thank P for not complaining when I send them Geto edits and when I rant about jjk. New chapter comes out tomorrow!

Thanks for reading!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 your hair as you gaze upon the kingdom below you, the morning sun bathing the colorful houses all around. It is by all means a perfect day; the sky is clear, the air is warm, and you are about to be one of the richest people in the land.

“Hey!” exclaims the voice of your partner, snapping you out of your daydreams. “The view is nice and all, but the longer we stay here, the higher the odds we get caught.”

“Since when have you ever cared about getting caught?” you ask, walking towards where Satoru stands. “I can recall at least five times where we almost got busted because of your idiotic tendencies.”

“But my dear Y/n, what you don't understand is that I have transformed into a new person,” he says. “My recent sabbatical really helped me ground myself in this–”

“You mean when you got caught and had to serve time until I helped you escape?”

“As I was saying! I am nothing but a law-abiding citizen, bound by the values of this kingdom.”

“That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard,” you say, tying the rope around your torso. “And I deal with you daily.”

You open the panel that sits directly on top of the stand that contains your objective. You scoff at the placement, wondering what dumb soul decided to compromise the circlet’s security with multiple removable panels. Still, if this piece of wood hadn’t been here, your job would be all the more difficult. And most normal people do not account for thieves on the roof.

“Yeah, keep talking and I’ll drop you,” Satoru says, gripping the rope to which you are attached.

You choose to simply stick out your tongue rather than retort, for you are already being lowered into the hall and you’d rather not alert the guards prematurely. After you had the circlet, all was fair game.

You would never say this out loud, but you are very thankful it was Satoru who botched one of your firsts jobs when you were teenagers. You were nimble, too gangly to steal anything big, but smart enough to manage on your own. Then Satoru entered the picture and something clicked.

The boy could have chosen to leave you behind and escape himself, but instead he chose to create a distraction so you could escape too. You had left that job with no valuables except for a new partner in crime and a change in name, courtesy of Satoru.

The story went like this. In the middle of the job you both had bickered over who takes what, him calling you Starlight when you refused to give out your name, you calling him Six Eyes when he tripped over a bump in the carpet in the middle of the hall. This had continued until guards started to pursue you, and in the confusion, had christened you with those names on your new and shiny wanted posters.

Those didn’t come until much later, when both you and Satoru were rising fast through local murmurs, and he threw a fit when your insult for him had taken the form of his identity. You didn’t mind, as you were completely comfortable with leaving Y/n behind, with only Satoru calling you that as a result of exchanging names in a show of trust. Which takes you to the situation at hand.

The throne room you are being dropped into is lavishly decorated, full of banners with the royal crest, a circle that contains four swirling lines that converge into the small circle in the middle, symbolizing the sun. They are painted gold and a dark purple, almost blue, which combines with the stained glass windows that line the walls.

You are carefully lowered by Satoru until you reach the stand placed in front of the thrones, where a royal circlet stands, the key to your newfound lifestyle. It is gold, lathered in jewels that range from dark amethysts to indigo sapphires, but it is surprisingly light when you pick it up.

A guard sneezes and you get the wonderful idea to mess with them a little bit. Satoru couldn’t fault you; you were only following his example.

“Bless you,” you say politely as you tug on the rope to signal Satoru to lift you, circlet already in your satchel.

“Thanks,” the guard says, unbothered. You snort when he whirls around moments later, managing to catch only the soles of your boots as you make your escape on the roof.

You laugh as the guard shouts at you to wait, but you’re already sliding down the walls of the castle, making a quick getaway through alleyways and unused roads. You pivot on a corner, grabbing Satoru by the arm so he isn’t caught unprepared for the sharp turn, and he hoists you up to a roof when all the roads are blocked by guards.

“So much for not getting caught, huh?” Satoru shouts at you while you make your escape to the nearby forest.

“That’s my bad,” you respond, a grin betraying your lack of guilt. “Besides, look how productive we’ve been! It's what, eight? And we are already set for life!”

Satoru rolls his eyes as you dart through the foliage, amusement evident in the creases of his face. “I never want to hear you complain about my recklessness again.”

You shove him with a smile, when two posters nailed to a tree catch your eye. If the faces didn't spoil it, the names sure do; Starlight and Six Eyes, wanted dead or alive. Now, personally, you would prefer to not be caught at all, but it was nice that alive was still an option. You just have one grievance.

“Geez. Does my hair look that frizzy to you?” you ask Satoru, ripping the poster of the tree and holding it next to your face for comparison. He shrugs, to which you call out his name with force.

“What? I didn’t draw that,” he says. “Why are you mad at me?”

“Oh, it's easy for you to say,” you answer, ripping up his poster and waving it around. “I guess the illustrators must have a crush on you or something, because this looks like–”

“Like the real me? Thank you very much, it's genetics.”

“No dumbass, like a weird, exaggerated fantasy of a fairy tale prince,” you say.

Satoru snorts. “Please, as if a prince would ever affiliate himself with us.”

“True. Hey, aren’t those the Curses?” you ask, pointing to another poster depicting two guys, one with an eyepatch and another covered in stitches. “I didn’t know they escaped.”

“Oh shit, really?” Satoru grimaces. “All the more reason we need to lay low. I doubt they’ve forgiven us for that little stint we pulled at the port.”

“No shit, you nearly decapitated the guy–!”

You are interrupted by the neigh of a horse, and when you whirl around you can see the head of the royal guard charging towards you and Satoru. You are quick to stash your poster in your satchel and to follow him deeper into the forest, dodging arrows as they are fired from crossbows.

The guards do not slow down, and their horses only seem to get closer to you by the second, so you send a quick glance to Satoru and you both nod. He pivots left and you pivot right, buying a few seconds of confusion from your entourage.

You’ll find him again—you always do—but in moments like this, crucial seconds can make the difference. An added bonus is the way one of you will help the other if they get caught, although now that your target was the royal palace and not some rando’s house you doubted your punishment would be something as simple as jail time.

So you sprint through the forest, up hills and around spiky bushes as you try to lose your pursuers. And of course, with your rotten luck, the head of the guard has decided you’re the bigger threat, being the one with the satchel where the circlet is stashed, so he is now after you instead of Satoru.

You hear the horses neigh just as you slide underneath a fallen trunk, barely dodging arrows meant for you. A stray vine almost makes you trip, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins replenishes the air in your lungs fast enough for you to keep running as fast as you can.

Your eyes dart around, looking for anything that could stop at least the horses from pursuing after you. You weren’t confident in winning against them, but you could totally outrun the guards on foot. There, in the distance, a tree stands tall in the middle of your path, blocking off the free space at its sides.

You grin, grunting when you manage to jump through its branches, before you resume your sprint. You are tempted to let out a whoop, although all your hopes are crushed away when you glance back and notice the chief is still hot on your trail.

Somehow, with the rush of adrenaline still in your blood, you manage to climb up a tree on the edge of the foliage. The chief doesn’t have time to think when you lunge at him from the tree, effectively knocking him off his horse and taking it for your own.

You let out a gloating laugh, which is quickly extinguished when the horse stops dead on its tracks. It turns to look at you, and its eyes shine weirdly in the sun, making its pupils seem almost golden colored while its white pelt turns almost rainbow where the sun hits it.

“Go,” you say with urgency. “Come on, lets go–”

The horse cuts you off when his—his?—eyes zero in on your satchel, and he starts doing strange twirling movements to both get you off and grab it, somehow knowing the circlet is hidden there. His eyes dart from it to you for a moment, lunging for it at the same time you try not to lose your equilibrium.

“Wha—Hey! Stop it!” you exclaim as the horse starts to twirl and jump and move forward. It is in one of those movements that the satchel flies away from your hands and into the cliff up front.

You exhale when it is caught by a strangely large branch that stretches out into nothingness, and from there on, it's a battle between you and the horse to get to it first. Satoru would mock you if he could see you right now, something about fighting your equal or such leaving his mouth as he struggles to maintain his composure.

But this horse plays dirty. It chews the edges of your pants, trips you, anything to bring you down. You use your nimbleness to elude the majority of his attacks, but just as you are about to reach the satchel, the branch cracks and snaps, sending both of you plummeting down to the forest below.

You scream as you fall down, losing your grip of the branch when a rock from the cliffside splits it in half. You grunt when you land on the grass, managing to roll off what could be grave injuries, before quickly getting on your feet and on the move. That horse would not give up, so you either needed to regroup with Satoru or find a place where you could lay low.

Thuds alert you before you see the horse again, so you duck on the side of a rock, crouched in between it and a wall covered in vines, and wait for him to walk away. You hold your breath as he somehow loses track of your scent and heads to the other side, maybe in search of its rider.

You straighten up when he leaves, walking backwards in order to maybe grab some vines and climb the wall. Only that the wall is not really a wall.

You yelp when you fall through, but your instinct makes you step inside the hidden cave when the sounds you made signal the horse of something in the vicinity. You watch as he moves around, his figure easily distinguished by the shadow he puts off against the vines. Your shoulders tense, but this time he leaves and you think it's for good.

“Why did I–?” you ask yourself when you check your satchel and notice the wanted poster next to the circlet. You shrug and stuff it back down, heading deeper into the cave. But like the wall not being a wall, the cave is not a cave, and so you walk towards the light, expecting a small clearing or a skylight.

You couldn’t be more wrong when you finally come face to face with the view, stealing what little breath you had left.

The valley surrounded by mountains is lush with green, multiple small ponds and grass patches and trees dotting it at random. In the end there is a waterfall, and the sound of water flowing calms you down, but even that can’t compare with the true star of the scenery.

A magnificent tower stands tall in the middle of it all, with vines climbing all over its foundations, hit just the right way by the sun that peeks from above. It is beautiful, yes, but also the perfect place to hide.

You dash across the valley, running side to side with the river flowing down from the waterfall. You take out stray arrows that had somehow found their way to your satchel—stashed by Satoru probably, as his idea of a prank—and manage to climb up the wall of the tower, using them as leverage to get you up.

You grunt as you do this, lamenting that having your partner with you would probably make it easier, but you press on, seeing the window—not the door because of course it couldn’t have one. Noo, everything just had to be difficult—and just so managing to throw your body over it with your last whispers of strength.

You close the shutters with a bang, finally having time to catch your breath. Ha! you think. “I’d like to see you climb that,” you murmur with a grin, not even perplexed by the fact that you are beefing with a horse. Then you feel a quick flash of pain on the back of your skull and everything goes black.

You are rudely woken up by a weird sensation in your ear, making your eyes snap open as you shudder. Chills run through your body as you notice you are tied with a weird ass rope to a chair, which, if you didn’t know better, is reminiscent of black, ebony hair.

It can’t be hair though because a, it is not possible for someone’s hair to be that long, and even if they didn’t cut it their whole lives, it wouldn't be as silky. And b, because hair doesn’t change colors when light hits it, and this strange black fiber is interrupted at times by golden strands that turn black again when it shifts in place.

You follow the rope—hair?—with your eyes, until your surroundings get too dark for you to distinguish it, only catching glimpses of gold when it shuffles. Okay, pause. Shuffles?

“What the fuck?” you ask out loud, breaking the silence you had found yourself in.

“Struggling… struggling is pointless,” a man’s voice answers from the darkness, prompting you to look in its direction. “This is not your turf,” he continues, which only makes you more confused. Is he chiding you for trespassing his home?

“Look, uh, sir,” you start, spinning a lie as fast as you speak. “I’m just a weary traveler–”

“I don’t believe you,” the voice cuts you off, and the owner’s clothes rustle as he stands, coming into the light. “Who are you and how did you find me?”

You are momentarily stunned by him. He looks about your age, with a deep indigo vest over a long sleeved cream shirt. His pants are the color of burnt umber, held in place by a lighter brown belt. But his clothes are nothing compared to the man itself.

Maybe it's your taste in people, but even Satoru cannot compare with him. His eyes are the color of deep purple, swirling with galaxies in its iris, framed by long, black eyelashes. His face is as sculpted as some of the most impressive sculptures you’ve ever seen, and his eyebrows frame his features perfectly, black like his hair.

But his hair is not pure ebony either. You note that it is the same thing that is binding you to the chair, proving right your earlier supposition of it being hair. Now that you know its hair, it's all the more interesting. It's black and gold and everything in between, and where the lights hit the top of his head, it seems to glow.

“Find you?” you ask confused after a beat. “I didn’t—are you on the run too?”

“On the run?” he repeats, eyes narrowing. “So you are a criminal then.”

“Okay, first,” you say, extending your pointer finger, “criminal is a hurtful label and totally not true–”

“So this wanted poster isn’t yours then? Starlight?”

He waves a crumpled up paper around, and you catch a glimpse of the same poster you had ripped from the tree earlier.

“That's not mine…” you immediately deny, trailing off when you realize you don’t know his name.

“Suguru,” he says. “Don’t wear it off.”

“Well, Suguru,” you say, “if you could just graciously let me explain—Wait, where did you get that? That was in—” You curse mentally when you notice your satchel isn’t with you anymore, wildly looking around the room you find yourself in. “Hey! That was in my satchel! What did you do to it?”

“I hid it,” Suguru answers, a small grin finding its way to his face. “Somewhere you’ll never find it.”

You scan the room with your eyes, your brain automatically registering any and all places, both obvious and not, where the satchel could be stashed. In the corner of your eye you notice a strangely placed pot, which, combined with the guy’s apparent lack of common sense, tells you it's the perfect hiding place.

“It's in the pot, right?” you dead pan, gesturing to the pot with your head.

You hear a clang and everything goes black again.

“Ow!” is the first thing you grumble when you regain consciousness again. “Keep going and I’ll have no brain cells left, princess.”

“I am neither a princess nor a girl,” Suguru says, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you respond. “Where then, is my satchel?”

“Now it's somewhere you’ll never find. But no matter,” he continues. “The real question here is what do you want with my hair?”

“Your hair?” You let out a small, unbelieving laugh. “Believe me, the only thing I want with your hair is to get out of it. Literally,” you finish, gesturing to your binded wrists as a way to emphasize your point.

He raises an eyebrow, like he somehow can’t accept that you aren't here to steal his hair. Wow, it sounds ridiculous just thinking about it. He circles you with his weapon of choice, an old pan, walking in and out of your field of vision. What weird hermit’s house had you broken into?

“You don't… want to sell my hair?”

“Why the hell would I want to do that?” you say. “Look, I was in a hurry and in need of a place to stay. I saw a tower, I climbed it, and now I’m here. End of story.”

Suguru looks you up and down, weighing your words now against the obvious lies you told him at the beginning. “You’re being genuine,” he finally says.

“No duh,” you answer, recoiling when he points the pan at you and a small lizard stands on its edge, glaring at you with its slimy eyes. You freeze, following its movements with your eyes when Sugure takes the pan back, retreating to the darkness.

He turns his back to you, slightly slouching down to talk with… is that the lizard? On his shoulder? Man, this place is just getting weirder and weirder by the second. He mumbles, and you only manage to catch truth and strangely fangs.

“Okay then, Starlight,” he says. “I’d be willing to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes. A deal.”

You watch as Suguru climbs the fireplace, your chair coming dangerously close to toppling over when he moves his hair to shift you in his direction. Your eyes are now more or less used to the lack of light, so you use that movement to look around. The walls of the tower are completely covered in paintings, ranging from people doing various things to multiple objects strewn about.

“This,” he says, revealing a mural covered by a curtain, “is what I want to see.”

The scene is that of a night sky framed by a forest, with who you assume to be Suguru perched on top of a tree. The night sky is filled with lights and you quickly recognize what it is he is referring to.

“You mean the lantern thing they do for the prince?” you ask.

“They’re lanterns?” he questions, looking back at his paintings. “In retrospect, it's kinda dumb to think they were stars, huh?”

“Stars don’t move,” you say. “Nor do they only appear once a year.”

“That's what I said!” he exclaims, turning to you. “Well, it doesn't matter. Tomorrow these… lanterns will appear and I want you to escort me to and back from the light show. Then, and only then,” he emphasizes, “will I return your precious satchel. Do we have a deal, Starlight?”

“Yeah, no,” you say, much to his dismay. “I’ll get lynched if I come as close as five meters from the kingdom. That is not a figure of speech.”

He looks you up and down, chewing his bottom lip, contemplating. “We find ourselves at odds then,” Suguru says. “You can’t leave without your satchel and I won’t give it to you unless we have a deal.”

“I don't know what brought you here,” he continues, jumping down from the fireplace’s mantle. “A poet would say fate, others would say destiny—”

“A horse did.”

“But against all common sense,” he says, completely smoothing over what you said, “I have made the decision to trust you.”

“You are right,” you say. “It is against common sense to trust me.”

Suguru scoffs, using his hair to bring your chair closer and closer to him. “So in return, you can trust me when I say that you can destroy this room, tear the tower brick by brick,” he says, punctuating each statement with a pull. “But without my help? Oh, you never find your precious satchel.”

You huff, looking down to escape the drilling holes of Suguru’s gaze, his face so close to you you swear you can see entire galaxies in his eyes. You meditate on your options for a moment; it's either lose what you almost gave up your freedom to get, or possibly get sent to the gallows for stealing from the royal family.

“You’re not going to budge, huh, princess?” you ask after a beat, relishing in the way the corner of his left eye twitches when you call him by the nickname.

“What do you think?” he retorts, tiling his head to the side with an irritated grin.

You hum, taking in his question. “Can we compromise on me giving you directions?”

“No.”

You groan. “What? There's, like, nothing out there that could harm you. Notice how I'm talking about you here?” you say, craning your neck to get closer. “With me, however, it's a given I’ll end up next in line to get hanged.”

“Not my problem,” he says. “If the poster is anything to get by, then you probably deserve it.”

His words would cut more if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure he is extremely sheltered, and so, he doesn’t know neither your life nor the context in which it was written. So you simply shrug and sigh, ready to accept his deal. Hell, maybe you could show him something to be scared about and he’ll abandon his childish quest of seeing the lanterns.

“Fine,” you say, not missing the slight twinkle in his eyes when you agree. “I’ll take you to see the lanterns or whatever. And then you'll give me my satchel.”

“Deal,” Suguru says with a grin.

#ebony and gold #ann writes #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru #suguru geto #geto #suguru

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