#judging by big mama they definitely are doing some capitalisms down there so i have commentary on it

[qoldenskies]

Does the Hidden City have any therapists Dontron could seek in the future? Because God love em, these kids are trying but they are. *Kids*. And a horrifically traumatized & depressed rat dad

unfortunately they're not registered as hidden city citizens, probably dont have the money for it (it's not like donnie's. uh. capable of doing much right now), and have a history of being arrested and conspiring with criminals (draxum). although ive always kind of imagined draxum would receive a full pardon after the s2 finale and this would eventually be rectified, so there's a possibility! if they ever did it'd probably be around post-movie times. it'd be a whole process but i could definitely see them considering it.

[ddaengjo]

love me like you do ┊ hwang hyunjin

genre: best friends to lovers au, fluff, angst

pairing: reader x hyunjin

warnings: cursing, drinking, infinity war spoilers

summary: you had been best friends with hwang hyunjin since grade school. you both knew each other like the back of your hand, and you shared everything with one another. in fact, all your friends joked that you’d eventually get married, settle down, and have five kids. of course, the both of you just saw that as funny, since you were both currently dating other people. but that was before everything became a complete mess.

author’s note: this is my first fic! i hope you all like it, because i definitely enjoyed writing it. (p.s. ― i use all lowercase when not writing formally, but in all my writing pieces i make sure to capitalize and use proper grammar!)

You're the light, you’re the night You’re the color of my blood You’re the cure, you’re the pain You’re the only thing I wanna touch Never knew that it could mean so much, so much

It was the sound of your phone buzzing loudly that woke you up at 2:30 a.m., groggy and angry and ready to fight the world. You groped around your bedside table, trusting your fingers rather than your sleep-blurred eyesight ― considering you were already myopic to the point that you could barely see something three feet away without your glasses on, you could trade eyesight with a bat and still be better off at this early hour. After a long while of uncomfortable straining,  you finally sighed in victorious relief, your fingers closing around the smooth case of your phone. Dropping it onto your pillow beside you, you squinted at the bright screen, trying to adjust to the sudden burst of light in the dark room. You swiped your finger across the screen, unlocking it, and opened your texts to find new messages from your best friend, Hyunjin.

[2:30 a.m.]  Y/N Y/N Y/N

You groaned, rolling your eyes and falling back against the pillows, debating on whether to answer his text or just leave him on read. Your innate sense of compassion (Hyunjin always swore that you were nothing but Satan, while everyone else who WASN’T your best friend since grade school and DIDN’T clown you for a living always called you a sweetheart) won the battle, and you ended up answering. But that didn’t mean you were going to play nice.

[2:33 a.m.]  hwang hyunjin you better have a good reason for this because if i weren’t so fucking tired i’d punch you in your perfect teeth.

[2:38 a.m.]  aw good morning to you too 💖💖💖 i’ve been up all night trying to make a head or tail of this history project and it just makes NO SENSE UGH Y/N I NEED YOUR GENIUS INTELLECT RIGHT NOW AND RIGHT HERE

[2:42 a.m.]  i absolutely hate you and your procrastinating ass.

[2:43 a.m.]  says the queen of procrastinating herself 💀💀

[2:45 a.m.]  YOU WOKE ME UP AT 2:30 AM YOU ASSHOLE SO STOP CLOWNING ME OR I’M MUTING YOUR NOTIFS AND LEAVING YOU ON READ 💀💀

[2:47 a.m.]  FINE FINE JUST COME HELP ME

[2:48 a.m.]  i’m too lazy to get out of bed so i’m just gonna skype you. but dw, you’ll still feel the salt coming off me when i talk 😘😘

[2:50 a.m.]  y/n you beautiful wonderful human being i love you so much i’d throw myself under a truck for you.

[2:53 a.m.]  lmao don’t let minjoo hear you say that unless you want her to actually throw ME under a truck buddy 😉

You couldn’t help smiling; it was impossible for you to stay angry at someone as goofy and vibrant as Hyunjin, especially because you knew him so well and for so long. You didn’t really care that you were wearing just a strap-sleeved tank top and shorts, or that you had a bedhead; Hyunjin had seen you in far worse states, like when you were in the fourth grade and had the stomach flu for a month. That was bad. You closed your texts, opening Skype instead, and clicked the very first contact, waiting for Hyunjin to pick up your video call. He picked up right on the second ring, grinning ear to ear; he was wearing his  “I ❤️ NY” shirt, his favorite gray hoodie, and khaki shorts, not to mention the goofy smile he always wore when talking to you.

“How’s Satan doing today?” he joked immediately, his face lighting up at the sight of you. His eyes twinkled with mischief as you rolled your eyes.

“Just fine, thanks,” you grumbled. “As great as one could be at almost 3 o’clock in the morning, when even the BIRDS aren’t awake.”

“For all it counts, I think your hair seems to be doing great at almost 3 o’clock in the morning,” Hyunjin said sagely, nodding his head. “I mean, it’s hiding your devil’s horns really well, and it also doesn’t look like a mama bat had a mental breakdown while making her nest!”

“I hate you.”

Hyunjin pretended to clutch his heart, wounded, despite the grin still playing on his lips. “Aww, Y/N, now you’re just being cruel. You know you don’t mean that.”

As much as you hated to admit it, you knew he was right. And he knew, too, judging by his little smirk. Had you been sitting next to him in person, you’d have thrown a pillow at him by this time.

“All right, what is it you don’t understand?” you asked, rolling your eyes yet again.

“Everything!”

You swallowed the urge to groan loudly. This was going to be one long, long night.

You're the fear, I don't care 'Cause I've never been so high Follow me to the dark Let me take you past our satellites You can see the world you brought to life, to life

You managed to get three hours of sleep that night, thanks to your dumbass of a best friend. He owed you big-time, you thought, sipping your coffee through pursed lips while glaring balefully out the window as you waited for him to show up at your house. You both had walked to school together since you were eight and he was nine; you weren’t planning on stopping that even when you were in college, since you were both hoping to major in some form of art ― he in photography, you in writing ― and attend the same university.

It was 7:30 a.m. when Hyunjin came jogging breathlessly up your driveway and let himself in using the spare key you’d given him. You had half an hour to kill before your bus arrived, so you’d not only made yourself coffee, you’d set a mug on the table for Hyunjin as well. He took it gratefully, crossing the kitchen in a few large strides ― he was a literal ten inches taller than you, with his 5’10” towering over your 5’0” ― to join you by the counter, where he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. To anyone else, it seemed as if you were both dating, but it to you both, it was merely just a gesture of affection between two old friends.

“So, Bigfoot, you took your sweet time getting here,” you commented dryly, looking him up and down with a wry little smirk. Your smile fading, you sipped your slowly cooling coffee and added, “All jokes aside, though, you look God-awful.”

“Thanks.”

“Your dark circles make it look as if you got punched in the eyes by an angry jack-in-the-box, and you’re looking pretty pale in the face,” you said bluntly, shaking your head. “Hyunjinnie, you’re driving yourself crazy. When you’re not staying up late for music lessons and photography projects, you’re staying up late doing your homework. You have to get more sleep.”

“Yeah, about that…” He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck absently as his eyes met yours. He guided you over to the couch, sinking into the seat next to you as he continued. “I’m sorry about last night. I know you didn't get much sleep because of me. So, to make it up to you, I called Minjoo and Yongwoon up, and we’re doing a movie night double date at my place. My treat.”

Hyunjin was so considerate. That was one thing that made you love him so much ― he didn’t just throw some fake apology at you and forget about it; he tried to make it up to you in full. He was like that with you, with his girlfriend, with your boyfriend, everyone.

As soon as the wall clock read that it was 8:00, you grabbed Hyunjin’s hand, practically hauling him out of the house as he chuckled, trying to keep pace with you. “Relax, Y/N, the bus is never early!”

“I know, but Yongwoon is!” you panted, skidding to a halt at your bus stop, where your boyfriend was waiting as usual, one hand in his tousled black hair. “Hey, Yong!”

“Y/N! You’re early!” He exclaimed; you caught sight of the odd expression that flitted across his face and realized that you were still holding Hyunjin’s hand. You let go of your best friend’s hand, seeing his girlfriend, Minjoo, standing a little distance away; Hyunjin fist-bumped you as he passed you, greeting his girlfriend with a brief peck on the lips. You turned to your own significant other, who pressed his lips to yours for a moment before asking, a little edgily, “Why were you holding Hyunjin’s hand? Y/N… do you like him?”

There was a long breath of silence after his words. Finally, you began to laugh ― not at him, but because you found his question funny. “Sorry ― sorry, Yong, that was just really funny. Babe, Hyunjin and I are just really good friends. We’ve known each other since our sandbox days! Things like holding hands and hanging out a lot are just… things we’ve been doing for a really, really long time. But it doesn’t change anything for us. We’ve been doing this for over a year, and I love you just the same, see?” You kissed him again, and this time he had no complaints.

As soon as the bus arrived, you scrambled to reserve the back row for yourself, Yongwoon, Hyunjin, and Minjoo; you’d all sat there as a group since freshman year. As usual, you slid into your window seat, with Hyunjin dropping into the one next to yours, as Minjoo and Yongwoon dropped into the seat across the aisle. You didn’t see the look that passed between his girlfriend and your boyfriend because you were too busy looking over Hyunjin’s paper and making small revisions, which were mainly just grammatical errors, since the majority of your cramming session had been last night.

“I think this is good,” you said finally, as the school came into view. The smile Hyunjin gave you was definitely worth all the grumblings and lost sleep; you loved the way his eyes sparkled and crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the way his dimples deepened, and it had been your personal goal since day one of your friendship, when he’d fallen in the sandbox and you’d helped him up, to never let him lose that smile. You were the one who was a year younger than him, but you were also the more protective one in the friendship. It was something people often teased you about, calling you a mother hen, but you wore the title proudly. You were indeed a mother hen when it came to your best friend.

Your first class was history, which you and Hyunjin had together; Yongwoon had psychology, while Minjoo had English, so you waved goodbye, promising to save them seats at lunch. Hyunjin blew an exaggerated kiss at Minjoo, who giggled as you punched him in the shoulder, pretending to gag. “Ugh, look who decided to become Romeo all of a sudden! Come on, lover boy, or we’re gonna be late for class, and I’ll get my first detention because of you.”

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my days in purgatory, if you please, ma’am, so on we go,” Hyunjin said very seriously, earning himself another punch from you. “Ow! You’re short, but you punch like a sumo wrestler! What, did you absorb the soul of a wrestler you reaped, Satan?”

“Ha ha ha, very funny,” you grumbled, sinking into your seat at the back table, across from Hyunjin, right as the bell rang. “I’ll reap your soul if you don’t shut up.”

Even as the lesson went on, you spent the class passing notes and doodling all over each other’s papers, sometimes laughing so hard your teacher, a well-dressed brunette in her early thirties, had to frown in your direction, her finger pressed against her lips in a signal of silence.

That was how every day was, with you both ― it was just you and him. You were the planets; everyone else was just a satellite. You were a technicolor movie; they were just the audience. You and Hyunjin were the world; they were just outer space.

So love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

It was on the bus home that you succumbed to the sleep that had been haunting your eyelids since the morning’s coffee had worn off mid-math class. One minute you were arguing with Hyunjin over whether milk or cereal came first (you argued milk, having gotten that habit from your parents, while Hyunjin argued that it was cereal), the next you had nodded off, your petite head on his broad shoulder.

When you came to, it was in a familiar room with soft blue walls and GOT7 posters all over the wall. You sat up, squinting slightly at the pale, watery orange sunlight streaming through the window; the translucent chartreuse curtains were slightly open, showing a rapidly darkening sunset sky in the prettiest pastel shades of blue, pink, and purple. You yawned, stretching your arms, and glanced down; you were still wearing your school clothes, which were now a bit rumpled because you’d slept in them.

“Sleep well, Sleeping Beauty?” You turned your head to see Hyunjin smiling at you from where he sat working at his desk, which was a sea of scattered papers. His glasses reflected a bit of the screen of his laptop and a bit of the sunset, which didn’t seem like a beautiful combination, but somehow, he made it work. He only wore his glasses at home unless he was out of contacts to use, in which case you’d see him wear his glasses to school for about a week before going back to wearing contacts; you stuck with your glasses at all times, mainly because for one, you were terrified of putting something in your eye, and for two, you had awful bags under your eyes, which your glasses did a good job hiding ― or at least keeping anyone from noticing.

You stretched again, comfortable after a few hours of rest. “You bet I did. Like a baby, in fact. How long was I out?”

“It’s 6:05 ― you can do the math.” You could hear the smile in his voice as you took a moment to decipher his words. Then your eyes widened. “I SLEPT FOR THREE HOURS?”

“Don’t worry, you haven’t missed movie night,” Hyunjin promised. “We still have an hour till Minjoo and Yongwoon are supposed to arrive. Do you want to get changed? Maybe take a shower to freshen up?”

“Yeah ― yeah, sounds great,” you said, stretching one last time before swinging your legs out from under the covers, so that you were now sitting on the edge of his bed. “All my stuff is next door, though.”

“You can grab some clothes from my closet,” he offered, smiling in your direction. “Just like when we were kids and your parents were out.”

You got up, shaking out your legs to get some feeling back into them, and opened his closet, choosing a purple tie-dye t-shirt. “I’m wearing shorts under my skirt, anyway, so I’ll just wear this over those,” you explained, and Hyunjin nodded.

The warm water felt like a liquid hug; you spent twenty minutes under the shower before deciding you didn’t want to turn into a living prune. You found, upon wearing it, that Hyunjin’s shirt went to your knees, but what did it matter? It was cozy. You blow-dried your hair, which took another twenty minutes, before pulling it into a loose bun and glancing at the time in your watch ― 6:50 p.m., which meant Minjoo and Yongwoon would be here soon. You noticed that the light in Hyunjin’s room was now off; he must be downstairs, you realized, so you descended the stairs, knowing from the rising aroma of hot chocolate that you’d find him in the kitchen. He glanced up at the sound of your footsteps, his face lighting up with a smile as his eyes fell on you. “You look adorable. Purple is definitely your color.”

“And you look suspicious. Who are you and what have you done with Hwang Hyunjin?” you snorted, amused. “I was expecting you to clown me for how big this shirt looks on me.”

He chuckled, turning back to the stove for a moment before placing a snowflake-printed mug on the counter in front of you. “Hot cocoa?”

“Thanks!” You took the mug gratefully, blowing on the steaming liquid for a few minutes before taking a sip, appreciating the feeling of the chocolatey, sugary sweetness, mixed with a hint of cinnamon and the creaminess of whipped cream, sliding down your throat. You had just taken another sip when the doorbell rang, prompting you to move towards the door, the hot cocoa mug still in your hand. You opened it to find Yongwoon, holding a bouquet of red roses.

“Hey! You’re…” You glanced at your watch, which read that it was 6:55 p.m. “...Five minutes early! Oh my gosh, are those for me?”

“Yes, they are!” He handed you the bouquet, grinning ear to ear, until his eyes took in what you were wearing. His smile faded slightly as he added, “Is that one of Hyunjin’s, Y/N?”

“Wha ― oh, yeah ― yeah, it is,” you said, a little surprised by the question.

“She fell asleep on the bus,” Hyunjin explained, “and since she lost sleep because of me, I felt bad waking her up. So I just carried her here and let her rest up in my room while I did my homework. When she woke up, she wanted to shower, and we realized she didn’t have a change of clothes, so I let her borrow one of my shirts.”

“I see.” Yongwoon’s lips had tightened considerably at this, but he didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t say anything till Minjoo arrived, about fifteen minutes after him; it was just you and Hyunjin chattering away over your hot cocoa until that time.

By the time she’d arrived, Hyunjin had gotten a huge bucket of buttered popcorn ready. He had four cushions ready on the ground for everyone, but you didn’t need your cushion; you just sat down in front of Hyunjin, your head in his lap, as you grabbed a handful of popcorn, munching contentedly as your boyfriend and his girlfriend came to join you on either side. Yongwoon imitated you, grabbing his own handful of the buttery, salty popcorn, while Minjoo was more refined, choosing to take the occasional two pieces of popcorn from time to time.

“What do you guys want to watch?” Hyunjin asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he leaned back, propping himself up with one elbow.

“American Horror Story,” Yongwoon volunteered immediately, earning himself identical protests from you, Hyunjin, and Minjoo. He conceded defeat, grumbling to himself before falling silent and waiting for one of you to make a choice.

“Titanic?” Minjoo suggested, earning herself a loud yawn from Yongwoon and an identical groan of rejection from yourself and Hyunjin. Her expression became a sulky one, which made all three of you laugh.

“Avengers: Infinity War?” you suggested. Hyunjin nodded enthusiastically; you two were pretty much the biggest Marvel nerds around.

“Are you sure you’re not going to soak my sleeve in tears again?” Hyunjin asked teasingly. “Remember last time, when you were bawling so hard I was afraid I’d have to pull a Noah and ark my way outta there?”

You turned and sat up to glare at him, indignant. “You were crying, too!”

He blushed, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Okay, okay, fair point. Any objections?”

Minjoo was too sulky to say anything, while Yongwoon was just too whipped for you to say a word against your wishes.

“All right! Infinity War it is,” Hyunjin declared, pulling you more closely into his lap before positioning himself comfortably, half sitting and half lying against his cushion as he tossed some more popcorn into his mouth, searching through Amazon Prime Video till he found it. Then he hit play, wrapped one arm around you, and sat back to enjoy the movie.

Fading in, fading out On the edge of paradise Every inch of your skin is a holy gray I've got to find Only you can set my heart on fire, on fire Yeah, I'll let you set the pace 'Cause I'm not thinking straight My head spinning around I can't see clear no more What are you waiting for?

Two hours and forty minutes later, you and Hyunjin were clinging to each other and sobbing your eyes out, your shoulders a mess of each other’s tears, snot, and drool. It would have been disgusting if this weren’t your usual movie-watching ritual ― you two were the sensitive ones, and if anything remotely sad were to happen in a movie, the room would be flooded within the next five minutes as you clung to each other and wept as if your hearts would break.

“I thought you said you’d be okay this time,” Hyunjin sobbed, wiping his eyes on the hem of his sleeve as he crushed you in a hug.

“I’m never emotionally prepared enough for that movie,” you sobbed back, mimicking him and wiping your eyes on the edge of your sleeve ― or at least trying to as best you could through his bone-crushingly tight embrace.

On your left, Minjoo was just staring blankly at the screen as if not sure of what to do in terms of a reaction, while Yongwoon, on your right, had his lips pursed and his fists clenched. “Damned Marvel,” he growled, shaking his fist. “Killing off Black Panther like that… that’s not fair.”

“Groot had such a bright future ahead of him,” Hyunjin hiccuped miserably, reaching for the popcorn, which was running dangerously low.

“I agree,” you sniffled. “Man, Bucky never deserves the shit he gets. He was captured by the Nazis, fell off a mountain, lost an arm, got frozen and experimented on by HYDRA, became their brainwashed puppet, killed a bunch of people, accidentally tore apart the Avengers, got frozen over again, and then right when he was spending a peaceful time in Wakanda he got drawn into the fighting and then h-he just goes ‘Steve…’ and fades away and just...” You broke down again, prompting a wince from Yongwoon and an eye roll from Minjoo.

“I know,” Hyunjin lamented, patting your back reassuringly. “Well… that was fun, right?”

“Right,” Yongwoon said unconvincingly, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of Hyunjin’s strong arms drawing you more tightly into an embrace. You two had been nothing but skinship since the beginning of the evening ― or, if you counted the hand-holding in the morning, since the beginning of the day ― and he was beginning to feel a bit threatened by the boy you called your closest friend. He felt threatened, jealous, every time your fingers tangled together, every time your eyes met, every time you laughed at something he said, every time you gazed at him as if he was the only boy in the world. It was getting harder and harder for him to believe you every time you declared yourself and Hyunjin “just friends”.

He didn’t like it at all.

Minjoo smiled thinly, her smile not quite meeting her movie-star eyes with their perfectly done makeup. “It was lovely.”

She, too, felt a surge of wicked jealousy every time you and Hyunjin were together. It hadn’t bothered her as much at first, but now, it was almost all she thought about. The way he smiled at you, as if there was nothing and no one more important. The way he always jumped to choose you anytime anything ― a game, a project, anything at all ― involved a partner. The way he didn’t seem to care when you saw him in his glasses, but almost always avoided wearing them around her. The way he always chose yours whenever he needed a shoulder to cry into.

The way he felt so distant from her, even if he was next to her, and yet so close to you, even when you were apart.

And she hated it.

As Yongwoon left, he turned to press his lips against yours for a long moment, the intensity almost double that of any normal kiss of yours. He stole a glance at Hyunjin, who simply smiled a bright smile at him before brushing Minjoo’s lips with his and waving goodbye as she left. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, stepping out into the night.

“Hey, Y/N, want to stay over for the night?” Hyunjin asked. You smiled apologetically. “Nah, I wish I could, but Mom and Dad are going to video call to check in with me in about half an hour. I have to make dinner before getting started on my homework.”

“I could join you,” Hyunjin offered, his eyes lighting up. “And, to make up for last night, I can help you with homework today!”

“Hwang Hyunjin, you legend, you’re so amazing that I could 10/10 kiss you,” you declared.

He laughed, rumpling your hair gently. “You already did once, remember? Spin the bottle, seventh grade. You were my first kiss, Y/N!”

“Oh, yeah! That girl from the classroom next door, the one who kept ogling at you, looked like she was ready to pee herself!” you snickered, choking on your own laughter and erupting in a fit of coughing that left tears in your eyes; Hyunjin rubbed circles on your back soothingly, hoping to ease the coughs. Once he deemed it safe to leave your side, he hurried back into the kitchen to grab you a glass of water, which you took and gulped down gratefully. “Thanks, Hyunjinnie.”

“Don’t worry about it. And be more careful,” he scolded, earning an amused eye roll from you.

“See you tomorrow? Noon at that bubble tea place down the block?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good night, Hyunjinnie.”

As you left, he watched you, his fingers tingling where yours had been resting against them just a moment earlier, realizing how much you’d grown up… and wondering how he’d grown lucky enough to have you by his side during all these years.

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah) Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

He didn’t fail to meet you the next day ― in fact, he was early, waiting for you at an outdoor table as you arrived, wearing a mint-green hoodie and black yoga pants, your hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

“Hey, Sasquatch,” you called jokingly, and his glance snapped up from his phone to you, his eyes brightening and the corners of his full, rich coral-pink lips tugging themselves upwards into a bright grin.

“Y/N! Nice hoodie, the color suits you,” he exclaimed, tilting his head slightly to the side as he added, “is it new? I’ve never seen you wear it before.”

“Yeah, I bought it last week,” you said, feeling a rush of warmth rise in your chest at the fact that he’d noticed that small detail. He really did pay attention to everything.

“I love the color. Does it come in men’s?”

“Not sure. I’ll check, though ― we can go together, sometime tonight or tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan!” he declared, then glanced at the menu card in front of him. “I’m guessing you want your usual coconut milk tea, Y/N?”

“Yep, that’s me. Boring and predictable, like the old granny I am at heart,” you quipped, earning yourself another laugh from your companion.

“Predictable, maybe, since I’ve known you for so long,” Hyunjin agreed. “But boring? No way. You could never be boring, Y/N, no matter how long I’ve known you.”

You felt the color rising in your cheeks as you flushed pleasurably at your best friend’s compliment, which meant a lot more to you than he could imagine. “You’re sweet.”

His grin melted your heart as you grabbed the menu. “Let me guess ― you want the watermelon bubble tea. Again.”

“Why, Y/N,” Hyunjin gasped mockingly, his eyes widening, “however did you know?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” you said sarcastically, shrugging. “Maybe because you decided to even dress like a freaking watermelon for Halloween? And because you completely weeded that bag of Dum-Dums ― the one you were supposed to be handing out to the trick-or-treaters ― of watermelon lollipops? I could hear the kids complaining all the way down the street!”

“Okay, okay, Y/N,” he admitted, going red in the face. “You… kind of have a point there.”

You sat back with a triumphant smirk, which earned a grin from Hyunjin; within the minute, you both had begun to laugh hopelessly, till tears of mirth gathered themselves in both of your eyes and your sides ached with laughter.

After you’d both gotten your bubble teas, you sat for a while in silence. But it wasn’t the awkward silence that needed an ice-breaker; it was a comfortable silence, where neither of you needed to say anything to enjoy the moment spent in the other’s company.

You were the one who finally broke the silence. “Hey, Hyunjinnie, do you want to try a sip of my bubble tea? I realize, in all the times we’ve come here, you’ve never tried the coconut milk tea, while I’ve never tried the watermelon tea.”

“Sounds fun!” Hyunjin unhesitatingly leaned over, his cheek brushing against yours, as he took a sip from your straw, letting the new flavor soak onto his tongue for a moment before nodding his approval, his eyes lighting up. “Holy moly ― this is good! You have good taste, Y/N!”

You smirked at him before leaning across the table to take a sip of his drink, the watermelon flavor coating your tongue and cooling your throat as you swallowed. “Heck, I could say the same for you, Hyunjin! You might just have passed your obsession with all things watermelon on to me!”

It was a perfect moment, just you and him, peacefully enjoying each other’s company… till the sound of soft sobbing drew your attention away from Hyunjin. Your eyes scanned the bubble tea café till they found the source of the sound.

Minjoo.

And judging by the tears pouring down her face, she’d seen everything.

The color drained from Hyunjin’s face as he jumped up, practically knocking the umbrella off the table as he tried to make his way towards Minjoo, who heaved a sob and took a step back.

“Minjoo!” he yelled. “Minjoo, wait!”

“Minjoo!” You joined him, calling your friend’s name. “Minjoo, it’s not what it looks like!”

“Shit,” Hyunjin muttered. “I’ll… I’ll be back. I’m sorry to cut our outing short, Y/N, but...”

“Go,” you said grimly, your heart hammering with dread as you watched your best friend take off after his girlfriend, only hoping that things would turn out okay.

I'll let you set the pace 'Cause I'm not thinking straight My head spinning around I can't see clear no more What are you waiting for?

This time, when you woke up at 3:00 a.m., it wasn’t because of your phone, which had remained painfully silent all evening, save for a single text from your boyfriend, asking if you were free for a date that night. You’d declined his offer, sick with worry for your best friend’s predicament. He and Minjoo didn’t ever quarrel, and yet, the last you’d seen them, Minjoo was shouting at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, while he pleaded for her understanding.

Icy fear bubbled in your stomach as you lay awake against the pillows; the room felt uncharacteristically cold. You sighed, finally deciding there was no way you could get to sleep with so much worry gnawing at your mind ― maybe a midnight snack would help. You slid out from under the bedcovers, shivering as the cold air touched your bare legs ― you were just wearing shorts and a t-shirt ― and went downstairs into the kitchen, where you rummaged through the refrigerator and pantry, finding absolutely nothing that fit your cravings. You stretched, going to change clothes into a pink hoodie and black leggings, pulling your hair into a messy ponytail before grabbing your purse, pulling your car keys from them as you went outside into the driveway, opening the door and getting into your car. You started up the engine, waiting for a few moments as the heater warmed the inside, before reversing out of the driveway and beginning the fifteen-minute drive to the local Lotte.

The classical music playing over the stereo did nothing to ease your nagging worry, and all the way there, nausea roiled in your stomach like a vat of acid. You arrived in the parking lot of the supermarket, locking your car before entering the store and going straight to the dairy aisle, grabbing yourself five small bottles of your favorite brand of strawberry milk and paying for them quickly before hurrying outside again, the cover on your arm. You got back into your car, slamming the door shut, and left the parking lot, embarking on your return journey. About five minutes had passed when you suddenly screeched to a halt, pulling over abruptly, the color draining from your face.

A tall figure was staggering around on the curb, a bottle in hand. A very familiar tall figure. Your blood turned to ice as you recognized Hyunjin.

You’d never seen him drunk like this. Come to mention it, you’d never even seen him touch any remotely alcoholic beverage. You got out of your car, your heart pounding more wildly than it had ever pounded in your life, running to meet the boy with a tight hug.

“Hyunjin!” you cried, mingled pain and relief in your tone as you crushed him in a hug, aware that you were shaking from head to toe ― whether it was with anger or fear, you weren’t sure. Probably a mix of both, to be honest.

“Hey… hey, Y/N,” Hyunjin slurred unsteadily, staggering and practically half collapsing on you, leaving you struggling for a minute with the task of supporting his larger weight. He smiled an unfocused smile down at you, wiping the wetness from his eyes. “Whatcha doin’ awake at this late hour, Y/N?”

“I could ask you the same,” you said anxiously, your pulse thrumming with worry. “What happened to you? I’ve never seen you drink before, and suddenly you’re holding a beer bottle and rambling around, punch-drunk, on the streets at…” You glanced at your watch. “...3:15 a.m. Hyunjin, what the fuck is going on here? Where were you? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“Minjoo broke up with me.” The boy’s voice was slurred with drinking, his balance completely off-kilter; he sank against you, his tears wetting the collar of your hoodie. “She left me, Y/N. She said she was done, that we were over.”

You were aware that you, too, were crying: crying for the horrible state you’d found your best friend in, for the blame you were allotting to yourself ― crying, mostly, because Hyunjin was crying, and his tears hurt worse than anything.

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, sinking to your knees and letting the male sag against you, his head nestling into your shoulder as he hiccuped and cried as if his heart would break ― which it already had, that night. You wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back soothingly as he cried it all out, till he had no tears left in him to cry, numb at last.

“Come on,” you murmured, guiding an unprotesting Hyunjin into your car, helping him buckle himself into the passenger seat as you drove home, the quiet classical music and the feeling of your sleeping best friend’s head on your shoulder giving you an odd tingling feeling.

Once you got home, you gently shook Hyunjin awake, letting him use you as a support for his terrible balance. He didn’t shake you off, letting you guide him upstairs and into your room, where you let him grab a change of clothes (you left the room while he changed, coming back in as soon as he gave you the thumbs-up) before collapsing onto your bed. You would have let him use the guest room, but, truth be told, you wanted to keep your eye on him, too scared that he’d do something stupid again. So you went into the bathroom, changing into your typical t-shirt and shorts, before collapsing on the bed beside him, exhausted from the day’s events.

“Y/N?” You couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down your cheek at the sound of Hyunjin’s tired voice, which sounded less slurred and more… him. He scooted towards you, gently tugging your shoulder so you were now facing him, and brushed the tear from your lashes, wiping away the glittering trail the tear had left on your skin.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around you, an embrace you returned with just as much fervor. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you choked out, the guilt overpowering you. “It’s my fault Minjoo broke up with you. She didn’t like how much time we spent together.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “No, Y/N, this is not your fault. I should have been clearer with her, and anyway...” He hesitated, continuing, “...Maybe it’s not all bad.”

Your eyes widened with surprise. “What?”

Hyunjin flushed slightly. “This might just be the alcohol talking, Y/N… I don’t know anymore. But when you were holding me on the curb, I could feel you shaking. I could hear you crying. And I was getting my snot and drool and tears all over you, and by that time, you probably reeked of alcohol as much as I did. But you still held me. Minjoo… probably wouldn’t have.”

“Come on, I’m sure she―”

“No, Y/N,” Hyunjin interrupted, shaking his head vehemently. “The one time when you were on that family trip in France and I caught the flu, Minjoo came over. She took care of me, but… but I could see the disgust in her eyes every time she saw me throw up or cough up mucus. The one time I cried into her shoulder, she immediately went to change clothes. She’s only there in my highs, Y/N, but you’ve been there all the time. She only knows the happy Hyunjin, but you know the real Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin...” Your voice trailed off for a long moment before you managed, “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” Hyunjin took your hands in his larger ones, hesitating for a while before answering, “I mean… or, at least, I think I mean… that in a way, it’s always been you. This was just the universe’s way of showing me. I know I make zero sense, but...”

“No,” you said slowly, his words taking a moment to register. “No, I… I kind of get what you mean.”

Suddenly, it all made sense.

Why Hyunjin and your kiss, all those years ago, had seemed better and more full of life than any that you’d shared with your boyfriend.

Why the first person you called up whenever you found yourself free ― or needed to spill some news ― was Hyunjin, not your own boyfriend.

Why, even if you were spending the entire day out with your boyfriend, you had to steal into the bathrooms at least once to hear Hyunjin’s voice on the phone for at least five minutes.

Why skinship with Hyunjin felt so much natural and easier than skinship with Yongwoon.

Why everyone naturally assumed you two were a couple.

Maybe it was because deep down, that was what you were ― the only difference was that you’d both labeled the feeling as the wrong one, assuming that you were just best friends and remaining oblivious not only to the other’s feelings, but to your own.

“Hyunjin… I’ve spent so many days wondering why none of the kisses I’ve shared with Yongwoon have even come close to matching the one we shared in the seventh grade,” you admitted. “I guess it’s because they were missing the one key ingredient: spark. I won’t deny that I really like Yongwoon ― or, at least, I did, at the beginning ― but he’s just… not right for me, and I’m shocked it took this long for me to realize. He was always trying to steal me away from you, keep you away when we were both together, while you were always ready to share me with him… all to keep me happy.”

“Y/N...” Before you knew it, Hyunjin was leaning closer, and so were you, and you didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, your lips were pressed against his, and there it was, that spark, the one you hadn’t felt against your lips for five years.

As you both pulled away, you realized the words didn’t need to be said ― the kiss had spoken volumes more than those three simple words. That was the lovely thing about gestures ― they could explain things in ways much more nuanced than even a dictionary.

That night, you fell asleep in Hyunjin’s arms, your legs tangled with his, your heartbeats synchronizing.

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah) Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah) Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

You woke up to the warm sunlight filtering through your window; that was, by far, the most peaceful sleep you’d gotten in the last few days. You stretched, yawning appreciatively, before your eyes fell on the still-sleeping form of Hwang Hyunjin beside you. You smiled fondly, pressing a kiss to his forehead ― he stirred slightly, the corners of his lips quirking upwards ever so slightly ― before slipping out from under the bedcovers, going downstairs to make yourself and Hyunjin some coffee. Right as you’d finished pouring the two mugs, your doorbell rang; you went to open the door, your mug of coffee in hand, and saw Yongwoon standing there, smiling a little sheepishly. “Oh. Hey.”

“I was worried about you,” Yongwoon said, launching right into it with no prior greeting. “You haven’t been yourself lately ― you keep refusing dates, you don’t answer my texts quickly ― I’m worried about you, Y/N.”

Footsteps made you both turn around; Hyunjin was coming downstairs, looking tired but much refreshed after having showered and changed clothes. His smile made your breath hitch; it was funny how liking someone made them even more attractive in your eyes, because before, you’d been able to notice how pretty his smile was, but now, it was as if you’d forgotten, or never fully appreciated, how breathtakingly stunning it was.

Yongwoon’s smile had faded, and he was studying Hyunjin with a frown, furrowing his brow. “Why is he here, Y/N?”

“He stayed the night. He wasn’t… feeling the best, so I thought it best if I took care of him.” Your tone made it clear you weren’t taking any arguments, which simply made your boyfriend even more uneasy.

“I don’t like it,” he said abruptly. “I don’t like it at all, Y/N. I know you call him your ‘best friend’, but as your boyfriend, I don’t like the idea of you being home alone with another guy. I won’t let you―”

“Let me? Let me?” Your eyes widened with incredulity; the anger that burned in their depths caused him to take a step back, surprised. “I only meant―”

“No, I’ve heard enough,” you decided. “You sound like my grandpa. My annoying, patriarchal grandpa.”

“Y/N―”

“This isn’t working.”

He froze, staring at you for some hint that this was just a joke, maybe a very, very early April Fools’ prank. When he saw nothing except seriousness on your face, he managed, blankly, “Y/N, I―”

“Look. Don’t get me wrong, there was a point where I really, really liked you. But that was before I realized, whatever else we had, there was no spark.”

“Y/N!” he protested, taking a step towards you. You took a step back, shaking your head quite calmly ― you didn’t know where all this calmness was coming from, but you were glad for it.

“I want you to be happy,” you said finally. “I don’t think I’m the answer to that. And I don’t think you’re my answer, either. I’m doing this for the both of us. It’d be nice if we could stay friends, but… that’s up to you.”

Yongwoon looked from Hyunjin to you, the realization dawning in his eyes, which flared with anger. He shook his head, simply leaving the house; after a moment, he turned around, pausing, his eyes slightly wet with the reality that he wasn’t yours anymore ― and hadn’t been, for a while. “I don’t know about that, Y/N.”

You hesitated for a long, long while. “Bye, Yongwoon.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

As soon as he’d left, the tears spilled out; now, it was Hyunjin’s turn to hold you as you cried against him, your tears soaking through the thin fabric of his white t-shirt as he guided you to the couch, his arms tight and warm around you as he held you till you couldn’t cry anymore.

“Thanks, Hyunjinnie,” you whispered, looking up gratefully at him. He brushed away your tears, smiling that signature fond smile he reserved only for you, and placed a warm, soft kiss on your forehead, sending that tingling feeling flooding through your body.

And as the first snow of the year began to fall, outside, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips meeting his in a burst of warmth.

“I love you, Hyunjin.”

“I love you more, Y/N.”

“No! Stop that, I love YOU more!”

“Y/N! Gah, stop tickling me! I love you most!”

“Surrender already! You know I love you more than most.”

“Yes… yes, I do.”

[kirukirice]

Among the Crows: Chapter 47 -  From One Crow to Another

Everyone wants answers. But it’s not always obvious! 

--> Full text here on Ao3!

The next day, the silver Kara asked the older Kara a question.

“Can I read them?”

The doctor continued to apply a salve onto his patient’s stitches. Suga clarified, although he didn’t need to.

“Takeda-sensei’s books.”

Ukai slowly looked up and corked the glass bottle tightly.

“What for?” he asked.

Suga looked back with a determined stare.

“I want to know something.”

Ukai raised his eyebrow.

“Something?”

The young man nodded quietly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Ukai combed through his unruly blonde hair and sighed, thinking about whether it was a good idea. Truthfully, he had no reason to refuse the crow, and he had no right to keep all that knowledge to himself. If anything, Takeda would have wanted to spread the word to anyone who would hear it. Thus, he retrieved six of Sensei’s precious books from a tightly locked chest and stacked them onto a chair beside Suga.

Loverboy here didn’t tell the rest about the other four, of course.

“Here you go. I’ll warn you first, though, that you probably won’t understand half of the words in there.” Ukai advised.

“Thank you.” Suga said gratefully.

His arms swayed downwards as he slid the heavy book off of the chair. Before opening it, he took the time to admire the care that went into the well-handled tome. Bound to each end of the book were brown leather covers, carefully oiled and hemmed discreetly at the edges with fine string. Embossed neatly by hand on the front cover was the title, its letters raised just enough to make out the words. Inside, the pages had yellowed with age and become fragile, but the ink was as black as the day they were scrawled into history.

It was there and then that Suga immersed himself within the writings of a man he never knew, but who knew his kind far more than he did himself.

A while later, Kageyama walked in to accompany his Mama. He noticed the books and asked him what they were about. Suga nearly didn’t hear the boy.

“Ah, sorry. These are Sensei’s books. Ukai lent them to me.”

The small crow picked one up. “Be careful, they’re fragile.” Suga cautioned, and Kageyama grunted affirmatively. He sat on the bed next to Suga and flipped it open to a random page. The moment he saw the first word, his face scrunched up in puzzlement.

“How do you read this? Uh-ro—You-rop—“

Suga leaned over and put his arm round his child’s waist. “Uropygial.”

“What’s it mean?” asked Kageyama.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s written further down.” Suga suggested. The boy then scrutinized the text that followed and reported back, “It says that it’s the name of a gland that produces oil for birds to preen themselves with. Karas don’t have one even though they have wings, so they use plant oils instead. Why are you reading all this, Mama?”

“Why not?” he smiled, “I’ve got nothing else to do.”

The boy shrugged, agreeing, and laid down on the man’s shoulder. They read quietly for a spell, where the only sounds about them were of birds twittering in the morning sun and the occasional flip of a page. It took a long while for either of them to digest a single paragraph. Thankfully, Takeda’s penchant for adding drawings here and there gave them a place to pause in case they burned out. Kageyama appreciated those much more than passages about ‘the significance of preen oil on symbiotic bacteria and ectoparasites’, and so decided to search for them instead.

Suga noticed his newfound quest and chuckled. “Too much?”

“Too boring. Eww, look at this.” Kageyama grinned in amusement and showed him a finely-detailed cross-sectional diagram of a tick.

“You think he had to cut apart one of those to draw it?” Suga peered at the page and rubbed his chin.

“Gross. Wait, does that mean…” the boy said, and quickly flipped to a page with a skeletal diagram of a Kara. “This one, too?”

Suga grinned mischievously, “Who knows? Maybe we should open you up and find out.”

Kageyama later asked Ukai if Sensei was a serial killer, and got a sound noogie for that.

A few hours later, Ukai took a break from his chores and returned to see Suga’s head still buried in a book.

“Still at it?” he asked. The young man glanced up from his book and nodded. He seemed to be rather engrossed in the text, judging from his intense expression. “What are you looking for, anyway? Maybe I can help.” Ukai offered. Suga shook his head and said politely, “I can manage.”  

Just then, Hinata followed in behind Ukai and tugged at his sleeve urgently. “Uncle Ukai! Do you have any food?”

“What? Didn’t you just eat some bread?” he exclaimed, desperation creeping into his voice. He could have sworn the boy had inhaled two rolls just five minutes ago.

“Yeah, but, I want meat. I’m super hungry right now.” The boy grinned brightly and rubbed his tummy. “Go ask Daichi to make you something. I’m busy.” Ukai groaned and shooed him away by pushing him out of the room.

“But your cooking’s better!” Hinata insisted.

The small crow easily got what he wanted because of that. Ukai’s prideful fire was quite easy to stoke. The moment the meat was done, he merely took a few bites and then carried the plate outside while yelling, “I’m going out for a bit!”

“Oi, stay near the house, you hear?” Ukai called after him, “It’s not safe near the woods.”

And then it struck him. He was becoming a nagging parent, just like his parents were.

Finding his godson, who was hard at work chopping firewood outside the shed, Ukai sighed a long sigh and deflated against the creeper-covered wall. Daichi wiped the sweat glistening off his neck and forehead with a towel and remarked, “You keep sighing lately.”

Ukai rolled his eyes and rummaged around his pockets for a smoke. “Yeah, well, all this youth around me is making me feel horrible.”

Daichi laughed, seeing the man look so uncharacteristically down. “Hey, you know, I always meant to ask.”

“About?” Drat. All out of smokes.

“About—well, why you didn’t get married or had a partner or something,” Daichi said and swung the axe, lodging it into the tree stump on the ground with a loud thunk. “The question’s still valid.”

“Do I look like an eligible bachelor to you? I probably smell like one to the hens, anyway.” Ukai took a whiff of his freshly-laundered shirt. It still didn’t smell very encouraging, despite the amount of soap he used.

“Come on, I’ve seen plenty of women take second glances at you. Don’t know about men, though.” The hunter grinned cheekily.

Ukai scoffed loudly and folded his arms. “Please.”

“I’m serious, man.”  

“They must have really low standards, then,” he laughed self-deprecatingly and shook his head. At least, he still had Daichi to talk to to cheer him up. “Anyway, enough about this old codger. How did it go?”

Daichi blushed instantly.

Ukai grinned widely and playfully punched the man’s shoulder. “I presume it went well?”

“Well… yeah. He was comfortable with it.” Daichi replied, scratching his ear shyly. The Kara found his sudden shift in mannerisms wholly interesting and perfect teasing material.    

“Even the wings?” he probed.

“Uh-huh.”

Ukai broke into a proud, lopsided grin and gave Daichi a hearty slap on the back, making the man puff out an ‘oof’ from the sheer force of his arm. “You’re a special one, aren’t ya! God, what does he see in you?”

“I heard that. Anyway, what’s so special about the wings? Aren’t wings just like... more limbs?” Daichi asked honestly, for he had never gotten an explanation from any of the Karas. Ukai tsked several times and waggled his finger.

“They’re far more than just limbs. The wings are a Kara’s whole life and identity. They can’t afford to have anything happen to them for tons of reasons, including survival, so they take care of them very carefully.”

Daichi nodded and gulped. “So they usually don’t let anyone else touch them?”

“Not at all. It’s like touching someone else’s privates, just less sexy. Hey, did you also--”

“--No!”

The Kara smirked gleefully at his reaction. “So, yeah, it’s a big deal. Even more so because he should be really sensitive about them. Remember what I told you about abnormality?”

“Yes. I still don’t know what went down.” Daichi said.

“It’ll take a while. Don’t rush him.”

“I know. But has there ever been another Kara like him? Maybe they’ve gone through the same thing.”

Ukai rubbed his chin, harkening back to the village. “We’ve never had an albino Kara, much less a grey one. From what I’ve heard from my old gramps, there are rarely any records on white-winged crows being born; and not one has lived to see the next day.”

Seeing how Suga had managed to reach adulthood, the man found it strange. White or grey, neither should have been spared, going by Kara logic. He continued with a caveat, “Well, not all news travels to our village. If there was ever another grey crow, the Capital would definitely know.”

“The Capital?” Daichi asked, his brows creasing as his interest grew.

“The central command of all Karas. The rulers there determine the laws Karas must abide by, and no one can escape their notice. Well, that is, unless you are no longer one.”

“So they are the ones who enforce this… cruel practice?”

Ukai genuinely shrugged. “Who knows? It’s likely something that all Karas are inclined to do from birth, and they’re just making sure it stays that way. White doesn’t go well with dark forests - you should know.”

“But the white ones can still survive, can’t they? They don’t have to kill them.” Daichi said.

“Not many are willing to take the risk. Just one outlier can lead the rest of the predators into the village.”

Suddenly, an epiphany hit Daichi like a wayward spark.

He recalled the strange phrase that Suga kept repeating over and over that day.

I killed them. I killed them all.

And then, a terrible feeling of realization and doubt passed over him.

“Has that… ever happened before?” he asked slowly, and Ukai quickly picked up on what Daichi was thinking.

“You think that’s the case?” Ukai replied.

Daichi nodded solemnly. “It’s likely.”

The Kara folded his arms and exhaled deeply into a frown. “If that’s so, you’ve just got a lot more piled onto your plate, kid. I’d say you’d better find an answer before running wild with that idea.”

But Daichi wasn’t the only one with more questions than answers.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

Suga shook his head. He looked rather disappointed.

“Sensei wrote down a lot of things, but he couldn’t have captured everything.”

He nodded silently in response.

“So… you got any questions for me?”

He took a few moments, visibly hesitant in his reply. But because Ukai was the only other Kara he knew, he decided to ask.

“Have you heard of… the red twilight?”

Ukai tilted his head.

“No, can’t say I have. What’s that? A legend?”

Suga shook his head and smiled.

“It’s nothing. Thank you.”

[vraiesmeufs]

Do you want to be my Sugar Daddy ?

Un article de Kawter

Récemment a circulé sur la Toile un nouveau fait divers controversé. Après une vaste campagne de publicité, le site "RichMeetBeautiful.com" créé polémique en Belgique et en France avec des affiches placardées dans les capitales, proposant à de jeunes étudiants de trouver quelqu’un qui “va financer leurs prêts étudiants”.  à travers cet article nous revenons sur les pas de cette affaire.

Selon le créateur du site, "RichMeetBeautiful" est une plateforme virtuelle qui permet de mettre en contact des étudiant(e)s avec des hommes et femmes très riches. En échange d'un peu de compagnie, le sugar daddy ou la sugar mama promet de vous verser une certaine somme d'argent. Si plus affinités, ce portefeuille sur patte pourrait également vous offrir des cadeaux divers et variés (produits de luxe, appartements haut de gamme...). Jusque là rien de bien choquant en 2017, mais intéressons nous désormais à la stratégie de pub employée par "RichMeetBeautiful". Sur certaines affiches on voit deux gens de sexes opposés l'un sur l'autre, de quoi créer une certaine ambiguïté quant aux moyens mis en oeuvre pour soutirer cet argent au sugar daddy ou au sugar mama... Certains parlent de prostitution (à peine) cachée, comme si c'était une mœurs totalement intégrée à notre époque.

Photo via Anais CAQUANT / AFP

On en vient à la question fatidique : Avoir un sugar daddy/mama, est-ce une nouvelle forme de prostitution ? Revenons alors sur la définition de la prostitution : acte par lequel une personne consent habituellement à pratiquer des rapports sexuels avec un nombre indéterminé d'autres personnes moyennant rémunération (source : Larousse). Le site controversé ne précise pas quel genre d'activité est prévu lors des rendez-vous entre jeunes et vieux gens, alors on peut supposer un peu tout et n'importe quoi. En tout cas, la plateforme exige une description physique détaillée des jeunes gens qui cherchent une personne plus âgée et fortunée. La question suivante nous vient naturellement à l'esprit : une description physique, pourquoi faire ? Mais il serait naïf de penser qu'une personne vous verserait une somme d'argent à quatre voire cinq chiffres uniquement pour votre compagnie, aussi agréable soit-elle.

Photo via Flickr user Jaysin Trevino

Désormais, vous avez connaissance de tous ces faits, je peux donc vous laisser émettre un jugement sur cette polémique. De nombreuses personnes ont qualifié cette publicité de “honteuse” et l’adjoint à la maire de Paris a annoncé sur Twitter avoir saisi le procureur pour fermer ce site et enlever toutes les affiches. La maire de Paris dit condamner “avec fermeté cette publicité honteuse. Nous travaillons avec la préfecture de police pour la faire disparaître de nos rues.”

Ce qui est le plus répugnant dans cette affaire controversée est le jugement négatif de certains médias portés sur les jeunes filles adeptes de ce site. Un jugement que j'aurais pu comprendre s'il était aussi dur envers les hommes riches et accros à "RichMeetBeautiful.com". Malheureusement ce n'est pas le cas, alors je me sens indignée qu'on slutshame de jeunes étudiantes un peu paumées et désespérées, puis qu'on n’ose rien dire quant aux client(e)s fortuné(e)s inscrits sur ce site. Soit on juge tout le monde de la même manière, soit on évite de le faire. Un autre avis que j’ai du mal à comprendre sont les personnes qui soutiennent ce genre d’initiative. Ce qu'elles ignorent c'est qu'à travers ce soutien, elles servent la cause du trafic (virtuel) humain, de l'asservissement de l'homme fortuné sur la jeune femme, de la sexualisation du corps de la femme, de la réification de l’entité de la femme...et bien d'autres choses similaires. 

J'espère que j'ai réussi à vous faire réfléchir sur l'impact d'internet sur notre quotidien et notre société; le trafic humain n'a jamais été aussi près du grand public. RichMeetBeautiful.com ne se cache même pas sur une plateforme du Dark Web, le site s'est permis de viser un grand public... mauvaise idée puisqu'il s'est attiré les foudres de l'opinion publique. Malheureusement, cette même conscience commune a déchaîné ses jugements sur les jeunes étudiant(e)s, au lieu de se défouler sur les concepteurs de ce site et des hommes et femmes riches et puissants.

ENGLISH VERSION (translated by Eunisse)

Recently, a controversial minor news item has been circulating online.After a large commercial campaign, the site “RichMeetBeautiful.com” created a polemic in Belgium and France with posters displayed in the capital cities, proposing to young students to encounter someone who is “going to fund their student loans”. Through this article, we are going to follow the tracks of this case.

According to the website creator, “RichMeetBeautiful.com” is a virtual platform that allows students to contact very rich men and women. In exchange ofa little company, the sugar daddy or the sugar mama promises to deposit a certain amount of money. If more affinity, this living wallet could as well offer you man and varied gifts (luxury products, top of the range flats…) Until there, nothing too shocking in 2017, but from now on, let’s dig into their advertising strategy. On some posters we can see two persons of opposite sexes laying on top of each other, enough to create a certain ambiguity as for the methods used to extract this money from the sugar daddy or sugar mama…Certain talks about prostitution (barely) hidden, as if it was a totally well integrated custom nowadays.

There we come to the fatidic question: having a sugar daddy/mam, is it a new form of prostitution? Let’s go back to the definition of prostitution:The practice or occupation of engaging in sexual activity with someone for payment. (source: oxford dictionary). The controversial website does not clarifywhat type of activities is planned when you meet the old person, so we can only suppose anything and everything. Anyhow, the platform asks for a detailed physical description of the young people looking for an older rich person. The following question naturally comes to our mind: a physical description? What for? Bur it would be naive to think that someone would give youhuge sums of money only for your company, as nice as it can be. (Il y aune faute “une personne vous verserez »à verserait)

Now that you know all those facts, I can let you judge this polemic by yourself. A lot of people qualified this advertising as “shameful” and the deputy of Paris’ Town Hall announced on twitter that he seized the prosecutor to close the website and take down all the posters. Paris’ Mayor said she sentenced “rigidly this shameful advertising. We are working with the police to make them disappear from our streets.”

What is the most disgusting in this controversial case is the negative judgment that some medias casted on the young membersof this website. A judgment I could have understood if it was as hard on the old men addicted to “RichMeetBaeutiful.com” Sadly, it is not the case, so I feel offended that we slutshame young students who are a little lost and desperate and that we don’t dare saying anything to the rich clients registered into the website. Either we judge everyone the same way, either we avoid doing it. Another opinion I struggle to understand is people who support this type of initiative. What they don’t know is that behind this support, they serve the cause of (virtual) human traffic, of enslavement of the rich man over the women, of the oversexualisation of the woman’s body… any many similar things.

I hope I made you think about the impact of internet has on our everyday lives and our society: human traffic has never been as close to the general public. RichMeetsBeautiful.com doesn’t even hide in a Dark web platform, the website allowed itself to aim for a big audience… bad idea because it attracted the wrath of the public opinion. Sadly, this very communal conscience unleashed its judgments over the young students instead of allowing it to unwind on the creators of this website and on the rich and powerful rich old people.