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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love.

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pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

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A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense.

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him.

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself.

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room.

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well.

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist.

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that.

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face.

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not).

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia.

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text—”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks fluff

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terramythos · 4 years ago

Text

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 2 of 26

Title: Authority (The Southern Reach #2) (2014) - REREAD

Author: Jeff VanderMeer

Genre/Tags: Horror, Science Fiction, Ecological Horror, Cosmic Horror, Mystery, Weird, Third-Person, Unreliable Narrator

Rating: 8/10

Date Began: 1/05/2021

Date Finished: 1/10/2021

John "Control" Rodriguez, a disgraced former spy, is given an opportunity to redeem himself at the Southern Reach, the clandestine organization that oversees the mysterious and horrifying Area X. The director has gone missing following the disastrous "twelfth" expedition in Annihilation. Control is brought in to take over her job and fix the Southern Reach... and perhaps find a way to combat the insidious, paranormal effects of Area X.

But Control soon discovers just how deep Area X's corruption infects the place. Even worse, failures of the past-- both his own and those of the Southern Reach-- return to haunt him in disturbing ways. Badly outmatched within and without, Control will need to do everything he can to save not only the organization, but himself.

The last fragment of video remained in its own category: "Unassigned." Everyone was dead by then, except for an injured Lowry, already halfway back to the border.

Yet for a good twenty seconds the camera flew above the glimmering marsh reeds, the deep blue lakes, the ragged white cusp of the sea, toward the lighthouse.

Dipped and rose, fell again and soared again.

With what seemed like a horrifying enthusiasm.

An all-consuming joy.

Full review, some spoilers, and content warning(s) under the cut.

Content warnings for the book: some body horror but way toned down compared to Annihilation. Mind control/hypnotic suggestion is still a thing. Non graphic sexual content. Disturbing images. Without spoiling the entire book, there are several scenes that come off as gaslighting, but do have an alternate explanation. As before, a pervasive sense of unreality.

While Annihilation is a deep dive into the horrors of Area X, Authority takes a step back. It examines the situation from the perspective of the Southern Reach, the organization that oversees the expeditions we got to know so intimately in the last book. Control is a newcomer, so he functions as a natural outsider perspective. However, he's far from naïve due to his past experience in what I have to assume is the CIA (just called "Central" in the book). It's clear from the get-go that the Southern Reach is falling apart with its ancient buildings, circular and helpless theories, dwindling funding, and bizarre office politics. While Annihilation frames the Southern Reach as shady and possibly complicit in Area X's existence, Authority demonstrates the government would be predictably bad at handling an unknowable cosmic horror zone over any length of time.

Though I noted in my Annihilation review that most of the mystery surrounding Area X remains just that, Authority casually drops two major revelations in the first few chapters. First is... it's definitely aliens, right? Like, that's the only explanation that tracks-- why everything about the place is anathema to humanity, why it's impossible for characters to fully understand it, why mimicry is such a major aspect, etc. If you didn't suspect this already, it explains a lot. In particular, the "colonization" terminology and imagery in Annihilation hits different in that context. I have a lot of feelings about how this series approaches the extraterrestrial, but I'll save that for my Acceptance review.

The second reveal is that Control is taking over for the former director of the Southern Reach, who is MIA following Annihilation's "twelfth" expedition. Who is the director? The psychologist-- the pseudo antagonist of the last book, who we know got Super Killed Off. Turns out she's important and probably not actually evil? The biologist is also inexplicably back, but something is off about her, and she insists on being called Ghost Bird now. Did the biologist truly return (counter to the ending of the last book) or is this one of the shells Area X sometimes spits back out into the real world? If she's the latter, Ghost Bird seems to have much more personality and self awareness than the others. It is interesting to consider an entity of Area X would willingly name herself.

So, Authority is a weird book. The horror element is still present, but toned down. Instead, there's a lot of focus on the new character Control, his past, and the workings of the Southern Reach. In some ways this is refreshing. Annihilation (and the finale Acceptance) are so deeply entwined with Area X it's hard to see what "normal" looks like, and Authority brings that perspective. Relatively speaking. Second, and this is a spoiler, much of that normalcy is a facade. Control is basically mind controlled (heh) by a faction in Central, and is unaware of it for most of the book. It comes across in little ways, like the anachronistic storytelling and Control's confusion/disorientation at times.

We also learn that Area X doesn't just contaminate things inside it, but things outside it as well... and it's been doing this for some time. As a result, there's always a sense of Area X lurking in the periphery, manifesting in strange and unexpected ways. Something I like is the background chatter Control overhears being lines from Annihilation, which he isn't aware of, but the reader sure is.

I've read this book a few times, and while there are things I really like about it, it's probably my least favorite of the trilogy. I think the slower pacing and different narrative approach have merits, but just aren't as interesting to me as the rest of the series. It's noteworthy that my favorite bits in Authority are the disturbing video of the first expedition and the sudden End of Evangelion-esque return of Area X near the end-- not the espionage and philosophical tangents that comprise most of the book. There are several ideas that seem interesting but don't go anywhere, and those feel like a waste of space. I think Authority could be pared down to half its page count and still get across the same feelings and general concept.

Control is also not the most interesting protagonist, especially compared to previous and later characters. He's not terrible, but he spends most of his time just thinking in circles and observing mundane office politics. While this is fine at first it starts to drag as the story goes on. As I said, a lot of tangents go nowhere, and there's not much going on beyond those until well over halfway into the book. Control does have a hidden tragic backstory, and it's interesting enough, but it barely factors into the overarching Area X storyline outside some symbolic comparisons. He feels out of place, perhaps intentionally.

I do like the dry humor and observations Control brings and how they contrast with the intense tone of Annihilation. I can also see the appeal of having a more ordinary character, if only to bring context to the extraordinary. But the problem is Control isn't ordinary. He's the youngest member of a dynasty of professional spies! Yet somehow I just don't find him exciting compared to an antisocial biologist. I dunno. Ultimately Control is a pawn in the story, used and manipulated by other people, and (spoilers) this doesn't change in Acceptance.

I had similar dilemmas with VanderMeer's Ambergris books, particularly book two, so perhaps it's a fact about his writing. When it's good it's GOOD, but sometimes the things I like get lost in rambling narrative fluff. The question is whether getting through the less interesting parts is worth it for the really good parts. With The Southern Reach trilogy, I'd argue the latter. I have no issues with the style or pacing in Annihilation or Acceptance, and the overarching story is fascinating.

I've mentioned many times before that I usually struggle with book twos in trilogies, and this one isn't an exception. However, I do appreciate what Authority is going for on a meta and lore level when viewing the series as a whole. It does establish a lot of things that either explain earlier stuff or pay off later; it just takes a while to get to them. The context of everything else bumps this to an 8.

#taylor reads #8/10 #2021 reading challenge #google why was this image so crisp yet i couldn't find anything good for annihilation. biphobia at its finest #i like how this review turned out :>

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falling-pages · 5 years ago

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😈 Takashi for "was he/she worth it?"

I ALWAYS WRITE TOO MUCH FOR THESE PROMPTS SO WE’RE GONNA MAKE THIS ONE A TRILOGY AND I HOPE YOU’RE OKAY WITH THAT. IT’S THREE AM AND I HAVEN’T SLEPT IN ABOUT TWO DAYS SO HERE WE GO. PARTS 2 AND 3 WILL BE POSTED SOON IN THE REBLOGS.

UPDATE: PART 2 POSTED HERE

Romeo & Juliet: Mori x reader (part 1/3)

FYI, this is an AU where Mori is not rich or related to Honey. He’s just a normal guy, rather poor, who falls in love with a celebrity’s daughter.Also, I don’t think this first part is very good because it is setting up for parts 2 and 3, which will be good, I promise!

Romeo and Juliet wasn’t just a warning about hasty love or a satiric play about class divisions. It was a story of love conquering all, creating a bond that severs societal expectations and lasts past death. Though often reviled by actors and mocked by shallow-minded literature snobs, you knew it to be a tale of love and sacrifice for the greater good.

The young lovers were never meant to be happy. They were only pawns that had the unfortunate desire to act out.

You would know, because you’re living it right now.

When you first laid eyes on Takashi Morinozuka, you knew you were bound to love him. Before you even knew his name, you were drawn to the regal way in which he carried himself, convinced he was of noble birth. But when you looked closer and saw the callouses on his skin and plain clothing, you could tell he wasn’t.

You felt your heart shatter over a future that could never be before it had even begun.

And yet, you couldn’t help yourself.

It is fitting that you met in a pet shelter. It was the only place you could be yourself, because animals don’t ask for selfies or autographs, and it was the only place that Takashi wasn’t met with fear. Dogs can see everything humans can’t. When others saw a tall, brutish-looking teenage boy with a face of stone and hair of tar, the dogs saw a smiling, humble companion. And you–well, you saw the love of your life.

Takashi didn’t see you at first. He was too busy putting a dog back in its kennel after a walk when suddenly you were half-way to him, drawn in by that brooding air. The dog barked and like a trumpet from Heaven, the boy looked at you.

The look he gave you sent chills down your spine. His gray eyes widened, and he made a choking sound, so distracted that he forgot to latch the cage. Out scuttled the pooch, a wiry gray dog, who immediately pounced on you and tackled you to the floor in a giant licking fit.

“Benaya.”

You gasped at the boy’s deep voice, and then again as the dog, this harbringer, stepped on your windpipe in obedience. Benaya pranced back to his handler, a smile on that bearded face, as the boy ran to you in horror.

“Miss, are you alright?”

You fluttered you eyes open to see him crouched beside you, hand resting by your head. Close-up, you could see the worry etched in every gentle line of his face.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you whisper, rubbing the side of your head. You accept his outstretched hand, and when he pulls you to your feet, you see just how big he really is. You were tall for a girl anyways, but you felt so small, so feminine with him. It was a nice feeling to have his hand completely cover yours. And as you met eyes, you felt yourself fall.

Later, Takashi told you he never believed in fate until that moment.

“Is this your dog?” you asked, letting go of his hand and pointing.

The little rascal was sitting on his bed, paws crossed, with a satisfied glint in his eyes. Self-satisfaction reeked from him.

“No,” the boy whispered. “Not yet. I just volunteer here.” Your eyes wandered to his ID card in a lanyard around his neck. “But once I save up the adoption fee, they said I could have him. They gave me some other supplies for him.”

His voice filled with emotion, a spark you hadn’t yet heard in his deadpan tone. As if he understood, Benaya wagged his tail, giving a little “yip” of approval. It was obvious how much they both loved each other.

As you were about to ask him more, you spotted your sister, Etsuko, searching for you. You groaned at your babysitter.

“I have to leave,” you say, grabbing the boy’s attention.

“Will I see you again?” he blurts out.

You smile at the butterflies lining your stomach. Crazy fans always asked that, and you would be alarmed at such sudden desperation, but something was different with him. “Of course. I’ll be back next Saturday.” The back of your neck burns, as if Etsuko is lasering her disapproval into your skin. “Goodbye…?”

“Call me Takashi.” It suited him, long and strong.

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

He blinked, lightly wetting his lips. “Goodbye, Miss (Y/N).”

On the drive home, the situation rolled over in your mind. He was the first person in a while to not gawk or stammer when they realized who you were. It was refreshing to be treated like a normal person for once.

- - - - - - - - - – - - - - - – - - - - - - - - - - - - – - -

Weekly shelter visits progressed into biweekly walks in the park that turned into tiny daily after-school adventures with the boy with the hard face. As you spent more time with him, usually petting your favorite teacup chihuahua while watching him wrestle with Benaya in the park, you felt yourself drawn into his mysterious aura.

He was different than all the boys who had tried to court you before. He was rough and often came back from walks dirty with a smile on his face. He rarely spoke, which was nice. It was a break from all the flattery you endured from hopeless rejects trying to get on your parents’ good sides. And though he did admit he was a fan of your parents’ music–they had redefined the category of modern Japanese classicalism, after all–he never spouted about them. He liked you, he enjoyed your company. He wasn’t using you to get ahead. That was a feeling you rarely got from anyone.

Takashi lacked the charisma and social standing of any boys in your circle, but he possessed a kind heart and a certain innocence that poor people have, free from any ulterior motives. You had never seen such genuine loyalty before.

The more time you spent with him, the stronger you felt that connection grow. You felt safest around him. His towering build scared off potential attackers, sure, and you felt comforted when his shadow covered you from nosy paparazzi. But feeling safe and protected wasn’t just about warding off potential thieves. It was about placing your heart in his hands and knowing he wouldn’t crush it. After years of being on your guard against people using you for your fame, you could finally show Takashi this hidden room inside your soul, unlocking your emotions just for him.

He would always respond the same way: listening to you, drinking in your grievances and excitement. Occasionally he would mutter a “ya” to remind you he’s there, but most often he would pull you onto his lap or against his chest so you could feel him shielding you from the outside.

He was never greedy with your emotions, always waiting until you were ready to discuss them. Your two worlds were so different, but through hard work on both sides, you two met in the middle and created a little world, a perfect Eden, of your own.

Your dates were low-key. You didn’t even know if they were actual dates or not. All you knew is that you wanted to be with him. Every time you were, you felt something in your heart grab onto him.

Your best day together wasn’t a spontaneous date. You suspected he had been planning something for the past couple of weeks, and when you met together at the secret rendezvous spot, he held a picnic basket and a bright smile.

Gosh, that smile–you could look at it all day, and often, he’d let you. Most of the time you would just sit together in silence, or you’d meet at a cafe and just stare at him over tea as you read together.

But something was different today. Emotion cracked that strict facade on Takashi’s face as soon as you rounded the corner. He smiled, really smiled, and the light reached into his eyes. Since they were gray as steel, most people thought they were unfeeling, cold, and hard as he was. Moments like these, though, when your presence let the light in, when his pupils would expand, the steel would melt into just a slick, ashy pool, warmed into liquid by your presence.

You knew he would never say it. He never could. He barely spoke about anything, much less about love. But you saw it. You felt it in the strength of his fingers when he took your hand.

These little touches made all the difference. You two had never done much of anything physical together, besides some hugs when you were upset. Just a few hand brushes here, fixing hair there. Like he knew he was big and wanted to protect you from himself.

That changed, however, when he led you uptown to a little clearing in a park you had never seen before. In the middle of it lay a scattering of dark blue roses with a checkered blanket. An angel fountain piped water into the air, casting a rainbow mirage over the scene. On the outskirts of town, barely any pedestrians, with bright grass and a vibrant sun overhead, he had surprised you with the most romantic moment of your life.

“Takashi,” you whispered, “did you do this for me?”

“Ya.”

Without warning you jumped into his arms and hugged him. He didn’t even flinch or drop the basket, just held you close with one arm. With your cheek against his neck, you felt his skin heating with a blush. His cologne swept into your nose, odd because he usually never wore cologne, as his natural manly scent was enough to draw you in. But maybe he wanted to make a good impression today.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, pulling away from him.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Takashi set you on the ground before taking your hand, pulling you into your own personal garden. You don’t know how this he got this space reserved or privatized. He was intimidating enough, but then he left to come get you.

You both sat down on the blanket, careful not to crush the scattered roses. As Takashi unpacked the picnic, you dug your fingernail into the threads of the blanket. It was exceptionally well-made, soft as a cloud but thick enough to be a cushion from the grass.

He pulled out two crabs, a pot of mashed potatoes, and a container of garden salad. Your mouth watered as the smell hit your nose, but he looked at you sheepishly.

“I could only get two crabs,” he admitted as he passed you the bigger one. “I’m sorry, I know this probably isn’t what you’re used to.”

You broke one of the legs and immediately dove into the fleshy tissue. “All I need is you here with me,” you reassure him.

The corner of his mouth tips upwards, and you both eat in silence.

The crab is succulent, the butter coating the back of your teeth as you swallow. This, the blue roses, possibly a reservation fee for the spot…how much money did he spend on you? You knew he did not have that much to begin with, and that he was saving up for Benaya. How did he afford all of this?

You can’t help but look at him. Towering over everyone, his back in perfect, kendo-inspired posture, muscles rippling and peeking out of his button-up shirt. He had the disposition of a king with the humble swagger and good looks of a god.

And his skin–it was darker than everyone else’s. Odd for a Japanese man, and you wondered if it were his genes or just the amount of time he spent outdoors under the sun. But it looked nice. It suited his dark hair and kept him from looking sickly.

Unabashed, you kept staring at him. Shy as he was, only stealing glances at you every so often, you weren’t afraid of being caught. You had been shut in so much growing up, taught to be a silent figurehead for your parents. You needed to be noticed by him.

After the meal, Takashi packed everything up while you fell on your back, content to take a nap. Your eyes searched the clouds lazily; you checked out mentally, grateful for a full stomach and the sun on your face.

There’s some rustling, and you feel your upper half slightly lifted. Opening your eyes fully, you see Takashi lie down beside you, stiffly stretching his arm under your head. He never looked at you, only kept his gaze glued to the sky.

If your ambitious parents taught you anything, it was to go after what you want.

You shifted your body closer to his, curling up to put your head on his shoulder. Immediately you felt him gasp. Were you too direct? It’s only been two months since you’ve met, after all, though it felt like you’ve known each other forever. Were you misreading him?

But then the arm under you slides over to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, and he smiles again. You’ve never seen him smile so much in one day.

Snuggled up together, watching the sky in peaceful silence, you didn’t think this day could get much better. But then Takashi grew restless.

He sat up half-way, still cradling you under his arm, and gave you your first kiss in a bed of blue roses.

Finally.

You sighed against his mouth, pulling his body into yours. You couldn’t even feel the sun or the grass anymore. All you could feel were Takashi’s fingers lightly graze your wrist, and then his full, warm lips pressed so firmly into yours. He arched over you, but you felt safe.

It was the best day of your life.

You had no idea that it would turn into a nightmare when you returned home.

That concludes part 1! Parts 2 and 3 will be posted in the reblogs very soon! Enjoy the fluff because the next parts are just full of pain and angst

#ohshc #mori x reader #takashi x reader #takashi morinozuka #mori angst #mori fanfic #mori imagine #mori scenario #mori headcanon #ouran high school host club

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justhereforthefanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

Subtle Induction: Matteo x Adele drabble/one-shot

Whatttt!!! Okay, I did say I didn’t have time to commit to a fanfic, but this scene popped into my head and I thought, heck. Fine. I can smash out a drabble.

Famous last words, eh?

This was inspired by one of my Titanic prompts - Christmas (Modern/Urban) AU, but leans closer to a Workplace AU. Not chrismas-sy though :(

Subtle Induction | Titanic AU | Matteo x Adal

Click. Click. Click.

She stared at the spreadsheet despondently, figures swimming in front of her eyes.

NG-Organise? More like NG-bullshit.

She sighed heavily.

48 hours. That was all it took for her world to come crushing down.

Adal moved to London upon accepting a job offer that seemed too good to be true. A passionate activist of women's rights, Adal was currently putting herself through a political science degree by working tables at the local pub. One night, she overheard one of her patrons waxing lyrical about the emerging tech giant that was going to change the world. Immediately, she was enamoured. She looked up their careers directory and applied for a place on their PR team.

To her surprise, what she thought would be a shot in the dark became a dream come true when she received an email invitation for an interview. Mr. Vasari had taken her interview, shown her around the workplace, and offered her a position. His deep baritone, steady gaze and fierce intellect made her feel safe and listened to, and she believed if this was any indication of the level of leadership she had to look forward to, the job would be a slice of heaven.

Little did she know she made a deal with the devil.

She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose tiredly. The hairs of her neck began to stand. Her eyes flicked over the barrier to the cubicle in the corner.

He was looking at her again.

Rolling her shoulders back, she met his inquisitive gaze heads on. He did not look away. Instead, he quirked one thick eyebrow up, an insufferable smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Matteo Vasari was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. But little did he know, she was no lamb.

Adal scoffed. He had set her on this path. Convinced her that this was the exact progressive workplace she wanted to be in. That this was the job of a lifetime. Convinced her to move to London, quit her job, uproot herself and her sister to seize the opportunity to make a difference.

Within 2 days of starting, the facade of the dream came crashing down.

James Eisler, the British division’s CEO had invited her and Matteo to discuss her role and responsibilities. She left that meeting white-knuckled, with her breath caught in her chest. It was evident that she was a token hire, a woman and person of colour that would raise the profile of their company to several key stakeholders they wanted to impress. And what better way than putting her in-charge of publicity. A public face for a public role.

Immediately she saw what she didn’t see right there before. A predominantly anglo workplace. No women in managerial or senior positions. A white saviour mindset permeating throughout their work in various sectors. None of their practices took into account local expertise in the countries they assisted. It was shocking. A complete contrast to their current image.

No wonder why they splash the big bucks on PR, Adal rolled her eyes.

Click. Click. Click.

She couldn’t just cut loose. Her apartment and Hileni’s new school placement was tied up with NGOrganise. They had offered it as part of their reloaction service, and Adal took them up. Now everything was at stake.

Worse still, she was tasked to win over Zetta Serda, beloved Oscar-winning actress and UN Goodwill Ambassador for the past 5 years. To convince her to be part of their charade in spreading awareness and goodwill across the globe.

Scowling at her screen, she hears the rolling of a chair in the distance. Sharp footsteps pad towards her. Adal kept her eyes glued to the screen, her hand twitching in anticipation. Not long, the telltale strong, spicy scent of his pomade invaded her senses. A small cough. She reluctantly lifts her eyes. Matteo throws her a short, wry smile and nods towards her screen.

“Having trouble?”, he tucks his hands under his arms, his forearms exposed by crisp rolled-up sleeves. His wristwatch glistens under the fluorescent lighting. 11.45am. Gods, the day had barely begun.

“Trouble e-stalking a celebrity, tracking down her movements and formulating a false impression of our work for the campaign? Now why would you think that?”

He smirks, finding her candor refreshing.

“You look like you’ve been kicked by a horse”.

She gasps. His smirk deepens.

“Well, I happen to have a lot on my mind.”

Matteo’s smirk fades and he nods, deep in thought.

“And how is your sister settling?”

Adal’s back stiffens. Matteo sees how it’s taken and immediately shakes his head, hands raised, cool demeanour gone.

“I meant, with school and everything. I understand it was a big move for her too.”

A beat passes, Adal’s face an inscrutable mask.

“Great. We’re grateful to NGOrganise for putting her at St Rose’s Girls. Not an easy school to get into, from what we hear.”

The unspoken implication of the statement hangs heavily between them. It is known that girls that look like Hileni do not go to prestigious, high crust institutions like St Rose's.

Matteo nods. He hesitates over what he says next.

“Adal...we take care of our own here at NGO. You needn’t worry. You have every reason to believe that we have your best interests at heart. James is a man of his word.”

“And you?”

Adal sees his eyes flash for a split second, and then flicker with something heavy. She thinks calling it remorse would have been too generous.

His voice drops.

“I’m not your enemy. Look around you. People like us, we got to do whatever it takes to keep those doors open.”

Matteo falters. He takes a deep breath, but thinking better of it, stops himself. He steps towards the back of her chair. Alarmed, Adal’s breathing jumps.

He bends over her shoulder, an arm at the back of her seat, his face and hers side-by-side, inches away from each other.

She tries to avoid it but she can’t. From the corner of her eye, she can see every line, every hair on his face.

Belatedly, she registers that he is reviewing her work, his eyes fixed on her screen.

She thinks she can’t possibly hide her reaction to him, but hopes against hope that he hasn’t noticed his affect on her. His face is a passive mask, but the glint in his eye betrays him.

After a tortuous 15 seconds, he points to the screen and turns towards her, his breath shallowly wafting across her face. Their lips are inches apart.

“Add a column here for resources. As long as it is a prospecting expense, you may use it however you like”.

He straightens up to leave. Adal feels her face warm up. As he walks away, she releases her breath and hangs her head in annoyance and confusion. Or rather, annoyance at her confusion. Wasn’t he Enemy #1 a moment ago?

Before she could complete the thought, Matteo turns around, his eyes flicking to her screen.

“By the way, good job.”

She hesitantly smiles.

“I want it in my inbox before lunch time”.

She scowls as she watches him walk towards his desk, grab his laptop and head towards James Eisler’s office.

Don’t look a gift horse in it’s mouth, is that what he is trying to tell me?

She shakes her head, her hand going for her mouse.

Click. Click. Click.

Her eyes look for him across the room.

No matter what he says, he had full knowledge I was a token hire. He encouraged me. Deceit is deceit.

Matteo strides into the boardroom, laptop in hand. Their eyes connect.

No matter how pretty his words are.

Determined, Adal looks at her screen and gathers her thoughts. She wasn’t going to be a pawn in someone else’s game. So what if she was a diversity hire? She knew her worth, and no amount of commiserating over shared experiences was going to stop her from being who she was. She was more than her race and gender. She needed to walk away from this unscathed, on her own terms, her own way. And she would.

Whatever it took.

---

Author's note:

Hellooo Life 2.0 cameo! Doesn't Matteo come across a little like Jaime, in the sense they are both aware of the POC ceiling at their respective workplaces?

Also, leaning towards Mena Massoud as a face claim for Matteo. He is a little prettier, and his face is rounder, but look:

Kinda? Maybe?

Still trying to find the perfect face claim for Adele, but no luck. I do think Naomi Scott would do a kickarse job as her, if she was cast.

There, the plot bunny is out of my head (for now).

#storyscape titanic fanfiction #storyscape #storyscape titanic #storyscape life 2.0 #life 2.0 #matteo vasari #adele carrem #adele x matteo #mena massoud #naomi scott #adal karam #the things i write

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dadbodsarehot · 5 years ago

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under cut for pkmn sw/sh spoilers. just some things ive been thinking about

so like. as much as i LOVE leon and the gym leaders and the new gen in sw/sh and how people in the stadiums congratulate you after you win matches the story is like... so SEVERELY lacking. i feel like the stuff with rose just comes out of NOWHERE and like. is really confusing ?? like he wants to put the whole ass region in mortal danger just so they wont ?? run out of energy ?? but its not like at any point during the game it was mentioned that theyre actually running out of energy or in danger of it, at least not for at least a thousand years, not even HE mentions anything like that afaik, unless it was or he did and i just missed it somehow. but like. if that had been a plot point and an Important one, shouldnt they have ?? mentioned it ?? or made it so if they did mention it it wasnt something you could ?? miss ?? and it was really unclear whether or not oleana was manipulating him INTO doing this or if she was just one of his pawns, because the dynamic they had the whole game a la miss bellum and the mayor of townsville just SHIFTS right at the end for ?? no reason ?? and that whole scene where leon is supposed to meet you for dinner but he meets with the chairman instead and you have to find the key to the lift to go get him plays out like he was straight up KIDNAPPED and being TORTURED or something but like ?? the minute you both get there he finishes the weird conversation he was having with the chairman and just?? leaves with you of his own free will ?? so why in fucks name did we have to rush over and go get him like he was in some sort of danger ?? and the bede plotline was really weird too, like it would have been clever if the chairman disowned them and they started their own evil organization but then they just get ?? immediately taken in by opal ?? and i guess become the new ballonlea gym leader ?? even though thats a fairy gym and most of their original team was all psychic types ?? all because they ?? wear pink ?? and like after you hear the chairman “turned himself in” but like ?? what did they do to him ?? did he go to jail ?? does pokemon HAVE jail ?? team rocket didnt go to jail, archie and maxie didnt go to jail, i dont even think ghetsis or n went to jail, and they all did equivalent or MUCH WORSE things than rose! did they just fire him ?? so whos the chairman now ?? most of the important shit happened offscreen while people told you not to worry about it and just focus on your gym challenge and it didnt have the GRAND SCALE of being a HERO and saving the REGION that all the games before it did, and while were AT IT team yell being the “”evil”” team of this region doesnt really work AT ALL. like yeah, team skull was goofy and did stupid bullshit and were comic relief, BUT they also werent the ONLY villains in sumo/usum because they just werent threatening and didnt have lofty goals for the most part. thats why the aether foundation was in those games, to present a real turnabout late stage villain that posed an actual THREAT. i feel like they tried to replicate the pattern of team skull / aether foundation with team yell / rose, but since they have nothing to DO with each other and rose has no goals that make sense ANYWAY it just falls FLAT

and thats the way i would describe the experience in general, as just FLAT as far as the story goes. it felt like a half finished paint-by-numbers of a pokemon game instead of a fully thought out title. none of the towns have anything to do in them besides beat the gyms and leave because thats where the focus is, on the gameplay and not on WHY youre playing the game to begin with, which is to immerse yourself in the fantasy of being in this world and being a HERO and having an ADVENTURE!! but i didnt feel like i was having an adventure, i felt like i was being led around by the nose like the game thought i was an idiot until it was time to easily decimate the next gym because all my pokemon were over leveled as HELL and i could easily sweep people even when they werent

off topic but i also got bored of the camping system rather early, i think they should have combined it with some form of pokemon refresh so that you could still pet your pokemon and bond with them that way because i didnt camp for most of the game until the very end to get the bond with my pokemon more and get the full benefits of that. the curry minigame is repetitive and i feel like you need a premade GUIDE to be able to know what youre doing in it because youll never get beyond bronze class just fucking around

all in all i really hope this isnt the direction they keep going in with this franchise because while there were definitely things i like and the game LOOKS amazing and the new gen is a lot more tolerable than i imagined, all in all it feels like a case of style over substance, and im sure somebody has said all this stuff before already but like. it just makes me really Sad.

//rant over

#joseph.txt #pokemon spoilers #sw/sh spoilers #i put it under a cut #but jic #you can reblog this if you want to #thats true abt most of my text posts but

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theodorebennas · 7 years ago

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Adrift

MUSIC

A refreshing warmth overcame the Chapter-Master as vision came to him once more. Vision beyond mortal sensibilities. His formless eyes saw joy as clearly as one would see a castle before them. He felt tranquility with the same sincerity that one could feel the green grass beneath feet. The memories of war, the pain of his wounds, and the agonies of disappointment washed from him like a child’s sand castle by the high tides of the sea.

Replacing them were acceptance, calm, and a love that mortal tongue could not comprehend, let alone explain. As though in some half-dazed fever dream, Theodore drifted along that golden ocean for what he felt to be eternity.

A voice, familiar and kind, called out softly to him, “Theo! Theo!”

“Te-Terrance?” The slain Duke of Summerfast inquired, confused as he rose towards the sound of his youngest brother’s voice with the formless sea providing no resistance.

The two brothers were reunited in moments. Terrance was just as Theodore had remembered him though now shimmering with gold and clad in blinding clothing that could have seared a mere man’s eyes.

“Little brother. It truly is...” Theodore whispered incredulously, as he embraced the young man who had fallen beside him in Northrend so many years ago. It was the first time in this preternatural world that Theodore felt physicality alongside his own brother’s joy.

“Yeah, it is!” The other paladin spoke, patting his older brother’s ethereal form. A frown crossed his features for the first time, “Though, it’s not your time to be here, Theo.”

“I never thought I-Huh?”

“There’s still much for you to do, Theo. Back on Azeroth, I mean.”

“But I’m dead, Terrance. Isn’t i-”

The young knight, forever the same age he was at death, shook his head, chuckling, “You have friends that would argue otherwise.” He clasped his brother’s shoulder, “Besides, don’t you have a contract?” He grinned wryly, “Anyways, go. And I don’t want to see you here until you’ve got more gray hair.” He pushed and Theodore felt weight as he plummeted.

His eyes opened with a radiant light and lurched forward. His muscles burned in protest and his stomach ached. Within moments his mind grounded itself as he inhaled and then exhaled. His gaze settled on the three sin’dorei, two Blood Knights and a Sorceress. He had heard Malien’s voice but looked about, not seeing Summy or Vordas among them.

The Blood Elf trio were masked, but they bowed deferentially to the surviving Vanguard soldiers. "We apologize, but we could not interfere while Vendetta's influence hung over this place. We have done what we could. It remains to you to do what must be done next. Know that we are Absolution, and that we stand with you against Vendetta. Know also that we will send you what aid and information we can... but your friends, I fear, are now lost to a torment from which we know not how to save them. We do not wish to see the Horde and Alliance come to war again, as Vendetta does. When we know more of his movements, we will be in touch."

The paladin sat up, listening as his thoughts raced and his body quarreled against the shock of returning to life, "What is Vendetta? And what is Absolution?" The Second Officer of the Vanguard coughed deeply, rising up, "Lost to a torment? By what powers did you restore me?" He felt the Light’s power within him but needed to make sure, "And can this be done to our comrades? You speak of torments but all torments can be ended."

The trio bowed low again in apology. "That may well be, but we do not know how they may be redeemed. We only wish you to understand that there may be no way back for them... and to prepare you for the inevitability that Vendetta, in his lust to ignite war, may raise the shades of your friends so that he may use them as pawns to achieve that war."

Malien scoffed as she returned her glare towards the Sin’dorei, "If you know it is this “Vendetta's” actions to instigate a war, why do you not inform the Horde themselves instead of allowing the blame be place upon the Alliance?"*

The sin'dorei bowed yet again. "More we cannot say. We have already been gone too long. But you will receive what knowledge we have when we obtain it. Farewell." They melt back through their holy portal.”

The paladin frowned in disapproval at their sudden exit though he had accepted this as just how sin’dorei were. He exhaled deeply, sitting back down to regather his strength. He spoke into his communicator, “"Requesting evac. The reports of my death have been greatly overstated."

Three gnomes shouted in response, “"MEKKATORQUE'S HAIRY BALLSACK! YOU'RE FUCKING ALIVE!"

“Damn it, he’s still alive.” Marshal Kingston followed, without similar gnomish excitement.

“The contract is the contract.’ Theodore responded slyly despite the pain, “It could not have been any other way.”

The gnomish operator spoke up after a few moments of stunned silence, “Sir, the Field Marshal is gonna need an update on this. The reports we’re getting aren’t good.”

“They rarely are.” The Marshal replied

@vordasblackspire @summysparklesprocket @gereionkingston @integrabrenagh @malien-moonray @juliette-bennas

#Duke Theodore Bennas #The Oathsworn Vanguard #IC #Canon #Story

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brinehater · 1 month ago

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WAIT. I HAVE NOT PUT UP PICTURES OF TEMU ROSE, HUMAN MINT, OR TEMU IRIS HERE HAVE I?

WHO WANTS TO SEE THE TEMU FAMILY?

(also I am alive. Mint and Rose have refreshed pawn quests)

#viewing the dragon's dogma (dis)respectfully

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tellybuddies · 5 years ago

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Élite has it all: rich students with a hint of a murderous trait within, a queer romance that will have you reaching for the tissues, sweet interracial couplings, a taboo that will make your jaw drop, and mysteries you will not be able to get your head around.

What is the story behind Élite?

S1: Three working-class teens (Nadia, Samuel, and Christian) are given scholarships to study at Las Encinas, an elite school when the roof of their school collapses. Thrust into the world of Spain’s richest and their children, both worlds collide when a student is murdered.

S2: Three new students arrive at the school, and Las Encinas finds themselves entangled in yet another incident: the mysterious disappearance of a student.

First Season:

I didn’t really know what to expect while watching this, I don’t watch too many teen dramas but I had a feeling it was going to be a typical drama filled with cliches and stereotypes. That was not the case.

The first episode was so explosive, I couldn’t just stop there and not see this through to the end! There were moments where humorous lines were thrown here and there, but overall this has to be the most dramatic high school I have ever been to - I felt like that quiet student who sits at the back and just watches as the drama unfolds one by one - it was that deep.

Racism is one of the themes explored within Élite and there were times where the racism was subtly injected into a conversation: Christian meets Nadia for the first time and calls her beautiful, he retracts his statement seconds later saying “Shit, sorry. You won’t blow yourself up because I said that, right?” He laughed while saying this, showing how easily people can turn their racist comments into a joke when it is something very serious.

Eleven minutes in, Nadia begins her school day with being called into the principal’s office, the topic being her hijab. The principal begins by telling Nadia that “as per our rules, no accessories are allowed”. Watching someone be discriminated over their cultural choices sparked some disappointment, the ignorance was unreal. A teacher tried to sympathise by saying that they understood why Nadia was against this and her response gained a round of applause:

“If you understood, you wouldn’t ask me to give up my culture or religion.”

For the duration of the series, Nadia goes from strength to strength: she deals with her strict parents and the pressure they put on her to bring pride to the family while also dealing with her feelings for Guzmán, leading them into a slow-burning romance.

Christian, in my opinion, was shown to be this character who played the clown role within the trio. He could be a little bit cocky, didn’t particularly study, liked to have a drink or two and smoke a few joints, he was crazy about another student, Carla, and wanted more than a little taste of the fancy lifestyle he was exposed to. Throughout the season, he showed that there were times when he could be serious too, whether it was to do with his friends, Carla and his feelings for her, or himself -- when he got serious, he was determined to let people know his exact feelings and thoughts before going back to his humorous antics.

Samuel seemed like a decent guy, he wanted no trouble, just wanted to get through the school year, and battled with his studies and his job as a waiter. The moment he locks eyes on Marina, a cute girl who gave off a rebellious vibe and sister of popular boy Guzmán, that’s when trouble knocked on his door. He was infatuated with Marina and their relationship went from a one-sided crush to a half-boyfriend, half-girlfriend situation. When he finds out about Marina’s pregnancy, he starts to act paranoid and goes on accusing everyone around him, including a teacher; this made me dislike Samuel but then I realised that he was only acting this way because he was looking at her with rose-tinted glasses, she was his first love, and finding out who she was really in love with did nothing to stop him from loving her.

As stated in the beginning, the show includes the murder of a student and so episodes have snippets of the main core group being interviewed by an officer on the case. The intertwining interviews give an insight into the characters’ relationships and thoughts but you also begin to notice that there are too many twists and turns which made things confusing, however, it all made sense in the end.

Halfway in season one, the students (privileged and unprivileged) start to form relationships with each other - both friendly and romantic - and because they have to share classes and projects with each other, they begin to grow a sense of personal development. It was really interesting to see the elite students bring out their vulnerable side, you start to see them as more than a person who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth but as a real person with feelings and internal issues that a “normal” person deals with.

Despite the students starting to warm up to each other, there was a clear divide between the rich and the poor. The working-class students were not seen as equals and are instead seen as pawns in a wretched game they didn’t want a part of. Christian really takes this to heart and lets his feelings be known, he says “I am fed up, Carla. I want you to see me as an equal [...] I don’t want to be your gigolo, or your thief, or someone you use.” In reality, it’s a dog-eat-dog world and it is something you can’t control. People are used left, right, and centre and while some see this as a normal thing, others don’t understand it.

This season touched on a lot of issues that are reflected in reality, ranging from social pressure, drug and alcohol abuse, sexual relationships, racism, sexual identity, and a whole lot more.

The finale revealed the last moments of the murdered student and uncovered secrets that left you wondering what was next to come.

Highlights:

#OMANDER (obviously) I loved seeing Ander and Osman, Nadia’s brother, start a relationship. The thing with queer relationships in television is that it is often thrown into your faces and it is either displayed as over-the-top or very sexualised or in some cases, both. Thankfully, the most amazing queer relationship I have seen in a series was done so beautifully and realistically. Nothing was forced, the characters took their time with coming to terms with their sexuality and their newfound relationship, and it was cute, healthy, and heart-warming.

Nadia + Omar’s sibling love Although they both lived in the same house, walked home from parties or school together, and were even in the same room together, the two rarely spoke to each other but as the series advanced, we see the Shanaa siblings form a bond that wasn’t there at the start of the series. They spoke more, confided in each other, and had each other’s back.

All things QUEER Ander’s mum found out he was gay when she came home to find her son kissing Omar and rather than deny what she saw, she accepted it with a smile. Like any other teen who is in the closet, Ander was worried about coming out but receiving a warm reception from his parents and best friends Polo and Guzmán, the latter who was confused why his friend didn’t feel comfortable confiding in him about his sexuality, gave him the freedom to own his queerness and he wasn’t shy about letting people know his sexual preference.

Carla and Polo were the IT couple (other than Guzman and Lucrecia of course), as they have been together since the age of twelve, and the arrival of Christian changed their whole relationship with the three of them engaging in a sexual relationship, solo and group, and this also gave Polo the opportunity to figure out his own sexuality.

The characters in Élite had sexual freedom that is slightly frowned upon in real life and usually met with confusion, denial, and/or offensive remarks. The show really made it clear that times have evolved and people like to kiss men, women, have relationships with either gender or engage in open relationships, fwbs, or NSA and that was OK.

Second Season:

Personally, I didn’t enjoy the second part of Élite. It seemed a little bit too messy with the number of secrets and lies that were circulating around. There was nothing that gave me an oomph and the drama was a bit unnecessary and boring. While I was intrigued in the first episode, the anticipation died down quite quickly but I did find that it picked up in the last two episodes.

I did somewhat like the introduction of the three new characters that popped up, although there wasn’t much of their backstory that really got me interested which simply made them look odd and out of place.

I do have a favourite quote from this season and it pretty much summed up the whole show.

“In the end, the one you’d least expect... turns out to be the worst of the monsters.”

Highlights:

Omar - QUEER ICON He really embraced his sexuality in this season, such a pleasure to see! He smiled more, had a positive outlook, and let out the rainbow within.

Final thoughts:

There was a really nice representation in this show; PoC actors, queer characters, and religion and culture were explored. It’s not every day you get to see a person of colour on your screen - it was refreshing - and the queerness was a joy to watch.

I feel that the characters were well-thought-out during the first season and although they went in a different path in the second, I enjoyed watching them evolve and go through their journey of self-discovery.

Would I recommend it? Yes. The second season was a bit of a letdown but it has been renewed for a third so there is clearly some potential there and I hope the thrill and energy that was in the first season is brought back.

If you want to watch a show that has good character development, this is one to watch. The character arcs were really well-thought and planned. The writers of Élite managed to include a good couple of seasons worth of development in just two seasons which is a feat in itself.

There are eight episodes in each season which makes it the perfect series to binge-watch- I managed to finish both parts in two days; it’s not too long to bore you and not too short to have you groaning in annoyance.

Overall, it was a good watch and I am a little intrigued to see what comes next in season three which will be dropping in March!

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btsinspirationtakesme · 8 years ago

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Roses In Thorns

Summary

Being apart of the countries greatest mafia families had its problems; enemies grew from every thorn and you were one of the greatest roses to target.

You didn’t expect the greatest thorn to prick you to be he who was assigned to protect you- Jeon Jungkook.

Genre: Angst, (the good type), fluff, future smut in story line.

BodyguardJungkook, Mafia

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Part 2

Part 1- YN POV

“Can you get down?” Taehyung asked, holding the ladder for you steady. You were worried you were going to fall flat on your ass, but it didn’t matter at this moment. You just wanted to get down out of sight and to Emily’s party. You didn’t drug your bodyguard for nothing.

“Hold on, I’m jumping!” You braced yourself as you stuck your legs out from the ladder and jumped. Luckily, Taehyung caught you.

“Awh Tae, such a ladies man.” You winked cockily as you were set down. You brushed your dress off, happy everything was left in tact and snaked your arm around Taehyung’s.

“Aren’t I amazing Taehyung, could you do that?” You asked, smirking.

Taehyung was the boy next door who you grew up with. Your parents both worked in the same…business. Taehyung and you got each other, you had each others backs in times like these. All you really wanted to do was just go out and have some fun, but being apart of the countries greatest mafia families had its problems: enemies grew from every thorn, and you were one of the greatest roses to target.

You were from a family that had been in this business since 1809 when the opium trade was rife. Your family had a series of alliances with the British, jotted somewhere in the history books as one of your ancestors amassed fortunes spanning Asia. Over time, enemies had grown in great numbers and they targeted those close to the current head of the entire family. Three years ago, your father was given the role of head and you were on the list of most targeted people in Korea, if not South East Asia.

“I’ve been given more freedom than you Y/N and you know that.” Taehyung said, taking you to the car he had parked.

Snapping out of your heritage thoughts, you figured Taehyung was right. Some things never changed, including how conservative the people in your world could be to their daughters. Tae, while restricted had the freedom to go out and live his life like any normal 21 year old could; provided he had a gun tucked away under his pocket and security detail following him not far off.

You on the other hand, were expected to be a rose in a steel glass cage. Sheltered, monitored, protected, guarded- you name every protectionate word and you were supposed to be the object of its affection.

“These gender expectations irk me you know. Promise you’ll never do that to your daughter Taehyung.” You said, hoping your best friend would never be over bearing as your father and uncles.

“Never. It’s a free world ma cherie.” Taehyung smiled, a hand over your shoulders as he gave the instructions to his driver on where to go.

“I hope Sir Y/N/F/N is okay with this. I really don’t want to get in trouble for taking you two out without permission.” Taehyung’s driver subtly warned.

You hid your smile.

“I won’t have anyone taking the blame for my mistakes, besides- appa needs to learn how to live a little.” You said, hoping the driver didn’t do anything rash like call your dad.

You saw his eyebrows rise and then a sense of defeat going down as he proceeded to drive.

“What did you do to your body guard this time?” Taehyung asked, scrolling through his instagram as his other arm still rested on your shoulders.

“I made him a cup of coffee, spiked it and then stuffed a sock in his mouth before getting ready.” You said casually, twirling his fingers that were hanging just off your shoulder.

“Well it’s a step up from locking them in the food cupboard.” Taehyung admitted, reminding you of your weakest performance getting rid of a bodyguard.

“I wish appa would just give up, y’know. I’m too smart for the doofs he hires.” You said, lying your head back on Taehyung’s arm.

“You know, Y/N you really do have enemies. People would love to see nothing more than your dads little pride and joy deflowered and tortured before his very eyes.” Taehyung said, giving you a knowing glare.

“Then why’d you take me out if you’re on his side?” You said, shoving his arm away.

“I knew if i said no, you’d go out anyway and then no one who cares about you would know where you were.” He said in the most calmest voice, like it was the obvious thing to do.

“No, no, no. That’s- you’re supposed to be on my side, Tae.” You said, annoyed Taehyung was taking you to Emily’s because he didn’t trust you. It seemed like no body trusted you around here.

“I am on your side, but I’m not stupid. People really want to see you dead, Y/N.I get that your security details can get over bearing, but they’re really just looking out for you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Save it, Taehyung. You’ve got your own motives too. You’re probably just trying to get into my pants.” You said as the car halted in front of Emily’s house. You shook Taehyung’s arm off and got out the door the driver had opened for you.

You smiled at him. ‘Thanks Ajusshi, I owe you.”

You strutted inside, ignoring Taehyung’s calls to wait up for him. Taehyung, the boy you grew up with but also the boy that was your first kiss. Taehyung, who probably put on the I’ll-take-you-to-Emily’s- act because he knew there could be something in it for him.

Kim Taehyung, son of the other oldest mafia groups- like his father, known for his sweet talk but ulterior motives.

You weren’t going to be anyones pawn. You weren’t a girl made of glass.

“You made it, thank goodness I thought we’d have to sneak up and get you out!” You found Emily, the hostess of the party. She was one of your closest friends from boarding school and her mother was a hacker. You were both introduced when you were young whilst your parents went on their business trips.

Her eccentric attitude was infectious.

“I wouldn’t miss it, this is the fifth time I’ve managed to get out without being busted. I’m a pro at this now.” You said, as you took a flute of champagne from the waiter who had just passed you.

“She won’t be a pro any longer if she keeps this up.” Taehyung said from behind, joining you and Emily now.

“T-Taehyung. I didn’t know you’d show up.” You knew that face, Emily had always had a crush on Taehyung. Recently it had gotten worse, and you hoped they’d hit it off soon. Taehyung was a hopeless puppy set on someone closer to his home though.

You sighed. You couldn’t deal with this much emotion.

“I’m gonna get something else to drink, who else wants some?” You asked, ignoring Taehyung’s warning look.

“Me!” Emily yelled as you already started turning on your heel.

The music had risen a few beats up, bodies were swaying to the rhythm as you slithered in an out. You paused every few moments to get lost in the music yourself. Ah, you felt good. You felt free.

A small part of you inside still had that delicious feeling: rebelliousness.

“Enjoying yourself there princess?” A cool voice set the hairs on the back of your neck at edge as you filled the punch in your cup mid way through.

You slowly turned towards the voice, which was closer to your body than you had thought.

“I hope you wouldn’t mind pouring me a glass.” He smiled a breathtaking smile. Soft dark hair touched the tip of his eyebrows, with warm brown eyes and a gifted face. You were cross torn between saying if he looked angelic or sinful. It was somewhere in between.

The suit he wore hinted more sin, but the smile on his face was angelic.

“I need a name first for that kind of service.” You tilted your head, a smirk on your own face as you met his eyes that were boring into yours.

“J. Just call me J.” He said, closing in on you as he put his hands on both sides of the bunch table you were now back against.

Daring, you thought.

You acted unfazed, turning your back which was now right against him and poured him a glass of punch. Slowly, you turned back against him to face him with an innocent smile on your face.

“Thanks. I’m parched.” He said, backing away as you felt his member come alive against you.

Make your move Y/N, make your move you said as you pep talked yourself. You wanted him.

You really wanted him.

You watched the way he drunk the glass of refreshment in one go, veins straining out from his neck.

Who was this J, and why had you never seen him around before?

“Y/N! What’s taking you so long- oh. Hi.” Emily had come up from nowhere to you, and was stopped as her eyes rested on this ‘J’.

“Emily! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Thanks for inviting me. I hope you don’t mind I brought along Jungkook, my plus one.” A girl you had seen around threaded her arm over Jungkook, who looked at your annoyed reaction and smirked.

“Nice to meet you ladies.” He said, acting like the gentleman you knew he so wasn’t by his behaviour just a moment ago.

“No problem, I hope you both have a good time.” Emily said. This J- or Jungkook’s girlfriend excused them both and Emily turned to look at you.

“We thought you were both about to fuck, what the hell happened? What an idiot!’ She hissed, referring to this new Jungkook.You were going to also agree with Emily, you had your sights fully set on him. He looked and fitted every imaginary box you had in the back of your mind. You were pissed.

“Ugh, it’s nothing. Come on, let’s get drunk.” You said, taking her arm and pouring yourself shots of punch. You both drunk one, followed by another, and you were going to stop on your second shot but you spotted those familiar eyes burning a hole into the back of your neck. Jungkook. You didn’t even know him apart from his half angelic/sinful face and body but he was already annoying you. You proceeded with your third shot.

Taehyung had eventually joined you both, who were now tipsy from the 13th shot of sweet poison you both had practically inhaled.

“KIM TAEEEEHYUNG YOU MONSTER, HOW ARE YOU SO CUTE!” You yelled, putting your arms over Taehyung as you sloppily danced with him, shooting Jungkook a death glare since his eyes still followed yours despite his hands being tucked under his girlfriend.

“HEY, MINE YOU BITCH!” Emily said, laughing between hick ups. You pouted at her.

“I’M SORRY EM, HE’S ALL YOURS- YOU GUYS ARE GOING TO GET MARRIED AND HAVE THE MOS-” Your voice was shut up by a familiar sound you had grown up with: gunshots.

Emily screamed, whilst you and Tae looked at each other confused.

“Y/N- run!” Taehyung yelled before getting his gun out to shoot someone in front of you. You were dazzled, the gun shots started firing fast and you were caught in the midst. You hated the helpless feeling. Your leg was pulled down by Emily, who was cowering under the bar with tears streaked on her face.

“Y/N…tell me it’s not true. Please, please, please, I can’t be friends with someone whose family murder-”

“Emily!” You screamed, as a circle of blood expanded from her centre. She was shot. You looked up to see the perpetrator.

Jungkook.

Tears welled in your eyes, angry tears in an instant as you held Emily in your arms. “Em-” Your arm was yanked up by Jungkook.

“Do you know who my father is? He’ll have you fed to dogs.” You threatened in your most dire voice. Jungkook smirked.

“Come on princess, we don’t have all day.” In an instant he flipped you over his shoulders tightly, locking your legs in the process.

You bit him.

“Ouch, feisty.” He said in the midst of more gunshots.

“Keep your head down or you’ll get shot, brat!” He yelled, as you tried your best to escape him.

Who was he?

What was going on?

Emily was dead. Emily, the girl you had been friends with since you were 5, was dead in the space of a few seconds.

Jungkook killed Emily.

You bit him again.

“As much as I’m into kinky shit princess, nows not the time. Ahh, you sure don’t hold back do you?!” He said as you proceeded to vigorously bite his neck to get him to put you down.

You hated feeling so helpless.

“My father will destroy you if I don’t first- you piece of shi-” BANG!

________________________________________________________________

You opened your eyes to a familiar face: Dr. Jin.

You felt your eyelids being expanded by his fingers as your vitals were checked.

“All clear, seems like just a fall. You’ll be fine in no time.” Dr. Jin said calmly. Slowly regaining more consciousness, you tried to lift yourself up from bed.

Bed. You were home by the looks of it. You had just been smacked out cold a few minutes ago though, it didn’t make sense.

“You’ve been asleep for two days now. I’m going to leave some medication for you to take if you feel like it, but you’ll mostly be fine. Any issues, give me a call.” Dr. Jin said sweetly, his handsome face lathered in empathy.

Two Days?! You had somehow managed to be taken back to the safety of your home and out cold for two days.

You were probably a nightmare to treat. You felt bad. Dr Jin was one of those rare people you actually liked and you usually had nigh terrors in your sleep, most certainly not a pretty sight.

“Thank you. Does my father know about this?” You asked hesitantly.

“I, Y/N that’s not really my place. Please don’t try to get into any more trouble from now on though.” Dr. Jin tried to warn you.

“You know where I am if you ever need to find me. Come see me about those night terrors you’re having when you feel ready.” His warm smile was something you didn’t deserve, but basked in anyway.

“Thanks, Jin. I really appreciate it.” You said, letting out a small bit of your appreciative side.

“Anytime.” He said before leaving your room.

Just when you thought you would be able to get a bit more sleep before the realities of what had happened two days before caught up with you, Jin’s exit paved the way for your parents and their team to come in.

“Kim Taehyung and you are the most irresponsible mafia heirs I have ever seen in my entire life doing this! Explain yourself!” Mother joy, your mother was clearly distressed. You knew it by how her ever changing nails hadn’t changed from when you last saw her. They were still hot blue.

“Mother, my head hurts.” You said, trying to escape yourself from her doting wrath.

“We had Dr. Jin give us an all clear before coming in. Explain yourself, Y/N. Surely you know how you’re one of the most wanted targets in this family!” Your mother had another outburst, and small part of your felt bad. You quickly pushed it back down.

“I need to live my life normally. What I want is answers though. One of my best friends is dead, why?” You asked, now looking at your father. He was in a navy pinestripe suit with a solemn expression.

“The entire hacker family was supposed to die that night. I had put extra provisions in to make sure you didn’t end up there, but you just couldn’t listen could you?”

The reality of the situation just sunk in.

“You were going, no- wait, you were planning on killing Emily?” Your eyes doubled up into the size of saucers in surprise.

“Whilst I don’t like involving you and your mother in the business, simply yes. The hackers were swayed away from being loyal to us, the risk they posed was too great to not avoid. You know how we go on sweetheart.” Just like that, your father had explained killing like it was the most natural thing ever. It was what you had grown up with.

For the first time, you got a taste of how your family was successful all these generations.

You were ruthless.

Ruthless killers.

That didn’t explain who Jungkook- who had killed Emily was. Was he working for your father?

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet your new bodyguard.” Your fathers voice took you out of your thoughts that were just starting to unravel.

The men separated into two files to reveal the sinfully angelic face that you had met two nights ago.

Jungkook.

“I think you owe your life to Jungkook, Y/N.” Your mother said, forcing you to tear your eyes away from him. They were filled on the brink of tears. He killed Emily.

“He killed Emily.” You said in a solemn voice.

“Emily was planning on killing you, don’t you get it? Y/N. Welcome to the family business. People will use you to get close to you before they do something. Loyalties change. Learn the rules of this family, it’s about time.” Your father tried to reason. Your eyes flitted back between him and your mother, who had her head down meaning she agreed.

Betrayal. Emily was planning to betray you.

It was all too heavy for your mind and heart, but you’d hide it.

“I still don’t want him as my bodyguard.” You said, casting him a glance. He shot you a cocky smirk.

“Jungkook’s one of the finest, I had to go through a lot of hoops just to get him. You will not be attempting anymore midnight excursions with the Taehyung boy, or with anyone else. You’re under house arrest. Jungkook will be with you every moment of everyday. If you by so help me God, attempt to pull one on him- not that you’ll be able to, you’ll be sent off to Seychelles.”

Seychelles, where your grandmother lived in hiding.

“Am I 12, to you? You can’t do this.” You fought back.

“As long as you’re under my protection, I will be. This is for your safety, Y/N.” Your father said sternly.

You listened to his stern words, but didn’t accept anything he had said. You were still going to live your life, you had managed to get through 3 body guards in the past month alone by confusing them, making them quit or locking them in cupboards with spiked drinks. Jungkook wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Don’t think of pulling anything.” He warned again.

You smiled sweetly. “Of course not, appa. I’ve learnt my lesson.” You lied, but your father believed you since you were his only daughter and pride.

You saw Jungkook lowly chuckle out of the corner of your eyes.

“Good. Your mother and I have a flight to catch in a couple of hours. Make sure to see us before you go.” Your mother and father kissed you gently on the forehead before leaving with their entourage.

“Don’t let her be too much of a bother.” Your father patted Jungkook’s shoulder as he left.

“I enjoy challenges sir, it won’t be too much of a hassle I’m sure.” Jungkook beamed a breathaking smile at your father back. You could tell your father loved him already, he barely ever smiled at his men.

The room was empty, apart from you and Jungkook your new body guard.

You stared at him, dressed in a black fitting sweater and caramel trousers. Who the hell glows dressed like that? Jungkook did clearly.

“Hi Princess.” He smiled that same cocky smile you had seen those nights ago.

“Stay out of my room, Jungkook. All the other bodyguards had the decency to do that.” You scowled.

“I’m not like the others, princess. Room’s airy, no?” He then sauntered over to your window to shut it.

“I’ll be keeping this from now on too.” He- he’d managed to find your secret pick lock for the windows under your desk too.

That was your only means of escape.

“Are you serious?!” You yelled.

Jungkook simply smiled at you back. “I know every fucking trick there is to know in the book, princess. Try and get past me. I dare you.” He challenged.

“You won’t last long.” You said back.

“I do love challenges. Especially from princesses like yourself. You can’t run to daddy now, not when he knows your always trying to get out.” Jungkook zoned in on you, closer to your bed. Your heart rate accelerated, but you pushed it back down.

“Go to hell.” Those were your last words before you decided to fling the covers off yourself and walk to your bathroom.

You heard Jungkook’s footsteps.

“Are you going to watch me pee too?” You challenged, ready to throw a punch.

“Call me if you’re showering, then we’ll talk.” He winked, before backing away.

Cocky bastard, you thought.

Beautiful cocky bastard.

Luckily you had clothes to change into in your bathroom to save yourself from embarrassment. Dressed in a white tee and jeans, you came out with wet hair to see Jungkook reading a book from your shelf.

“You know, I never took you for the sappy romance kind of girl. Really?” He showed you the cover of Wuthering Heights, where you had left your bookmark in.

“So much angst, that can’t be healthy you know.”

“I never took you for the read a book kind of guy.” You shot back as you grabbed a fresh towel from your drawer and started to towel dry your hair.

“I majored in Math, but I had a minor in English in college. Don’t let the looks fool you, princess.”

“Maybe you can help me with my math homework.” You said absentmindedly.

“I could help you with a lot of things.” He zoned in on you from behind, which made you stop drying your hair midway.

It reminded you all too clearly of that night meeting him, where you were set on fu-

Your phone rang.

It gave you an excuse to leave his trap, so you dashed over to your bedside table.

Taehyung.

“Taehyung, are you okay?!” You yelled down the phone.

“I’m fine, I got out there pretty safe actually. My father had some of our men there, I had no clue. “ You didn’t believe that for one second, Taehyung always knew.

A small part of your heart warmed at the thought though, even without Jungkook- you wouldn’t be dead. Taehyung would have your back.

You realised you should really apologise for lashing out on him like you did in the car on the way to the party.

“My place, we’ll have brunch on the porch and talk this over.” Taehyung proposed.

“I can’t.” You said looking back over to where Jungkook was standing a couple of feet away from you. He now had a solemn expression, analysing your movements over the phone.

“I have a new bodyguard. I don’t think I can stuff him in a cupboard just yet.” You said, a little louder so Jungkook could hear what you were capable of.

“I’ll come over to you then.”

“Great, I’ll make us some brunch.” You said, before saying your goodbyes and putting the phone down.

“Does daddy know you have a boyfriend?” Jungkook asked, following you out of your room as you descended down the spiralled stairs to the kitchen.

You ignored him all the way there.

“Let’s keep our personal lives secret.” You winked back at him, and Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Ma’am. Would you like me to make you anything?” Sylvia, your elderly cook was in the kitchen.

“No thank you. Taehyung’s coming over, so I’d like to make us something. You’re excused for now.” You said sweetly.

Sylvia excused herself and you got to work taking out all the ingredients you’d need from the fridge. You ignored Jungkook, who was now sat on one of the kitchen stools following your every move.

“Does appa think I’ll burn the kitchen too, now?” You asked haughtily, as you saw Jungkook glare at you from the corner of your eyes as you whipped up the pancake mix you were making.

Jungkook cast his eyes away from you momentarily.

There was a silence between you both as you worked, which you welcomed. You could still feel his eyes watching your every move, but you didn’t care. You loved cooking, and the kitchen downstairs was where you were most comfortable. You didn’t have too much control over your life, but you did have control here.

It was your space.

You had managed to whip up some stacks of pancake, a bowl of fruit salad and freshly squeezed orange juice in no time at all. It felt rude to not offer Jungkook any, and you figured he’d be hungry too. The look in his eyes gave it away.

“Here. Eat.” You said to Jungkook as you made him a plate.

“Wow, she has manners.” He said as he took the plate from you.

You didn’t know why, but you were particularly looking forward to his expression once he tasted what you had made. He had on a poker face, but it slipped momentarily when he had his first bite.

It was…cute.

“What are you smiling for?” He asked as he looked up at you, face full of pancake like a bunny.

“Nothing.” You said, breaking away from his gaze.

“I brought us some- Y/N get down!” Taehyung’s voice filled the hollow kitchen, and you were grabbed by Jungkook in a split second as he pushed you behind him.

Taehyung had his gun pointed to Jungkook, and Jungkook had his gun pointed to Taehyung.

Thee testosterone in the room was overwhelming.

“Tae, it’s okay! Emily’s family were trying to kill me, he saved me.” You said from behind Jungkook’s protection.

“Why is he here then?” Taehyung wasn’t dropping his gun.

“Appa thinks he’ll make a great new bodyguard.” You said sarcastically.

“Drop the gun, kid.” Jungkook warned in his most deadliest voice.

Taehyung chuckled lowly before putting his gun back inside.

Jungkook did so too, and you broke free from his grasp.

“Tae.” You said looking at him as you made your way over to him, walking into his open arms.

“I was going to get you out, you know that right?” He said into your ear.

Jungkook heard and scoffed at your moment with Taehyung.

“I know you were, thank you. Let’s eat.” You said as you pulled Taehyung by the hand over to the kitchen island to sit where you passed him a plate of pancakes.

“Mmmmm…these are good, right bodyguard?” Taehyung said after his first bite, gesturing to Jungkook who was still on his plate.

He looked like a bunny caught in red lights, a stark difference from the usual stern and cocky attitude.

Jungkook mumbled what sounded like an agreement before going back to eating.

“Why’d you think Emily’s family changed loyalties?” You asked Taehyung, breaking him out of his brief interaction with Jungkook.

“Well, you know what’s common in our world. Money, sex, power. It was one of those three.” Taehyung stated, listing the reasons on his fingers.

“My bets power. The hackers always wanted a bit more respect from your household and it was obvious for them to get to you to spite your father.” Taehyung reasoned.

“You seem to know a lot about their motives.” Jungkook intervened, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at Taehyung as he sat back.

You watched Taehyung’s reaction carefully. “It’s one of the most plausible. Power sells better than only sex in our world. Look at Y/N here, she’ll probably be wed off to the son of some powerful heir to cement alliances. It’s how we work. Have been for centuries.” Taehyung said not breaking Jungkook’s gaze.

It was uncharacteristic of him. Taehyung was everything you would never expect to be in the mafia world. He was sweet, fun and lighthearted.

It was like Taehyung’s father was talking.

“Tae, you don’t need to be so direct.” You chuckled.

“It’s true Y/N, you’re going to have to accept it someday or another soon.” Taehyung momentarily flicked his eyes back to you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you pushed them back down like you pushed any sort of feeling you had.

Always pushing things back down.

“I want to get drunk.” You said, you didn’t care if it was only midday. You wanted to numb the thought of your future wed off to some mafia heir, probably miles older than you, the older the more powerful usually.

“I have to meet my father later to discuss some things. I can’t see you all the time Y/N, it’s what I came here to say. I’m going to be accompanying him on a few trips.” Taehyung said, ignoring your proposal to do something.

“But-Tae-” You tried to get him to listen to you.

“It’s time we start to take on our roles Y/N. Last night was just an example of the life we’ll have to face. You’ll always have enemies, I’ll always have enemies and I’m going to be making a lot more as my father passes down his mantle to me.” This was uncharacteristic of the sweet Taehyung you knew.

It was like he was trying to put on an act for himself.

“Take care of her.” Taehyung said, after kissing you on the forehead looking to Jungkook.

Jungkook scoffed. Both of their eyes met they narrowed their eyes at each other.

“With my life. I’m her protector after all.”

“You know to call me if you need anything Y/N.” Taehyung said, unable to tear his eyes away from staring down Jungkook.

You scoffed. I want my friend back, you thought.

Jungkook broke his gaze out of respect, realising he was staring down a mafia heir which in your world- his position did not allow. Taehyung tore his gaze away and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

A few tears escaped your eyes.

Jungkook was staring at you, a sigh escaped his lips. He took the plates on the kitchen island and took them over to the sink, turning the tap on.

“Where do you keep your washing up stuff?”

You wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Left drawer.” You replied, surprised by how croaky your voice had been after a few tears.

You decided to help him, as you both worked in silent union as Jungkook washed and you dried the plates.

The weirdest thing was it was oddly comforting, normal.

You never had normal.

Not when you grew up with seeing men in suits with bloodstains on them casually coming into the kitchen for a bite to eat, guns laying around in odd bits of the house and deadly eyes following your every move. Your father tried to avoid business and the home, but they were far too connected for him to realise.

“What are you smiling at?” Jungkook asked, a small smile on his lips.

“Nothing.” You said.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

Jungkook washed his hands and turned the tap off. He turned on his back and leaned against the sink.

“I, I couldn’t hear that. Did you just say thank you?” Jungkook mocked.

You rolled your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips.

“Okay, okay. Thank you.” You said clearly.

Jungkook winked, and you hoped the blush that followed your cheeks wasn’t visible.

“What are you going to do with the rest of your day?” Jungkook asked, turning to tilt his head to you.

“Wanna get drunk with me?” You asked, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to ask. You could even drug him up in the process and sneak out.

“Nice try, princess.” He scoffed.

You sighed. You were alone with an insanely hot guy who- in all other circumstances, if he wasn’t your bodyguard, would be upstairs in your room right now. You started biting your lip at the thought.

“You’re thinking about it, right? I know you are.” Jungkook leaned forwards towards you.

“I’m thinking about what I’d do to you if we weren’t so rudely interrupted those nights ago.” Jungkook said in your ear, his voice was cool like those nights ago. He closed in on you, trapping you with his arms resting on both sides of the counter.

“Too bad you’ll never find out princess.” He said as his lips ghosted over yours.

With that, all traces of contact were ripped away as Jungkook moved away.

“You enjoy teasing me, don’t you?” You said, more of a statement than a question.

“That blush is riveting.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to mask how upset you were from Jungkook’s reluctance to make a move.

Eventually you announced that you were going to go down to the library to read, and Jungkook followed suit. It was hard to concentrate knowing he was there, in all his scowling, cocky glory. You were surprised your father had even allowed him to be near you like this, he clearly thought you had no interest in men. That, or Jungkook had charmed him.

He was charming.

“Who are you?” You asked, realising you knew nothing about your new bodyguard.

You usually never knew anything about your body guard, but Jungkook was different.

You nearly fucked him at a party.

He glanced up at you from the book he was reading sat across you on a leather chair.

“Did you get memory loss too from your fall?” He asked.

“No, don’t avoid my question. Who are you, where are you from, why did my father hire you?” You asked.

Jungkook sighed.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, my uncle knows your father and recommended me. I’m working my way up the ranks and he hired me because I’m fucking badass.” He said, but you didn’t buy it. In the short time you knew him you figured Jungkook wasn’t the type to work his way up the ranks- he had to be at the top.

You’d figure the truth out, but you let it slide for now.

You were about to dig in for some more answers to other things, but Jungkook’s phone rang a couple of times.

“Answer it.” You said.

“It’s family. Stay put here, okay?” Jungkook sent a warning glance your way.

You rolled your eyes and nodded.

Jungkook POV:

“This isn’t a good time.” Jungkook said, looking to make sure the coast was clear as he picked up to answer.

“Haven’t you killed her yet?” The voice on the phone asked.

“You think I can just snap her neck on the first day of the job?” Jungkook hissed.

“Do it soon. The sooner the better, her father will be putty in our hands when his little girl is dripping in blo–” Jungkook cut him off.

“Give me more time. I need her to open up to me.” He said.

“Just do your job Jungkook.” The voice hung up.

Jungkook nearly threw his phone across the room outside the library, but clutched it like a stress ball instead.

He was already supposed to have snapped the girls neck in two by now. He had no reason not to, they were in the perfect situation. A secluded house, a naive girl and the friend who had decided to leave her.

He was going to do it in the kitchen, he planned to get it over and done with after her friend left.

Then she cried.

He couldn’t fucking kill her when she was crying, could he? He wasn’t that heartless, was he?

He was Jeon Jungkook, heartless was supposed to be his middle name.

He had a knife in his backpocket, ready and ripe to go. He was so ready to just stick the weapon in her neck but she just had to look at him with doe eyes.

Why did she have to smile at him like that? She wasn’t anything special. When he first took on the case, he figured it would be easy as cake. Difficult to kill the daughter of one of the most feared men alive, but he had no sympathy for the girl before she struck a cord with him. She was supposed to be a spoilt mafia princess that wanted nothing more than to do her hair and play on Daddy’s yacht.

She wasn’t supposed to be the girl that effortlessly danced around the kitchen, a victim of the mafia world thrust on expectations to marry old men and make babies, a girl with a lot of will power and might. She wasn’t supposed to be any of those things. She wasn’t supposed to be feisty.

She wasn’t supposed to be interesting.

Jungkook needed to get his head in the right place, he’d seen a billion pretty faces in his time and snapped the necks of them in an instant.

Why couldn’t he just snap hers?

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a scream that he instantly recognised as Y/N’s.

No, no no, this couldn’t happen to him now. Were his men deciding to take things in their own hands?

AN: I can’t wait to write this entire series! It’s going to be one of my main projects this summer, I’m SO excited.

#jungkook #bts reactions #jungkook fic #jungkook mafia #mafiakook #bts fanfic #taehyung #taehyungfic #bts scenarios

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wordsonpages1-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Up Close and Personal part 2

so due to the wonderful response on part 1 of this story I decided to continue! Thanks again to @gellbellshead for the ask! And thanks to everyone who read it, liked it and left lovely comments x

you can find part 1 here- https://wordsonpages1.tumblr.com/post/161090281902/person-a-is-walking-down-the-hallway-at

WARNING: smut, smut, smut, smut, smut.... god so much smut I am going to hell

By the time lunch rolled around Betty liked to think she had regained her composure. After her little encounter- and by little she does not mean little because it was freakin intense-with Jughead Jones Serpent addition in the hallway she had spent her morning thoroughly dazed and out of it.

She had been a flustered mess in her morning classes, caught out for day dreaming on multiple occasions. Her teachers had been shocked at her lack of attentiveness, something that was extremely unBetty. Same blonde girl sat in her same seat, dressed in the typical jeans and knitted sweater, yet her thoughts were on an entirely different trajectory than usual. Today her brain was clouded by a lustful haze subjected upon her by Jughead Jones. Said boy had seemingly taken great pleasure in her reprimand during English, shooting her a smirk that let her know he knew exactly what was preoccupying her thoughts. It was funny how not even a full day ago she would have associated thoughts of Jughead with concern and friendship. Yet now after getting up close and personal with the marvel that was his body, face and lips all she could think about was his touch and when she could have it again. Part of her brain shifted back and recognised that she had always been attracted to him- his sharp tongue and 50's bad boy looks- but she had never gotten close enough to indulge in that attraction until today. The thought made her stomach flutter with butterflies as she reeled back to his promise of "to be continued".

The crisp air hit her cheeks as she and Veronica made their way to their normal lunch table by the track. Their conversation medial. The chill of the late autumn air was refreshing against her skin that was still slightly flushed from her whirlwind of a morning. Archie was already at the table and Betty sat down across from him.

"Why didn't you tell me Jug was coming back today?" The blonde asked her long time neighbour, mostly curiously but a hint of offence lay beneath her words.

Archie's smile slipped from his face and was exchanged with a look of remorse.

"Sorry Betts, I was going to but Jug didn't want it to be a thing, and I figured he would tell you on his own."

Betty nodded, understanding her annoyance was misplaced mostly. She felt a slight pang of hurt that Jughead hadn't told her, after all he was one of her best friends- although she's not sure now that she knows what he tastes like if the word friend still applies- but knowing him as well as she did Betty recognised that he wasn't exactly the sharing type; especially not lately. As if on cue Jughead strolled up to the table, Kevin on his heels.

"Hey man, good to have you back!" Archie greeted enthusiastically as Jughead slid in on the bench to sit next to Betty.

Her heart rate picked up at his closeness and she willed herself not to think about what his hand would feel like on her thigh right now.

"Thanks pal," the dark haired boy returned, before turning his attention to his lunch.

"Jughead this is Veronica, she moved here at the start of the year," Archie continued after a second, remembering the shifts in dynamics that had occurred in the small time that had passed since the school year started.

Jughead nodded at the raven haired girl, dressed to the nines with pearls completing her socialite look across from him. He had heard a lot about Veronica Lodge from Betty and Archie when they managed to catch up and even more about her father when he was with the gang, not that anyone at the table needed to know that.

"Jughead?" The New Yorker questioned, an eyebrow raised sceptically.

"Jones the Third" he drawled boredly in reply, already deciding befriending the princess would be a strain for him no matter how much his long-time friends seemed to like her. She was nice enough but they were juxtaposed completely.

Because you and Betty aren't a voice in his head mocked. And for a second he was fine with that voice believing it to be the sardonic humour challenging his friendship choices until he remembered the way said best friends soft curves had felt pressed against his hard body, the lushness of her lips against his chapped ones. Oh they were definitely a contrast but in the most wonderful way possible.

"What happened to the first two?" Veronica asked curiously, a small laugh leaving her perfectly painted lips.

"In jail," Jughead returned dryly without missing a beat.

The girl looked at him with wide eyes for a moment, choking on her sip of coffee which only made his smirk breed mirth. Betty elbowed him in the side while Archie just shook his head. It was the truth, they knew that but he got the feeling they were apprehensive of his treatment toward Veronica. The girl unsure whether to laugh or feel bad. Kevin on the other hand looked positively delighted with the scene unfolding.

"Well, third times the charm right?" She recovered the way only a socialite from fine breeding could and Jughead actually cracked a slight smile at that.

"I'm nothing if not charming."

Betty snorted from her spot beside him and Jughead yanked her pony tail teasingly. Her green eyes flashed reminiscent of their earlier heated exchange and the desire for him to pull her hair under other circumstances reared again. When she looked toward him the teasing demeanour was still settled on his face but his eyes were a shade darker seeming to have picked up on her shift of thought. The tension between them slipped back into place and Jughead licked his lips before speaking again.

"Don't you think I'm charming Elizabeth?" He asked winking at her.

Betty tried to will down the heat that rose to her cheeks at the gesture and quell the tingling low in her belly.

"Your previous behaviour says otherwise Forsythe," she retaliated, trying to keep her composure as her mind slipped further into the memory of his hips rolling into hers in a way much too sinful to be charming.

"What about my skilful tongue?" He asked innocently- according to anyone who wasn't her- eyes wide but smirk intact.

Her breath hitched as she thought about the wonderfully wicked things she now knew he could do with that tongue. He purposely waited before continuing, revelling in her flustered state and darkening orbs.

"I can turn a phrase impeccably."

After that the conversation recessed back into medial chatter while Betty struggled to fight the growing need to drag Jughead behind a wall and ravish him. Her thighs rubbed together under the table. Yeah today was out to get her, purposely causing hell, using her hot best friend as the pawn. After lunch her unexpected desire became easier to ignore though. Jughead had strolled away from the table cigarette hanging from his lips, claiming he had reached his quota of "first day depression". Archie gave him an apprehensive once over but shrugged, saying he'd see him at home later. Betty didn't judge Jughead for ditching, it was a habit he had acquired long before the town went to shit and he began frequenting bars on the other side of town. He was smart and never had trouble catching up, but she also understood Archie's show of unease. They didn't know where or who he was meeting these days and that factor sent her into a tailspin of dread.

Betty had spent the rest of the afternoon, trying her best to pay attention in math and then thanking god for her free period in which she could lock herself away in the Blue and Gold office and let her imagination go as wild as it wanted to while she procrastinated her articles and blushed intently.

She was now laying across her pastel comforter in her much too pink bedroom. A text book in her hands as she tried in vain to concentrate on the words. No matter how much she willed herself to become absorbed in the study her mind just kept straying back to what she was now referring to as “the incident”.

Betty groaned in frustration-mostly sexual- as her eyes slid shut. Images of Jughead instantly played behind her lids, dark hair falling across his eyes mysteriously, beanie enticing her to knock it to the floor and run her hands through the tresses. She thought about the way his muscles contracted as he pushed her against the locker, and the delicious stirring it had created deep within her core. She thought about the feeling of his teeth set on her lip and how in control he seemed. She never knew she wanted to relinquish control to anyone, give up her composure so badly until he had offered to take it from her. The thoughts made her dizzy and the ache between her thighs that had been distracting her all day throbbed yet again. Damn her hormones were persistent.

“Fuck it,” she sighed, eventually sitting up on her bed and grabbing her phone. She quickly pulled on her converse and headed for her window. It was time to pay the new boy next door- god was he a far cry from that though- a visit. Her lips tingled in anticipation and her thighs clenched with excitement.

Arriving at the Andrew’s Betty knocked on the door. Fred opened it with a look of pleasant surprise on his face; he had always had a soft spot for the bright young lady who kept his biological and surrogate son in line.

“Hey Betty, were we expecting you?” He greeted, confusion but not denial etched on his face. She shook her head.

“No sorry I actually just came over to see Jughead. Is he here?” she asked politely, suddenly nervous her trek had been misguided.

Fred stepped out of the threshold, gesturing for her to come in. Betty offered him her girl next door smile and shuffled into the home that always invaded her senses with warmth and comfort.

“No need to apologise, you know you’re always welcome over here. And he just got back from seeing some friends, I think he’s upstairs,” the older Andrew’s patted her shoulder before heading back to the couch, where Archie and a paused football game were waiting.

Betty’s face contorted in a frown and her eyes met Archie’s for a second. He nodded at her, confirming exactly which “friends” Jughead had been with. The blonde shook her head and sighed before kicking off her shoes and bounding up the stairs. As she approached the guest bedroom-now Jughead’s room- her nerves tangled and her heart pounded.

She steadied herself for a moment, hand poised on the door handle before her wanting got the better of her and she pushed into the room.

Nothing, however could have prepared her for the sight she was greeted with.

Betty’s jaw went slack and her hands curled into fists as her chest heaved. Across the room Jughead stood by his dresser in nothing but a white towel which was sitting low on his waist, giving her perfect exposure to his slim but well defined figure. His chest was well sculpted and he had definite abs, strong arms-those biceps- and a perfect V framed his hips and invited her to imagine where the lines led under the cloth.

She swallowed audibly feeling an intense blush rise across her entire body as her panties became damp. His hair was wet and free from the confines of the beanie, framing his face messily and making his smouldering gaze even more arousing.

For a split second Jughead’s face was a vision of shock, but that was merely fleeting. His composure quickly found him and a sexy, dangerous smirk appeared on his full lips. His gaze locked on hers, heady and full of sexual intent as he took a deliberate step toward her.

Betty’s breath escaped her, body freezing in place as he came at her, his demeanour akin of a predator closing in its prey. The comparison sent sparks flying through her. The yearning to give in to him, to submit and let him control her spiral flared demandingly. He took another step, eyes raking her figure clad in only a pair of pyjama shorts and a loose t-shirt. Betty shifted under his gaze. She felt oddly empowered, yet incapable of moving all at once.

He took another step and as the space between them lessened the electricity in the air grew. It was crackling, sexual tension rife and enlivening. Betty licked her lips as he came within a step of her body, his eyes following the movement. She was practically panting now, her skin prickling with the memory of what he did to her.

Jughead halted when his figure was a fraction away from hers. His warmth radiated onto her and Betty’s eyes fluttered closed briefly. He was intoxicating.

The sardonic boy leaned into her , his face barely an inch from her own. His mouth hovered over her own pink lips as he spoke, not touching but almost…

“Ever heard of knocking,” he was teasing her. The dynamic a norm of theirs, although usually she would huff, shove him and retaliate with her own quip. But now in her state of arousal and enthrallment with him, Betty could only let out a stuttered gasp and chase his lips with her own.

Jughead however, wasn’t ready to relent. He pulled his head away slightly, chuckling low and gruff at her pout. He stepped further into her body, his hands finding her hips and pushing her back against the bedroom door. Betty’s breath hitched and her eyes searched his wantonly, darkening with lust and desire.

He took a moment to appraise her. Loving the fact that he had made “perfect” Betty Cooper fall apart without even touching her yet. He basked in the sight of her, hair wild and falling out of her signature pony tail, eyes dark and sultry, lips open in a gasp, body hot and curving into his own.

Unable to deny her any longer, he pushed her more firmly against the door before capturing her lips with her own. Betty moaned at the contact her mouth opening for him immediately and offering him whatever he wanted to take. Her hips bucked up and her hands gripped his shoulders.

Jughead growled at her response and thrust his tongue into her mouth, skilfully moving it against her own and making her keen.

One of his hands moved around her body to grip her ass and Betty moaned at the feeling. Her head fell back against the door, eyes closed in pleasure. Jughead grinned and trailed his own now swollen lips across her neck, biting and sucking at the flesh, becoming more enthused with every breathy sigh and heady moan that fell from her usually modest mouth.

Betty’s own hands became less idle, trailing across his broad shoulders and down his chest, before settling on his abdomen, tracing patterns and revelling in the contraction of the muscles beneath her fingers.

“Juggie,” Betty gasped as he littered a purple bruise over her pulse point. Her hips ground against his wantonly. Jughead moaned as she grazed his hardening member, his hands dropping to her thighs and picking her up. Her long legs immediately wrapped around his waist, deliciously aligning her centre with his crotch making the friction even more unbearable. He could feel her wet and warm for him and the knowledge unleashed his primal initiative further.

Moving his lips back to hers their mouths met in a hungry kiss, desperate and ferocious.

Betty sucked in a sharp breath as he deposited her on the leaning over her and moving his hands to the hem of her shirt. He nodded furiously at him and Jughead needed no further prompting removing the garment. Her shorts followed and he sat up to eye her form hungrily with lust engaged eyes. Betty’s thighs rubbed together as the way he was looking at her sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through her core. God she wanted him so badly.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathed sinfully in her ear and the sound of his lust infused voice mixed with the cuss made her arch her body toward his and whimper in desperation.

“Please,” she whispered as he settled over her, not quite touching and resting his weight on his forearms. Jughead’s blue orbs fell further into stormy indigo at the sound of her desperate voice. It was sexy as hell and he could hardly refuse her anything as she lay beneath him in lacy light blue panties and a matching bra.

“Please what?” he asked in mock innocence, as she shivered and ran her hands over the muscles of his back.

“Please touch me,” she affirmed her voice suddenly strong as she looked him dead in the eye. His self-control dissolved right there and his mouth was attacking hers again as she moaned, his hand finding her breast and roughly palming it before his finger slipped underneath to toy with her hardened peaks. Betty mewled and he made quick work of the bra clasp pulling it off her.

His mouth replaced his hands as he took a nipple between his teeth making her head fall back on the pillow and her lips part in a silent O.

His lean fingers trailed down her stomach next and came to rest against the lacy edge of her underwear, teasing the band. Betty almost wanted to cry in frustration.

She shifted her hips, pushing them up to make her desires clear. Jughead moved his fingers to the apex of her thighs and rubbed lightly over the underwear. A deep growl was emitted from deep in his chest as she fiercely ground her hips into his hand and choked on a whimper.

“God you’re so wet,” he groaned against her breast and Betty moaned at the filth falling from his sinful lips.

“Off please,” she managed to get out, her hips rocking more fervently as he teased her clit through the soaked fabric.

Jughead did as he was told, removing the destroyed garment and trailing his lips down her stomach. Betty’s eyes glossed over as she took in the purely erotic sight of him between her legs, her hips thrusting toward his face unashamedly. Jughead smirked against her inner thigh, his teeth nipping at the skin and evoking another whimper.

And then his tongue- the one she had been dreaming about all day- was on her and she all she could see was blinding light.

“Oh God Juggie!” she whined loudly as his lips worked over her most sensitive flesh. His tongue flicked against her sensitive bundle of nerves and her thighs clenched around his head as her fingers fisted in the sheets.

“Shutup,” he groaned against her dripping heat, aware that the walls would only muffle so much noise. Betty panted unable to respond while his tongue and lips kept up their sensual action and his teeth teased her clit.

She was fast becoming a mess of spluttered groans and whines, high pitched moans and pleas for more.

“Yes! Oh my god!” she cried as she neared her release, one hand forming a fist in his hair as her back arched perfectly and her head thrashed on the pillow.

And then it stopped.

Betty’s eyes opened, wide and dazed. She wanted to scream. He couldn’t just wind her up like that and then stop.

Jughead just looked down at her with a cocky smirk and raised brow.

“Something wrong?” he asked as his hands moved to the knot of his towel. Betty’s eyes followed his hands as her hips continued to grind unconsciously searching for friction.

Her brain was struggling to catch up, words a stretch when her nerves were a frazzled mess and her hormones were alight. Her breath caught and she bit her lip as the towel fell away and she was greeted with the sight of his erection. It was hard and big.

“Please,” she whimpered again. Hands pulling at his hips, before he collected them in his strong grasp and held them hostage above her head.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded huskily over her lips. Betty panted, desperately searching for friction.

“You,” she groaned. Jughead shook his head, that evil smirk tormenting her body.

“Be more specific,” he pressed and Betty felt herself get even wetter at the implication of what he wanted her to say.

“Fuck me Jughead,” she moaned without hesitation, too far gone to care. She wanted him badly and she be damned if she had to wait any longer. Jughead let out a primal moan at the words and thrust into her hard and deep.

Betty’s eyes rolled back in her head at the action, her chest pressing firmly to his.

“Fuck Betts,” he breathed out, pulling out and thrusting into her again.

“Faster,” she begged and moaned as he complied. Her hips began rising to meet his furious pace, each stroke taking him deeper within her.

“Oh god!” she moaned as he hit that nirvana inside her, his hand coming down to rub her clit furiously as she writhed.

Jughead moved his other hand to free her wrists-her own immediately tangling in his dark hair- and hitched her leg over his shoulder to move harder and deeper.

“Fuck Jug!” she cried out, her inner muscles contracting as she hit her high, dragging him over the edge with her.

Jughead rolled off her body, the pair a panting, sweating heap.

“Damn,” he breathed after a moment, his head shaking incredulously.

“You can say that again,” Betty agreed as each of them tried to process what the fuck had happened between them over the last 24 hours.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead smut

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aspiringwarriorlibrarian · 7 years ago

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A Girl of Fire and Thorns (book 1) by Rae Carson

TW: discussions of fatphobia, colorism.

This is one I originally had on the “Do not read” list as someone told me it was a fatphobic piece of trash about a fat girl who’s useless and whiny until she turns thin and becomes a total badass. Thankfully, others spoke to me and I found myself giving it a try to find the truth and thank God I did.

True, it does star a fat girl, she does lose weight at one point, and she evolves greatly from a self-hating pawn of others into a powerful, cunning queen. That’s the only thing this has in common and the story itself is a rejection of fatphobia. She’s always fat, she just loses a little weight due to exercise, and her paying attention to her lost weight is not portrayed positively, but as another sign of her self-hatred. Elisa has been viciously mocked and degraded for her weight all her life and has identified as the “fat, useless girl” for so long she’s developed an eating disorder. The book is not about her becoming thin and thus making everything better, but her recovering an eating disorder and the victimhood she and others have placed upon her and learning to love herself as is. For all she sees herself as “the fat, useless girl” before she loses a bit of weight, the books shows her being clever, proactive, and empathetic long before that point and a key part of her development is learning to accept that she’s always had worth, she didn’t just gain it when she lost weight.

There’s also mentions of colorism and racism within the book. While the entire main cast are people of color (the culture is a counterpart hispanic/middle eastern fusion) and the only white people we see are the invading barbarians, Elisa is demeaned for having the darkest skin in her family. She eventually embraces that too.

But onto the actual story and my God is it a good one. Elisa was chosen to bear the Godstone, a jewel that foretells she will one day perform a great act of service for God, but nearly everyone thinks it’s a fluke. How could a dark-skinned, fat, useless girl who’s only good for reading and eating be chosen over her obviously more skilled sister? When her father sells her off to secure an alliance, however, she quickly falls into a web of political intrigue, religious strife, class warfare, and an impending invasion by barbarians that wield strange magic. Now outside of her gilded cage, Elisa’s brilliant mind, compassion, and faith bloom as she learns to survive, then thrive in her new world, growing from a frightened girl into a powerful, self-assured woman. Problem is, there’s still that pesky destiny to fulfill, and with her Godstone the only resource against the invaders’ magic, that destiny might come too soon.

Do you really hate the “chosen girl save world but two boyfriend” genre? Well, good thing, cause despite the marketing (which also tends to depict Elisa as a skinny white girl...bleh!) this is not that story. It’s not a love triangle, it’s Elisa growing as a person and choosing a better, egalitarian relationship over a shallow one built on lust and it ends in a way I genuinely did not ever expect. As for the chosen one plot, it’s one of the more clever and unique takes on it. Most chosen one plots either play it straight, or if they want to be clever, still play it straight but underline just how much it sucks to be the chosen one. This story, however, presents a world in which everyone has equal worth, from potters to fighters to priests, and asks how and why a “chosen one” would happen if there are no people innately better than anyone else. Sure, some of the Godstone bearers performed great deeds, but most of them didn’t, and the key to Elisa unlocking the Godstone’s power is learning that the bearers aren’t special in the way she’s been taught. To say too much would be spoilers, but needless to say it’s thoroughly satisfying how it’s deconstructed and addressed.

It’s a doorstopper, but the creative and descriptive writing and worldbuilding carry it through. The fantasy religion is a counterpart Catholicism of sorts (the fire and thorns in the title are a reference to a ritual by which worshippers prick their thumbs with rose thorns and spill it into fire) and Elisa herself is very pious, something I found refreshing after a lot of fantasy books with counterpart polytheism and agnostic protagonists. It also helps that the religion here is far more developed than in other books, with sects, reinterpretations, fundamentalists, and quite a few good people caught at odds by different interpretations. The same amount of work goes into the buildings, society, clothes, and food, making it easy to transport yourself into the world of fire and thorns. Fair warning though, you will get hungry at all the delicious food being described.

Besides the aforementioned fatphobia and colorism, this book doesn’t indulge in gore, but it doesn’t shy away from the ugliness of wounds and infection either. There’s also kidnapping and mentions of torture and a few brutal (although offpage) deaths.

5 out of 5 stars, definitely worth a read and moving onto the sequel. Hope she can keep this train running.

#book reviews #book recs

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paynesperf · 7 years ago

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You’re the shiniest Pearl in the sea

I’m analyzing Pearl from Steven universe voiced by DeeDee Magno Hall. Pearl, along with two other crystal gems are from a different world, but travel to earth in order to protect it from the rest of their planet. The series follows the three crystal gems and Steven, another gems son in defending earth and watching Steven grow up and learn how to use his powers.

I chose Pearl because she has overcome many struggles, but she isn't your typical hero. She has flaws which is refreshing. Pearl was a slave in her home world, and this reflects why she has no self value and is insecure at the start of the series. Everything her character does directly lines up with her past. For example she left homeworld with the gem Rose Quartz. Rose made her feel as if she was a person for the first time. She associated the feeling of actually being valued with Rose. In every battle Pearl would throw herself in front of Rose. Pearl was willing to do anything for Rose if it made her happy. This shows me she doesn't see herself as an equal to Rose, but rather a disposable pawn. Later in the series Pearl is training Connie, Steven's friend, to literally throw herself in front of Steven . Pearl doesn't see Connie as an equal to Steven, just like she didn't see herself as an equal. This also explains why Pearl was so overprotective of Steven. Steven is Rose's son, and died giving birth to him. Pearl actually doesn't care about Steven, she cares about the part of him that Rose is. Throughout the series we see Pearl start to gain confidence in herself. For example, when she first leaves homeworld she is extremely confident in her abilities and is able to escape easily. When she is determined to prove her self worth to others, it comes naturally, but she still has trouble seeing herself as great. After Steven finds out about how Pearl was training Connie, he goes and talks to Pearl. At first she is adamant, but starts to realize she was wrong. This is the turning point of her character in the series. Steven asks Pearl about what really happened when Pearl left homeworld, and Pearl claims she has been ordered to not tell a single soul. Instead she lets Steven travel into her memories through her gem. The first layer is Pearl's surface personality. She tries to organize Steven into a category. As Steven travels further he sees memories from Pearl as a slave, and memories of the battle of her leaving her home world. In the final layer Steven sees that Pearl actually killed an innocent gem because Rose told her too. She regrets this so much and when Steven asks why she did it for Rose, she realizes she was wrong. At the start of the series Pearl believed Rose was perfect and put her on a pedestal. At the end she realizes that Rose wasn't perfect. The combination of the low self worth and Pearl's eager to please personality made her susceptible to people using her. In the end, Pearl realizes she can't always be willing to sacrifice herself for other people. She also realizes that she has her own self worth and deserves to live a happy life just like other gems. It was interesting watching Pearl grow and learn from Steven of all people. The way her character dealt with her internal struggles was fascinating.

#steven universe #pearl #chacter analysis

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24hs · 7 years ago

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Black Off

summary: Momo loves Nayeon, Nayeon loves Sana, Sana loves Momo. Momo’s feelings change and so do Nayeon’s priorities. Sana isn’t aware of her role as a pawn. (They all get hurt.)

pairings: namo, samo, sayeon

genre: angst

words: 7000+

also readable here

Momo considers herself both a personality and looks person - she came for Nayeon’s pretty face and stayed for her generous heart, even if it’s stored behind thick walls. And even though Momo is faithful to her feelings and can barely look at someone else than Im Nayeon, she has to admit Im Nayeon’s girlfriend is a close second to everything Nayeon has to offer.

It’s like they were made for each other.

Sana can act out everything - sexy, chic, cute behavior - as Nayeon naturally is all of that already. Sana is gifted with a big heart but Momo only wants Nayeon’s anyway. Even though Momo believes Sana is lukewarm and Nayeon is burning, she has to admit they are kind of perfect together.

Momo has come to the conclusion that Sana and Nayeon are very much alike and therefore very good partners for each other.

Weirdly enough, they’re a trio. She and Sana still don’t know each other well - Sana doesn’t quite understand Momo’s definition of physical privacy -, yet Momo actually isn’t sure Sana and Nayeon hang out alone, as a couple, that often. Since she still feels like she sees her best friend every day (waves at her in school as their schedules are dividing them most of the time).

Momo slides onto the seat next to Nayeon, facing Sana, and starts unwrapping her burger. “Hi, Momo”, Sana says and leans her chin on her hands, her elbows on the table, leaning forward and closer to her.

“How was your class?”

“She had Chemistry, how could it have been”, Nayeon snarls. “I like Chemistry”, Sana claims and wiggles her brows at Nayeon, who grins immediately. “Like the one between the both of us.”

Momo will probably be always amazed by Sana’s ability to flirt lightly as if she wasn’t already in a relationship. (She’s dazed.)

When they’re eating - Nayeon her salad and Momo her cheese burger - Sana leans towards Nayeon to steal a kiss then and now, and Nayeon seems to prolong them a little bit more with every one. Momo doesn’t know where to lay her eyes, so she just demonstratively sips on her coke and eyes the ceiling. (She ignores the quiet sting in her heart when she sees Nayeon’s eyes sparkling from love.)

“What are you doing this afternoon, Hirai?”, Nayeon eventually asks, chewing on a piece of lettuce. “Going to the cinema with us?”, Sana steps in almost immediately, as if she had read Nayeon’s thoughts. Momo smiles a crooked grin and swallows the soda in her mouth. “What movie are we watching?”

Momo knows she had agreed lightheartedly, but it’s still weird. What makes the whole situation even more peculiar is that Sana sits in the middle of Nayeon and Momo - even though Nayeon is supposed to be the piece that glues their odd group together.

“Are you enjoying the movie, Momo?”, Sana leans in and whispers in Momo’s ear. A scent of roses - Sana’s favorite perfume, undoubtedly - hits Momo and she feels goosebumps crawling onto her neck.

“Uh, yeah, I am”, Momo splutters back, at loss of words with Sana’s pretty face that close to her. Sana smiles (shines, god, is she the actual sun?) and turns her head towards the movie again. Momo notices Nayeon eyes the scene of the both of them and then grabs Sana’s hand.

“I didn’t like the movie”, Nayeon pouts, clinging onto Sana, when they step out of the cinema. Momo blinks against the sudden light while Sana rubs Nayeon’s arm. “We will watch a better one next time, don’t worry!”, Sana kisses her on the cheek. Nayeon seems to be a lot happier than before.

(They watch a romance movie next time and, needless to say, Nayeon is all happy with Sana by her side and half on her lap.)

“She isn’t coming?”, Momo asks, and Sana nods. “She has got activities for a club coming up, something bureaucratic, I think.” Head girl duties, Momo immediately thinks, but she doesn’t speak it out loud. Sana doesn’t know Nayeon as long as she does, after all. She can’t know her like Momo does. (She can’t love her like Momo does.)

They’re walking side to side, heading to the cafe, an awkward silence floating around their heads. Momo keeps wanting to say something, but she has no idea on what topic she could possibly talk about with Sana Minatozaki. If she thinks about it, Momo believes this is the first time she’s spending time with her alone.

“So", Momo starts, “how did you and Nayeon meet?”

“Oh?”, Sana exclaims, “I had no idea she never told you.”

Somehow, Momo is taken aback by the careless comment. As if Sana was trying to show her that there was something about Nayeon Momo didn’t know. As if she was trying to beat in a category whose name Momo can’t seem to catch.

“I only came to Korea half a year ago and Nayeon showed my a bit of the city”, Sana hums, not noticing Momo’s shifted mood, “I think your school has a program that takes care of foreigners? Nayeon and I met up and did a small sightseeing tour.” Sana smiles brightly. “I fell in love at once!” Momo grins at her clutching her chest and then lowers her gaze.

She has to change her mind, Sana is cuter than Nayeon. Looking at Sana makes one’s heart flutter just by looking at her smile. Though Momo doesn’t quite trust the innocence Sana gives off with every pore of her body.

(She kind of gets why Nayeon dates her.)

“Why did you come to Japan?”, Momo asks, half because she wants to carry the conversation, half because she genuinely wants to know. Sana is something else. And, if Nayeon and her are a couple, Momo will do her best to befriend her. For Nayeon’s sake, of course.

Sana smiles sheepishly. “My parents have business here. I really didn’t want to go originally. They basically had to pull me into the plane.” Momo blinks, not having excepted Sana opening up immediately. It’s refreshing, though, and makes Momo like her more. A lot more, in fact. She has always preferred open people to closed off ones. (Which is weird, because Im Nayeon is a very very closed off person. It doesn’t matter. The hearts wants what it wants and Momo isn’t one to go and change that.)

“When did you come?”, Sana asks and smiles at the waitress when she arrives at their table. They quickly order - strawberry cake for Sana, cheesecake for Momo and coffee for both -, and once they’re alone again, Momo thinks about it. “When I was… about four? My older sister did a year abroad here and wanted to stay in the end, so my parents and I kind of followed.”

Sana nods thoughtfully and Momo shrugs. “They immediately loved it here, so we actually never talked about moving back.”

“Would you?”

Momo blinks. “Would I do what?”

“Go back if you could”, Sana says, leaning on her folded hands under her chin. Momo curls her lips. “Probably not. My friends are here, after all. Would you?”

Sana shots her a look Momo can’t quite name.

“No”, she answers eventually, “I’ve got my people here, too.”

“Do you want to go to the aquarium?”, Sana asks Momo when they step out of the cafe. “Nayeon never wants to. She says it’s boring.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her”, Momo snorts and Sana laughs. Momo catches herself staring at Sana’s smiling lips and her round cheeks and quickly looks away as her heart jumps a little in her chest. (It’s weird. Only Nayeon can do that to her.)

“Wait”, Sana loses her smile and suddenly stops. “What is it?”, Momo asks, narrowing her brows when trying to figure out what could be wrong.

“The light is perfect.”

Before she can react Sana has pulled Momo next to her and takes a picture with her phone, the cafe in the background. “Pretty, right?” Sana indeed looks pretty. Momo, on the other hand, looks simply confused, her nose is crunched up in an unflattering way and there’s a hair strand in her face. “Pretty”, Momo agrees. The photo Sana seems to beam harder.

They had a nice day, after all, and temporarily Momo even managed to forget that Nayeon wasn’t with them (that Nayeon was originally supposed to come with them). Sana gives her a tight hug and a kiss on her cheek - leaving a rose smudge on Momo’s skin she doesn’t notice until she’s home - before they separate. Momo doesn’t flinch when Sana touches her, unlike the several times before. Maybe they have found their connection.

When Momo arrives at home (and has cleaned her face), Sana has already sent her the picture. After staring at it for a while (without noticing her own face, really, she has only eyes for the radiating beauty next to her) she puts it as her lock screen.

The next week, Nayeon doesn’t have head girl duties (or at least none she couldn’t procrastinate in order to spend times with her girlfriend and her best friend).

But now, when they go through the city, Sana is holding Momo’s hand too. Even though Momo never felt excluded, she wasn’t fully included, but now she is. And Nayeon doesn’t seem to mind as she still steals kisses from Sana. (Though it seems like it’s not as frequent, not as returned. Maybe Momo is imagining things.)

“Here, Momo, try this hat on”, Sana says and puts an obnoxiously ugly green fedora on Momo’s head before she can protest. Nayeon lets out a laugh. “You look great, Hirai!”

They’re in a second hand shop, for fun mostly, and playing dress up is indeed fun when Sana isn’t trying to humiliate her and crush her dignity. Nayeon is wearing an old fashioned devil costume while Sana looks like Batman with her black leather dress (Momo chose it for her).

“So no Peter Pan for you today?”, Sana pouts and takes off the hat, with great caution so she doesn’t mess up Momo’s hair. Nayeon watches her movements with a sudden unexpressed face.

“Then try this on.” Momo wants to complain, but one does not say no to Minatozaki Sana. (Especially not if she’s accompanied by her girlfriend Im Nayeon.)

So she gets into the tinker bell costume and Sana squeaks when she sees her. “You look so cute, Momo!”

“Pretty, Hirai”, Nayeon grins. Momo’s cheeks warm. “Let’s undress again. Wanna go ice skating?”

“No, I need to take a picture first!” Sana bounces up her seat and naturally pulls Momo close to her when she presses the button. She smiles at the picture and then, - it’s weird - Momo think she sees guilt flashing over her face.

“Nayeon, can you take the picture?”, Sana quickly asks, bright as ever, and now clings to Nayeon’s side all at once, kissing her cheek when Nayeon takes a couple of selfies, grinning into the camera. Momo smiles by herself, awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to the other while waiting. Finally, finally they’re done and Sana lets go of Nayeon (her glued fingertips finally let go).

They make memories, memories full of gold. The only person Momo’s has gotten to know this quickly was Nayeon, and she’s in love with her.

Which makes her think–

But.

She doesn’t like Sana that way.

No way.

Momo’s at edge, more than usually. Nayeon is nowhere to be seen and she is slowly starting to wind between the masses of drunk people trying to dance without stumbling. Momo bites on her lip, pressing her back closer to the wall. This isn’t her scene, not at all, she has never been the type for grand parties. Yet she stands here. Nayeon just had to ask her with those sulking lips and big eyes and Momo was wax in her slender hands.

Momo breathes in slowly and chews on the inside of her cheek. She knew they shouldn’t have went separated, Nayeon tends to bath in a party’s spotlight, but sometimes, she’s just not findable. Like today.

“Enjoying yourself?” Jeongyeon comes up to her, tapping on Momo’s shoulder. Momo can’t help but scoff and Jeongyeon’s lightly mocking expression falls.

“What is it, Jeong?”

It comes out sharper than intended.

Jeongyeon blinks at her, then decides not start a fight. (They have been like that lately – snapping at each other for dumb, trivial things. Momo hates it, but something inside her is tense and she cannot help it.)

“Can I ask you something, Momo?”, she eventually asks, quietly and takes a long breath when Momo nods shortly.

“You really like her, don’t you?”, Jeongyeon stares into the distance. Momo doesn’t need to ask about who she is talking about.

“We’ve been best friends for years.”

“Not what I meant.”

Momo keeps quiet and Jeongyeon sighs. “You know I don’t particularly like her, but- I mean, it’s just… you change when you’re with her.” She stops. “I’m not saying she is not a good person, but maybe she’s just not good for you.”

Momo is a sheep, she really is. She never felt the urge to pick a fight or even engage in one, but now irritation is furrowing her eyebrows. And even though she loves Jeongyeon, a “To hell with it” escapes her lips and she winds herself through the crowd before Jeongyeon can hold her back.

She mutters a quick apology towards a girl who tripped because she pushed her accidentally and climbs up the stairs to have a better overview of the party. (She doesn’t take too much steps so Jeongyeon won’t see her.) Momo’s eyes hush around when she hears a sound above her.

And then, Nayeon appears on the top of the stairs with eyes that don’t seem to be able to focus on anything, clinging to the banister, swaying like a sole leaf in a storm. Simple put, she’s not okay. A swear escapes out of Momo’s lips and she starts pushing the people around her away to get through.

“Where’s Sana?”, Momo asks Nayeon as she trips into her arms. “What’s wrong? Are you drunk?”, she quickly adds, noticing she had put Sana above her in a list of priorities.

Nayeon clings onto Momo’s shirt’s sleeves as she slowly finds balance. “Broke up.”

Momo can’t see Nayeon’s face - it’s way too dark, the striking lights flashing over them are more disturbing than helping.

“She broke up? Or did you?”

Momo doesn’t hate anything about Im Nayeon - hell, how could she? -, but her inability to just talk to her about things is sure irritating. With hasty fingers Momo runs her hand through Nayeon’s bangs, trying to catch a glimpse of her face - to identify her expression. While Nayeon is able to lie smoothly while maintaining a straight face, Momo is one of the few - the only one, even - to break the facade. Slowly, with reverence puckering in her fingertips, Momo cups her cheek when Nayeon finally locks eyes with her.

And they are black.

Nayeon’s lips curl into something that others could identify as a crooked smile, but it just makes Momo’s guts turn.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I’ve asked.”

Momo’s boldness vanishes as Nayeon scoffs, the more or less pretty expression changing into a grimace that gives Momo goosebumps. “Whatever”, she waves it off and turns on her heels to head somewhere else. Momo doesn’t know where’s aiming to, but she assumes it’s just wherever Momo isn’t. She’s already leaning forward to grab Nayeon’s wrist - to make her stay - but she feels like the touch will burn her. The thought of Nayeon stumbling through this party, half drunk and - probably - with a broken heart stings way more, though, so she runs after her.

They have been like this since they knew each other. Nayeon leading and Momo following. She isn’t complaining, of course - she adores her. But, sometimes, in situations like these, it just sucks.

Momo grabs Nayeon’s wrist and pulls her back to herself. Nayeon stumbles against her chest - after another growth spurt from last year Momo’s chin is about the height of Nayeon’s forehead. Nayeon breathes through gritted teeth. “Let’s go home”, Momo mumbles, her voice shaking as she speaks into Nayeon’s hair.

Nayeon lets Momo pull her to Momo’s car, but only because she can’t walk on her own anymore, Momo is sure. Her expression changes into a grimace as she smells the alcohol out of Nayeon’s breath - it stings in her eyes - and pulls her closer to her when a group of boys whistle after them. They lump to Momo’s old Ford Territorial and after Momo basically throws the half asleep, half awaken, fully broken Nayeon onto the passenger seat, she sits down in front of the steering wheel. Nayeon’s head has sunken onto her chest, and her calm breathing assures Momo at least so much she turns on the engine and starts driving.

Momo wants to turn the radio on - everything is better than this suffocating silence the night tends to bring -, but because Nayeon is now fast asleep, she doesn’t. Of course. Nayeon comes before anything else, always. It has always been like this, Momo isn’t sure if it’s ever going to change. (She has a feeling about that, though. She doesn’t like it.)

At least there is a certain steadiness in holding the wheel with both hands ; Momo stares onto whatever she can grasp in the pitch black darkness in front of her. She flinches when Nayeon’s phone starts vibrating, oddly similar to an wasp getting angrier and angrier. Nayeon frowns and her eyes flutter open. “You alright?”, Momo whispers, barely being able to unglue her eyes from Nayeon to actually watch the street again. Nayeon doesn’t answer and fishes her phone out of her pocket. Her movements are idle, so Momo can easily tell herself she didn’t hear her. More or less easily. Not that easily.

Nayeon blinks rapidly when her phone’s brightness hits her, looks at the display, winds her side’s window down and - throws her phone out of the car. Momo resists the overwhelming urge to close her eyes and groan. She holds her breathe for a moment. “Nayeon, what-” Momo turns her head slightly just to find out Nayeon has fallen asleep again, this time her head laying against the already closed window.

Momo just silently adds this to the list “Things to ask Nayeon about”, but, then again, it was probably just related to whatever happened earlier to her.

Momo turns the steering wheel, drives onto Nayeon’s parking lot and turns the machine off. She leans against her headrest and turns her head to look at Nayeon. She kind of makes the night lighter, even when asleep. Her hair is listless, her skin bloated and puffy, the hot pink lipstick - Nayeon’s favorite - on her mouth smudged. She’s still the most beautiful person Momo has ever seen, taking her breath away quite literally.

“Hey, Nayeon, it’s time to wake up”, she whispers, faintly, because her own fatigue is slowly settling down and she still needs to drive the way home. Momo now turns her body - the driving belt holding her back - and unsnaps Nayeon’s one as she wakes up. “Momo?”, Nayeon asks, barely opening neither mouth nor eyes. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.” Momo can only give her a tired smile.

She can’t quite put her finger on it, but the thanks doesn’t lift her spirits as it would have normally. No, that’s not it - Momo doesn’t feel this empty usually in first place. It has always been Nayeon’s main issue - trying to solve things by herself, trying to keep Momo out of her life, trying to keep Momo uninvolved -, but Momo truly has never had a heart this unsatisfied.

Momo crawls on her bed and pulls the blanket over her head. She tries avoiding to think about in what state Nayeon is right now - it’s not working - and then she falls into a dream including stairs, crowds and hot pink lips.

Momo envoys the little things in life, at least, she gives her best trying. It’s why she keeps the already fading dream a moment longer when half awake, not willed to let it go yet. But she has to, eventually, as the sweet taste doesn’t linger anymore she slowly gets up.

When she knocks at Nayeon’s door an hour later - showered, brushed hair and after having breakfast -, she doesn’t remember the dream at all.

“Morning, Hirai”, Nayeon mumbles, not having to look at Momo to know it’s her. “Ready?” Momo lifts her hand holding a empty bag, but lowers it right after when she realizes the movement looks stiff and unnatural. Nayeon nods and steps outside, leaving Momo behind as she starts walking.

It’s Sunday, which means it’s Momo’s favorite day of the week. Partly because it’s still the weekend, but mostly because she’s with Nayeon. (She kind of misses Sana’s presence.)

Sunday is their day.

They’re walking side to side, idly, and it’s peace. Momo wants to grab Nayeon’s hand like they sometimes do - these days less frequently, both of their fingers seem to long for Sana’s -, but something’s keeping her from touching Nayeon today. That doesn’t stop her desire, though.

Nayeon shoots Momo a look - and locks her hand with hers. Momo lowers her head. While she’s unable to get through Nayeon most of the times, Nayeon can see through her like she was made out of glass.

“When are you getting a new phone?”, Momo asks quietly. It’s an hidden What happened yesterday, a secret Why did you and Sana break up out of the blue.

Nayeon shrugs, already looking like her old self, nothing like the shattered shadow of herself she was yesterday. “Don’t know. Tomorrow.” The word maybe stands in between them, thickly written out, yet Momo says, “ Tomorrow it is.” Nayeon shows what is similar to the grimace from yesterday.

Momo is torn - she wants to enjoy the rest of the day to the fullest, but she also wants it to pass in a heartbeat to be able to comfort Nayeon fully. (Which is ridiculous, to say the least, because Nayeon has never been the type to seek consult. Momo wants to know because she wants to keep up the facade that they call their friendship, because, honestly, it’s not how it used to be. Momo isn’t sure if they can go back.)

So she endures and enjoys.

Their Sunday was average. Normal. Ordinary.

It gives Momo peace, so she agrees to Nayeon sleeping over.

(Disagreeing would mean rolling her out of Momo’s bed at midnight after she already fell half asleep, and Momo doesn’t really have the heart to do that.)

“Good night, Nayeon”, Momo mutters when she falls onto her bed. Nayeon, laying next to her, mumbles something back in Momo’s favorite pillow. (Momo believes she said “Good night, Hirai” but she can’t be sure.)

Momo thinks of Sana’s round cheeks and her shining eyes when she’s smiling as she falls asleep.

When Momo wakes up next to Nayeon, her legs are tangled with Nayeon’s and Nayeon’s hand on Momo’s back (the touch burns on he skin). Nayeon looks utterly peaceful in her sleep - unlike her frowning, restless self she is when awake - so Momo rolls on her side with least movements possible and grabs her phone, just to notice it’s turned off. While it’s staring, Momo tries to remember when she used it the last time. Was it even with her on Saturday night? Probably not. Momo has developed the habit of forgetting her phone all the time. (Not necessarily a bad habit, of course, but Nayeon gets irritated every time Momo doesn’t answer her calls.)

Nayeon grunts and Momo turns around, letting her phone be and getting closer to Nayeon. “Good morning”, Momo says. Nayeon groans, moves and accidentally hits Momo in the face.

Momo sighs. This was going to be a great day.

Momo ignores Jeongyeon’s and Dahyun’s blatant and Mina’s subtle stare when she opens the car’s door on Nayeon’s side and runs her fingers through her own - unwashed - hair. After they stood up, they didn’t really have the time to do anything besides getting dressed and hurry to first period.

“What do you have now?”, Momo asks, pulling a hair tie from her wrist and putting her hair in a ponytail. Nayeon squints her eyes, obviously trying to remember. She leans against the car’s engine cowling, stuffing her hands in her jacket’s pockets. “Maths?”, she says, “maybe.”

“See you later.” Momo is keen on walking away - shaking off her friends and their questions she know will follow -, so she gives Nayeon a short hug and then hurries to class. Nayeon is staring after her with a blank face.

(Momo can basically hear her friends raising one eye brow.)

Momo doesn’t see Nayeon all day, which is unsurprising since they don’t have anything together anyway, but she still feels relieved. (She feels so, so bad for it.)

After she has finished homework and hasn’t got anything better to do, Momo cleans, then she cooks, and afterwards she grabs her phone. She plays with it in her hands, thinking about calling Jeongyeon when it suddenly starts buzzing and Momo almost lets it drop.

It’s Sana calling. For the fourth time, apparently - twice on Saturday night - the party’s night -, once on Sunday morning - when she was with Nayeon - and now. Momo stares at the blinking display for a second before taking the call. “Momo here?”, she says, flinching at the high pitch the words came out with. “Hi, Momo”, a tinny voice answers her, “this is Sana.”

“I know, I have your number”, Momo mumbles instantly, getting a small laughter out of Sana.

“So…”, Momo continues, “why did you call?” She hears Sana exhaling.

“Well, uh”, she laughs again, but her nervousness transfers from Sana’s heart to Momo’s ears. “Maybe we can meet up in our café and talk?”

“Sure”, Momo says, lightly frowning, when Sana quickly adds, “Oh, Momo?”

“Yeah?”

“You probably already figured, but, um, don’t bring Nayeon.”

Momo thought about when the cafe had turned into their, Sana’s and her own, cafe and honestly, she can’t remember. (She can’t remember when they crossed the mutual-friends-line to the friends zone, sprinting to the best-friend-area.)

So she grabs her earplugs, puts her hair in a pony tail and starts jogging towards their cafe.

Sana is already sitting on their usual table by the window when Momo arrives. “Hi”, Sana smiles and gestures her to sit in front of her, so Momo does. “Have you already ordered?”, Momo asks while getting down.

“No”, she answers, “listen, I… don’t know what Nayeon has told you, but…”, Sana sighs and leans back on her chair, “I broke up with her. I just think you deserve to know that.”

Why, Momo wants to ask, why do you think that? But she keeps her mouth shut, nodding slowly, telling her to go on.

“I’ve liked Nayeon a lot, I really did”, she licks over her lips, “but I… met someone and found out I like them - love them - more than her.”

Momo wants to ask who she’s talking about – oh god, does she? - but Sana looks her in the eyes with such misery she can’t open her mouth.

“It’s cruel, right?” Sana laughs a third time, and her eyes tear up. The sight of tears brings Momo back to life - crying has always been her soft point -, so she just grabs Sana’s hand instinctively.

“It would… be more cruel to stay”, she croaks anyway, with a halting voice. “Don’t you think?”

Sana nods and wipes over her eyes after a pause.

And then, “What kind of cake do you want?”

Sana had shifted back to her usual goofy self again, but Momo doesn’t trust the peace. She knows Sana too well. Knows that her core is aching and hiding behind a bright shell.

So she laughs and jokes with Sana, both of them ignoring the tense topic. If that’s what she needs to heal.

“Have you thought about getting a phone again?”

Nayeon scoffs instantly over her salad. (Of course, on the rare occasions they eat together in the school cafeteria Momo has to ruin it.)

“I did.”

“So?”

Momo really doesn’t know what’s with her these days, but she feels like she’s provoking Nayeon constantly. Before Sana happened, Momo would have never dared.

“I’m not getting a new one.”

“Are you sure? A phone is”, Momo struggles to find the right words, trying to stay on the metaphorical level, “useful. You’re sure you don’t want to use it?”

Nayeon smashes her plastic fork on the table. “Fuck, Hirai, I’m”, she exhales loudly, “you want to hear why Sana broke up with me? Fine.”

Momo gulps. Nayeon stares her down, and her face turns into a grimace.

“When I told Sana that I- that I had fallen in love with her in the past weeks… well, we both didn’t start dating with a big crush on the other one, so it felt right to… whatever, she told me she’s in love with someone else. And broke up with me.”

Momo bites on her lips. She didn’t dare to put any ideas of what could have happened into her head, but this was scary. Hurting and scary.

“Want to know who Sana loves?”, Nayeon suddenly says, her before strained voice hard and stern again, and Momo immediately shakes her head.

“No”, she whispers, an horrible, horrible idea forming in her heart.

Sana’s touches getting longer from the first time they met. Sana opening up to her. Sana acting like Momo’s the only one she wants to see. Sana-

“It’s you, Momo.”

Momo closes her eyes. Fuck.

Nayeon stands up with a rushed movement, her chair falling and rumbling when it hits the floor, and goes away, leaving Momo and her messy mind behind.

“You know, I never really loved her.”

Momo stares at Nayeon, who calmly flips the page of her magazine.

“What?”

“Sana. I know what I said, but-” Nayeon shrugs without looking at her. “Whatever. I’m over her.”

Somehow, Momo is furious about her words. She doesn’t know why. (She has a vague idea, something about jealousy and wanting to comfort Nayeon. Maybe. Momo feels closer to her in those rare times Nayeon doesn’t lie to neither herself nor to Momo.)

“Yeah, whatever”, Momo repeats, spits, her jaw tensed. She leaves soon after for her class and Nayeon stays alone in the empty classroom they had shared before.

Momo doesn’t see Nayeon’s hand shaking when she turns another page.

Momo and Sana spend more, a lot more time together. Nayeon claims she has duties to Momo, and when she doesn’t, she spends time with her friends (her other friends), so Sana and Momo are basically glued together whenever they’re out of school.

Sana is creative.

One time they made a collage out of their shared memories - Sana wrote the captions in Japanese so no one else would be able to understand.

Another time, Sana took her to the cinema and made Momo play truth or dare with her (Momo still hasn’t recovered).

They’ve been to their cafe a hundred times.

Sana is never boring.

Momo has the feeling that something has changed.

She doesn’t see Nayeon a lot in school this week, which is normal, but she misses her anyway. (Her heart doesn’t care about separating schedules, it just feels.)

And, because Sana attends a different school, she doesn’t see her either.

She equally misses her.

Momo isn’t sure when Sana has become much more important in her life.

Momo remembers when she firstly noticed she fell in love with Im Nayeon. She had thought about her all day, laid in bed and thought about her all night, everything in her mind and body screamed Im Nayeon. And she had thought, well, I really want to be friends with this girl.

(Of course, she was wrong.)

It were Nayeon’s touches that had opened her eyes. Burning sensations so deep she wanted to lean in and get a taste of flaming lips.

With Sana, it feels different.

Momo has developed some kind of soft attitude about her. She wants to stroke her hair, cuddle while watching a Disney movie. Maybe. Sana is a kaleidoscope, showing another side of herself to Momo every day. (It never gets dull with her.)

It’s not a big deal when Sana confesses, and maybe that’s why the beginning of Momo’s and her exclusive, new relationship isn’t either.

(Momo does feel a sting of guilt about Nayeon when Sana kisses her and declares her love to her.)

(Sadly, her urge to prove Nayeon wrong , maybe to make Nayeon jealous, to prove that Im Nayeon did in fact loved Minatozaki Sana, to actually kiss Sana is stronger, so she kisses her back.)

“You don’t know for long I have been waiting to do this”, Sana sighs in between a kiss, and Momo hums in agreement and pulls her closer. Sana giggles and Momo’s heart feels a bit lighter.

They both don’t hear the doorknob turning.

Momo only turns her head as she notices the person in the room.

Her smile freezes when Im Nayeon looks her in the face.

They all pause.

“I’m leaving”, Nayeon mutters, and when she turns on her heels, Momo grabs her wrist before it can turn the doorknob around. There’s a short pause.

“Who”, Nayeon growls and withdraws her hand with a jerk that makes Momo stumble a step back, “the hell do you think you are?”

“Your best friend.” Momo raises her chin and balls her fists to appear brave, but a single hiss from Nayeon makes the energy vanish all at once. Momo can’t measure up to Nayeon. Not even as Sana’s girlfriend.

“You don’t have the right to call yourself that anymore.”

Momo flinches. Nayeon looks dead serious. “Why?”, Momo asks quietly. “You said yourself you’re over her. Where’s the problem?”

Nayeon looks like she has been slapped in the face. “Yeah”, she slowly says, “there is none.” She rips open the door and is gone in a heartbeat.

Momo restlessly runs her hand through her hair and lets herself fall onto a nearby chair.

“Did you talk to Nayeon?”, Sana asks when Momo throws herself on the bed next to her. “Yeah”, she mumbles, but when Sana reaches for her hand, she quickly stands up again and starts rummaging around in her bag next to the bed. “Forgot something.” She gets up again and goes into the bathroom without looking back. Sana stares after her and slowly withdraws her hand. When Momo eventually crawls next to her, her back facing Sana, she doesn’t look into her eyes once. Because she knows, if she does, they will be black.

Momo can’t bear the sight a second time.

(Momo and Sana get better, but the tense feeling stays like a headache, fading only after a couple of days. She doesn’t know if Sana does, but Momo can’t stop thinking about the incident.)

Nayeon is taking a big bite of her burger when Jeongyeon walks up to her table and stops in front of her. Tzuyu, sitting next to Nayeon and between Jihyo, looks up first. “Jeongyeon Unnie?”, she frowns, and Nayeon’s head snaps up.

“What do you want, Yoo?”, she snarls. Jihyo lightly kicks her under the table when Jeongyeon scoffs at her tone.

“I need to talk to you”, she says, nevertheless (though with her teeth gritted).

“Talk, then”, Nayeon says, taking another bite. When Jeongyeon doesn’t move, she swallows and groans.

“Fine”, she sighs and stands up. “See you later, guys.”

Then, Im Nayeon is already heading for the cafeteria’s exit and Jeongyeon has to hurry to catch up.

Nayeon drags her into an empty classroom and sits down on one of the desks. “So?”, she raises her eyebrows while Jeongyeon bites on her lips, trying to find the right words.

“Momo has been struggling”, she says bluntly and Nayeon’s eyebrows raise a bit higher. “With the whole, you know”, she makes a wide hand gesture ; Nayeon follows it closely with her eyes, “being in love with you thing. Which I never fully understood, to be honest, but Momo is Momo. Momo always wants things that end up hurting her.”

Nayeon has always been told that she should play poker. She has that lifeless, expressionless face she can put on whenever she wants to.

Because of that certain face - mask - Jeongyeon doesn’t notice Nayeon hasn’t had a single clue that Momo has been in love with her for years until now.

“It’s not my fault she fell for me”, Nayeon says, croaks, rather, because even the shock is greater, the guilt still tops and reflects on her face. Weirdly enough, it softens Jeongyeon’s face. It’s so unfitting Nayeon wants to throw up. Momo is in love with her.

“Please”, Jeongyeon grabs Nayeon’s wrist ; Nayeon lets her, which gives Jeongyeon the courage to finish her sentence, “don’t break her heart.”

It’s when Momo thinks about Sana she realizes all at once. Nayeon and her aren’t what they used to be. And her feelings are just the same.

They have changed. Momo’s feelings have shifted, she just can’t recall when exactly.

Maybe the movement had started when she met Sana, probably when she started to prefer Sana’s soft Momo to Nayeon’s sassy Hirai. She doesn’t know, and in the end it doesn’t really matter.

What does matter is that she thinks she genuinely likes Sana. Loves, even.

They don’t have what Momo thinks she and Nayeon could have had.

But maybe, it could be even better.

Momo believes they have a chance.

She grabs her phone and dials Sana’s number.

Sana’s face changes when she opens her door and Nayeon stands in front of her, but Nayeon’s doesn’t. “Hey, Sana”, she says, “we have to talk. It’s about Momo.”

Sana closes the door after Nayeon steps in.

Nayeon talks and talks and talks. Sana listens.

Momo calls Sana thrice, but she isn’t picking up.

Sana ignores her phone ringing to listen to Nayeon talk a little bit more. (Her world is falling apart as she speaks.)

When Momo calls a third, one last time, Sana finally picks up. She doesn’t say a word, but Momo is so excited to confess - to genuinely confess - she doesn’t notice.

(Oh, how she better had noticed.)

“Hi”, Momo beams, a bit out of breathe. “Sana, I need to talk to you.” Sana remains silent while Momo prepares herself.

“Sana, I love you.” The smile on Momo’s face widens. “I know we haven’t had that… talk yet, but”, she exhales, “I love you. You’re important to me. Sana Minatozaki, I love you. I love love love love you. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Did you started this thing with me to make Nayeon jealous?”

Momo thinks she heard wrong. She must have.

“What?”, she whispers, and even though they’re miles away, she knows Sana well enough to know what she’s doing right now.

(Sana closes her eyes.)

“Nayeon told me you’ve been loving her for years.”

“I-“

Momo is at loss at words. Nayeon knew?

“Sana, that’s not t-“

“Don’t lie to me”, she snaps, but her voice breaks. “Don’t try to fool yourself, Momo. Nayeon doesn’t deserve that.”

(Sana covers her mouth when she starts crying.)

“We all don’t.”

epilogue

It’s has been a month since Sana, Nayeon and Momo parted ways, and technically, Momo’s mind knows, but her body hasn’t received the note yet.

So when she wakes up, still sleepy, her hand reaches for Sana’s until she remembers Sana’s gone. (Back to Japan. She doesn’t have her people in Korea anymore.)

It has been a year.

Momo still can’t bring herself to spend Sunday’s with someone who isn’t Nayeon.

It has been forever, and Momo’s eyes are black.

#twice #namo #samo #nayeon #momo #sana #sayeon #ok ill admit it........ Bad Fic and i will rewrite it but for now just take it as a concept fic and go #writing #was this.... my writing tag oh my god i dont even write anymore

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