#you guys know EXACTLY what kind of stuff is actual appropriation but of course you need to act like the innocent kicked puppy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neonlights92 · 3 years

Text

GRACE: Chapter I

Kim Namjoon lost himself when he lost his hand. Things have not been the same for him since. When Taehyung tells him it’s time for him to marry - he isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of someone else having a front row seat to his struggle with himself.

That’s where you come in. You’re a nurse, as well as a member of Bangtan, and Taehyung is never more sure about a match than he is with you and Namjoon. Feeling like you’ve been chosen to help Namjoon on his journey back to finding who he is, you feel completely out of depth.

It’s only when you start to see the man underneath that you start to fall in love with Kim Namjoon. And maybe after all, you might be his saving grace.

WARNINGS: Language, eventual sex and some violence

A/N:Namjoonie’s story! ENJOOOOY :D

“Kim Taehyung wants to see you, Y/N.”

Your mother’s words dropped between the two of you, like lead. Her eyes avoided your own - and you knew exactly what she actually meant.

Kim Taehyung has found you a husband.

Your chest tightened and you gripped the handle of your coffee mug for dear life.

Your eyes traveled over to your father, his face kind but stern. This wasn’t up for debate.

“Okay.” The word was quiet, “Do I - do you…”

You took a deep breath and collected yourself.

“Who is he?”

The question hung in the air uncomfortably.

Your parents exchanged a look - the same look they’d exchanged your entire life when decisions were made for you and they were afraid you wouldn’t like it.

“I think we should let Taehyung tell you that.” Your father’s voice was steady, “As Capo, it is his right.”

As capo.

You didn’t know Kim Taehyung very well at all. Though the two of you were of a similar age - had grown up together in Bangtan - he had always been groomed for Capo. You on the other hand, had been groomed like most other women in the mob: to believe that your most important duty in life was to carry on your family line.

You knew it was outdated. And you hated it, though you’d never complain.

Life had taught you that complaints got you nowhere - and so you’d learnt to keep your head down and get on with it.

But that didn’t mean you’d never wanted more. That you’d craved freedom and independence like no other.

And when your parents had allowed you to study nursing at university you really had thought maybe things were changing. Until you’d realised that it had been a direct order from Taehyung’s father himself - the Capo at the time.

Bangtan needed their own nurse. Someone who could take care of things quietly and efficiently.

Someone who could help those who were badly injured find some degree of normality.

And that’s what you did.

Still. You loved your job - mob mandated or not.

“Okay.” You whispered, feeling something like dread wash over you.

“His wife has invited you to dinner at theirs,” Your mother finally moved her gaze to connect with your own, “This evening. Eight pm.”

You nodded, on autopilot.

This was what you’d done all your life, wasn’t it?

You listened to orders. You never asked questions. You never challenged Bangtan.

And if the Capo himself wanted to see you, then you knew it could only mean one thing.

He’d found you a husband. And tonight, you would meet him too.

You stood outside Kim Taehyung’s mansion -- because that’s what it was, a mansion -- nervously fingering the hem of your blouse.

This was it.

You’d waited twenty-five years for this moment - the moment someone else decided who you would marry.

You’d always known it would be like this. Your father was too powerful - he held too many cards too close to his chest - and Bangtan could never let someone like him choose his own daughter’s marriage.

He’d told you since you were a young girl to expect this. An arranged betrothal.

And when you were little you thought it was sort of romantic. Like some fairytale - a princess locked away in a tower and a knight who was destined to save her.

Except now you were older and it wasn’t all that romantic anymore.

It was stifling.

You knew your father had come to this agreement with Taehyung himself. You hated that you lived in such a misogynistic world, but it was the way things had always been.

After a long moment and a deep, calming breath, you lifted your hand and knocked, once.

There was a beat and then the portal swung open.

And Kim Taehyung’s wife was smiling widely at you. You forced your own lips up into a smile.

“Hi! Y/N, was it?”

You curtsied a little feeling foolish straight after, “Yeah. Hello Mrs Kim.”

“Ugh Mrs Kim is Taehyung’s mom,” She laughed, “You can call me ___.”

Her eyes were kind as she opened the door further and gestured you inside.

“Come in, please. Dinner is almost ready and the boys are too.”

The boys.

Your heart skipped a beat. For a moment you wondered if perhaps your father had somehow secured a marriage to the last available member of the Special Seven, Kim Namjoon.

But you shook your head.

Your father was important, of course… But surely not that important.

Besides, from what you’d heard through the grapevine - since the accident that had caused Namjoon to lose most of his hand - he had pretty much become a hermit. The rumour mill was rife, of course, with people’s theories of what would become of Bangtan’s most eligible bachelor.

Could it be that Kim Taehyung wanted you to take up that mantle?

“I hope you like pasta,” ___ interrupted your thoughts and you looked up as stopped in front of a large dining room, “We hardly ever use this room anymore, but Taehyung thought it was appropriate for tonight.”

Your eyes widened at the opulence of the room you were stood in. The chandelier that hung in the middle of the ceiling dripped with what you could only guess were the most expensive diamonds money could buy. The long, mahogany table was ornate and rich - a dark colour that spoke of wealth and taste.

“It’s a little much,” ___ spoke up again and you turned to see her rolling her eyes, “But it was like this when we moved in. Taehyung’s dad had a lot of money and apparently not a lot of subtlety.”

She laughed at the comment and you giggled too - relaxing a little as the tension eased from your shoulders slightly. It seemed you’d found something of an ally in Taehyung’s wife and you were thankful for that, at least.

“I know we don’t really know each other,” She started carefully, a perfectly plucked brow pulling up slightly, “But I like to think of myself as a confidant of sorts… Especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

You raised your own brow, “Matters of the heart?”

She bit her bottom lip and you noticed the pity in her eyes.

As she opened her mouth to answer you, somebody cleared their throat to your left and your head snapped round, finding yourself looking up into the formidable gaze of Kim Taehyung.

He was alone, you noticed immediately, and you tried to keep your expression neutral.

This was the game of Bangtan. A game you’d grown up in.

A game you knew well.

“Taehyung,” You greeted, nodding gently, “Thank you for inviting me. It is an honour.”

His handsome face was cold - barely responsive as he nodded back to you, “Y/N. Welcome to our home.”

Our home.

The words warmed you.

It had been clear for a while now that Kim Taehyung’s only weakness was his wife. He would burn the entire world down for her - and you’d been told of this time and time again.

They had started off as an arranged marriage - almost six years ago now - when Taehyung’s father and his wife’s father had worked so closely with one another they had promised their children’s hand in marriage in an act of loyalty.

But things had changed in the years since.

It was well established that Kim Taehyung loved only one thing more than he loved Bangtan - and that was his wife.

You tried to focus on that - on the fact that loveless marriages could turn into something else - as ___ nudged her husband playfully.

“Don’t be so formal,” She teased and you couldn’t believe you were witnessing this exchange, “Y/N is a friend.”

Taehyung actually rolled his eyes playfully and smiled down at his wife, “I’m still Capo, darling.”

She laughed as well and your chest tightened. You wanted that.

The obvious love they had for one another - the way they seemed to be so comfortable with each other it was like they had found their home.

“Well dinner’s almost ready Taehyung so go and get cleaned up.” ____ said, slipping an arm through yours and leading you towards the ridiculous mahogany table, “Come sit over here, Y/N.”

You noticed for the first time that the table was set for four people.

Your heart pounded against your chest.

“Who is it?”

The question slipped out of you before you even had a chance to think it through. ____ froze. She was slipping into the seat beside you when her eyes turned to your own.

“What?”

“The fourth person,” You whispered, darting your eyes behind you to make sure Taehyung wasn’t within earshot distance, “My future husband. Who is it?”

____ looked genuinely distraught for a moment.

You clicked your tongue.

“I’m a member of the South Korea mafia, ____, I know how this shit works.” You noticed your words were a little sharp and you tried to soften them with a weak smile, “Just tell me who it is. Please.”

____ seemed torn. Her eyes roved your face carefully and she sighed.

“He’s a good guy.” She told you carefully, “Really. I’m not just saying that.”

Your heart dropped. The look in her eyes - the trepidation….

“It’s Kim Namjoon, isn’t it?”

A throat cleared itself loudly from behind you. You snapped your head to the side and watched as the man himself sauntered towards the two of you.

“You rang?” The sarcasm dripped from his tone as he stuck out his prosthetic hand for you to shake. You supposed he was expecting you to be disgusted - maybe to rebuke him - but you were made of stronger stuff than that.

You forced yourself to smile, “Hello Namjoon. I’m Y/N.”

He narrowed his eyes as you shook his prosthetic.

“I know who you are,” He raised a dark brow, “The future Mrs Kim Namjoon.”

The words were like heavy bricks - weighing down on your shoulders.

You knew next to nothing about this man. Despite what ____ had said about him being a good man all you saw was bitterness and anger in his eyes.

“You’re the nurse, aren’t you?”

You nodded carefully and tried to calm your pulse.

“Well now we know why Taehyung chose you for me. The cripple.”

____ cleared her throat and stood up abruptly. Her eyes were dark and angry and she shook her head at Namjoon.

“No. You don’t get to do that to her. Not when she had nothing to do with any of this.” Her bottom lip trembled slightly, “Apologise.” Namjoon’s face was a perfect mask of nonchalance. His eyes flicked between you and ____ and he shrugged.

“What for?”

____ squared her shoulders, “You know exactly what for, Kim Namjoon.”

“I think that’s enough now,” Taehyung entered the room sharply, standing between his wife and friend. His gaze fell on you after a moment, “I see the two of you have met.”

You nodded wordlessly, wondering just what in the hell was going on.

Namjoon was seething apparently, as he sulked to the left of his friend, arms crossed and eyes dangerously black.

“Was he not as welcoming as he’d promised he’d be?”

“This is ridiculous V, we both know that. You’ve chosen her because she’s a nurse and because of this,” He stuck his fake hand in the air and you refused to look away.

Nobody else in the room reacted for a moment.

Taehyung took a deep, calming breath.

“That was part of it, yes.” He said evenly, “Y/N is a trained nurse and therefore she can help you move forward with this. But she’s also a good match. Right age, right height… Her parents are wealthy and important like yours. It is a good union. I have told you this plenty of times Namjoon.”

“I will not marry her because of pity,” Namjoon spat the word out, “I’m not some fucking charity case-”

“I don’t pity you.” The words flew out of you and when three sets of eyes turned to fall on you, you wondered if it was the right choice. You chose to focus on Namjoon.

“What?”

“I don’t pity you,” You told him honestly, gesturing to his prosthetic, “What happened is awful, obviously. And I may never know the full extent of it. But I don’t pity you. You are a man with an obstacle in life. There are many men with obstacles in life. That doesn’t make you worthy of pity.”

Namjoon’s eyes searched your face for something - what you weren’t sure - and she sighed heavily. He seemed so tired. You noticed the bags under his eyes, the lines in his forehead. He was young - just a little older than you - and yet it seemed he’d aged so much recently.

“So you want to marry me? You want to marry a man who’s had to learn how to live - how to do normal every day things like eat with a knife and fork - all over again?”

You shrugged, “I want to do what’s best for Bangtan. If Taehyung says that’s a marriage between the two of us, then so be it.”

A long moment passed between the two of you.

Namjoon seemed to be sizing you up, and you took the opportunity to do the same.

He wasn’t ugly. Far from it. Kim Namjoon was tall and handsome - and from what you’d heard through the grapevine - he was also smart and kind.

People spoke about him of course - he was a member of the Special Seven - and what they said was normally very positive.

He wasn’t like other Bangtan men.

He was grounded. He was softer. A man who used brains instead of braun.

You had to admit, those traits were attractive to you.

Eventually, he spoke.

“Alright then.” He nodded and gave you a strange look - somewhere between admiration and confusion, “I suppose that says it all.”

Namjoon turned to Taehyung and nodded.

“We’ll get married at the earliest convenience.” _____ gasped from behind you but you barely registered the sound.

It had all been well and good in theory… But now what?

Kim Namjoon stuck his hand out to yours - his real hand made of flesh and bones - and smiled sardonically.

“Welcome to the family, Mrs Kim Namjoon.” You smiled back. Mrs Kim Namjoon.

You could do this.

Planning a wedding was easy when you weren’t trusted to do a single thing.

Kim Namjoon’s family had promised to take care of everything - and as a family higher up in the Bangtan hierarchy than your own - there had been no argument to be made.

This was the way things worked in your world, and you’d learned long ago just to accept it.

You barely saw your husband in the ensuing months. He dropped by once to meet your parents and officially ask for your hand in marriage, and once more since then to update you on the wedding arrangements.

But apart from that he was like a ghost - you even forgot sometimes that you were supposed to be marrying him.

You rarely thought about the fact that by the end of this year you would be Mrs Kim Namjoon and despite the relatively long engagement - six months was a long time in the world of Bangtan - you were happy you had the time to get used to the idea of marriage.

It wasn’t until one evening when Kim Namjoon came calling for you that the reality of the situation truly sunk in.

You were leaving work - it had been a particularly difficult day so far, and absolutely nothing seemed to be going smoothly. In fact everything today had felt like it was seconds away from falling apart and you felt like you too, were going to break down.

And as you made your way across the parking lot you found Kim Namjoon, leaning against your car. How he knew which one was yours was beyond you - but you smiled at him questioningly when you were within earshot.

“Hi.” He smiled almost sheepishly, “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

He crossed his arms and squinted one eye shut as he stewed in your question for just a moment. Then he sighed heavily.

“I’ve been an asshole.”

“Huh?” You raised a brow.

Namjoon groaned and clicked his tongue, “Are you gonna make this difficult for me?”

“What? No!” You shook your head and shrugged, “I just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The night I agreed to marry you I was a jerk. And we’ve barely seen each other twice since we got engaged two months ago.” He ran a hand through his hair, “I promised myself I wouldn’t be like that. So I’m sorry.”

You cocked your head to the side, shocked at the show of vulnerability. Namjoon was a Bangtan man - he should be cold and unforgiving - he should push away intimacy and hate the thought of opening himself up to anyone.

And yet here he was, apologising to you for something you’d assumed was just the way things were done when a marriage was arranged.

“Okay.” You nodded slowly, “I forgive you.”

He smiled softly and you found yourself thinking he really did look handsome like that.

“I’d like us to be friends at least,” He shrugged, “If nothing else.”

You smiled back, “Friends sounds good to me.”

“Good. Great. Thank you,” He gestured to your car, “So can you give me a ride home?” You gave him a questioning look, “How did you get here?”

“My driver dropped me off,” He lifted his prosthetic hand, “I can’t really drive anymore.”

There was a moment of almost awkward silence, but you refused to let something Namjoon couldn’t control, ruin the atmosphere. He’d apologised to you - he was making something of an effort - and you owed it to him to do your part.

“I can help you with that,” You told him, pointing at his hand, “Getting used to it. How long have you had it on for?”

“Half a year,” He looked away from you, “It’s still so uncomfortable.”

You took another step towards him and his eyes connected with yours.

“I don’t care.” You told him firmly, “I don’t care about the prosthetic. I swear. And I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable. I’m sorry it happened to you. But I’ll help you. I will. I promise.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened at your words and you were taken back by the way he was suddenly looking at you.

God. He really was so handsome.

“Okay.” He whispered, eyes darting across your face, “Yeah. Thank you. That would mean a lot.” The moment was suspended for another moment more, and you wondered if you might do something crazy like try and kiss him - before Namjoon cleared his throat and the spell was broken.

Jesus.

What was going on with you?

Your pulse was racing as you fumbled around your handbag for your keys and you told yourself the nerves were only because of the day you’d had. It had nothing to do with the handsome man standing in front of you.

“You’re going to have to give me directions to your house,” You told Namjoon as the car unlocked and you both climbed in, “I’ve never had the privilege of visiting.” He snorted a laugh, “It’s a two minute drive from Taehyung’s. If you drive that way I can guide you.”

“Sounds good.”

You buckled yourself in and tried to ignore the way your cheeks were flushing at the idea of you and Namjoon being in such a small space together, focusing instead on the feel of the steering wheel under your fingers, and trying as much as you could not to stare at him through the reflection of the mirrors.

That would be weird.

Weirder than you were suddenly being.

“How was work?” He asked you once you pulled the car out onto the main road.

You groaned, “Awful. Today was a bad one. We have them sometimes but it really lowers your self esteem. Some of my patients seemed like they couldn’t stand my face.”

Namjoon whistled lowly.

“I can imagine that wouldn’t be a very comforting atmosphere to be in.”

“No, not very,” You shrugged and shot him a look, “But that’s the nature of my job. Nurses are treated worse than doctors even though sometimes it feels like we do triple the work.”

Namjoon chuckled and you raised a brow, “What?”

“It’s just…” Out of the corner of your eye you saw him shake his head, “It’s like that with us sometimes. In Bangtan I mean. Taehyung is treated with so much respect and reverence - and he deserves it. Of course he does. But the rest of us… We work our asses off. And we barely get any recognition for it.” He pulled a face, “So I guess I’m trying to say I know how you’re feeling. Kind of.”

You let this information settle with you.

It made sense of course.

Bangtan was the biggest food chain of them all. The Capo demanded respect.

And in the little interaction you’d had with him, you saw how intimidating Kim Taehyung could be. Still. You imagined that had to be annoying.

“Doesn’t it piss you off?” He scoffed, “Of course it does. But that’s just Bangtan. That’s the job. We don’t do it for recognition anyway. We do it because we love Bangtan.”

You smiled at that.

It was exactly how you felt about your job.

“Yeah. I understand what you mean. As much as it sucks that I don’t always get the praise I feel I deserve… I don’t do it for that. I do it to help people.”

There was a heavy moment between you both. Namjoon seemed to be taking in what you’ve said and you found yourself thinking that if it’s this easy to talk to him you might catch yourself falling for your own husband.

“That’s a lovely way to put it,” You felt rather than saw his smile, “My house is just on this curb.”

You slowed the car down and turned to your fiance, surprised when you saw him already smiling at you.

“Thank you. For this.” His eyes were gentle and shimmering almost and you once again had to force yourself not to flush, “It’s been…. Nice.” You grinned back, “Alright. Don’t be a stranger.”

He laughed at that and shook his head.

“I won’t.” He gave you a warm look, “Goodbye Y/N. I’ll call you soon.”

You nodded, “Okay. Bye Namjoon.”

He smiled at you once more before climbing out of the car and waving goodbye at you.

And as you drove away all you could think of was this:

Kim Namjoon might very well be the best thing that could have ever happened to you.

#namjoon x reader #mafia au #arranged marraige au #smut #angst #romance #kpop #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine

552 notes · View notes

mieohmy · 3 years

Text

𝖬𝗒 𝖬𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋? | 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝖩𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇

PAIRING: teacher! jung jaehyun x teacher! fem reader

GENRE: flufff, humor

WC: 2.7k

NOTES: tiny mention of blood

SUMMARY: you think it’s cute how your seventh grade students can’t get enough of Mr. Jung. or in which the whole middle schools ships you and jaehyun together.

ღ

“Miss y/l/n! Miss y/l/n!” You look up from your computer. “Yes?? What is it?” One of your students suddenly asks, “Do you have a boyfriend?” You raise an eyebrow. “What? Um, I don’t think that’s appropriate for class.” Your students protest. “No, Miss Y/l/n, we just wanted to know more about you... that’s all!” one kid pipes up. You scoff. “How many months has it been since I started teaching you guys?” You stand up and grab the papers you were about to hand out to the students for homework. “It’s none of your business, but no, I don’t have a boyfriend.” You hear whispers, and someone faintly says, “But you’re so pretty...” causing your heart to warm.

After you finish passing it out, you let the kids go. You didn’t think much about the question, not knowing what was to come.

ღ

It’s a few weeks later when you sit by Naeun at the teacher's table for lunch, that the topic comes up again. She greets you as you place your lunchbox on the table, unpacking your food. “How were your classes?” she asks. Humming, you reply, “Busy as usual, you know.” Naeun nods, sighing as she laments, “I wish I at least had someone at home to care of me with all this work... Hey, y/n, do you have a boyfriend?” You pause. “No, not anymore.” Naeun sits up. “Oh, sorry.. I didn’t-“ Cutting her off, you laugh. “You don’t need to be sorry about anything. Let’s just relax during our break as much as we can, right?” She smiles in relief.

The two of you are interrupted by the lunchroom doors opening. You immediately hear whispers and giggles. Turning your head, you see Jaehyun Mr. Jung and another teacher walk in. This was only your second year teaching here at a big school, so you didn’t know all the staff yet.

“Wow, I have to admit Mr. Jung’s very handsome, no matter when. And I think all the kids agree too.” It was a known fact that Jaehyun was the definition of a teacher-crush. He was extremely handsome, and all students liked him and his class. You’re not sure how many times you’ve heard his name being mentioned in class by your students. It could be about his face, his outfit of the day, or even what he ate for lunch. You nod absentmindedly at her words, mostly focusing on your food.

Naeun raises her eyebrows at you. “Ohh, so you think he is too??” You stuff a mouthful of food into your mouth, “Well-“ “Who is too?” a voice cuts in. You harshly swallow, coughing. “Are you okay??” You recognize the owner of the voice. It’s Jaehyun. You turn, meeting his eyes. “Yeah, it’s all good..” He nods before placing his papers on the table and leaving to get something to eat.

“Oooh...” Naeun sings. You roll your eyes. “He was being polite.” You two continue eating until Naeun abruptly says, “You know, you and Mr. Jung would actually look good together.” You squint at her. “Naeun... don’t start shipping me with every guy I speak with now.” “But,” she protests, “it’s not any guy, it’s Mr. Jung. Jung Jaehyun. I don’t believe he’s dating anyone so, think about it.” She stands up to get to her next class, leaving you to sit and contemplate.

ღ

You’re walking to the office when you’re stopped by a small gathering. Jaehyun’s here, you notice. Getting closer, you see him kneeling next to a crying girl. Two other girls were standing there as well. Must be her friends. You quickly walk closer. Jaehyun senses your presence and his head turns to yours.

You see a flicker of recognition in his eyes as you ask what’s going on. “She lost her book and was searching for it. She was going to be late for her next class, that’s why she panicked. Her friends here were helping search, but they still couldn’t find it.”

You slowly nod in understanding. Squatting next to Jaehyun, you reassure the crying girl. “It’s fine. We’ll find your book, and you won’t be counted late to your next class. You should go to the restroom and get yourself cleaned up, alright?” She shakily nods and heads off. You dismiss her friends, the two of them whispering and glancing at you and Jaehyun.

He stands up, offering you a hand. You gratefully take it as he pulls you up. “Well, that was something, wasn’t it?” You fight back a smile, agreeing with him. He scratches his head, about to say something, but you remember you had to go somewhere. You quickly bid him goodbye before running off.

ღ

Some students were staying after school for tutoring. You’re helping a kid when one girl speaks up. “Miss y/l/n, you said you don’t have a boyfriend, right?” You frown. This topic again? You look up and see the other students have tuned in on your conversation. “No, I don’t. Why are you asking?” She shrugs, fiddling with her pencil. “I mean, you’re so pretty. We all thought you were dating someone.”

You shake your head and laugh. “Thank you, but no, I’m not dating. I don’t do that anymore.” She nods thoughtfully. “Well, I think we can find you, someone..” You notice a mischievous look on her face before you cut her off. “Get back to work! This isn’t school-related!” She salutes. “Ma’am yes ma’am!!”

ღ

You didn’t know how fast word spreads between kids. It’s only been like what, three days? and rumors were flying everywhere. “Are Miss Y/l/n and Mr. Jung dating?” “ I think he likes her.” “They would look freakin good together...” You sigh as you write on the board, hearing the whispers behind you. And while all these rumors spread, you had no idea what Jaehyun was thinking.

It became the talk of the school. Even the staff knew and shipped you two. Naeun brings it up one day in the teachers’ lounge. “What’s all this stuff with you and Mr. Jung?? My kids keep talking about you two, and they don’t even have you or him as your teacher.” You shrug. “I don’t know. Kids like to make a big deal of out anything.”

“But this time, they aren’t wrong.” she teases. “I agree with them. You two would be like the power couple of the school.” You make a disgusted face. “I don’t want to be known as the power couple of a middle school.” Naeun laughs, the two of you getting into other boring topics.

It didn’t help when Jaehyun had to go to an emergency meeting one day, and he couldn’t get a substitute for his sixth graders. You’re not sure why you’re surprised when he comes knocking on your door, a sheepish smile on his handsome face. You’re pretty sure there were several rooms between your and his classrooms’, so why did he come to yours?

“Miss y/l/n, you wouldn’t mind watching my students for a couple of hours?” You immediately shake your head, “No, of course not. Come in!” The kids slowly shuffle in, some of them shooting you both weird looks.

After he leaves, you continue teaching as the little kids watch on. In the middle of it, your neighbor knocks on your door and tilts their head in. It was Mrs. Park. She catches your eye and beams. “So sorry to interrupt, but thank you for taking Mr. Jung’s kids. I had no more space in my classroom, you know...” You let out a forced laugh. No way... could she have done that on purpose?? Nah.. “No! It’s no problem! We’re all fine in here. His kids are really well behaved too!”

“It’s only because Mr. Jung is awesome!!” one of his kids suddenly says. You hear a chorus of agreements, even your kids who must’ve previously had him were nodding. “He’s so kind and a really good teacher as well!” a student says, purposely looking at you. You attempt to smile, but it comes off as a grimace. How long would this go on for??

ღ

The audience was silent, attention focused on the bright stage before them. The dancers held a special performance for the school in the auditorium, AKA a break for you. You watched, entranced as the dancers seemed to effortlessly glide across the stage. Suddenly the thought popped into your head that you left the classroom door open. There was nothing wrong with that, but you wanted to be on the safe side.

Not wanting to bother the onlookers, you slowly get up from your seat, ducking down to stay as low as possible. Curse the darkness, for you didn’t notice that one darn kid whose foot was sticking partially out into the walkway, and you trip over it. You gasp, bracing yourself for the hard ground, but you only feel something strong in front of you, holding you inches from the ground.

Your eyes open, seeing the ground in front of you. Your head turns, and it’s Jaehyun. He was conveniently sitting on the end where you tripped and luckily stuck out his arm to catch you. His eyes are full of concern, staring at you. People are whispering all around, you think Jaehyun silently mouths a question to you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, get a freakin grip y/n!!, before detaching yourself from him and quickly walking out-you’re not sure what exactly happened- it was too dark, and you were too embarrassed. You briskly walk into your classroom, shutting the door behind you.

You let out a silent scream. Did you really just trip and fall in front of a bunch of students!?!?? You slowly breathe in and out, collecting yourself. It was dark. Maybe some people didn’t see. You remember the whispers and stares, cringing.

You’re not surprised when during the next period, all your students are talking. Probably definitely about you and Mr. Jung. You’re furiously typing away on your keyboard, trying to drown out the sounds of the kids gossiping. “Miss y/l/n,” one kid says.

“Yes?” you call out distractedly. “Are you interested in anyone?” Wow, way to be discreet. Your typing comes to a cease, but you don’t look up. “Well, I’d hope not, since I already have a husband.”

Immediately gasps and whispers break out. You continue typing and clicking away. “B-but Miss y/l/n... I.. I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend??” “Yeah, I don’t have a boyfriend anymore. We got married so I have a husband now.” The students remained shell-shocked for the rest of the day until they’re released from school. They run out, probably to spread the news that you’re actually married.

Once everyone’s out, you sigh and examine your desk. You pick up the small photograph (that no one noticed apparently) of you and your husband. The two of you were red-cheeked and had identical shining grins on both of your faces. You smile, the happy memory fresh on your mind.

Suddenly someone knocks on the door before opening it. Your head turns around to see Jaehyun. He steps into your classroom, looking around. “What are you doing?” he asks. You grin. “Just looking at an old picture..” Cocking his head, he asks, “And what picture might that be?”

You place the photograph down before walking over to him and placing your arms around his neck. “Hmm.. I think you should know. After all, you were in it.” He laughs before leaning down to kiss you.

ღ

You met Jaehyun in college, both of you wanting to become teachers. You started as friends until all your friends kept commenting on how good the two of you looked together. At first, you laughed it off, but over time, you started thinking about how it would be like if you actually started dating him. And apparently him too. I mean, he was handsome, kind, polite, your mom LOVED him.. so what kept you from liking him so much?

You went over to his apartment (now your shared apartment) one night for a celebration after finishing finals. “Ughhhhd,” you groan, throwing your bag on his couch. Jaehyun smiles, looking at you from the kitchen. “Rough day?” You nod, slowly walking over to examine what he was doing. “What are you cooking?” He chops some veggies. “Noodles. But healthy.”

You make a confused expression. “What kind of healthy noodles now?” Jaehyun laughs at the look on your face, not paying attention to the knife and cutting his finger. “Ow!” he hisses. Your eyes widen, walking over to him and grabbing his hand. Examining the cut, you see blood well up. Immediately you bring his hand to the sink, turning on warm water and running his finger under it.

You look up at him, slightly annoyed and amused at the same time. “Jaehyun. How did you just cut yourself right in front of me?” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. You drag him over to his couch, sitting him down as you grab his first aid kit.

Rummaging through it, you hear him say, “Y/n, it’s not a big deal. It’s just a cut you know..” Huffing, you respond, “Just a cut my ass, you didn’t sound like it. Now shut up and let me take care of you.” Grabbing the medicine, you sit closer to him and take his hand.

You carefully put on the ointment and wrap the bandaging around it. Finished, you look up to see his face extremely close to yours, already staring at you. You raise your eyebrows, cheeks reddening. “Uh-“ but Jaehyun’s hand that reaches for yours silence you. “I was distracted by you.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out. He continues, “I was too busy looking at you to pay attention.” You gulp. “Why?” You notice him lick his lips before responding. “Because I like you. Isn’t that obvious?” You’re shocked. This guy? No, he wasn’t even a guy, this fine man... liked you? You can’t even get a word out as he places his lips on yours. You immediately move your hands to his hair, feeling the soft strands.

Breaking apart, he chuckles. “So I guess that means you’ll be my girlfriend?” You pretend to think for a second, before saying, “I guess... if you’ll finish making time dinner.” Jaehyun freezes. “Oh shoot. The noodles!!”

After that, the two of you dated until graduation when he proposed. You didn’t cry. You still insist on that to this day. You didn’t purposely apply to the same school he was teaching at, the offer just came up, and it was convenient that you could go to work together. (Strangely, no one saw you two when you arrived at school) And you don’t know why you never told anyone about your relationship, no one really asked, and you both just kinda went along with it. No one assumed anything, probably because you preferred being called by your last name instead of his. You just liked it more, and Jaehyun didn’t mind. That is until the whole school started pairing you two.

ღ

The memory resurfaces in your mind as you sit in Jaehyun’s lap, snuggling comfortably as the TV blares in the background. You smile, and he notices, pinching your side. “What’re you smiling about?” You bury your face in his neck as you say a muffled response. “Nothing.”

You continue watching whatever’s on the tv until you suddenly ask, “Do you think the students know yet or?” Jaehyun shifts, tightening his arms around you. “Nahh, my students feel bad for me. They think I don’t know anything and still have a crush on you.” Your head shoots up from his chest. “And you don’t?” you ask indignantly. He laughs, sitting up. “What?”

You don’t know why you suddenly become embarrassed. Looking down, you fiddle with the end of his shirt. “Have a crush on me?” There’s a moment of silence where Jaehyun stares at you. He bursts out laughing before grabbing your hands and pulling you back into him. Kissing the top of your head, he responds, “Y/n, we’ve been married for almost a year now. Yes, I always have a crush on you.. idiot.”

“I had to make sure!”

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #jung jaehyun scenarios

465 notes · View notes

headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 3 years

Text

Hogwarts No.1 Ship

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader Word count: 3.4k Summary: You - Rubeus Hagrid’s niece and a surprising slytherin - have a crush on the Slytherin prince himself, but you are sugar and he is spice and there is no world where the two of you would fit together...right? Warning: Swearwordsm concussion, broken bones, but mostly fluffffffffff Requested by the amazing and patient (I’m really sorry it took so long) @onlycherryblossom: Hi! I love your work and I was wondering if you could right a Draco Malfoy x Reader. you know, the one we talked about. It'd be so awesome! i hope you have a good day/night! (I won’t put our chat in here so that I don’t spoiler anything)

Hogwarts had rarely ever known two students who were as opposite to each other as Draco Malfoy and Y/N Hagrid. Draco - who was the embodiment of how people imagined the stereotype of Slytherin to be - was (most of the time) a prideful, cold, unempathetic prick, while you were a selfless, positive thinking, kind and gentle soul that could‘ve been a descendant of Helga Huffelpuff herself. The two of you did have one thing in common though. Your house. The hat had made you both into Slytherins which was on Draco’s side not surprising at all, but quite a shock for everyone who had talked to you for even a minute. Probably the biggest shock was courtesy of Rubeus Hagris - Half-Giant and your adopted uncle (on his father’s side) - who insisted that the hat must have made a mistake, but was quickly shot down by Dumbledoor who assured that the hat didn‘t make any mistakes. After some initial tumbling though, Hagrid realized that the house didn‘t make the person and that it didn‘t matter in what house you were sorted into, you’d always be his little pumpkin. And he was quite right. Even after you had been a Slytherin for just about five years, you had only grown more kind and loving - having bonded with many people in the other houses and years, but not quite as many in your own house. You’d call Blaze and Millicent maybe something close to friends and Pansy tolerated you which is why you gave her the title of ‘good acquaintances‘, but other than that you didn‘t really have a lot of contact with them in your free time. The most complicated relationship you held though was the one to the aforementioned Draco Malfoy. In a weird twist of fate the two of you somehow became the main ship in Hogwarts (with Harry and Ginny or Harry and Hermione as close second) even though you couldn‘t remember more than two or three times that you had talked to the boy outside of a classroom or study environment. Sure, he had never bullied or teased you which already differentiated you from most of the students, but you simply explained it by the fact that you were a good student - especially in potions class - and behaved well enough to gain a number of house points which made you into a good asset to Slytherin and as such made you a less logical target. Now all in itself that would‘ve been more than fine with you, but for some stupid reason your heart decided to betray you against it‘s better judgement and fall for him. Somehow, even after years of seeing him kick others down and behave like a complete douchebag you couldn‘t help but blush slightly at the mention of his name and feel your heart flutter when you walked by him in the hall or in the common room. The worst part was in potions class where he sat right beside you after Snape deemed your former partner as way too unqualified for one of his best students and exchanged him for Draco. Working with him in and of itself was actually rather nice. He was a good student and did his work thoroughly and mindfully, but you found it hard to concentrate when his hand brushed yours as you read a passage in the book or when he poured ingredients in the coultron that you were stirring. You really tried to ignore your feelings and ban every thought of him, but it seemed like you weren‘t doing the best job at it since your uncle kept asking about what it was that was distracting you all the time. On a rainy October day fairly at the beginning of your fifth year you decided you had enough. You were sitting in your Uncles hut with a plate of more or less edible cookies in front of you and a cup of something that was surely supposed to be tea when you finally gathered the courage to say what you had been meaning to say for weeks now. “Uncle Rubeus, can I ask you something?” Hagrid turned to you with his usual smile as he patted fang who was drooling all over his lap where he had laid his head. “Course ya can pumpkin. What’s it about?” “Uhm...well… you know there is this boy that I-“ “Ohhh Ah see,” Hagrid quickly interrupted you before you could even ask the question, “Ya know, usually I’d be more than happy to help ya with every question you have but ah really don’t thin’ I’m the right person for this, I’m sorry.” A little bit disappointed but not really surprised you just sighed and shook your head, telling him that it was okay, before bidding your goodbyes and making your way back to the castle quietly mulling over what exactly your plan b should be now that plan a had failed and you still had no idea what to do with or how to get rid of your stupid crush on Draco.

“You know what I would do if I were you?“ Ginny asked and pointed the end of her quill at you. The both of you were sitting in a corner of the library where you had planned to help her study for her upcoming potions exam, only for her to basically interrogate you until you admitted that you had an unlucky crush, even though she luckily hadn‘t pushed you to tell her who the guy you had a crush on was. “I‘d probably just tell them, I mean what do you have to lose. Either he‘ll say yes and you‘re happy or he says no and you just avoid him like he doesn‘t even exist - which would honestly be the appropriate reaction if he refuses a snack like you. See, no real downside to it.“ “Oh really? Hmmm, I wonder why you haven‘t told Harry how you feel yet then,“ you teased her and tapped your chin. Ginny‘s face immediately started to rival the colour of her hair and the way she crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted reminded you of an overgrown toddler - but in a cute way. “I-I don‘t like Harry, okay? I mean I did when I was like ten because he was famous and I was a child,“ she tried to make sure you really knew how silly she wanted you to believe she thought it was by drawing out the word child for a good few seconds before rolling her eyes and looking to the side, “And anyway, it‘s not like he‘d date his best friend’s sister…“ “Oh Gin,“ you immediately felt bad and grabbed one of her hands with yours, “Have you looked at yourself? You‘re amazing and if Harry doesn‘t see that through his stupid invisible cloak and these glasses than he doesn‘t even deserve you.“ “Even though I admit that yes, I am amazing, this isn‘t the topic that we should be conversing about right now, remember? I think there‘s a certain blond Slytherin that you should be worried about more right now.“ Immediately blood shot right to your cheeks and you quickly looked around to make sure no one could‘ve heard her before leaning forward and hissing: “What? No? I don‘t like Draco? Why would you even think that? I never said that he is the one I have a crush on.“ Ginny just raised her eyebrows in an unimpressed manner, leaning back in her chair and picking the quill back up to play around with while she talked. “Listen honey, I‘m not judging you or anything. Don‘t get me wrong, I still and probably will always think Draco is a major asshole and doesn‘t even deserve to breath the same air as you-“ “He isn‘t that bad…“ “Yes he is, but anyways, no matter what I think of him I also know that you are a clever girl that knows how to protect herself and who knows, maybe you‘d even have a good influence on him.“ Images of you and Draco together with your friend group laughing and having fun crossed your mind and you could feel your heartbeat fasten involuntarily. “That‘s all great and good, but like I said, I don‘t have a crush on Draco,“ you gave the hope of getting out of this situation with the lie you‘ve been telling yourself for months still intact one last try, but Ginny didn‘t give it the time of day. “Oh please, I see the way you look at him in the dining hall and how your eyes are always on him when he‘s playing quidditch and just now you defended him even though the two of you aren‘t even friends. My love-radar is pinging like crazy around the two of you which is why I, Ginny Wealey also known as the love witch-“ “No one calls you that,“ you interrupted her only to be shushed by an evil glare. “I, Ginny Weasley, will help you in fulfilling your desire and getting together with Draco and I already have the perfect plan.“ “No no no no, please don‘t! Don‘t do this! Ginny no!“ you tried to make your point clear but she was already cleaning up her stuff and getting ready to leave. “Don‘t worry oh sweet Y/N, the next time we‘ll talk everything will be set in motion,“ she winked before dashing off leaving you standing in her figurative dust with your mouth agape for a few seconds before you let your head sink onto the table. This would definitely take an interesting turn…

After that you definitely started to actively avoid Draco which was - surprisingly enough - not as easy as you thought. Somehow he was almost always at least in your near vicinity. Besides the obvious factors of class (where you tried to focus on working and on praying whatever Ginny had planned wouldn‘t happen) and when you were eating in the great hall (where you had resorted to sitting at the very end of the table as far away from him as possible) he seemed to also be there in your free time. You were relaxing in the common room? He was there reading a book. You were outside with Harry and co.? Guess who’s coming their way to insult them (while not saying a single bad thing about you). By now there were just about three places where you were sure that he wouldn’t be able to pop up at any given moment. Your room, the bathroom and the potions classroom on Wednesday and Friday afternoon when class has already ended. After Snape had realized that he had some real potions-potential sitting in front of him he offered you extra credit as some sort of teaching assistant which basically meant that you helped him prepare lessons, helped him grade the first to third years tests and that you cleaned up and organized the potions classroom twice a week. Now usually, knowing that you were more than capable of handling the potions and ingredients standing around on your own after having seen you do it for a few months, you‘d be alone while you cleaned up except for the occasional visit of your professor to tell you which ingredients you should put on the students desks for the next class, but for some reason the next Friday - three days after Ginny had made her promise to you - the door already stood open and you could hear Professor Snape talking to someone. “I really expected better of you, your action is the reasons Slytherin has lost 50 housepoints and I hope you know that it is on you to gain them back, no matter your status,“ Snape‘s voice carried to where you stood and you wondered who the student was if Snape went so easy on them with his lecture. Usually you‘d be afraid for your life after losing even ten house points so getting such a calm reaction for 50 must‘ve really meant something. Your questions about the identity of the student were answered when you entered the dungeon room and immediately felt yourself freeze. Of course not even you (time dependent) sanctuary was safe anymore. Of course Draco just had to stand there and look at you without any identifiable emotion in his gaze. “Ah, Miss Hagrid, right on time as always,“ Snape nodded after he also noticed you and you felt slightly more at ease knowing that with him there nothing could really happen. “Should I come back later?” you asked politely, not sure if you had interrupted something. “No, you may stay. Mister Malfoy over here has got himself caught trying to sabotage McGonagall class, a childish act which I would’ve expected of the Weasleys but really not from you. As a punishment he will be the one to clean the potions classroom bi-weekly from now on until he has regained the house points lost. You’ll supervise him.” “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I understand.” “Malfoy will do all the cleaning but since he has no experience with it I can’t just leave him alone so, since you’d be here anyway, you can watch him and make sure that everything goes orderly.“ It wasn‘t really a question as much as a command, something that you were used to from Snape, so you just nodded and bid him goodbye as he went to his office, leaving you and Draco behind. By now you had seen through what was happening. This was Ginny‘s plan. Somehow she must‘ve managed to blame Malfoy for the prank on McGonagall - something rather extreme given the taken house points- hoping (or somehow knowing) that his punishment would force you to spend at least an hour with him alone in a dimmed room twice a week. Inwardly you cursed your friend, while outwardly you tried everything to avoid directly looking at Draco as you explained his tasks to him before you sat down at your usual place and pulled out a book really hoping you could get him to not talk to you that way. Either your plan was working great or Draco just really didn‘t care for you, because an hour later you still hadn‘t exchanged any words, instead he dutifully, but slightly pouting, had done his job while you shot him the occasional glance to make sure he was doing it correctly. “I think that was all, you should be good to go now,“ you told him with a small smile, relieved that you were finally free to leave the room and with that the tension that had built up inside you as a mix of nervousness and fear. Draco had opened his mouth to respond when a third year came rushing inside with at least twelve books in her arms that almost towered over her which she quickly placed on a table, slightly out of breath. “Professor Snape sent me. He said these have to be sorted and put away.” You could probably feel Draco’s sigh before he had made it and - not really fond of spending more time so frustratingly close to your crush and yet so far - you just nodded and told both of them that you’d take care of it and that they could leave, which both promptly did. You took the books and carried them to the back of the room where a sole, old bookshelf was standing - since the students mostly had their own books - and started putting them away when you heard a sickening crunch before suddenly the shelf including books came crashing down at you and before you could even think to pull out your wand, the world turned black.

“I’m so so so sorry, you were right I shouldn’t have interfered, if I’d just listened to you you wouldn‘t be lying here now,“ Ginny whined from beside your bed where she had been sitting for the past twenty minutes apologizing over and over again and blaming herself for the broken arm, leg and the concussion that had you unable to leave the infirmary for the next three days to a week. “Ginny, how often do I gotta tell you, it isn’t your fault! I would’ve sorted those books in anyways - no matter if you had pulled that prank or not - and it would’ve fallen anyways,” you tried to reassure her and gave her a soft smile. “But-“ “No but, okay? We can’t change the past anyways, and even if we could I wouldn’t because thanks to you, I don’t have to take that stupid DADA test.” Your attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work, because soon you and Ginny were back to your usual conversation-style and it relieved you immensely. It made you feel okay again. She was just telling you of a stung Harry had pulled in the Gryffindor Common room when she suddenly paused mid sentence and looked up. You followed her eyes to where they were placed firmly on a certain Platinum blond boy that looked simultaneously like he’d rather be everywhere else and like he was glad to be there, it was a sight to see. “I think I’ll leave for now, I’ll come back later with tons of sweets that Luna and I are going to steal from Harry’s personal stash,” Ginny said goodbye and gave you a wink as she walked away making you torn between wanting to roll your eyes and feeling yourself blush. Unsure of what to do next you motioned to the chair that Ginny had just occupied and Draco seemed to get the hint because he quickly sat down. “Hey-“ “Hi-“ “Sorry, you first.” “No it’s fine, you’re injured, you go first.” “Well, uhm-“ you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, “-I wanted to thank you, for bringing me here I mean, Madame Pomfrey told me you carried me all the way.” You looked away hoping that he wouldn’t see how nervous you were. “You don’t need to thank me, I couldn’t just let you lay there buried under books, your not Granger after all,” he said, seemingly trying to joke but immediately noticed that it was probably not the best thing to say given that you and Hermione were good friends. “Listen, what I came here for,” now it was Draco’s turn to take a deep breath, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but you were always with Potter or avoiding me or whatever, but after I saw you lying there… I guess I was just worried for you, I really don’t want you to get hurt.” Now that definitely caught your attention. For a second you played with the thought that this could possibly not be Malfoy but just someone else playing him with the help of polyjuice potion because he was definitely not acting like himself, but something in his word convinced you otherwise. “Thanks, I think, but would you mind me asking why? I mean...we’re not really the closest of friends,” you asked him, looking directly into his face to search signs of a possible answer. “Fuck it, I like you, okay? Happy?” You were completely stunned. Stunned, speechless, shocked. In all the time that you had been crushing on him you had never even really considered even the slightest possibility that he could reciprocate your feelings but now here he was telling you straight up. “You-You like me? Like like-like me?” You asked, just really wanting to be sure. There was a hint of nervousness and worry in his eyes, but he hid it behind a wall of annoyance. “You heard me, didn’t you? So, just get it over with, do you like me too or do you not, because if you don’t then I don’t want to waste my time any longer.” This definitely sounded more like the Draco you were used to and you had to giggle a little bit. “Yes, yes I like you too,” you confessed and like it was the most natural thing in the world you moved the uninjured hand over to where he laid on your bed and took it in yours. For the moment, you were caught in the shimmer of happiness and glee at having your crush there with you, definitely something more than your crush, and it would probably take a while until you‘d realize that there were some interesting things to follow, like telling your uncle about this for example...

#Draco Malfoy #Draco Malfoy x reader #draco #harry potter #hogwarts x reader #harry potter x reader #ginny weasley #professor venomous #oneshot #hogwarts oneshot #harry potter oneshots #hogwarts

100 notes · View notes

wincore · 4 years

Text

youngblood | lee donghyuck

pairing: haechan x reader

words: 9.1k

genre: ‘bad boy’!au, fluff, angst(?)

warnings: language, juvenile crimes (do NOT try shoplifting, speeding and vandalism, kids)

a/n: okay omg i finally got around to editing this and you guys should know by now this au doesn’t mean he’s bad and just.........annoying........... (also it follows troublemaker’s style but like............it might just be my fav troublemaker part aaaa)

The first day you meet Lee Donghyuck, he picks a fight with you. Or you pick a fight with him.

That’s not how the first day of high school should have gone.

It surprised you, just a little, to be toe-to-toe with someone so easily. Did he like picking fights for fun? You looked him up and down, the ink over his forearm meant to be shown and a strange friendliness in his eyes. Not exactly the bully type, you weren’t sure what to make of him. Movies spoil reality when it comes to things like this. Rumors are even worse. You took a slow gulp anyway, Donghyuck’s eyes on you unnerving.

He leaned in slightly to match your height. His tone was lilting and he phrased his words light-heartedly, a pretence you found funny. “I have no interest in you, kid. I’m going to keep it that way.”

“We’re the same age, you know?”

Your reply went unheard. It was just misunderstanding that got you there—you mistook his locker for yours and it’s not your fault you happen to have the same passcode (a little weird though, definitely). Lee Donghyuck said if you were allowed to take what’s his, he should have the same privilege, the word thief at the tip of his tongue. He was a little daunting, you suppose—taller than you were, in all black and several piercings and tattoos poking out on wrists. Maybe it was the undulating rage of being fourteen and at the stage of heavy regret in later years, maybe it was the wariness around strangers. You weren’t quite afraid of him; just that a fight on your first day didn’t seem like a very bright start in a new city. Although you assured him you didn’t touch his stuff, you handed him your bear-shaped keychain. (“You can have this if you want a gift so bad.”)

When Donghyuck laughed, giving it back almost immediately with a cheeky grin—you couldn’t decide whether to let the confusion show on your face.

“Don’t be a pushover, newbie.”

You frowned. “Who’re you calling a pushover?”

You don’t remember the rest of it but you found it very hard to not have mixed feelings about him. You’re trying to have a normal fun high school life for fuck’s sake. You didn’t think he was the awful sort of person—but it was almost as if he was trouble’s very own lovechild. There are better weapons against him than falling into pointless playfights.

Lee Donghyuck. Funny guy.

The school bully image was a lie, no doubt spread by someone more than annoyed with his antics. Of course, Lee Donghyuck either didn’t care or didn’t know, wits always about him like some sort of eccentric defence mechanism.

You admire him in a way, but you wouldn’t be caught dead telling him that.

Lee Donghyuck is popular, full of jokes and fun but a little rough on the edges all the same. But you have to assume he must have some demonic heritage. You could say you have a strange relationship—friends but not. You hate him but don’t. While you’re sure there’s at least a little bit of sunshine hidden beneath those black T-shirts and inked skin, there’s a bit more than hidden sides to young troublemakers—things that don’t involve misunderstanding.

Lee Donghyuck looks like danger. (And danger attracts attention of all kinds, you’d noticed in a few unfortunate heart-eyed classmates.) You’ve seen him in enough fights to have respect for him, making you wonder why he doesn’t join the debate team already. It might have something to do with how his victorious smile gets on everyone’s nerves, the way they groan at Donghyuck’s sudden affections afterward. They don’t hate him—mostly. He’s honest and he knows exactly how to press people. That doesn’t change the innocence in his arrogance or the clear distinction of his spirit.

Of course there are bad people; Donghyuck just isn’t one of them. He just tries too hard to look cool. (“Sunflower,” he’d called you, pulling a face. “I know you’re dense. But maybe start being afraid of me so you don’t ruin my reputation.”)

The sunlight falls against the web of your thumb, your fingers rapidly moving to match the pace of the game on your phone. Five minutes to class, you’ve got nothing better to do.

“What, trying to beat my high score again?” Donghyuck pulls the chair beside you to sit, his arms resting on the desk as he continues to stare at you.

“Believe me, Donghyuck, not everything I do is for you,” you chuckle, tapping on the play again button, catching the look on his face out of the corner of your eye.

Donghyuck looks visibly irked and you think maybe your decision to be so annoyingly passive has been the right one if it bothers him. Ah, but you won’t tell him that. You’re having the time of your life this way.

“Well,” Donghyuck begins but frowns instead. “Whatever.”

It’s not every day you get to win—Donghyuck does get under your skin. You just don’t have to show it. Sometimes his own friends decide they’ve had enough, the classroom shenanigans making you laugh. You don’t want to get started on the chaos that unfurls every time Donghyuck walks into class and straight up picks a fight with anyone in his eyesight—even Jaemin has his “Lee Donghyuck!” moments. Donghyuck is friends with everyone and that means he gets to get on everyone’s nerves.

You smile to yourself thinking of Donghyuck yawning deliberately at Renjun trying to make a point. Call him a demon, call him a disgrace; he knows how to make people laugh.

You pass Red’s diner on your way back home, as usual, the unusual red and white checkers replacing the normal concrete sidewalk by it. It’s always soothed you to see bright colours in this side of the city, the beige and coffee aesthetic far too dominating for its cause—something to keep up with the larger, fancier (more pretentious) metropolises. It’s also the oldest; your friends told you the number of baby pictures everyone has on the wine-coloured couches is, in more appropriate words, fucking astounding.

You wish you’d moved here earlier. The thing about little cities is just that—they’re not all that little. Something everyone seemingly loves to boast about, the romance of a small town and its delicate simplicities. It’s nothing alike. You’d know. You enjoy it more here. You like all the food outlets and stores lining the streets and further up, less congestion and more dog parks—all places you love breezing through in your free time. There’s an amusement park too, a forty-minute drive away into the middle of nowhere and if you’re not mistaken, the city centre has the best clubs and bars. Sunshine drips through every nook and cranny—it’s everything you’d expected a city to be.

You stop in your tracks at the sight of distinct brown curls in the alleyway between buildings. Donghyuck doesn’t seem to be in the best of situations, a tougher, much larger guy shoving him against the wall. They seem to be speaking, and something about Donghyuck’s smile doesn’t give you a good feeling about what’s going to happen.

Before the guy’s fist meets Donghyuck’s cheek, you yell, two pairs of eyes shifting focus to you. You feel your heartbeat quicken, Donghyuck raising his eyebrow and shooting you a confused look.

“Don’t- don’t hurt him,” you say, cursing at the meekness of your voice.

The larger man laughs, a sound like nails on a chalkboard and you cringe. Donghyuck mouths at you to get away but immediately shuts up when the man turns to him again.

“You got a little lover come here to protect you?” he says, looking at Donghyuck with amusement.

“No, that’s not—”

“I hate little brats like you,” he huffs, shoving Donghyuck once more, this time a little harder. He lets out a pained whine, eyes squeezing shut as he drops on his knees.

You take a hesitant step back when the man makes his way to you, blood rushing to your ears when he raises his hand. Your arms go up by instinct and you’re met with a hard push, falling to the ground with a whimper.

You’re picked up by the collar, struggling to not let fear show on your face.

“Tell your boyfriend to stop messing around my store, okay, sweetheart?” he threatens, voice lower.

With that, he drops you and leaves, the adrenaline in you not quite down yet.

“Donghyuck?” you call, worried as you spot him lying still in the alleyway. You’re about to get up and go to him when he responds, whimsical as ever.

“I’m okay!” He raises his hand with a peace sign and you sigh, annoyed.

“Really?! What were you even doing?”

“I ate some cookies for free, big deal,” he says before he suddenly raises his head with a lopsided grin. “Is sunflower worried about me?”

You groan, dusting yourself as you get up and walk over to him. You throw him a light kick at the side to which he whines overdramatically and scrunches his face into something pained. Lee Donghyuck could be hit by a bus and he’d play it off with fingers guns and eyebrow wiggling.

“Become a chainsaw-juggler or something if you want to do something dangerous,” you complain, “And get up!”

Donghyuck wrinkles his nose. “As always, you have such boring ideas.”

He does get up the next moment, although with a large show of holding his back and several whines about near-death experiences as if he’s not the one bringing it upon himself. You’re sure his back is bruised but he doesn’t acknowledge it as anything more than a joke. There’s also a gash on his cheek he must have received earlier. It’s no surprise he has a fresh batch of wounds—you think he spends more time in the nurse’s office than in actual classes.

“Why do you pick fights with people clearly stronger than you?” you grumble as he dusts himself off.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” Donghyuck says, straightening, “I would’ve got out of this pretty clean without you.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure thing.”

Donghyuck frowns, a huff leaving his mouth.

“I don’t mean to brag but that guy would have been running for his life if you hadn’t butt in,” he shrugs, trying to sound less ruffled.

You laugh at his expression, forgetting about your bruised arms for a moment.

“You should treat me,” you say, the thought passing your head. You don’t have change and you’re really craving some strawberry milk.

He scoffs. “For what?”

“For saving you.”

You expected a retort, at least. Donghyuck pauses for a moment before a worrying grin floats up on his face. “Sure. Come with me.”

You narrow your eyes at him but follow nonetheless, walking side by side. The sunlight makes his skin glow, the hue on his cheeks perfect were it not for the dried blood from the gash. His eyes shine when he smiles, mischief or not, when he’s telling you about how you should try vandalism and robbery sometimes, they’re pretty fun. It’s a Donghyuck trait—to be able to live like this and still call it fun. You look at his lips once and immediately look away. What a silly thought. They’re regrettably pretty, though, despite being busted often. The sun has been kind to Donghyuck, with the colour of his skin full and the confidence you’d only find in someone made of sun flares.

So that’s why.

You stare at the motorbike parked at a clearly No Parking area, the metallic red gleaming under the late afternoon sun. You’ve never been on one before but something tells you Donghyuck would traumatise you far too much to try again. You cannot agree to get on that.

“Hop on,” he instructs.

You hesitate. “Where are we going?”

“To the centre, of course.” He smiles brightly. “There’s a bunch of bakeries and eateries over there.”

“You can just buy me some strawberry milk from a vending machine around.”

“Well, I forgot my wallet,” he says, looking up to think, “I left it at my job.”

You furrow your eyebrows, not believing a word. It’s Lee Donghyuck after all, the opposite of predictable, and arguing with him will only cost you your breath.

“A motorbike and no leather jacket?” You smile, regaining your composure. “I mean, not everyone can pull off the leather jacket, of course.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes overstatedly. “I don’t expect you to be smarter but stereotypes? Wow.”

You do get on the bike, however, with some pushing on Donghyuck’s side. More importantly, you somehow don’t end up traumatised despite what you supposed. It felt good, wind in your hair and although your legs were stuck to the sides of the bike like glue, you found yourself enjoying the scene around you speeding by. The fact that Donghyuck can be careful was beyond your knowledge and understanding.

The buildings are a little taller here and while you’ve been here before, the sight never fails to make your heartbeat quicken. There’s something inevitably calling about this place. You’d love to explore when there are nightlights around each corner.

“Your wallet?” you remind Donghyuck.

Donghyuck feigns surprise, gasping. “Right! It was in my pocket. But I have no money.”

“What? We came all the way here for nothing?!”

“No. I have a plan.” Donghyuck grins, pointing towards the pretty glass door of the bakery across the street.

“Oh no,” you say quietly as the realization dawns, “We’re not stealing.”

“Then you came all the way here for nothing.”

You sigh heavily into your hands as Donghyuck tries to sweeten his grin, clearly trying to convince you.

“You really don’t have to be this annoying, you know that?”

“It’s a choice,” he says, pulling a face, “And I do it because I excel at it, thank you very much.”

You reluctantly follow Donghyuck into the bakery, people bustling in and out, mostly for their fix of evening coffee or tea. There are photo frames around pictures of coffee beans, tea leaves and pastries, all against a soft orange wallpaper. It’s not as small as it looked from outside, you realize, with its capacity for people quite enough. The smell of chocolate is predominant, hazelnut and coffee wafting in from the left side.

“Free samples!” Donghyuck gasps, before turning to whisper to you, “You know we can try one of each, right? That saves us some trouble.”

You’d be lying if his lips so close to your ears didn’t make you jump a little. You take short steps behind him as he eagerly walks to the counter.

“Ah, is this a new type?” Donghyuck asks, beaming at the woman behind the counter. She raises an eyebrow at the ear piercings and tattoos, gracing him with a smile nonetheless.

While he’s engaged in conversation, you stare at the two of them confused till you’re met with a light kick at your foot. You give Donghyuck a dirty look, who keeps pointing towards the samples with his hands under the counter.

“You’re supposed to shove some into your bag, you know?” he leans in to whisper, exasperated, when the lady leaves to enter the pantry.

“Well, how was I supposed to know, genius?” you shoot back, crossing your arms.

Donghyuck looks around nervously before taking a few of the tarts and carefully placing them in your bag.

“Don’t move too much or you’ll crush them,” he warns in a hush.

The woman returns again, with a warmer smile and Donghyuck goes back to his clever, silver-tongued words. He’s so awful, you think. But you can’t deny the exhilaration in your chest, a giddy feeling of doing the wrong thing in a way that feels right.

You end up having the free samples afterward, pretending to contemplate buying as the woman looks at the two of you expectantly. It’s delicious, sweet chocolate manipulating your taste buds to want another bite almost immediately after you’re done.

“We do offer couple discounts, too!” she says, beaming.

There it is again, the unsettling implications—accusations almost. Since when do the two of you look like a couple? You’re obviously too young to be looking the sort of way most lovers do and where the fuck do they see any love anyway?

“Uh,” Donghyuck begins but can’t seem to form a sentence.

Before either of you can say anything, the woman is called by another customer and you look at each other at the same time.

“We should go,” he says, quickly, “before they realize we’re not buying anything.”

You nod and sneak out of the shop as quickly as you walked in, Donghyuck suddenly picking up the pace till you’re at least a few blocks away.

“You’re so slow,” Donghyuck teases, laughing when you reach him, out of breath. He adjusts his shirt, dark as always, such that it doesn’t stick out of his pants awkwardly anymore. The tattoos on his left arm catch your eye, muscles beneath flexing as his moves his arm, a strange pattern of ink. You don’t think they’re real if you’re being honest—that field of sunflowers. They’re too pretty.

You’re so annoying, you think, despite the smile forming on your face as you follow him down the lane.

What a frustrating personality, the thought crosses you at night, as you kick away the blanket at your feet. He ended up paying for some ice cream at a nearby shop anyway, right after you’d finished having your stolen goods by the dog park. He said summer needs some ice and he’ll oblige just this once with whatever few notes he has left. (“Summer just ended, idiot.” “I can’t hear you.”) The first bite had immediately given him brain freeze, a whine escaping his lips as he held his head in an attempt to soothe it. You found it cute—yes, cute, a terrible choice of words for him. It doesn’t mean anything, you tell yourself. It’s almost within his personality to intrude upon your thoughts like this—gods, you hate even the letters of his name that form so easily in front of your eyes.

The buzz from your phone gives you a fright as you quickly open it to two texts from Donghyuck. You adjust the brightness before you read it, your heartbeat embarrassing you at its rate.

demon child, 11:36 PM

btw today wasn’t a treat you still have to pay me

food is expensive you know

You smile. A part of you warns you shouldn’t.

demon child, 11:37 PM

or you can pay for next time

Your smile drops. Next time? What is this, a date? You shake your head instinctively. Like you’d make it out alive of a date with Lee Donghyuck.

you, 11:37 PM

sure thing little stingy man

demon child, 11:38 PM

wow that was fast do you like me or something

You roll your eyes. You might have really decked Donghyuck in the jaw in another timeline, where you knew how to deck someone in the jaw.

You feel a certain static in your heart, hoping you’re mistaken as you respond to his texts for the rest of the night. Lee Donghyuck needs to have the last word all the time, and you lose count of how many times you huff, only giving in when the tiredness in your eyes seeps to the rest of your body.

You think you smile in your sleep that night but you can’t be sure.

The thing about bad days is that you notice nothing outside of them when you’re having them—but you forget you ever even had them when you’re not.

You end up at school with a lack of will to pay attention to classes. It’s well into the semester, and that means it’s time for you to get to some serious studying, except, well, you can’t. You’re decent at academics—or so you’d like to think. You’re average at best and there’s a nagging thought eating away at your brain at a painfully slow rate.

The college application deadlines are near.

It doesn’t help to be second and third best at almost everything. You nod along to everything Jihyun is saying; really, he aces every subject without trying. His words aren’t exactly…encouraging. You thought his notes would be your ticket to a dream college except he’s not quite the person you should be asking help from.

You’re suddenly not sure about all the friendly competitions you’re running.

You’re starting to feel too worked up these days, worry tugging at the back of your head every moment. It’s lonely when your friends are busy with their own struggles so you stay quiet. You’re a big kid, you tell yourself, you got this.

Except you really don’t.

“Woah,” Donghyuck interrupts you and Jihyun. “You look like you used the dryer on the wrong setting.”

Sometimes, it’s really not the best of situations to have your seat beside Donghyuck. You glare at him, keeping your notebook on the table with a loud ‘SLAM!’ You turn your head to find him smiling. Oh, he better not start now.

“Ah, (name),” he says, grinning, “what’s got you so upset today?”

“Nothing,” you insist, trying your best to control your scowl.

It’s been two weeks since you ‘hung out’ (committed minor crimes) at the bakery. Your friendly bickering since then has been not-so-friendly, you think with a grimace. He’s been getting under your skin—not a favourable thing when you’re against Lee Donghyuck.

“(name).”

You look up to see Jihyun, almost always devoid of any emotion behind the eyes—even if he’s smiling.

“The notes you asked for,” he says, keeping the notes on your table and turning around, almost as if he’s glad to be rid of conversation.

“Oh, and,” Jihyun turns back around. “If you’re hoping to get into any college at all, I hope you keep the right company.”

There’s contempt in his voice and your eyes trail to Donghyuck’s, a little confused if not bothered. You shouldn’t be surprised to find him grinning, laughing almost. You think Donghyuck’s confidence is a good substitute for a leather jacket.

“Hey, come on now.” Donghyuck leans back in his seat, smiling like a kid. You wonder where all that sunshine’s coming from. “Are you still mad about me beating you at that MUN thing?”

Jihyun smiles. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I wasn’t referring to you, of course. And there’s worse things you’ve done.”

Your teacher walks in, drawing everyone’s attention instead as they scurry back to their seats. Donghyuck’s eyes linger on you for a second longer, his face blanched before he turns away and rests his chin on his palm. You think you weren’t supposed to steal so many glances at him throughout the class.

The day somehow manages to draw energy out of you even further. Worries aside, Jihyun’s been strangely demanding—are you even that close? Should he be asking you to bring things this way? Should he be making you run errands? You’re so close to losing it before you realize you can’t. He’s helping you, sort of. You groan into your hands during break, ignoring Donghyuck’s eyebrow raise from beside you. It’s unfair and while you’re sure it’s all light-hearted, you have another name to curse when you run into a problem. Ah, the scorn of high school kids is truly incomparable.

You almost sigh in relief at the last ring of the bell for the day, getting up a little too enthusiastically. You get some admonishment from the teacher at that but you forget once you’ve reached the gates, almost running out faster than your friends. They let you go with a laugh, your desire to get home and take a nap triumphing every other thing on your mind. Some days are meant to be forgotten.

Cursed as you are, you bump into Donghyuck a few blocks from the bus stop. He adjusts the collar of his plaid shirt in a hurry, the black T-shirt underneath so worn out, you wonder how many years he’s been wearing that. The symbol on his baseball cap is probably related to a demon cult, you think. It being related to a metal band is also a possibility.

“(name),” he says, grinning. “What a coincidence.”

“Don’t pick a fight now, demon,” you huff before he can continue.

“I didn’t even say anything.” He raises his arms defensively. “Yet.”

You have the intense desire to punch him. When did the tables turn to this? Weren’t you supposed to be the calm one?

“You had fun running errands for President Snob?” he snickers.

“Well, I didn’t want to,” you say, your shoulders dropping, annoyed as you are. It makes you a little upset for something to affect you that much. You wish you were like the kids who barely cared about things like college applications, enjoying life either way. You wish you didn’t have this strange pretence of a person you are. You wish you were like Donghyuck.

There’s a pause.

“Come on. Don’t let anyone push you around like that.” His voice comes off as exasperated. Donghyuck isn’t the kind of person to let worry show.

You look up, a little surprised. Before you can open your mouth, he cuts you off.

“There’s some festival going on at the centre,” he says with a shrug. “Lots of food trucks. Wanna come?”

You furrow your eyebrows, a frown taking shape over your lips.

“Stealing off others doesn’t exactly make me feel good about myself,” you say, hugging yourself. As fun as the adrenaline rush was, it’s better to stick to morals, whatever they may be.

“I’ll pay,” he says, his smile incredulous. “I promise.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, you got a credit card lying around somewhere?”

“Nope,” he responds, rolling his eyes. “No credit card. Don’t believe in money.”

“Then how do you plan on paying?” you ask, frustrated.

“Trust me,” he whispers, urging you to follow him.

It turns out Donghyuck happens to know every food outlet in the city and also happens to have been kicked out of half of them, which is oddly impressive. He’s also worked several jobs in local eateries, the old ladies more than fond of him. (“Who wouldn’t find my charming smile adorable?”)

“You hobgoblin,” you exclaim, huffing. His story about vandalism on the bleachers shouldn’t have been as amusing, or endearing, for that matter.

“According to our lovely folklore, hobgoblins can warm your heart,” he replies, as-a-matter-of-factly.

“That is definitely not true. You just have to respond with something, don’t you?”

“And what of it?”

A (surprisingly) within-speed-limits bike ride away, you end up in a flurry of colours and crowds—you gasp at the large line of food trucks lining the pathway leading to the people’s square. You’ve never seen this before, looking from place to place. A lot of them look like they’ve come from pretty far.

At the square, there are wooden stalls of food out for trial by the people, shopkeepers encouraging the few tourists there are to try the local food. You spot various fishcakes, dumplings and street toast with glimpses of strawberry and banana milk decorating the stands in between. There are old upbeat songs playing through the speakers attached to the electricity poles, faint enough to be drowned out by crowds but loud enough to enjoy a little dance to. You didn’t realize you were smiling till you turned around to see an amused look on Donghyuck’s face.

Time only seems to fly—like when you’re done with your favourite song and it just wasn’t long enough so you hit repeat. The truth is, a song is barely four minutes—and yet you feel like you saw a movie, a story in it; so very curious because you were so sure it was too short.

Donghyuck walks side by side with you to where his bike is parked. (You wonder if he ever travels without it. Gas isn’t exactly cheap.) There’s little distance between the two of you, something neither of you seems to notice. You bite into the sugar candy, the sudden crack sound in the quiet lane making the two of you laugh despite the surge of sugar on your tongue. You forget what you were talking about.

“Why do you even steal, Donghyuck?” You ask softly. You paid for some food today, some were free samples and mostly, there was nothing illegal involved. Donghyuck didn’t particularly want to cause trouble either. You don’t want to be a bad judge of character.

“Because I can.”

What an expected answer. Is there anything Donghyuck can’t do?

“Don’t you feel bad?” You raise an eyebrow. He’s always been so confusing, but when he starts to make sense, you feel like you should’ve seen it that way in the first place.

“Are you talking about our sweet bakery? You really think a company as big as theirs would notice some free samples are missing?” Donghyuck says, making a face. “In a city no one cares about?”

You don’t say anything, puffing your left cheek in contemplation.

“Look, I could spend the rest of my life looting as much as my arms could carry and I would never be able to make my crimes pose even the smallest threat to a single shitty millionaire.” Donghyuck waves his hands about in a gesture that implies indifference.

You suppose he’s right, walking up to him and continuing your journey up.

“I’m not justifying myself,” he says, voice softer, shoulders relaxed. “Stealing’s bad. Other people are affected. I know. It’s just that I like having more choices than they give us. We should try everything we can, you know?”

Is that why he’s always up to something? Flitting from club to club in school, running around the entire city like it’s his own?

He shakes himself immediately, cringing. “Ah. Ew. I can’t believe you’re getting to my head, sunflower. Yuck. You’re ruining me. Did I just monologue?”

“Oh, okay.” You cross your arms. “That’s my fault now. It’s a good thing to be honest, asshole.”

“La, la, la.” Donghyuck puts his fingers in his ears, sticking out his tongue. “Can’t lecture me if I can’t hear you.”

You punch his shoulders, his laugh accompanying the evening blooming in full colours above you as you forget you’re already on your journey back.

You reach Red’s before nightfall, a sort of pitstop for kids like you when it’s time to go home before the night soaks into you. Donghyuck feels lighter in his chest as he enters, the jingling pleasant and the smell of waffles even more so. He just can’t believe you’re the reason he’s here.

“Obviously, we’re going for chocolate waffles,” he says, crossing his arms.

The tables outside are better than the stuffy humid air inside. Donghyuck’s complaining didn’t let you take even a step inside.

“We just ate,” you reason, your eyebrows furrowed. “And honey is always better!”

“Eh, what do you know?” he says, resting his elbow against the table. “I was raised in this diner, newbie.”

“Yeah, you and a million other rats.”

He presses his tongue against his cheek to stop the smile, although he reckons he’s doing a terrible job of it.

Get yourself together, one voice pipes up in his head.

Or say it. Ask them out. Yeah, the other voice is a piece of shit. That’s not going to work out.

Donghyuck didn’t realize he’d fallen silent, a daze over his eyes. He blinks a few time to regain focus, the peach hue across your cheeks coming to his attention. It’s adorable, if he could just reach out and place his palm against your cheek, just lean over the table and—

Fuck. No way.

“Stop staring at me like some sleaze,” you huff, eyes flickering between him and the table.

“Why would I stare at you?” he retorts, resisting the heat on his face. “You’re not that pretty.”

“Right,” you say, rolling your eyes as you hold your arm.

The lights lining the eaves flicker on almost at the same time, the sky still in transitionary lilac and you look up with your lips parted, something akin to curiosity in your eyes. Pretty. It could just be the reflection of the lights though—Donghyuck’s not exactly the poetic type. He wants to curl his lips at the notion, but it’s not very smart to have all his thoughts show up on his face.

“Can we stay here a little longer?” you say, eyes still on the lights, occasionally shifting to the sky.

“Your parents will worry.” Donghyuck thinks for a moment before mumbling, “It’s not safe.”

“Then drop me home,” you say, your eyes shifting to meet his, an unusual confidence in them.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the skip of his heartbeat.

Donghyuck thinks he should pat himself on the back for not speeding all the times you were with him on his bike. He loves the thing to death, although he’s had it for barely a year. The jolt of adrenaline and the freedom blooming in sprouts within his ribcage should be a dead giveaway to what he feels about speeding. Donghyuck’s never really cared about rules. Break them, bend them—it’s up to him and he loves that feeling of control. Whatever people think of him, they’re nowhere close to the truth. They’ll never know just how much he has everything under control.

Except you.

How annoying, he thinks to himself as he feels the speed picking up and your distant warmth behind him. He feels a little tingle in his chest, the way he always does when he gets the urge to do something reckless.

What if he were to speed up just a little? No, that would be childish. He should definitely not do that.

You wrap your arms around his waist with a squeak at the sudden jerk as he revs up the bike, a grin growing on his face despite his attempts to hold it back. You’re warm, compared to the sharp winds grazing him and he wants you to hold onto him like this a little longer. If he’s not childish now, when else will he be?

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep, faint sunlight hiding behind the curtains ready to present the evening to you. A celebratory nap for the end of the deadlines that’s been haunting you overextended a little bit more than you’d anticipated. Just a few more weeks and it’s the finals and then, it’s all over. You stretch your hand out to switch on the lights, groaning when you can’t seem to reach it and reluctantly getting up.

You startle, a little yelp leaving your mouth at the knock on your window. What in hell? Either you haven’t slept enough or you slept too much.

You let out another yelp when you see Donghyuck’s face. There’s a band-aid over the line of his jaw starting to peel off and another one over the bridge of his nose. His hair looks recently washed, underneath the cap he’s wearing the right way for once, a pleasant smell wafting off him. You wonder what the occasion is for him to have cleaned up like this.

“Did you just climb up to my window?!”

There’s a pause.

“Yes.”

There’s another pause.

“Anyway,” he continues, “Since you’ve been enjoying my premium Haechan recommendations lately, I’ve got another plan for you.”

“Haechan?” You tilt your head. “Full sun? Is that why you call me sunflower?”

Donghyuck’s cheeks colour. “That’s- That’s not- We’re going to the club today!”

You find the sudden fluctuation in his voice cute. You suppress your smile, before giving in to his constant nagging for you to hurry up and follow him. (“Why would I get out through the window?” “Won’t your parents, like, kill me if they saw me at your front door?”)

There’s no bike today. In a way, you’re sad it isn’t there; the memory of your arms around Donghyuck making you feel hot in the cheeks for wanting it again.

“I finished my budget for fuel because of you,” he complains.

“No one asked you to be a show-off,” you retort.

He opens his mouth but says nothing, resorting to pull a face at you instead. Public transportation it is today. Even if there’s, what, nine subway stations in the city, Donghyuck seems to have already planned out the route. He walks with a bounce to his steps, turning around to walk backward facing you just to laugh and call you slow.

You run up the stairs to the station, another evening beginning something yet anew. The clouds disappear, replaced with the tiles of the station roof as Donghyuck eyes something in the distance.

“Oh no,” you say, your gaze traveling to wherever his is fixed. “We’re paying for the tickets. Hell, I’ll pay.”

Donghyuck grins at you and before he can make the stupid decision of jumping over the faregate, you grab the back of his collar, a choked sound leaving his mouth. You pull him by the sleeves of his hoodie to the ticket machines, relatively empty when the old folk use the ticket booths instead.

“You’ll go to jail if you murder me,” Donghyuck says, whining as he massages his neck. “It’s not pleasant, let me tell you that.”

“You’ve been?”

“Not yet.”

The club Donghyuck was talking about turns out to be more of a music joint, really. The letters ‘No Smoking’ spelled clearly beside the entrance, you eye the guard nervously. A rather skinny man who seems to be in his early twenties, you wonder how Donghyuck knows him as he lets the two of you in. You don’t have time to ask as you’re pulled in, a gasp barely leaving your mouth at the force.

It’s different inside. It’s not as dark as you’d expect, a rather mellow set of colours spread through the place. There’s a band playing songs from the 80s, the sound of indie rock pulsing through the place. Some people are dancing, some sitting at the round tables, looking as if they’re waiting for someone or, at the very least, a pretty stranger.

You look up at Donghyuck, a hum on his lips as he thinks.

“The song’s so boring,” he says finally. “Let’s change it.”

“It’s a live band, Donghyuck.” You deadpan. “You can’t press next here.”

“It’s called requesting, stupid.”

Donghyuck runs off before you can say anything, suddenly awkward about standing alone in a room full of people. You look around—the amount of people isn’t too much but at the same time it’s much more than you see in your average crowded room. Most of them are sitting, now that you see clearly, some with ramen on the tables, some with beer and chicken. There’s a bar at the other edge, people joking with each other over drinks.

You’re not sure how you’d describe it but it smells like people in here.

You look around further, curiously, at the beige wallpaper and vines decorating the edges—it’s larger than you thought a club would be. (But really, the only images you have are of purple and blue lighting on giant drunk crowds when you think of clubs.)

“Hey, pretty.”

You startle at the voice, an older man standing beside you. He seems to be a little old for a college kid, a rather impish look on his face with a very prominent grin.

“Uh, hi,” you say, unsure.

“You don’t come here often, do you?” He leans his left side against the wall.

“No, not really.” You’re a minor. Technically, you’re not even allowed in here.

Your nervousness seems to have shown up on your face because the guy straightens, a little smile on his face.

“Woah, don’t look so worried.” He laughs a little. There’s a scent of alcohol in his breath. “Will a friendly handshake make you feel better?”

You look on, a little unsure but definitely surprised. You go along with what he says, the movement of your hands in the childish pattern bringing a smile to your face till eventually, you’re laughing.

“I don’t mean to be too forward,” he says, “But you’re, like, a kid, right?”

You straighten, stammering out words of denial. You don’t want to be kicked out. You’ve never been kicked out of anything before.

“And that’s your boyfriend right there?” He asks, pointing over to Donghyuck having a conversation with the bass guitarist.

You think you turn pink, but you shake your head vehemently.

“Well, don’t worry, kid,” he says, laughing. “Enjoy it while you can. Not everyone gets to have a partner in crime.”

With that, he walks off to the bar after a wave of goodbye and a smile, making you wonder if adults really are the same as you. You smile a little to yourself.

You yelp when you’re grabbed by the arm, Donghyuck’s own arm linking through it.

“I’m gonna teach you how to dance,” he says, grinning. “Be prepared to thank me.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him and right when you open your mouth the next song starts with a drum solo. You look at the band, confused. They’re all grinning, however, and soon the song steadies into an upbeat sort of mood. You think you smile, but it’s probably just in the eyes.

“Eyes on me, loser,” Donghyuck says, smiling wide at you.

You turn back to him, an indescribable amount of emotions surging into you. Lee Donghyuck is a phenomenon of a person, you think, almost ready to voice it out loud.

More people join in with the dancing, the place seeming much fuller now that you see everyone up. You catch the man from earlier throwing you a wink and a finger gun in a friendly gesture. You laugh in response, Donghyuck complaining about your lack of focus. (If you’re being honest, you think he meant your lack of attention to him.)

You can’t count the minutes or hours—what’s the difference, really? Donghyuck smiles through his eyes, telling you you’re a terrible dancer (and that, of course, not everyone is born perfect like him). You learn to love the unknown songs, each note catching on to a new piece of your heart as Donghyuck shows you a move to copy, singing along gibberish lyrics to the songs he doesn’t know. It’s weird how you can mould into songs like this, songs you don’t even know—their beats pulling out different people and melodies making that person familiar.

There’s a soft halt when Donghyuck catches something through the corner of his eyes. He makes a face that spells out ‘yikes’ before leading you off the dance floor, snaking through the crowds till you’re back to the entrance.

“What’s wrong?” You say, eyes scanning his face.

“Oh, nothing, really,” he says, an unsure lilt to his voice.

Your question answers itself at the gruff voice barely audible over the music, a notch louder than when you’d entered.

“Hey, kid!”

Your heart jumps against your ribcage at the uniform of a police officer by the entrance, thinking whether everything really had to go wrong right now. Is underage dancing a crime? You didn’t drink and—oh, the entrance probably said 19+.

Donghyuck’s eyes flit from place to place looking for an escape when the officer confronts him, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“You’re the kid that’s been stealing around the shops, aren’t you?”

“Uh, no?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, the expression on his face almost comedic. “You’ve got the wrong kid, officer.”

“And what might you be doing in a club? Where’s your ID?”

“About that…”

Donghyuck pushes the man with his elbow, leg extending to trip him, catching him off guard. You’d even be impressed if the loud crash didn’t make you yelp in surprise, looking at the two of them with terrified incredulity.

Donghyuck takes off running almost immediately after before backtracking and gesturing at you exasperatedly. “You know you’re supposed to run when I run, right?”

“What the fuck just happe—”

Donghyuck doesn’t wait to explain, gripping your hand in his and tugging you to match his insane pace as you exit through the entrance.

It takes a while to reach the subway station even at that speed and with the distant shouts of the police officer prompting you to move faster. The sky’s much darker now—you think it must be well into late evening before night gets ready to clutch the time. Donghyuck moves with careful calculation, taking turns in places you have no clue about and soon you’re running up the stairs with your breath barely caught in your throat.

The station lights are dim but you’re good as long as you don’t trip over something. You turn to the ticket machine in panic when you hear the officer’s voice by the gates.

“No time!” Donghyuck pulls you away, effortlessly jumping over the faregate and looking at you expectantly.

“I can’t do that, Donghyuck!” you complain, panic rising in your chest, adrenaline drowning the rest of it.

Before you can say anything more, Donghyuck reaches over the gate, pulling you up by the waist and grabbing your hand all over again to run down the stairs to the tunnels.

“Hey!”

You hear the shout of the lady behind the ticket counter, clearly having seen your misconduct as you pray for her to forget your face. You’d like to be able to use the subway for future travel.

The train’s about to shut its door when you reach. Donghyuck treads quickly on the stone before he jumps on, pulling you in just in time to avoid getting caught in between the sliding doors.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing and the movement of the train on its tracks, the burning in your throat drowning out other senses. You slide down to crouch on the floor, your face hot and sweat drenching your forehead and neck. Your shoelaces are undone, you notice, no energy left in you to reach out and tie them into your perfect knots.

There’s a few moments of silence as you regain your composure.

“What was that?!” You laugh, unable to control yourself as you clutch your stomach. “You almost got arrested!”

He joins in with his sunny laughter, crouching down beside you. “Man, I really thought I was done for.”

After a few moments, Donghyuck sits with his legs crossed atop the passenger seat, the coach mostly empty save for you and an old couple at the far corner. He animatedly recalls a story of another near-arrest he had, with you laughing beside him.

A thought passes you in between jokes and stories—what if everything was like this always? Just the two of you, in a room full of people, in a room without people. You think you’ve started looking at Donghyuck a bit too much. You’re not sure about regretting it.

Donghyuck’s been getting the strangest of impulses these days.

He tilts his head away from you to check the time on his watch, the gentle weight of your head on his shoulder reassuring, even if it’s hard to admit. It’s half-past ten and he’s been staring at you for a little over an hour now. Who falls asleep in the subway? Sure, there being not many stops, the journey between each is longer but Donghyuck wouldn’t be caught dead drooling on someone’s shoulder like this.

You shift, Donghyuck immediately moving to cradle your head with his hand so it just doesn’t drop off. Your lips are puffed even in sleep as if you’re still caught in an argument with him. He chuckles to himself. It’s so like you.

Cross the line. The voice in his head says. Just dip your head a little and…

Your head leans into the skin between his neck and shoulder, a shot of electricity pulsing through him at the contact. There’s a race of thoughts within him, thoughts he shouldn’t be having.

What is he so afraid of, really? What is he, Lee Donghyuck, so afraid of? Love? That’s the lamest thing he can think of.

It’s true, though.

Fucking voice of his conscience—loud thoughts are more a pain in the ass than anything else. Donghyuck will resort to cowardice if it be so. He’s not going to be reduced to something he’s not just because he’s head over heels in his own feelings for you.

Donghyuck pushes the hair from your face, craning his neck to be able to see you better. Wanting to love, wanting to be loved—what a stupid thing to fear. He sighs, closing his own eyes and checking the time once again. He’ll wake you up in a few minutes when your station’s near.

You stop at the medicine to store to buy antiseptic cream and some band-aids. Donghyuck says he doesn’t need it, he has some at home but you must be good at convincing. There’s a little garden of scratches on his palm even he’s not sure when he received.

You sit in the empty parking lot, under the only streetlight that seems to be working in the area. The convenience store beside you is there to provide its twenty-four-hour lights if not anything else. There are some people out on nightly walks, you notice when you look at the sidewalk. It surprises you a little to see shapes of people against midnight blue.

You’ve never been out so late. You text your mom to remind her you’re still alive before you can turn your attention to Donghyuck.

“Okay! Enough!” He retreats his hand, complaining. “My hand smells like a pharmacy at this point.”

You lean back against the streetlamp, sighing.

“I can’t believe we ran away from a police officer,” you say, a goofy smile on your face as you stretch your arms in front of you.

“There’s always a first.” Donghyuck grin. “You don’t have to thank me for that, by the way.”

You roll your eyes. “One of these days, you’ll regret it. How long do you plan on being reckless?”

“How long do you plan on pretending you don’t enjoy it?” He asks, face leaning in with a sly smile.

You think you feel heat on your cheeks, you can’t be sure, but you end up scoffing, a rather losing response to someone who’s used to winning.

“You’re clearly into my devilishly handsome face,” he continues with an exaggerated shake of his head. “Does my recklessness turn you on? Don’t you think I look good? You can’t blame m—”

This brat.

You yank him by the cloth of his hoodie to get face to face, noses almost touching. Watching the confidence drain from his face, you’d laugh but it’d just give away the sudden adoration you feel. What a shame this demon was blessed to be so cute.

There’s a pause the length of a breath.

Donghyuck’s eyelids flutter close just as he presses his lips against yours, a soft sound escaping yours. He places a hand against your cheek as nimbly as possible, something pushing him to deepen what you have. You give in, humming into the kiss as you pull yourself closer.

For all the havoc he wreaks, Donghyuck isn’t necessarily a bad kisser. His lips are soft—his investment in lip balms improved since you first met him and the scent of whatever he used is delicious.

It’s a few moments of kissing when Donghyuck suddenly pulls back.

“I don’t deserve this,” he says, eyes flickering.

You look on, unsure. It’s not like him to falter. “What- What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he responds, looking at his hands, “that I’m really not good enough. I’m just- I’m not who people think I am. Hell, I don’t know who I am. It’s just- I don’t-”

You place your hand against his cheek, his rambling fading away as he looks into you.

“Even if you like me because you think I’m fun,” he continues, “I mess things up, you know? I mess things up really bad. If you get hurt- If- Ah, I don’t know what to say.”

“I really like you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, “but you’re making no sense right now.”

There’s a pause within the night air.

“I…I put a kid in the hospital,” he says, voice low and upset. “In middle school. I- I didn’t mean to! I can’t remember what happened but…we had to pay the bills and- and we’re still recovering.”

There’s a stifling silence. You lift his chin up so he faces you, the inability to see his expression troubling.

“I still feel guilty,” he whispers. “I do things for fun. And I fuck up the consequences.”

Donghyuck’s calculating and careful. You already know that.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, not finding any better words. “We’re big kids now.”

“But that doesn’t mean—”

“I’m not saying anything like that,” you interrupt. “We’ll still fuck up, you know? Adults fuck up. Doesn’t mean we don’t do things at all.”

“God, I hate you lecturing me,” he groans, looking away.

You crack a smile, still holding his face, the side without the band-aid. Donghyuck doesn’t say you’re right, a short chuckle on his lips instead before he leans in to peck you on the mouth, slowly turning into another kiss.

You think you hear the buzz of fireflies, spring’s darlings, although you didn’t know they’d be found here. Donghyuck looks pretty under the streetlight, as you connect mole to mole, an airy feeling in your chest, almost bubbling over.

You want to tell him he’s amazing, but you figure you’d tend to his ego some other day.

“Hey, you got that leather jacket!” you exclaim when you walk into class, Donghyuck’s head in Renjun’s chokehold.

He’s quick to defend himself, shaking Renjun off him and scoffing. “I didn’t get it because you said so, obviously.”

You shake your head with a laugh, sitting at your place. Donghyuck smiles to himself before dropping it to shoot some comments at Renjun.

“Nothing going on with our precious demon there?”

You look up to see Jaemin smiling at you, clearly onto something. You haven’t told anyone yet, every rendezvous a ridiculously honest secret.

You turn your head to see Donghyuck consuming a bag of hot Cheetos in what seems to be a competition with Zhong Chenle. You shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows at the scene. What’s even going on in their heads? If anything at all, that is.

Jaemin clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him. He has some sort of expectation in his eyes.

You laugh, more than enough to answer him. Really, being fond of Lee Donghyuck shouldn’t feel so much a crime as the city lights in his eyes do.

1K notes · View notes

canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 17 second part

(Masterpost) (Previous Post) (Pinboard)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!!

Breaking Good

Wen Qing comes to visit Wen Ning in their backyard meth lab, and tells him that he fucked up a recipe, merely by taking a whiff of the concoction. She uses the approved "wave fumes toward self" way of smelling that you learn in high school science if you live in a country that believes in teaching science, which OP does not.

Wen Ning wants to know if they are going to have a feud, and she tells him there already is one. She tells explains to him that they're good Wens, not evil Wens, and that Jiang Cheng is fucked, and they should send the Jiangs away in the morning before Wen Chao comes around.

Wen Ning whines at her about all of this, shifting into little-brother persona and acting like he didn't just take down 40 of Wen Chao's soldiers in a single night. He does this same persona shifting in his later unlife, with Wei Wuxian. When there is trouble, he's extremely effective, and can even tail WWX and Lan Wangji without getting caught, but then he is hopeless when dealing with turnips or children.

Here, it seems like a version of Wei Wuxian's own little-brother persona, in which he pretends to be helpless so that his sister can take care of him.

#studyblr

Wei Wuxian comes into Wen Qing's head shop to ask her for medical books. He loves his brother so much he's volunteering for a research project. We've seen him be clever before; we've seen circumstantial evidence that he's a good student, but now we're going to see him actually buckling down and doing intellectual work.

Wen Qing thinks its hopeless and wants Wei Wuxian to get some rest. But he gives her puppydog eyes, so she sets him up in her library.

Wei Wuxian reads a huge pile of medical books and learns interesting things about the human body.

(more after the cut)

Hopefully he does not splotch ink all over them while he holds this wet brush directly over the page. Why does he even have a brush in his hand? Is he taking notes in the margin?

Wen Qing eventually tells him to take a break and go see Jiang Yanli.

Segmentation fault (core dumped)

Jiang Yanli is tending to Jiang Cheng, gently telling him to suck it up by citing their father, which is probably not the greatest idea.

Yanli's wearing dark blue with white and looks awesome. It's not Gusu Lan blue, but the blue and white is an interesting choice for the excruciating heart to heart they're about to have.

Wei Wuxian shows up looking terrible, or the Xiao Zhan version of terrible, i.e. handsome and a little scruffy. But also worn out, unhappy, and fragile.

Jiang Yanli wants him to rest, but he wants to find a way to repair Jiang Cheng's core, and his mind races, trying to think of where he can get books and who can help him. His thoughts instantly go to Cloud Recesses and Lan Wangji. His face lights up at the thought that Lan Wangji will help him, and he hops up, ready to dash off and find him.

The first time I watched this I was like, dude yes you’re in love, but you can’t just dash off to find Lan Wangji, not when there’s a war on. This time I was like, actually wow things would turn out a whole lot better if you got Lan Wangji to help you, instead of coming up with your own plan.

Mother Mother Can You Tell Me

Jiang Yanli tells him to slow his roll. He's pushing himself too hard and she's afraid he will collapse. Then Wei Wuxian comes out and says what's driving him: maybe all these disasters are his fault.

It's telling, I think, that he cites Madame Yu, not Jiang Cheng, in this moment, even though Jiang Cheng has blamed him much more thoroughly and consistently. He's talking about one mother figure, to another mother figure, and looking for absolution.

He super does not get what he's looking for.

Jiang Yanli slowly lets go of him and goes the fuck off. She asks, rhetorically, what he's to blame for, and then lists off all of the shit that's happened. She finishes up by saying, look at our situation; blaming won't help anything.

It's unclear, because language/translation, if her answer is "it doesn't matter who's to blame" I.E. "yes, it's your fault, but I'm letting it go" or if she is saying "how does blaming yourself help anything?" I.E. "it's not your fault, stop being a drama llama."

Her body language, though, seems pretty blameful - she lets go of him, yells at him, sits down and turns away from him. And his reaction is not one of shared grief, or of someone who is trying to get over himself; he's totally crushed, and he literally never unburdens himself to her again. Even when he asks her, much later, about love, he immediately backs out of the conversation.

There is no violence in this moment and her reaction is understandable, but this is kind of similar to that one time when his brother choked him in a beautiful field of grass, in order to make himself feel better.

Then she kind of relents and takes his hand, telling him that she needs him and reminding him that he promised that they will go back to Lotus Pier. I don't remember him promising this, but okay.

He puts his head on her lap and he cries, she cries, comatose Jiang Cheng cries; FUCK this episode.

Jiang Cheng manages to cry only one tear and does it on the side of his face that his siblings can't see because he's not going to give them the satisfaction of sharing this moment with him, I guess.

When Wei Wuxian puts his head on Jiang Yanli's lap, it's part of a ritual for them, that they both are comforted by; he does it again much later, after they return to Lotus Pier. But this ritual does not actually do anything to relieve his burdens. As a male adult, and the only Jiang Clan disciple with any abilities, it falls to him to save the clan, whatever it takes, and he is heavily aware of it.

Wen Qing comes along and sees the sweet part of this complicated Shijie-Shidi dynamic, and decides to help with Wei Wuxian's research project. When the trio had just lost their parents, gotten sick, been pursued by enemies, & had one of Yanli's little brothers horribly wounded, Wen Qing was like, eh, I'll do the doctor stuff but that's it. But lap-crying is another level.

Wen Qing: Nooo don't put your head on her knees I failed my saving throw

Group Project

Wen Qing goes and cleans up the mess in the library, putting everything in order and settling in to read systematically. Wen Qing probably has the prettiest bullet journal. (OP looks proudly at the 100 loose slips of paper and piles of random stuff on her own desk)

Wei Wuxian has shaved and rested and comes in with a tray of food for Wen Qing, and then goes to his table in the back to start working. He claims he made "porridge" for her and that she has to eat to gain strength, and she gives him an intrigued expression. This moment is just blatant het baiting.

In fact the food he brings her is clearly not porridge, which might just be a translation error, but also he totally can't cook, so it's not clear if he's joking and Yanli or Wen Ning made the food, or if this is just inedible.

The Things We Do For Love

Yanli is working in the meth lab and coughing a lot. Yanli's chronic illness is a sign of what's to come for Wei Wuxian, because strong cultivators don't get sick. Yet Yanli, as a physically vulnerable person, who has either a weak golden core, or none, is still intrinsically valuable. Her presence in this scene is a reminder that Jiang Cheng's life is not, actually, over; he just feels like it is.

While Yanli cooks the meth, Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing have a study montage that is the equivalent of a training montage, except without "Eye of the Tiger" on the soundtrack.

Jiang Cheng remains unconscious. Apparently if you stick nails in the top of someone's head, you make them sleep, and in the back of their head, you turn them into part of your zombie army. Fortunately Wen Qing's aim is good. Jiang Cheng is looking devastatingly handsome as usual the TV version of unwell, and has grown a perfect Dorito-chip of stubble on his chin to go with his new 'stache.

Eventually Wei Wuxian changes back into his non-vampire robe and he finds the answer in an old scroll book. The Ikea instruction picture shows arrows going from the guy on the left to the guy on the right. Clearly it's not a great procedure for the guy on the left.

Wei Wuxian's face shows us exactly how not great.

Like walking in the rain and the snow and there’s no place to go and you’re feeling like a part of you is dying

He goes outside and gazes up at the trees and the sky as he contemplates the sacrifice that circumstance is forcing on him. He's not even making a choice at this point; his choice was made the moment he found the procedure. But it's going to be a tremendous loss for him. He values sword cultivation at least as much as Jiang Cheng does; he even fell in love with a boy over crossed swords. So he sits and just kind of comes to terms with this new understanding of his future. (Big gifs here)

Wen Qing finds him sitting, stunned, on the porch. She doesn't know what's up so she just sits quietly with him until he's ready to tell her.

She doesn't love the plan.

Thunder, Th-th-thunder

Wen Ning is bringing food up when he sees them arguing, and he is startled by situationally appropriate thunder and lightning. Having recently watched The Lost Tomb Reboot I've come to expect thunder and lighting to appear on cue in any possible situation, so the fact that this mini-storm clears right up again doesn't bother me.

What About You?

Wen Ning dashes inside to see what Mom and Dad are fighting about. They're having a polite shouting match because Wen Qing refuses to yank out Wei Wuxian's core.

Wen Qing: I hate the idea of harming you Wei Wuxian: I don’t even understand that sentence

Wei Wuxian doesn’t, of course, feel that he is important in any way, and ignores her concerned and appalled expressions in favor of telling her to just do it anyway. Amazingly, this does not convince her.

OP’s 177cm-tall son keeps telling her this

Then Wei Wuxian plays the "you know Jiang Cheng" card, which...I guess she does? Maybe he was chatting her up more than we saw in Cloud Recesses? He hasn't given her the comb or anything yet. Wei Wuxian explains that Jiang Cheng cares about gain and loss, and cultivation is his life. If he can only be ordinary the rest of his life will be ruined.

Wen Qing asks the question that nobody ever asks him: What about you?

Wei Wuxian has literally nothing to say to that, possibly because the question is so new to him.

Wen Ning doesn't know what's going on but comes squarely in on team Wei, of course, and begs his sister to Do The Thing. How fucking horrified is Wen Ning going to be when he learns what The Thing is? What he is personally going to help do to his beloved friend? Yikes.

Wen Qing caves, warning them that the chance of success is only 50 percent. Wei Wuxian is happy to take those odds.

Lan Wangji, projecting his voice from Episode 46: fifty percent, are you fucking kidding me?

Soundtrack: 1. Mother Mother by Tracy Bonham 2. The Things We Do For Love by 10cc 3. Thunder by Imagine Dragons

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #wen qing #wen ning #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #episode 17 #OMG this episode #god I miss lan wangji #warning: psychic pain

227 notes · View notes

lettheladylead · 3 years

Text

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 6: Dewey [ao3 link]

It’d been quite the week.

Goldie wasn’t sure where she stood amongst everything, but apparently Scrooge was actually the biological father (or at least the unknowing DNA donor) of Beakley’s granddaughter - the same one she’d convinced Scrooge to abandon in a forest in the middle of Florida just a few months earlier.

Not a great start to a relationship she never planned on having. As much as she liked Sharpie, she had no intention of getting to know all the kids in Scrooge’s life. It was starting to feel like a collection.

All the same, though, Goldie still found herself in Duckburg after the smoke had cleared. She didn’t want to interrupt Scrooge’s little family time, but she also felt like they should have a talk of some sort. Their adventure in Florida meant a lot to her and after being kidnapped and mildly tortured for what felt like weeks, she kind of just wanted to spend some quality time with him. It made her feel a little sick to her stomach, but she couldn’t fight the urge to hold his hand and kiss his cheek any longer.

So as Goldie always did, she broke into the manor. Specifically, she made her way into Scrooge’s bedroom, hoping to see him and have some fun and be on her way again. But as her feet hit the floor, she found the room empty and quiet. Not a soul in sight.

She checked the clock on the wall. It was well after dinnertime. Maybe the family was watching a movie together or something. She didn’t know what close-knit families liked to do in their free time, but that seemed normal. Goldie made her way out his door and tiptoed across the hallway towards the foyer.

“She deserves to know more about where she comes from!”

Goldie froze and quickly hid behind a banister as she heard a familiar voice come from downstairs. She peeked around the marble to see who he was talking to.

“Of course, but just try not to overwhelm her. She’ll be overjoyed to fill in all the blanks she can about your ancestors.”

“And she should be! McDuck blood is strong and tough and she should know the accomplishments that made her who she is!”

“...right.”

Goldie stared at Scrooge and Beakley, walking side-by-side and obviously chatting about Webbigail. It seemed like they were about to have a big family conversation, which meant Goldie wouldn’t be welcome nor interested in being present for a bunch of stories she’d heard a thousand times already.

She made her way down another hallway, trying to decide whether or not she should leave or just wait for Scrooge in his room. He could be hours and she didn’t feel like sitting around or taking a nap, so perhaps combing through some old treasures and stealing something from him would be a fun way to pass the time.

As she continued down the hall, Goldie’s attention was drawn to a loud noise coming from what she recognized as the boys’ room. The door was ajar and the lights were on, so maybe she’d say hi to Sharpie as she decided what to steal.

In her usual sneaky way, Goldie stepped inside of the room without being noticed. Even the creak of the door couldn’t grab anyone’s attention - especially considering what was happening inside.

She stared incredulously at the sight of Della’s blue kid - Dewey, she was pretty sure - holding up signs in front of a camera and happily talking about the exciting week he’d just had. He rambled for a good twenty seconds about his cousin and her clones and how his family just kept getting cooler and more interesting every day, so Goldie opted to cross her arms over her chest and lean against the bunk beds and watch him.

It took two full minutes before Dewey noticed her, and as soon as he did he let out a high-pitched chirp that would’ve warmed her heart had it not frozen over long ago.

“What are you doing here?!” Dewey asked with an accusatory pointed finger.

Goldie put a hand to her chest in feigned offense. “Why, Dewford Duck, am I not allowed to sit in on your little show?”

He squinted his eyes at her for a few moments and slowly put a finger to his chin. “Hmmm...I guess. But I meant, like. Why aren’t you with Uncle Scrooge?”

“He’s busy,” Goldie shoved herself off the beds and walked over. “So what is this?”

Dewey’s eyes lit up as he realized his guest was bored enough to listen to him talk about his favorite thing in the world. “This is….Dewey Dew-Night! It’s my talk show!!”

“You have a talk show?” Goldie looked into the camera. “People watch this?”

“Well…” Dewey tapped his fingers together on top of his little desk. “Not really. But I tape every episode in case one of them is good enough to submit to local TV networks! I’m expecting to get a response for my episode on the Moonvasion any day now.”

Goldie stood up straight and put her hands on her hips, looking around Dewey’s pretend studio and observing how he organized everything. “That invasion was several months ago. I don’t think they’re gonna get back to you, kid.”

Dewey pouted. “Yeah, well...maybe it was too much.” He shuffled some papers around on his desk and glanced up at her. “Can I interview you?”

“Excuse me?” she asked, turning around and raising one eyebrow in disbelief.

“Can I interview you for my show?” he asked again.

Goldie rolled her eyes. “What sort of stuff would you be interviewing me about?”

He tapped his hands against the desk and stared at her. “You were captured by F.O.W.L., right? Can I ask you about that? What happened and what you went through?”

“Oh.” She thought he was going to ask her questions about Scrooge or her history and she had no interest in sharing those kinds of things with a child. This, however… “...sure, I guess.”

“Alright!” Dewey got up from his seat and grabbed a dish towel off a shelf. He quickly wiped down one of the chairs for his guests and then sat back down in his usual spot.

Goldie shrugged and took a seat.

Dewey tapped his hands again, clearly amping himself up and getting excited. “So, so, so, so so so sooooo!”

Goldie raised an eyebrow at him.

“Tell me everything that happened. I mean you, of all people, the great Goldie O’Gilt, were captured by agents of F.O.W.L.! They must’ve had ten men at once take you by surprise! Caught you completely off guard! You probably fought for your life!”

“Huh,” Goldie hummed. “I appreciate that this is the image you have of me, but it wasn’t nearly that exciting.”

“Aww...why not?”

“I did get caught by surprise,” she started, picking at the feathers at the ends of her fingers. “But I was knocked out pretty quickly. No big fight. Just me getting involved with Scrooge’s family drama, once again.”

Dewey stared at her suspiciously. “How’d they catch you by surprise?”

Goldie stared back, silently, debating what kind of answer to give him. The actual answer was a bit embarrassing for her to admit, and she didn’t plan on giving one of Scrooge’s kids that kind of ammunition. But she also knew the best kind of lie was one very close to the truth. “I got a text that I thought was from Scrooge. Said he needed to talk to me...and then what do you know? Not Scrooge. No talking.”

“Oh,” Dewey said, noticeably disappointed. “So you got ambushed? Knocked out with chloroform?!”

“It was some kind of gas, actually,” she responded matter-of-factly, ignoring the way he was trying to make her story more exciting. “Bomb shot in my face. Boom. Out like a light. Not my best moment, I’ll admit.”

“Well, you are pretty old,” Dewey said with a thoughtful finger in the air. “So what happened next? You woke up in a horrible cage, confused and trapped?!”

She ignored his ‘old’ comment and focused on the question instead. “Yeah, pretty much.”

He leaned forward and slammed his hands onto the desk. “Did they torture you?!”

“Oh, yeah. Big time torture.”

“Wait, really?” Dewey looked at the camera for a second and then back to Goldie. “That’s so scary. What’d they do?”

“They locked me up right next to Santa Claus,” Goldie complained, sticking out her tongue for disgusted emphasis. “I don’t know if you’ve met the man, but he’s an absolute dullard. I can’t hold a single conversation with him without getting annoyed.”

Dewey stared at her for a few moments, blinking silently. “...is that it?”

“What’d you expect? Cattle prods and the electric chair? They were just trying to get me out of the way, not kill me.”

“Oh,” he said, sitting back down. “I guess I should be happy that no one got seriously hurt, huh? Well except for Uncle Scrooge.”

“Eh, he can take it. He’s Scrooge McDuck, after all.”

“That’s true, he is!” Dewey nodded, looking at the camera again. “Alright so no big fight, no real torture…”

“That Santa thing was not a joke.”

“...so if you’re not here to get financial compensation from Uncle Scrooge, why’d you come here?”

Goldie looked confused for a moment. “...financial compensation?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you said it’s his fault you got caught up in his family drama so I figured you wanted him to pay up for all the trouble you’d gone through.”

“Huh,” she said quietly, trying to think of an appropriate response. “I genuinely hadn’t even considered that.”

“No?” He leaned over his desk again. “So...are you just here to visit? Like...hang out ‘n stuff?”

Goldie hoped her expression didn’t betray the lack of emotion in her response. “I suppose.”

“That’s kind of cool. Are you gonna come around more often?” Dewey asked, leaning on his elbows. “I know you and Louie are, like...friends or whatever, but you should know that me and Huey and Webby are all really cool, too! Or, well. Me and Webby are.”

She blinked slowly at him. The thought of her and Louie’s relationship being defined as ‘friends’ was odd, to say the least. “I, um. I’m not making any promises one way or another. Just wanted to see your Uncle and talk about things.”

Dewey looked at the camera and wiggled his eyebrows. “Oooh, things! Adult things? Like taxes and marriage?”

“Exactly like taxes and marriage.”

“If you guys get married, then you’d be Aunt Goldie, huh?” Dewey said with a smile.

Goldie’s eyes widened and for a brief moment she could’ve sworn she was looking at a preteen Della Duck again. The similarities between them were uncanny, but that little comment really caught her off guard.

“...I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Eh, well,” Dewey shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just call you Aunt Goldie anyway. Mom and Uncle Donald already do.”

Goldie held back a groan and just rolled her eyes instead. “They didn’t get my permission on that, you know.”

“Did you know them when they were my age?” Dewey asked suddenly, ignoring her comment. “I mean, you’ve known Uncle Scrooge for, like, a million years, right?”

“Not quite a million, but sometimes it feels like it,” Goldie droned. “Your mom was a lot like you when she was your age, you know.”

“I know!”

“...you know?”

“Yeah, two Christmases ago I traveled back in time and met her and Uncle Donald and we fought a wendigo together!”

“...yeah, alright.” Goldie sighed. “Scrooge still does his time travel on Christmas nonsense?”

“He didn’t last year, but I think that’s ‘cause he and one of his friends got into a fight the year I joined them,” Dewey mused, trying to remember who was who. “I’m not sure exactly what happened, but it seemed like a big deal.”

Goldie made a note of this to ask Scrooge about it later. “So you wanna hear some stories about your mom when she was a kid? I’m sure I’ve got something embarrassing I could tell you.”

“Well...I do absolutely wanna hear those,” Dewey said as he climbed onto the desk. “But also...I’m kind of curious about, um. About you.”

“Prepare yourself for disappointment, kid, I don’t like to talk about myself as much as your dear old uncle does.”

Dewey crawled forward and sat on the edge of his desk, dangling his legs over the side. “I know, I get that. Sort of. But, like...okay. So Uncle Scrooge told us you’re his ex-girlfriend, but then you were all dancey and smoochy and then you went on a date and we didn’t see him again for like two days and then the next time we see you you’re all smoochy again. And you’re friends with Louie now or something? So I’m just kind of confused, I guess? Like...mom and Uncle Donald don’t seem to trust you very much and Mrs. Beakley definitely doesn’t trust you at all and Uncle Scrooge says he doesn’t trust you but then he kisses you and why would you kiss someone you don’t trust, right? That’s just kind of weird.”

Goldie cleared her throat awkwardly. “Is there a question here?”

“Oh, right,” Dewey said, thinking back over his last sentences. “I guess, um...what’s your endgame?”

“My what?”

“Your goal?” He wiggled his legs back and forth. “Like...with Uncle Scrooge. And with us. Or do you have a secret huge family up in Canada that you give all your money to and that’s why you only show up every once in a while?”

Goldie, who’d been leaning on her elbow on the edge of the couch, lost her balance briefly thanks to the shock of his question. He really knew how to change the mood in a second flat. “I, uh…” She couldn’t help but glance at the camera and wonder if Scrooge watched his kid’s show. She doubted it, but still. “...I definitely do not have a secret family up in Canada. Or anywhere.”

Dewey nodded excitedly.

“Um... don’t you think asking for someone’s life goal is a little personal? You barely know me.”

“Really? They asked us that our first day in school,” Dewey said with a smile. “Plus I kind of know you! I know the stories we’ve heard from Uncle Scrooge, at least.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure if those tales are entirely accurate.”

“I’m sure they’re not that far off!” Dewey stood up on the desk again and posed dramatically. “Like the time you two fought a bunch of angry kangaroos and then rode them through the Australian desert!”

“...that’s true.”

“Or when you sailed through the Bermuda Triangle, saving both of your lives from an evil giant squid!”

“I don’t remember the squid, but you’d be surprised how many times I’ve fought one of those.”

“That’s so cool!” Dewey pointed two finger guns at her. “I’ve only met a giant squid once so far, but I’m hoping to add a few more to my repertoire over the next few years!”

Goldie ran her fingers through her ponytail and sighed. “You really are Della’s kid, aren’t you?”

“Did you know she was gonna name me Turbo?” Dewey asked excitedly, changing the subject once again. Goldie wondered if he always did that or just during his little interviews. “Apparently Uncle Donald knew about it and still chose Dewford which is totally insane! Turbo! I could’ve been Turbo!”

Goldie raised an eyebrow and let out a short chuckle. “You’re a funny kid.”

“Thanks!”

“Got any other questions for me?” Goldie asked, wondering how long it’d been since she last checked her phone. It felt like an hour but something told her it’d probably only been about ten minutes.

“Well you still didn’t answer my last question,” he answered as he settled back into his chair. “It just seems like you’ve come around a lot more in the past two years than you did ever before so if you’re thinking of marrying Uncle Scrooge and moving into the manor, you should let me and my audience know!”

“That’s a lot of assumptions to make based on a handful of house visits.”

“I’m not hearing a no…” Dewey leaned forward again.

“And you’re also not hearing a yes.” Goldie crossed her arms over her chest and crossed one leg over the other.

“Ahh, always so mysterious, Glittering Goldie O’Gilt!” Dewey said while staring directly at the camera. “Oh, that reminds me! You’re a singer, right? Or you used to be?”

Goldie felt a tiny bit surprised by that question and then a wave of embarrassment for being surprised. “...did Scrooge tell you that?”

“Yeah! And some other stuff. But I wanted to ask you something really important!”

“...which is?”

“I was thinking of reworking the Dewey Dew-Night! theme song and I’d love to get your input! I dunno if you ever did any song writing, but just getting advice from someone else with musical ears would be great for my chances of getting picked up!” Dewey held up his phone. “Can I play it right now or should I just send you a link and you’ll listen to it later?”

Goldie shook her head, realizing she would never be able to predict where this kid went. He was definitely not like Scrooge in that department. “Aaaand that’s my cue to leave.” She finally stood up, brushed non-existent dust off her pants, and gave Dewey and his camera a little wave before moving towards the bedroom door. She enjoyed this little waste of time (for the most part), but she had no interest in listening to some loud screechy theme song or answering questions about her days in Dawson.

“Aunt Goldie, wait!” Dewey shouted, hopping over his desk and rushing to grab her hand before she could leave the room.

She sighed and looked down at him. “What?”

“I just wanted to say that, well. If you did wanna come around more and hang out or move in or join the family or whatever...I think that’d be cool.”

Goldie blinked down at his genuine little expression and felt a tiny bit of heat come to her cheeks and her heart. “...that’s...very sweet of you to say, Turbo.”

Dewey’s eyes lit up as Goldie made her way out the door and he did a little butt wiggling dance in celebration. He pulled out his phone and quickly texted Louie to ask for Goldie’s number. He stopped in front of his camera and posed. “I’m sure she’ll listen to the theme song later today, probably just wanted a nice quiet spot in the house to really feel the music. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say. It’s gonna be Turbo-tacular!”

#ducktales #goldie o'gilt #dewey duck #scroldie #not your aunt #fic #fics #all i ever want is dewey to interview goldie

42 notes · View notes

hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Harringrove April Day 16- Nostalgia

On just about every flat surface in their mansion, Steve’s mother had put out some fancy Tiffany light fixture.

Steve’s room was the only place in the whole house he got to have any day in the interior design, and his lamp, well it didn’t quite have a stained glass shade, or ornate detailing to fancy up the mansion, his happens to be an old nursery lamp from when he was six and still had a themed bedroom.

At the peak of his too cool for school teenager bullshit, he’d attempted to throw it out, sent it away to the curb with a bag of stuffed animals he claimed he didn’t need anymore, but the very same night he started having nightmares again, so he scrambled to get it back before the raccoons found it first.

That dusty old lamp had saved him from countless nights spent awake and terrified, and he wasn’t one to say he was ashamed of that.

Except, now Billy Hargrove, the pinnacle of badass, is in his room, and there it is, still plugged in on the nightstand.

Of all things too, it couldn’t have just been a generic race car lamp or something he could play off as not really being for kids, it had to be stupid Bambi.

There’s a story behind it, that when he was a toddler, his first venture out of Indiana was to go see his gramma over in Maryland, and, after one look at his big brown eyes and his fluffy brown hair, she immediately nicknamed him Bambi.

After that the name just sort of stuck with him, his parents using it when they wanted on his good side, to make up for forgetting his birthday, or as an apology for leaving him alone so long the babysitter left, so of course his mom thought it would be adorable if his bedroom was themed around it.

Somewhere in a dusty corner of the attic, he still had the curtains and the quilt and the wall hangings, and under his bed was a pillow embroidered with his name and a picture of the clumsy cartoon deer made by his gramma. And of course, there was the brightly shining lamp.

He would never admit that he kept them there for when he was at his most frightened, clutching the pillow to his chest during a nightmare, or wrapping the soft material of the tiny old quilt around his shoulders when he felt an imaginary pair of eyes watching him.

Because Steve had seen some shit, he felt that after witnessing a ten-foot tall faceless monster come through the ceiling and try to kill him, and having a herd of baby versions of that same monster charge at him with nothing but a baseball bat to protect himself and a group of defenseless children, he had earned the right to use a damn nursery lamp in his bedroom.

But, that ass-backwards swell of pride at still using his childhood comfort items at 19 years old is definitely crushed by the fact that, after being in his room for a grand total of five minutes, that’s immediately what Billy drifts to.

A drunken apology at a New Year’s party might have made up for the concussion and proved he was probably not going to beat his face in again, but it didn’t change the fact that he was in Steve’s bedroom with the edge of the printed lampshade pinched between his fingers, and a contemplative look on his face.

It was a little while after their truce was reached, that Billy just started showing up at the Harringtons’ door unannounced. Sometimes it was to borrow Steve’s first aid kit. Sometimes he’d steal some of his weed. Once he’d come over just to watch something on Steve’s TV. Whatever his reason, Steve had let him in every time.

In this particular instance, it had been Steve who had called Billy, because he had a math project and an essay due first thing tomorrow morning, and Nancy was too busy to help him.

At first he’d considered just not getting the work done, but he decided Billy would do. He was smart enough that the co-ed teacher in the math class they shared had begged him to switch to the advanced classes, so Steve figured his help wouldn’t be so bad.

But his desk where all of his school stuff is is upstairs in his bedroom, where he’s left out the dumb baby lamp, and of course that would be exactly what Billy goes straight for. Steve feels himself start to panic a little, unsure if he could trust Billy’s reaction, and convincing himself that Billy might beat his ass for being a fragile little fairy or something.

It never comes, Billy just sits down all casual on the bed next to Steve, pulling one of his legs up so he could cross it over his knee, and nods over at the lamp again. “Wish I still had something from when I was little.”

The weight of the entire universe is lifted from Steve’s chest, knowing that Billy isn’t going to tear his head off. He lets out a sharp breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Yeah?”

Billy nods and looks down, fidgeting with the pendant he always wore around his neck. “My dad threw everything out. All I have is one little picture of my mom.”

Steve knew he lived with his step-mom, but had never even thought about what happened to Billy’s real mother. He realizes the pendant was probably a locket, the very one that holds the aforementioned picture, and asks “Can I see it?”

It looks like Billy has to think about it, as he keeps twisting the locket between his fingers, before he nods and opens it. Steve leans towards him, putting his hand up under it and holding it in his palm, straining to see the tiny, aged picture.

Even though he’s never seen this woman, it makes Steve incredibly sad, seeing her little face all worn out in that locket around her son's neck. He wonders if she was dead, or if maybe she’d lost custody for some reason, or if maybe she had just left, but whatever happened, when his eyes flicker back up to Billy’s face, the tears shining in his eyes and the way he avoids his gaze, he knows better than to ask.

Steve lets the locket fall and watches Billy snap it shut quickly, and he realizes he has no idea what the right thing to say is.

What he wants to say is that he’s sorry, for him losing his mother and having nothing but one yellowed and tear stained picture to remember her by, but that seems too much like prying, somehow not really appropriate.

Instead, he remembers what Billy said about his dad throwing his stuff out and says, “Your dad must be a real asshole, huh?”

Billy scoffs and blinks away the last of the tears in his eyes. “You’ve got no idea, Harrington.” There’s a long awkward pause, until Billy asks, “You know how I’m always coming over here with like, all kinds of shit wrong with me?”

Steve thinks he knows where this was going. “Sure.”

Chewing on the corner of his nail, Billy takes a moment to get his thoughts together, his eyes flitting nervously across the room, focusing on pretty much anything but Steve, mostly the picture frame behind him. “I lied. It’s not, like, fights or whatever I say. At least not with other kids.”

Steve himself was no stranger to conversations like these, he himself had to confess something of a similar calibre to Nancy, when they were still dating, because his father had come home from a business trip pissed off about something, and slapped him across the face just a little too hard. The sturdy silver ring that he wore on his middle finger had split the skin on Steve’s cheek, and he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to cover his tracks.

Admitting to it out loud was one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, so he decides he won’t make Billy say it. Maybe they weren’t on the best of terms, only here to do homework or whatever, but if he was going to open up about this, he definitely wasn’t going to make him experience that same humiliation he had.

“Is it your dad? That does that to you?” Nancy hadn’t been kind enough to spare him, forcing him to tell her once that the scar he so proudly sported wasn’t actually from a fist fight with Tommy like he said, and he wouldn’t do the same to Billy.

In lieu of a response though, Billy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, his hands starting to shake ever so subtly, and Steve knows he’s got to keep pressing. “Do you need help? I can call the chief-“

“No.” Billy shakes his head and makes eye contact with Steve for the first time since he started talking. “Cops only make it worse.”

Steve could understand that, had tried once when he was about eight or so, with the assistance of one of the housekeepers, to call the police when his father twisted his arm so far behind his back his shoulder popped out of place, but they wouldn’t dare arrest a public figure like his father, especially not for a little corporal punishment. The first thing they’d asked was what Steve had done wrong, not why his father had felt it fitting to beat on his eight year old for a tiny mistake. He never asked for help again.

“Well is there anything I can do?” Despite their differences and the fact that he only called him here to cheat on his homework, he truly did want to help Billy. Something about repeatedly surviving horrific monster attacks made him a lot more protective of those around him, and now that they were over their dumb pissing contest, Billy was included in that too.

“Think you’ve done enough letting me into your mansion, unless that’s not good enough for your hero complex.” It was a pathetic jab, there was no bite behind his broken tone, and Steve would almost rather have him at his worst than see him so vulnerable and sad.

Steve tries to reason with him softly, “You know it’s not like that, Billy.”

“Do I?” Walls had been put up as Billy made his last ditch efforts to protect himself from being weak in front of Steve. “Cause where I’m sitting, it seems like you get off on charity cases like mine. You tryin to swoop in and save me, King Steve? Feed your ego so you can feel like the savior you were always meant to be?”

He was baiting him, trying to pick a fight so he’d push him away, Steve had seen it all before in himself and wouldn’t fall for it. “Listen. I just want to help you.”

Everything about Billy suddenly seemed to make a whole lot more sense. That whole part animal, tough guy thing was just an act, and Steve knew because he had done essentially the same thing.

Before Nancy Wheeler had taught him to be better, he and Billy really weren’t so different. He’d let high school bullshit bother him, beat up the nerds and fucked all the cheerleaders and mocked anyone lower than him on the social ladder like he was supposed to, but it always made him feel off.

In the end, it had been so easy to get him to the other side, to show him what to do instead, he supposed all he needed was a little push to help him actualize what he already believed.

And then it hits him, in that moment, that this was Billy’s push in the right direction. That he was Billy’s Nancy.

“I don’t expect you to tell me everything and I’m not doing this for me, just,” It became extremely important to him to not set Billy off, to say just the right thing to keep him on the right track. “my door is always open, Billy.”

At first, it seemed to have worked, Billy sat staring at the floor, his lip quivering as he mulled over Steve’s words, but, when he stood abruptly and snatched his leather jacket from where it was draped over the back of Steve’s desk chair, Steve knows he messed up.

“Where are you going?” He stands up fast enough to give himself a head rush while Billy shrugs his jacket back on and yanks the door open.

“Need a smoke.” That’s all he gets before the door slammed in his face, and he hears Billy's heavy boots stomping down the stairs and the sound of him slamming his front door.

He waits with bated breath and tears pricking the corners of his eyes for the sound of Billy’s car starting and tearing out of his driveway, but it never comes.

Still, he feels immensely guilty and selfish and stupid as all hell for not just biting his tongue. He should’ve just fought back, argued with him like was expecting him to instead of trying to be comforting like he was his fucking therapist or something.

Because this was Billy fucking Hargrove, stereotypical meat head bully. Why he even felt the need to help him, other than their similar upbringings and coping mechanisms, or the fact that Billy had obviously been reaching out, hoping for someone to care, was beyond him. Or maybe it really wasn’t, he knew exactly why, he just felt weak and stupid for trying, and especially so for failing.

Apparently he’d been so caught up in his little pity party that he missed the sound of the door opening back up, and didn’t notice Billy had come back until his bedroom door was open.

Steve was so relieved that Billy came back, that he hadn’t pushed him too far or fucked everything up, even if he reeked of too strong cigarettes, and growled at him when he came in, “Don’t we got fucking work to do, Harrington?”

They don’t end up finishing the essay. Steve was hopeless with numbers, and they were too busy goofing off, so the math project didn't get done very quickly. It was okay though, Billy wasn’t much help at all when it came to English anyways.

Steve walks him outside when he has to go, beating a curfew of midnight. He stops on the porch, immediately crossing his arms against the frigid cold of the night air. Billy stops too at his car, his fingers through the handle, and turns around, calling across the yard. “Hey Harrington?”

He hardly waits for Steve’s response, a quick “Yeah?” to tell him, “Thank you.”

There isn’t time for Steve to respond before Billy’s yanking open the door of his Camaro and backing out of the driveway, but he knows he’d still made astronomical progress tonight.

It makes him feel incredibly dumb, laying in his bed that night, illuminated by the warm light of that very same Bambi lamp and trying to put his thoughts of Billy to rest like he was some cheesy teenage girl, but he’s just happy to have found a friend, to have made a difference in somebody’s life, and he knows that on the other side of town, laying in own bed with his locket left open on the pillow beside him, Billy feels the same way.

#harringrove #harringroveapril #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej!#love how I had something completely different planned but ran out of time and had to dig in my drafts for this fic #and it still took me forever to edit it

50 notes · View notes

laddieseddiemunster · 4 years

Text

Pros and Cons of Dating The Lost Boys (Separate)

David

david is definitely the jerk out of the boys, but he’s a good boyfriend. he’s a pretty easy person to talk to when you actually get to know him. he enjoys reading and telling stories and since he’s pretty old he has a lot of tales to tell. david knows all the cool spots in santa carla that have the best view of the whole city. he’ll take you there and let you talk or rant to him for hours. until the sun comes up of course. he’s not a very clingy or cuddly guy in public, but when you’re alone with him he’ll get a little cuddly. he’s not too into pda. not because he gets embarrassed. he’s just not that type of guy. unless a creepy guy starts eyeing you then david’s wrapping his arm around your shoulder, bringing you close to him, so that creep knows you’re taken. since david is the leader of the four boys, you are automatically treated differently. david always tells the others what to do, and since you’re his mate you can too. he had a ‘talk’ with the boys about that. basically just telling them to treat you with respect, and if they don’t, david has the last word in that. you can ask/tell the boys what to do since david allows it, and now it’s just your choice whether or not you decide to use that.

though he’s a great boyfriend, his asshole side comes out every now and then. he gets easily bothered with occasional mood swings. with that problem leads to fights. while fighting david tends to say a lot of things he doesn’t mean. it still hurts like hell though. he knows how to get under people’s skin and tends to use that skill. he regrets everything he says immediately, but he had a hard time admitting he was wrong. david hates having to apologize, even if he knows he was in the wrong. you’re usually the one that has to apologize first and then he will. if he makes you cry during a fight he’ll apologize right away. he hates seeing you cry especially if it’s because of him. unless you started the fight, then he’ll just let out a sigh and leave the room. david hates getting emotional around other people. anger is one thing but no one can see him sad. it makes him feel vulnerable and he can’t stand that feeling. if he ever gets emotional around you he’ll immediately leave the room and collect himself. it can get a bit irritating though. sometimes it could make you feel like he doesn’t trust you enough to show you his real emotions. he reassures you that that’s not the case. david loves you but he can’t let you see him like that.

Dwayne

quietest out of the boys + resting bitch face = very respectful boyfriend? apparently so.

since dwayne is pretty quiet, you were surprised when he made the first move. despite his intimidating appearance, he is actually really sweet. he’s never really had a serious girlfriend since he turned, but he tries his best to be as loving as possible. dwayne isn’t really a cuddly person in public, but when you’re alone with him he likes having you close to him. he didn’t realize how much he missed being held by someone he loved until he met you. it’s like he was missing a piece in his life and he found it when you met him. just for that it’s now a must for him to treat you like a queen. dwayne will take you all around the boardwalk, and win you some stuffed bears. he can’t help but grin whenever he sees you hold the stuffed animal close to you. he’s not much of a talker but he’s a great listener. he lets you talk to him for hours and he’ll pay attention to everything you’re saying. since laddie is like dwayne’s son/little brother, the little guy looked at you like a mother/sister. it’s your decision whether you decide to take on that role, but if you did dwayne would be at a loss for words. if he wasn’t in love with you before he sure is now.

believe it or not but dwayne does have a temper. after so many years of being a vampire, he’s developed some negative feelings inside. mainly insecurities and loneliness. he can’t exactly talk to his brothers about the way he feels so he just keeps it all bottled inside. it usually comes out when you two have a fight. he’s stressed and he hates seeing you mad at him, so it just explodes out of him. his reaction is usually like a toddlers temper tantrum. he’ll start to throw things and punch walls. he’d never lay a hand on you, but that doesn’t stop you from getting scared. if he notices your fear of him, he’ll feel worse then he did before. especially if you leave the cave and run home. he doesn’t have the energy to run after you since he’s so exhausted from his emotions. instead he’ll get on his motorcycle and drive somewhere where he knows he’ll be alone. then he’ll let out all his emotions that he’s keep in all those years. he’s good at hiding his sadness, but only for a certain amount of time. once dwayne is feeling a bit better he’ll ride over to your house. he can’t sleep knowing your upset with him. it might take some effort on his part, but he’ll do anything to get on your good side again. if you accept his apology then he’ll cuddle you all night. especially if he made you cry. if he did he’d feel like the worst boyfriend ever and whisper apologies in your ear while holding you tight. if you don’t accept his apology then he won’t know what to do. without you he might just loose himself.

Paul

does it surprise you that paul made the first move? probably not. he’s pretty confident and the biggest flirt out of all the boys. so when he catcalled you and tried to get you to go with him for the night, let’s just say it wasn’t the best first impression. okay okay, he’s a handful, but once you get to know him he’s actually really sweet. paul is a huge fan of hard rock and a little bit of everything so you’re going to know all kinds of music new or old. he’s really playful and will always try his best to keep a smile on your face at all times. he steals you a lot of stuff like jewelry and exspensive clothes just to spoil you. of course, he likes to get spoiled too. in more ways than one. he’s very very handsy. he won’t keep his hands off of you even at the boardwalk. pda? who cares! he sure doesn’t. paul tries his best to spend all the time he has with you at night. even if it means just watching you sleep. he just enjoys your presence even if you aren’t speaking to him. he’s a big jokester. he just wants to make you laugh. he’ll pour as many jokes as he can just to see that smile on your face. don’t be surprised if he throws in a less appropriate joke every now and then. and last but certainly not least, he has a pretty dirty mind. but, that shouldn’t be a surprise.

let’s be honest, sometimes paul is a dumbass. he doesn’t mean to be. he just doesn’t always think before he speaks. he’ll say the wrong thing at the wrong time and it could ruin your whole mood. the worst thing is is he doesn’t get why you’re so upset with him afterwards. it was just a joke right? instead of apologizing he justs starts acting moody right along with you. and there’s a 9/10 chance that that’ll lead to a fight. paul just doesn’t use his head sometimes so he just thinks you’re on your period or something. which is another wrong thing to say. since paul is pretty emotional himself, there’s a lot of yelling during fights. even if the fight was something minor. he just gets riled up really easily. he’d never hurt you, but sometimes his vampire face comes out during fights. he doesn’t mean for it to happen, but in the moment he’s just too upset to notice. if you get scared then he’ll notice. he’ll feel a bit guilty but he’s so into the fight that he’s still yelling. he hates fighting with you, but he just doesn’t know when to stop. if paul sees that you’re genuinely hurt then he’ll stop. he hates the feeling of knowing that he hurt you. even if he didn’t mean it. once he comes to his senses, he’ll apologize with a hug and a kiss on your forehead. and probably some make up sex afterwards.

Marko

he’s got the face of an angel, but the mind of the devil. marko is the least predictable of the boys, so you were surprised to see that this baby faced boy with curls could be a bloodsucker. all the other boys stick to one tactic which makes it easy to point out their actions. not marko. he could be chaotic one second and calm and collected the next. it’s definitely intimidating, but for you he keeps it to a minimum. the last thing marko wants to do is scare you. he just wants to have fun. he’d take you on all the roller coasters on the boardwalk, and tease you if you get scared. not as dirty minded as paul but he still is. pda? what’s that? he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. if he wants to kiss you, he’ll kiss you. if he wants to hold he close, he’ll hold you from behind. if he wants to grab your ass, okay, he’ll make an exception and put his hand in your back pocket. marko is the biggest risk taker and will even do things that could possibly get him killed. but he’s a vamp so he can’t die all that easily right? if you still live with your parents he’s going to sneak in all the time. he doesn’t care if they’re there or not. he wants in he’ll find a way in. if you kick him out then he’ll whine and knock on your window until you let him back in.

like david, marko has mood swings. bad mood swings. he could go from his happy normal self to getting furious or something small. he could drop his food on the floor and he’s pissed for the whole night. every relationship has struggles and fights, but with marko it’s like a ticking time bomb. he could blow up any second. he wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you, but he’s punching and destroying everything else. every now and then a fight starts and every one of them is different. sometimes it’s you yelling at him and he’s just staring at you like a brick wall. other times it’s him yelling over something stupid and you’re the brick wall. if you’re both yelling at each other than it usually ends bad. you two probably won’t talk for a couple days until one of you apologizes. if you were the cause then you’re gonna have to apologize and the same goes for him. if marko started the fight at first he’ll just mope around until he comes to his senses. he hates making you feel sad or angry so he’ll apologize after a short amount of time. marko can be a little protective sometimes. he doesn’t like anyone touching you even his brothers. especially paul. if some random dude starts flirting with you on the boardwalk marko is ready to kill him. his fight or flight attitude kicks in and he’ll start throwing punches immediately. god forbid if he’s in a bad mood and someone catcalls you. marko will skin them alive. literally.

#the lost boys #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko #the lost boys 1987 #frog brothers #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys

272 notes · View notes

lassieposting · 3 years

Note

💘💘💘💘 + ghasdug

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they first met and how

So Skug says they stowed away on the same ship, but this is...not exactly true.

He stowed away on that ship, because he was running away from home and he was a snobby little lordling who'd never had to fend for himself a day in his life, so the furthest ahead he'd actually thought to plan was "they won't want to turn around and drop me off once they're underway".

Ghastly was not stowed away at any point during that trip. Ghastly was signed on for the journey as a deckhand, because Ghastly's mother told him he needed to, and it had to be that particular ship. Ghastly gets seasick, and did not want to go to sea in the slightest. But Ghastly's mother has visions and so Ghastly does as he is told. Apparently there was something important waiting for him on that ship.

Anyway Skug pops out once he thinks they're far enough away from shore that they'll leave him be rather than take him back to port, and he is incredibly mistaken. The captain is in favour of turning him around right there and then, because he's clearly some rich lord's brat, and whoever his father is will probably pay handsomely for his safe return. Ghastly manages to talk the ship's crew into letting him stay on, provided he pulls his weight like the rest of them.

Needless to say, even before they're attacked by pirates, that voyage is a rude awakening for poor Skug, and good lord does Ghastly hear all about it. He has blisters. His feet hurt. This shirt was expensive and now it's all sweaty. His hair is in his eyes all the time. He's tired. The guy in the next bunk snores. Some of these people look like they have lice. He didn't realise he'd be doing manual labour, this is servant stuff, how dare they.

Ghastly does. Not realise at that point what he has let himself in for.

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

Poor Ghastly gets to pine for years. Baby Skug isn't a great boyfriend. He's less invested - he loves Ghastly, but they have two totally different outlooks.

Ghastly is ugly. He's always been ugly. He's got a face he believes only his mother could love. He's never believed he'd find someone who saw past that or loved him regardless. So as soon as he gets Skug into bed, he's over the moon and ready to commit. He's like 17, and would absolutely settle down there and then given half a chance.

Skug, on the other hand, was a weird-looking child who only recently grew into an attractive adolescent and he is loving it. For the first time in his life, girls are noticing him. He doesn't want to settle down, he wants to play the field and sow some wild oats and have fun. So there are periods of exclusivity with Ghastly, interspersed with periods where Skug basically drops him to chase after the latest pretty bit of skirt.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

Ghastly's smitten by the time they make it back to Ireland - Skug is a bit soft and allergic to hard work and a pain in the arse, but he's flashy and charismatic and funny and pays attention to him without gawking at his face (past the initial "good god, what happened to you?") - but Skug is well and truly settled into living with Ghastly's family by the time he actually gives Ghas the come-on.

where their first date was and what it was like

They went to the local tavern and got drunk, and then rode home in the pouring rain once it kicked them out at closing time.

When they got home, Ghastly's parents had long since gone to bed, but that wasn't necessarily unusual - once Skug, who has a considerable allowance, is old enough to start drinking, Saoirse institutes a rule that if they're not home by the time she and her husband turn in for the night, she'll leave blankets in the barn and they can sleep there instead. She's not having them barging in, wasted, at all hours of the day and night, waking her up after a hard day's work.

So they put the horses away and give them a quick rub down, and Ghastly is trying to look anywhere but Skug because Skug's shirt has gone kind of see-through and poor Ghastly is an awkward, horny teenage boy, but he keeps shooting him these furtive glances over the horse's back and Skug notices because Skug notices everything and lowkey teases him about it. "Want me to sit for a portrait? It'll last longer," sort of teasing, and Ghastly tries to laugh along but he's also vibrant red because he's been caught staring, so obviously Skug realises something's up

And he's precisely as tactful about it as he ever is about anything, and jokes, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted me," and Ghastly's ears burn and he doesn't deny it quick enough and now Skug's eyebrows are inching towards his hairline and Ghastly panics because like, he's ugly, Skug is going to be disgusted or laugh at him and he can't cope with either, so he just? Freezes?

But like. Skug was a weird-looking, unfortunate child who very recently grew into an attractive adolescent, so he fucking thrives on attention. So his response to this awkward not-quite-a-confession is actually a moment of silence while he mulls this new information over (this feels like an eternity to poor Ghastly) followed by an early attempt at using The Hot Voice and, "If you want me, have me."

So, they end up having sex in the hayloft on the blankets Ghastly's mom left out for them. Ghastly has never even been kissed and doesn't admit that he has no idea what he's doing until he realises Skug is expecting him to take the lead. He also blurts that he loves Skug when he nuts, so like. It's your typical painfully embarrassing virginity loss.

It can't be all bad though, because Skug's up for doing it again.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

So in my endgame-ghasdug AU, they get back together post-TDOTL. Ghastly survives being stabbed, but the blade nicked his spinal cord, so he's in a wheelchair for quite a while, and then has to do A Lot of physical therapy to relearn how to walk. Skug shows up at the hospital/facility where he's recovering every day unless there's an emergency, because Ghastly is very depressed and struggling with survivor's guilt over Anton and doesn't see the point in doing his physio because it hurts and he's exhausted and he shouldn't be alive anyway. And Skug annoys him into doing it, mostly by heckling him from the other side of the room, because he's not great at the whole emotional support thing. Ghastly will mutter, "Christ, I want to hit you," and Skug will tell him, "Well, if you come over here to do it I won't even duck." And if Ghastly gets his ass up and uses the walking frame support thing to cross the room, well, then Skug will take a punch like a man and be happy about it because Ghastly walked.

They also talk a lot during this period. Ghastly feels like shit, and he reminisces a lot about the good old days and how he never saw Ravel's betrayal coming and memories he has of Anton, and sometimes that veers into memories they share from when they were young men. And Skug, at this point, is old enough and has been through enough to admit that he wasn't great to Ghastly when they were boys. He was flighty and selfish and high-maintenance, and he would've hated to be treated the way he treated Ghastly. And he tells him that, at one point - that he's sorry, and if he could go back and do it differently, he would, assuming Ghastly was daft enough to be willing to put up with him a second time.

And Ghastly laughs and tells him, "I'd still have you now, you stupid bastard."

who proposes first

Ghastly. They're 19/20. Skug thinks he's joking.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

Neither - they don't announce it, but it's not exactly a secret either. Ghastly's parents notice pretty much straight away, but other than a few parental pointers on what is and isn't appropriate, it's not really a topic of conversation.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

Skug's sister Confelicity accepts the first proposal she gets at the age of 16, because she's desperate to get out of their parents' house and away from their toxic relationship and controlling behaviour. Their father disapproves and refuses to attend the wedding (and, of course, their mother is not allowed her own opinion), and Carver is out of the country, so Skug stands in to a) pay and b) give away the bride. He takes Ghastly for moral support, because he doesn't like most of his relatives and also doesn't like the groom (Thurid Guild - their relationship doesn't improve when Confelicity divorces him a few years later to marry a baronet). While they're watching the couple say their vows, Ghastly murmurs, "We should get married."

Skug is right in the middle of his hoe phase and does not realise Ghastly's serious.

who’s more dominant

Generally, Skug. He is one hell of a force of personality and Ghastly does get steamrollered quite a bit, although he does eventually learn how to say no. Skug always gets things his way, always does whatever he likes and be damned to the consequences, and Ghastly is always there with a handful of the back of his shirt, pulling his ass out of whatever fire he started.

In bed, though, it's Ghastly.

how into pda they are

As teenagers, Ghastly's mother has to reprimand them occasionally for being too all over each other, but teenagers be rabidly horny. As grown men, they're just sort of casually affectionate. Comfortable with each other. When they're relaxing in camp after a day of travelling, Skug will lean against Ghastly to read a book or put his head on Ghastly's leg while they chat. They can have a silent conversation just by reading each other's faces. They'll nudge each other when something reminds them of an in-joke. They have that easy intimacy that comes with having known each other forever.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

As boys, Ghastly has a particular flowery meadow he likes to take Skug to for picnics, because he's a romantic. Skug at that age is considerably less so, and more interested in whether they can screw there without getting caught.

In the modern day, they go to see old movies. Ghastly was very into the early films of the late 1910s and the 1920s, after the war finished. He associates them with a time where he finally got to just set up his shop and live the life he always wanted to live. Skug hasn't seen most of Ghastly's favourites, because he spent that period of history fighting the truce and then spiralling into a black hole of trauma and misery, but he got very into the noir detective era to the point that he's still clinging to the aesthetic like 80 years later, so they'll alternate who picks the movies and catch each other up on their favourites.

who’s more protective

They've both spent their fair share of time fretting in the chair beside a hospital bed. After Ravel's betrayal, though, it's Skug. Ghastly retires as soon as he's considered fit to make the decision, and decides he wants to go back to Dublin to reopen his shop and just sort of try and forget Roarhaven exists. And Skug is absolutely adamant that he gets to do it. There's a lot of interest in Ghastly for a while - groundbreaking healing magic was used to fix what should've been a permanent injury, people want to know if he suspected Ravel, they want his advice on how to rebuild after Devastation Day. He's more approachable than China, and a lot more popular. But he can't cope with it all, and anyone who tries to hassle him in Dublin will have Skug to deal with.

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

The first night Skug stays at Ghastly's family home. Ghastly is an only child, and his family isn't wealthy - their house doesn't have a guest room. It's sleep with Ghastly or sleep on the floor, and Little Lord Priss isn't going to be sleeping on the floor.

Honestly, he's relieved there isn't a spare room for him. He's never really slept alone before. Like most children of very wealthy families back then, he grew up in a nursery with his four oldest brothers and sisters, and when he was too old to live with The Children, he shared a room, first with Carver and then with Francis. The thought of being on his own in a strange house is pretty intimidating.

He moves to his own bed as soon as they get him one, but he stays in Ghastly's room, and he's perfectly happy with that.

(Ghastly is less happy. He's very much crushing on Skug and he's terrified he'll say something incriminating in his sleep.)

who steals whose clothes and how often

Skug gets to steal Ghastly's clothes for a year or two after he moves in with Ghastly's family. After that, they're built too differently. Ghastly is built like a brick shithouse of muscle. Skug is lean and toned and tall. When they're younger, he can more or less wear Ghastly's clothes as a nightshirt, but after Skug's final growth spurt, Ghastly's clothes don't sit right on him at all, and he's gotten too vain and fashion-conscious by that point to just wear them anyway.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

Ghastly is fussy about his tea. Plenty of milk, two and a half sugars, leave the teabag in.

Skug just inhales it black, which Ghastly thinks is an abomination.

if they ever have any children together

Ghastly thanks his lucky stars every day that they have a 0% chance of accidentally spawning a skuglet. One of him is plenty.

He's very involved with Skugbab when he comes along, though. He's godfather and a very present uncle.

if they have any special pet names for each other

Skug doesn't do nicknames, and would rather not be given them, either. Ghastly gets away with "Skul", primarily because he's the only one who's known Skug since he was all of 16, but also because "Skulduggery" is a mouthful when all your blood is rushing to your downstairs brain and it's his own damn fault that he didn't think of that before he picked it.

if they ever split up and / or get back together

So many times. They're on and off again more frequently than Saracen's clothes. Every time Skug spots someone new, he ends it with Ghastly to pursue them, and then comes back when he loses interest or it doesn't work out.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

Ghastly's family home is an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Dublin. It's simple, but cosy, and Ghastly's dad is incredibly houseproud, so it's very well-looked-after. Skug prefers it by miles to his own palacial, but cold and unwelcoming, family home, and he tries to replicate the vibe later on with Wifey. It's pretty small compared to what he's used to, so it sort of feels like they're all living on top of each other, and he has to get used to not having any servants and drawing his own water to heat his own bath etc, but he's loved there, and that makes all the difference.

what their names are in each other’s phones

They're both old-ass men about some things, and this is one of them. So no emojis or anything - they're "Ghastly Bespoke" and "Skul". How romantic.

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Ghastly wakes up first: he's used to rising early to get started on his chores. Skug is absolutely not a morning person at this point in his life and Ghastly frequently has to turf his ass out of bed by pulling his quilt off/dumping water on him/yelling in his ear.

Reversed with modern day ghasdug: Ghastly still wakes at a sensible time, but damn it he left the army a century ago and now he likes a lie in. Skug never really stopped being a soldier and still has most of his military habits, so he's up with the sun.

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

Ghastly is the big spoon. Skug likes to be Held.

who hogs the bathroom

Skug. The boy is vain as all fuck. There is a grand total of one cloudy looking-glass in Ghastly's family's home and Skug spends a good chunk of the morning hogging it to fuss with his hair and peacock at his reflection. Ghastly is under strict orders Never to mention this to Fletcher.

#skulduggery pleasant #ghasdug #sp headcanons #long post

12 notes · View notes

tsunchani · 3 years

Text

heeseung - strangers

࿐ྂ (@enhypenwriters collaboration)

࿐ྂ word count: 5.8k+

࿐ྂ pairing: stranger!heeseung x stranger!reader

࿐ྂ genre: PG-15, strangers to lovers!au and 1990's!au

࿐ྂ warning: a bit sad. heeseung first relationship! lee heeseung fans line up!

࿐ྂ credits:

special thanks to...

1. lovely twinnie @chaoticdeobi! thank you love for being my beta-reader! my twinnie was meant to expand it, i am owning the storyline! + she falls for heeseung.

2. bong-vely sissy @jung-snoopy-woo, thank you for liking the story and encourage me with your lovely words!

࿐ྂ pritty's note: i am sorry, it’s delayed i know T_T!

so this is for you guys! i hope you like it, please comment and reblog! enjoy the story love!

23rd June, 1991.

“Yo, Heeseung, my man!” The mentioned lad grinned, approaching his campus best friend, Jay, and greeting him with a high five. Heeseung smiled widely, delighted to meet his friend even if it was probably the last time he’d see him in person, in a very long time.

After getting transferred to one of Australia’s universities, it was only appropriate for Jay to host a farewell party, at least.

“Yo Jay, my handsome man!”

“Yeah, I am the handsome man here!” He replied, opening his arms and acknowledging the compliment, although there wasn’t a hint of conceit in his voice.

“Well, I mean, girls are all over you.” Heeseung jokes, right hand inside his pocket as he slung the other on Jay's shoulder.

“Come on now, we both know who’s fooling around, heeseung. Girls are all over you.” Bringing his wine glass to his mouth, he sipped on the cola and savored the flavor lingering on his lips and tongue.

Heeseung chuckled, then turning his head to glance at the waitress holding a tray with drinks placed on it. Heeseung didn’t miss the way her eyes were already fixed on his figure. He grabbed the cola smoothly from the tray when she passed by him, without daring to make eye contact with her. He didn’t want another girl outside the campus to be all over him. He had enough people swarming over for his attention, and he definitely did not want to be held accountable for any future heartbreaks he didn’t mean to make.

People. All over him. Everyday.

Heeseung had never dated; he always refused when his friends set him up on blind dates. Many have tried and failed, attempting to figure out how to set him up, but never succeeded. And so they simply gave up.

Jay opened his mouth, only to close it back again when Heeseung pointed his index finger at him, knowing he knew what Jay wanted to say.

“I haven’t said anything!”

“I know what you wanted to say. Just shut it.”

Jay rolled his eyes along with a shake of his head, shrugging and muttering, “If you say so.”

He takes a sip of his drink again.

Heesung changed the topic, and it didn’t take long until the conversation between them drifted well. Soon, and before they knew it, Jay’s girlfriend chirped in, discoursing with them as well.

Soon enough, their conversation went wild; there’s laughing all around, talking about school stuff, the hilarious moments they had, reminiscing the moments they’ve had with their other friends just in an attempt to bring back nostalgia. Then, before Heeseung knew it again, the issue about relationships had resurfaced.

While it was nothing detrimental to him, Heeseung still turned away and tried not to listen to it. Deep inside, he knew where the topic where Jay and his girlfriend were heading to. So instead, he tried to distract himself by looking at the people around him one by one, trying to recognize the familiar faces from the campus.

Of course. Jay was a sociable person so he invited people that he knew, including his brother and his sister’s friends. Being a ‘known guy’ on and off campus sure had its perks.

Just when he wanted to rejoin the conversation of Jay and his lover, he caught sight of you, in your dazzling glory, from across the room. Heeseung, stunned on his spot, observed you for a whole minute, inwardly hoping he did not look like a weird stalker as of the moment. Then, his brain went outright blank after hearing your laugh from a distance, then finally seeing your pearly smile.

He felt disoriented, like he’s petrified and doesn’t know what to do next.

All Heeseung knew was that your friend was laughing, followed by you with the topic that she had brought up. Then, to his surprise, you turned around, accidentally making eye contact with just the man who was watching you. That lasted for a brief moment, for in an instant, you were back to laughing around with your friend, your voice seemingly growing louder by the second you get more amused.

Beautiful, Heeseung thought. Your hand covered the wide smile on your lips, and yet he couldn’t bear to take his eyes off of you.

Didn’t he just tell Jay to shut up about relationships? About potential lovers? But, why did he suddenly feel like he wants to listen to your laugh all day, wants to make you smile for as long as he could, have you in his arms as you rejoice in the euphoria of his love? That isn’t what falling in love feels like, isn’t it? It can’t be.

Heeseung surprised himself when he took a step the moment your friend walked away. He was shy, of course he was, but then you stood alone, hand gently placed on top of your elbow, waiting for somebody to come and entertain you. Then you looked back at Heeseung’s spot again, heart skipping a beat when you made eye contact with him for the second time tonight. And with the way you chewed on your bottom lip shyly before looking away, it was enough for Heeseung to know that you were merely waiting for him to make the first move.

He was about to take a step, then he backed away again. He couldn’t just approach you like that… can he? He probably needed some kind of backup or bridge to get to know you.

But as if the heavens heard his scrambled thoughts, it was thanks to destiny that Jay’s sister just happened to walk by in front of him.

“Hey, Dini.” Heeseung caught her arm. She jerked her head as she munched on her snack.

“Whot?” She asked with muffled words, cheeks resembling that of a chipmunk.

“D-d-do you know that girl?” Dini followed where Heeseung was pointing to, shy eyes barely looking at your figure, who stood stiffly on the same spot, unmoving. Dini chuckled and turned to look at Heeseung.

“So, you could fall in love, Mr. Lee.” Dini eyed the brunette man beside her, smirking as she took notice of the way his eyes clung to your face.

“Oh shut it, Park. Just help me get to know her.” Heeseung hissed, embarrassed with her teasing.

“Oof, nice mouth, Lee.” Dini mocked shock while smirking at the flustered man. Heeseung, who seemed unfazed, only glared at her.

“What?” She blinked.

Seconds later, Dini merely rolled her eyes before she walked ahead of Heeseung, lifting and wiggling her index finger as a signal for him to follow her lead.

“C’mon Lee.”

Heeseung's eyes lit up as he followed the little Park. His heartbeat started to race the closer he got to you. Then, Dini stopped to call your name, to catch your attention. Heeseung almost clumsily bumped into Dini’s back like a lost little child.

He regained composure the moment you turned your head, hair flipping back as you looked at their direction with a smile. Heeseung’s heart, now unpredictable, thudded like crazy against his chest as beads of sweat rolled down his temple and gathered on his palms.

“y/n, this is Heeseung. Jake’s best friend. Heeseung, this is y/n, my friend and Rina’s sister.”

Heeseung instantly extended his hand to you, shyly enough for you to know that he’s quite hesitant as you are. Slowly, you enclosed your hand in his in a handshake.

You had to admit, even you cannot look into his beautiful eyes.

The moment your hand touched his, he felt sparks sparkling inside his stomach and his mind instantly went crazy. His breath became shaky, though he still tried his best to give you a smile.

“Hi, y/n. Glad to meet you.” Your ears and the stars in your eyes perked up when a manly yet cute, soft, voice came out of his lips and called your name. Deciding to lift your head, your gaze then met the galaxy in his eyes. Your heart raced against your chest again, like a teenager with a clumsy little crush, your skin crawling and tingling from head to toe. But then you tried your best to conceal your shyness, and gave him a smile.

“Hi, Heeseung, I’m glad to meet you.” At that moment, Heeseung was already smiling from ear to ear.

Thoughts started to fill his mind, and suddenly, he thought that maybe having one more person fall for him wouldn’t seem to be too bad after all— but rather what he somehow wanted. With both of you standing there, hands still clasping each other’s, you shyly looked away as Dini cleared her throat.

“Excuse me lovebirds. Don’t wanna be a third wheel here.” Dini said with a faux annoyed voice, glancing at Heeseung with a smirk on her face.

“Start your move, Lee.” She whispered just as she patted his shoulder before passing by him completely.

As Heeseung withdrew his hand, you shyly tucked stray strands of hair behind your ear. From here, everything would be alright.

After all, all it took was for you to meet Heeseung, a mere stranger a few moments ago, and yet you don’t know why you want to believe in love again. But it’s special, isn’t it?

It must be.

Heeseung had his head buried into his hand, fingers brushing over his features as he sighed. He sat beside the home telephone, the wind blowing harshly from outside the open window as if to boo him.

24th June, 1991.

The whole day, he’d been thinking about stuff, and it wasn’t exactly one you would ever want to hear. Why?

“What’s her name again?”

“I forgot.”

“Lee heeseung, you idiot!”

“Says you!”

And he couldn’t believe it himself. After a whole night of talking, and maybe even flirting, he still forgot your name.

Dating mustn't really be for him.

No. More like, falling in love really isn’t for him.

But then, it might be too early to actually declare anything, right?

As if the lightbulb above Heeseung’s head lit up, he lifted his head, backtracking the events that had happened in the party. Dini left, you both began to talk, hours passed, you were both delirious, he was borderline drunk, so Jay came in to rescue his friend from embarrassing himself, and then you waved goodbye, he started babbling, and so to shut him up… Jay slipped something into his palm.

That’s it.

Heeseung stood up and ran into his room. Taking a small paper in his hand, he ran back to the living room, grabbing the telephone and began punching the numbers written on the paper.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Heeseung placed the paper beside the telephone, still anxiously eyeing the number, praying it’s your home’s phone number and not some prank. It continued ringing, until on the seventh ring, the phone was finally picked up.

“Hello?” —came from the other line. Heeseung’s ears perked up in a mix of surprise and embarrassment. It’s not your voice, it’s a man’s voice. And if this was not your phone number, he swore to himself he’d pummel Jay for it.

“Hello, Mr., This is Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. I’m looking for, um— is this, um—”

“Are you perhaps… looking for y/n?”

When the familiar name left the man’s mouth, Heeseung’s eyes widened, and he found himself inhaling a shaky breath.

“Y-yes, sir. That’s her name.” Heeseung mumbled, blinking blankly while he licked his lips anxiously.

“Alright,” He said, and then there’s a plop from the other line. Heeseung bit his lip and anxiously bounced his legs, hoping he wasn’t too late to finally hit a score.

On the other side of the line, you sat peacefully atop your bed, nibbling on the crown of the pen in your hand— brows drawn into a furrow.

Something about the prose you wrote didn’t seem right.

“y/n, honey!” Called your dad, his voice muffled from the other side of your door.

“Yeah, dad?” You replied without removing your gaze from your little notebook. When he didn’t respond, you looked at the door for a few seconds. Still nothing.

Sighing, you slipped your slippers on, dragging your feet to approach the door.

“Yeah, daddy?” Opening the door and poking your head out from its crack, you turned your head to face your dad’s distinct figure. With the phone in between his shoulder and ear, it was his turn to turn to you, jerking his head towards the phone on the table.

“Heeseung.” He mouthed, and so your eyebrows jerked up reflexively.

“Heeseung?” You repeated softly, blinking as you closed the door behind you and approached your father. Softly, you took it from his hand, sitting on the little couch just beside the table.

Just before you were about to say something, you glanced at your father, who chuckled and generously urged you on, that it’s okay for you to talk to him. Slowly, you placed the phone beside your ear.

“Hello?” Your voice was a little shaky, and the fact that you know very well it was obvious made blood rush to your cheek. Luckily, Heeseung didn’t seem to mind.

“Hey, y/n, it’s Heeseung.”

And oh god, do you feel butterflies at the sound of his voice. Shyly, you tucked stray strands of hair behind your ear.

“Hi, Heeseung.” You greeted him right before chewing on your lower lip. Like a teenager in the peak stage of delirious puppy love, your fingers found its way onto the ringed wires of the phone, and you started to twirl it repeatedly around your finger in giddiness. “What’s up?”

“So, uh… I—” He paused, and with the way he repeatedly hissed at himself, you bit on your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing. “I just— ugh, fine, I will go straight to the point.”

He gulped, and then there was silence on the other side of the line for a while. You heard his stuttering, the loud shaky breaths that he kept on taking. He sounded like he was in the peak state of panic, and when the silence grew longer, your brows slowly started to furrow.

“Heeseung? Are you there? Are you o—”

“Go on a date with me?”

Pause.

And then, you could only break into a wide grin.

A mix of words began to flow into your mind, and even though it seemed to be coming in out of excitement and shock, it made sense.

You just know that after the phone call, your notebook will be filled with everything you’ve never thought of. And by the end of the night, your prose will become the most phenomenal one you’ve written yet.

Heeseung still couldn’t believe he was standing in front of your front door, because he asked you out on a date.

1st July, 1991.

He asked you out.

On a date.

Normally, he wouldn’t have given himself so much praise because he wasn’t conceited, but even he himself could not believe it. He finally asked somebody out, not the other way around, and he was pretty damn sure he’s got the hots for you.

And to top all that, you said yes.

The car key clanged against his ring and the jittery boy couldn’t help but slightly jolt on his spot. Upon hearing footsteps come closer to the door, he reached up to make sure his shirt was properly buttoned. The front door opened and he quickly tucked his shirt a bit out from his pants, then inwardly praying you were into that kind of style.

“Bye mum, bye dad!” Rung your voice as you opened the door, giving your smiley parents a wave before finally facing the stupefied man on your doorstep.

Do something.

Lee Heeseung, do some freaking thing.

It was what his mind was telling him to do, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Heeseung stood frozen on his spot, adoring your stylish get-up and the equally shy look on your face.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Heeseung’s eyes widened as he spoke, snapping out of his trance at the same time shaking his head at himself. “Y-you look… gorgeous.” He said in a whisper-like voice, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck shyly.

You chuckled, tucking strands of hair behind your ear. “Thank you.”

“S-shall we?” He asked, stepping aside and extending a hand to gesture to his car. Looking ahead, you saw how badly his hand was shaking, and although you felt the urge to laugh, you didn’t want to embarrass him further, even if for you, it was terribly cute.

“We shall.” You nodded, and heeseung cleared his throat with a bashful smile on his lips.

“Excellent.” He mumbled before making way for you to walk ahead. On the outside, he seemed to look like a semi-calm lad on his first date, maybe a little jittery here and there. But on the inside, he was internally cursing at himself on whether he should’ve held his arm out to you or not. For one, he did not want you to feel uncomfortable about how bold he might’ve seemed. But two, it was supposed to be an act of chivalry.

And yet, the little grin on your face said it all.

Comfortable. That’s how you felt, and it was more than enough.

Lee Heeseung, with the way he moved and acted, showed how he wasn’t rushing to start a relationship, but at the same time made it known to you that he’s seriously interested in you. That he doesn’t want this date to be another mere joke time or something to pass the days by with.

At that moment in time, maybe, you were a little more than strangers, but still a little less than friends.

But something inside of you seemed to assure you that you will be more, in due time.

“Well, my father was driving and his fart was… rather… gut-churning.”

17th August, 1991.

Choking on your food, Heeseung’s laugh seemed to echo in your space inside the restaurant. Immediately, his hand came up to cup your jaw, carefully tilting your head whilst his other hand reached over for the cup of water.

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth out of shyness, but your hand landed above Heeseung’s instead. With your other hand, you took the glass of water from his hand, mumbling a little ‘thank you’ to him. Quietly, you drank the water in one go to relax your throat.

You made sure to mumble a quick apology, and Heeseung merely shook his head with a little laugh as if to dismiss it.

The restaurant was elegantly decorated; slow music coming out of the phonograph on the corner where couples danced around at. Both of you kept talking, telling funny stories to each other, relishing in the romantically funny atmosphere. He kept bringing up topics that you were interested in, like how he met Jay and spent most of the time benefiting off of the free meals he’d bought him from being a third wheel.

To say the least, hearing the ‘boring’ life that he had, as what he had claimed, before you arrived, was piquing your interest. And it’s not because you’re a chest-full of pride for going on a date with the rather ‘undateable’ Lee Heeseung, but because he seemed to really be sincere in liking your presence. Like you had made a significant difference in his life, stronger and harder than you never even thought you would.

Seconds later, silence engulfed the atmosphere, with you and Heeseung staring down onto your now empty plates while the music began to waltz louder into your eardrums. You both exchanged shy glances before snorting at your awkward selves, then looking back down again.

Just then, the faint screech of a chair being pushed back catched your attention. Lifting your head, you saw Heeseung extending his hand to you. As if to clarify if you were thinking of the same thing, you locked eyes with him for a moment.

Heeseung nodded and smiled, urging for you to take it, and so you didn’t waste any more time. Holding the napkin from your lap to put on the dining table, you pushed your chair back and stood up, and Heeseung brought you to the dance floor.

Slowly, you began facing each other, and you felt your heart patter wildly against your chest. You were face to face, and it’s not like usual, but you liked it. You liked the feeling.

Heeseung brought your hands to loop behind his neck, though he wasn’t looking you in the eye. A faint blush graced his cheeks, and so teasingly, you stepped in even closer. Heeseung blinked rapidly for a few seconds before you bursted into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, Lee Heeseung. It’s okay to touch me, you know. You can’t keep your hands on your sides forever while we dance.” You grabbed his hand gently, placing it onto your waist. Heeseung inhaled a deep, shaky, breath, but he was trying to bite back a smile.

Soon, both of you swayed along to the music, and the soothing mellow tunes made you slowly begin to lean your head on his shoulder. Your head touched his clothed chest, and you immediately felt his body tense up for a bit before he finally let loose.

“Are you comfortable with this?” Asked him, and a buzz ran down your spine upon hearing his honey-like voice next to your ear. Nodding, you snuggled even closer to his chest, to which you felt it rumble as he let out an adoring chuckle.

A few more seconds into the song and Heeseung calls your name.

Slowly, you lifted your head to give him a curious look, but you were immediately met with his startlingly sparkly orbs. His gaze remained on you for a while until he finally inhaled a breath and said,

“Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

To say the least, Heeseung felt his heart lighten a bit after he asked you to be his. ‘Twas like a heavy weight was lifted off of his chest, though the uncertainty of what you have to say still beared much weight. Something inside him told him that somehow, it’ll be alright.

For strangers, it might seem to be a little too soon.

But Heeseung believed he shouldn’t wait a lifetime for his happiness to come through when you were already standing right in front of him, shimmering eyes waiting for him to pop the question, lips ready to share the sweetness of your answer.

17th August, 1992.

A year later,

After a year through all of it, Heeseung was more than happy. Euphoric, even. One of the things you’ve both grown to love was having to ride a bike to each other’s houses to bond, sneaking out at late nights to watch the stars, or just going out together on day dates. It was your favorite quality time bonding with him; spending hours on the telephone, or maybe even having to meet at your favorite diner downtown.

Even with the clashing schedules of work, Heeseung made an effort to make you feel happy and loved. There was not a day that passed that he didn’t.

In front of the calendar stood Heeseung, in all his formally handsome glory, staring at the red mark on the paper with a joyous grin.

1st Anniversary with y/n.

He smiled, straightening his back and fixing his brown shirt before he walked to the garage to pick his old bike, a lily bucket flower in his hand. With a little frown on his lips, he sighed, internally cursing Jay for having to have a date with Rina on the same day of your anniversary, and had to borrow his car.

But even though Jake’s beating could wait, your anniversary could not. He’ll deal with him later. For now, he’ll have a long journey ahead of him.

In which, he really is.

“Heeseung? Oh my, you’re sweating.” You gasped as soon as you opened the door, brows drawn into a furrow. But Heeseung was still smiling widely at you like an idiot in love.

“For you, dear. Happy anniversary, I love you.”

Heeseung interjected, ignoring the way you looked so worried while wiping the beads of sweat on his temples. Handing you the bucket of lilies, he placed a sweet kiss on your temple which caught you off guard. Taking the bucket, you inhaled the flowers’ scent.

Just what you love.

Just the thought of Heeseung going through a whole lot to bike his way to your house, and give you a little token of love was enough to make your heart and day full. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you looked up at Heeseung before jumping into his arms, hugging him with a huge smile on your face. Heeseung stumbled a bit backwards due to the shock, but a few seconds later and he was hugging you back, an enamored smile on his lips as he placed a peck on your cheek.

“Thank you, sung!” You backed away, staring at his pretty smile before pinching his cheeks hard. He whined and groaned in pain, though he was laughing along with you. Until he couldn’t feel his cheeks, you let go, making it up to him quickly by placing a quick peck on his lips, then looking around cautiously to see if anybody had seen it.

Upon seeing the coast was clear, you giggled and looked up to adore his smiley face.

“Let's go inside, join the dinner with mum and dad.”

23 March 1993

It was everything you could ever ask for.

You and Heeseung never knew that a sheet of paper could make somebody tremble so badly.

The paper, printed with the logo where Heeseung works at, is shaking in his hand, lightly crumpling by the edge with the way he gripped it. The pounding of his heart was no joke, it reached his ears

“Heesung…”

Quickly, he shut his eyes to stabilize his breathing, inhaling and exhaling so many times, fingers clenched into a fist. Soon, he felt another hand take his; one that helped him throughout his ups and downs in life. A hand that always encouraged him with what he had to do, for his best in his life and for his future. You rubbed circles on the back of his palm and he let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes. His eyes darted from the front to lock with yours, your eyes full of worry yet it made him calm.

Encouragingly, you gave him a smile, he nodded. It’s time.

Letting go of his hand, his index finger and thumb slowly opened the folded paper.

Top left, and you saw the company name.

You just needed the bottom fold.

Heesung trembled a bit before he finally slid his thumb to reveal the answer at the bottom page.

And then, he exhales the breath he was holding.

He took one glance at you, and he saw that your eyes were shaking as you stared at the piece of paper.

Rome.

His company sent him to Rome to continue his work. For two years.

Placing your hand on top of his, you slowly faced him, and he felt his heart hurt at the sight of your worried face. You kept on mumbling, ‘“It’s going to be alright. It’s going to be alright.” But the quiver of your voice and the tears rolling down your cheeks said otherwise.

“I can… I can—” He stuttered, gulping as he tried to come up with something to say. At that moment, you were already letting your tears flow, although you choked back your inaudible sobs.

Silence.

Both you and Heeseung knew that he needed to do it for his dream. He needed it so he could live, and make a living. And you both knew that a long distance relationship like this wouldn’t work. It just wouldn’t, because love is never enough, even when it’s all that you have.

But of course you knew that Heeseung was willing to give it all up for you, too. And yet, as selfish as you want yourself to be, you still don’t want him to give it all up for you. He has to put himself first.

And so, with a facade, you sniffled, shutting your eyes close as you mumbled under your breath,

“Let’s break up. If it’s what’s best for us.”

And just like that, everything that you could ever ask for, was taken from you in the blink of an eye.

You could only hope that by the time he’s back, he wouldn’t become a stranger you just used to know.

September, 1995.

Two years later.

“y/n, do you want to go home together?”

Snapping out of your daze, you quickly shoved the piece of printed paper back inside of your binder. Looking up, you flashed your campus friends a smile with a quirked brow.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure. I should just fix up first. You two can go ahead, I’ll catch up!” And so they nodded, doing as you told them to do. When the door slammed shut and they were out of your sight, your smile fell off of your face. And for a brief moment, your fingers, still halfway inside the binder, slowly pulled the photograph back out again.

Not a day passed when you didn’t look longingly at the only memory you have left of Heeseung. Every single day, you even think you forgot how he looked, a little bit more.

Maybe you regret that you broke up with him.

You sighed hopelessly to yourself.

You really do.

But was there anything you could’ve done, and could do?

Sliding the photograph back in, you shoved the binder inside of your bag before you grabbed it and headed out, not wanting to keep your friends waiting.

In fact, there is one thing you could still do.

And it was to continually hope that Heeseung is safe, even if he was no longer in your arms.

Refusing to succumb to the calling of sleep, he rubbed his eyes before straightening up again, working on the papers he’d received from his boss in record speed in hopes of avoiding getting scolded.

Heeseung sighed heavily, sinking deeper to his office chair. One that he’d been repeatedly wearing out by occupying every single day for two whole years. Heck, he couldn’t even feel uncomfortable in it anymore now that he’d gotten used to it; not like he wanted to, though.

Focus.

Focus—

He took a glance from a picture on his desk.

Okay, now back to work—

And then his eyes went back to the photograph. A longer stare.

A bitter smile graced his lips as he saw the look on your face when he’d surprised you on your graduation day. Your smile was the most precious thing for him, he loved seeing it on you. Perhaps, it still is and he still does, too.

Lifting a hand, his finger caressed the frame. He missed you like crazy, mad crazy. If only…

Thoughts began to cloud his head again, and so he shook his head aggressively in a poor attempt to redirect his thoughts. He successfully snapped out of his trance the moment the intern named Jungwon cleared his throat from behind him before sliding a few stacks of papers onto Heeseung’s desk.

The intern had always found him staring at the photograph clipped onto his desk, and it went without saying that the younger understood. At times when Heeseung was starting to get miserable, the least he could do was disturb him with a ton of work, just like he asked.

December 1995.

But deep down, Heeseung still wished for a chance to meet you again.

Heeseung stood stiffly on the familiar grounds of his childhood, his knees still slightly wobbling and fingers still trembling even though he’d been catching up with a lot of people for hours now. Tens and hundreds of other people were still pushing past him, relishing in the night with loud chattering and laughter, the nostalgia of meeting each other in a reunion oddly exciting enough for them.

Perhaps it wasn’t much of a good idea, but Jay had convinced him to come for it was something “harmless”. It didn’t exactly work the same way for them, but he found himself coming, anyway.

The campus looked the same, the people who attended were the same, the people who attended asked the same questions. There was nothing much to see.

Heeseung couldn’t do anything but swirl his drink around his glass repeatedly to amuse himself. Then, he blankly looked down at the liquid, his other hand fiddling with the cloth of the standing bar table. As a sigh escaped his lips, he lifted his head, and it was as if time stopped.

There you were, having just arrived, one of your childhood friends making your presence known to your other batchmates. It was as if Heeseung had no control over himself, for before he could make himself aware of what he was doing, he was already calling for your name.

“y/n.”

Just like that, you turned your head and faced him, the smile on your lips fading, but your eyes made a sheer glimmer.

“Heeseung.” You whispered out, clearing your throat before excusing yourself from your batchmates and taking a few steps closer towards him. “Fancy seeing you here. I really thought you wouldn’t come.”

You fiddled with your clothes, not making eye contact with him. He did the same, his hand now stiffly pressing his wine glass on the table while he tried to calm himself down.

Heeseung gulped, “You too.”

And then silence. Awkward silence.

Thankfully enough, the emcees on the stage began to announce the start of the countdown for the fireworks display. It was enough to bail you out of the awkward situation, so you tried to take advantage of it.

“Well then, I should—”

“I missed you.” Heeseung blurted out just as you turned away to leave. He hissed at himself, shutting his eyes close as he ducked his head down. “So much.”

His voice was almost a whisper as he spoke, and slightly, you turned to face him, looking at him with mellow eyes from over your shoulder. He inhaled a deep, shaky, breath, and then he boldly reached for your wrist, but his grip was gentle and almost pleading for you to stay.

“I know that this is probably not the right time nor the right place to talk about it but—”

Without any more words being said, you pulled him in, cutting him off with a kiss. The tears of longing trickling down your cheeks contrasted the blasts of fireworks from the skies, but your passion and love for one another was still as intense as the crack of the colorful lights.

And so, you meet again.

Not as lovers, not as friends.

But then maybe, just maybe, when the night ends, you will be more than just two strangers with some memories.

101 notes · View notes

jcmorrigan · 3 years

Note

Blakeworther,,,but college

OKAY. I SAW THIS LAST NIGHT AND WAS THINKING ALL THROUGH LAST NIGHT AND THIS MORNING BECAUSE THIS HAD TO BE GOOD

Blakeworther: ORIGINS (hopefully actually canon-compliant?)

-Vincent didn’t want a roommate. But RMU has a policy that unless a first-year has an extreme medical condition that requires them to room alone, they have to double up due to high attendance rates vs. limited dorm space. So unfortunately, Vincent needs to stay in the same room as this “Victor Blake” person he’s never met before and probably won’t like.

-He opens the door to their room on the first day. Victor is already there, decorating his half of the room. And you think Victor is a flirt nowadays? This is a Victor straight out of high school, with lingering teenage hormones. He takes one look at Vincent, gives him a coy smile, and just goes “Hello, beautiful.” And winks.

-Vincent goes “Don’t talk to me” and starts setting up his side of the room.

-Well, that’s rude. Victor tries to engage in conversation a couple more times, but Vincent makes it clear he is NOT HAVING IT, so Victor eventually gives up and pouts. (Vincent really is pretty. But more importantly than that, Victor kind of wanted his roommate to be his friend. That seems like a requirement for the college experience.)

-Oh, well. If they can put up with each other for one (1) year, they can request new roommates for their second year.

-Vincent sets off for his 8 a.m. on the first day. Psychology 101. He gets going at about 7 because he NEEDS to make a statement by getting there first. Back in high school, he was valedictorian, and he must continue to show people how classy, smart, and punctual he is.

-He arrives at the classroom. Seemingly empty. He strides through the door -

-The next thing he knows, he’s on the floor. Someone has screamed. He thinks it’s him. He’s disheveled, his books scattered. What just happened?

-After assessing the situation and going over the split-second incident that is retroactively gelling in his memory, he realizes that he walked through that door, and somebody who was waiting on the other side of the wall, just around the corner and out of sight, leapt out and JUMPSCARED him the moment he walked in.

-He looks up at the perpetrator who stands above him, giggling his ass off. This asshole is wearing a bright pink shirt and he’s admittedly kinda cute but also this was unforgivable.

-Victor: “What the HELL was that for?” Pink Shirt Man: “I knew someone would come along who thought they were first, and I wanted to make it clear this is my territory. I was here for fifteen minutes before you.” Vincent: “Why the HELL were you waiting here for fifteen minutes - “

-He makes a point of gathering up his books VERY ANGRILY and stomping to the furthest corner of the classroom to sit as far away from Pink Shirt as possible. Then glares at him venomously.

-So. A word on Albert. He grew up an only child with very few friends. He’s got a roommate too, but the guy’s an introvert in dark glasses who barely talks, spends like all his time watching anime, and is visibly just scared of Albert. So that friendship is out the window.

-(Yes. It’s Winston. He has not had an easy life.)

-This leaves Albert, who has no idea how to appropriately interact with people but has way too much pent-up energy, trying to figure out how to get people’s attention so he can make friends. But when I say he has no idea, I mean he has NO idea.

-So he sits down in the front row where his stuff was previously and just turns and STARES AT VINCENT until the rest of the class files in. Vincent keeps his eyes turned anywhere but at this Pink Shirt Creep because who stares at somebody over their shoulder for ten solid minutes?

-Albert chalks this up as a victory. Sure, this dude hates him, but that’s more attention than he was getting before!

-For the rest of the class, Vincent is hoping they can just move on and have a normal day in which he knocks every question fired his way out of the park. But that’s not what happens. What happens is this PINK SHIRT ASSHOLE in the front row keeps answering questions without being called on, and not even seriously. With the most MORBID sense of humor.

-Prof: “What are the three ways to study the brain?” Albert: “Smash open the test subject’s skull, rip it out, and have fun.”

-Vincent KNEW the answer was “lesion, stimulation, recording” and he’s so mad.

-He leaves this class grumpy.

-He’s on an alternating schedule, so block A of classes one day, block B the next. His next classes for A day go well and he gets to show off a fair bit of his intellect. But then the last class of block B and it’s art.

-Guess who’s there? Not Victor, unfortunately!

-Vincent walks in the door and THE PINK SHIRT ASSHOLE is there and Albert just waves at him “Hello” and Vincent is in hell.

-Same thing. Albert spends the whole class being obnoxious and annoying, but in a way that gets the other students to laugh. And Vincent just stews.

-Over the next few days, Vincent spends a lot of study time in his room rather than in the library because it’s quieter. Victor respects that Vincent will complain if there’s too much noise and so wears headphones when he’s working because he likes music in the background.

-One day, he accidentally rips the headphone jack out of the laptop and the song he was listening to blares over the dorm. He fixes the volume, already going, “Well, sor-ry for the accident - “

-Vincent: “Actually, I like that song. Have you listened to the album or do you just like it as a standalone?”

-Victor: “I...I saw them in concert, actually.”

-They have the first real conversation they’ve ever had since they moved in together because they ended up liking the same song. And they’re happy to be talking about it. This is good! Maybe they can be friends after all!

-First exam in Psych 101. Vincent feels pretty confident. This is a test he didn’t really put too much effort into studying for because he’s confident he memorized everything from high school. Well...as it turns out, he didn’t. But he fudges it as best he can, sure he’s at least doing better than the simpletons of the class. He’s the only one who takes this seriously, after all.

-Exam results come back, and the prof reveals that he’s graded on a curve. One student and one alone got a 95% on the exam; the rest failed horrendously.

-Vincent is about to rest on his laurels when the prof says “And that person is Albert Krueger.”

-Who the hell is -

-PINK SHIRT ASSHOLE stands up and bows playfully.

-Vincent now has a name for his nemesis. ALBERT KRUEGER. He’ll remember that and not be happy about it.

-So he’s chatting with Victor a lot more now as they hang out. Victor has a problem one day because one of his econ courses has a particularly picky prof who’s failed every single one of his essays to date, and he’s afraid he’s going to actually fail his favorite subject.

-Vincent takes a look at that prof’s notes. To his eyes, it’s easy to see what arbitrary hoops the prof wants Victor to jump through. It’s also easy to see that Victor actually is doing what’s asked of him and grasping the material; the prof just demands these extra trappings, probably as a power trip.

-Vincent knows exactly how to write the next paper to make it fit requirements. And so he says, “If you don’t have a problem with plagiarism, I can get the next one to pass.”

-Victor: “Well, don’t make it too perfect, or they’ll catch on.”

-Vincent writes Victor a solid B- of a paper. And it’s graded with the expected B-. Victor is SO thankful and calls Vincent a genius.

-About time someone around here did. Since it strokes his ego, Vincent offers to do any paper Victor wants for him, free of charge.

-Meanwhile! In art class, they’ve been assigned a midterm visual art project. Vincent can already tell that his piece is...good but not great. You know who’s making a fantastic landscape painting that everyone else in the studio ahhs at every day he works on it? AAAAAALBERT KRUEGER.

-Vincent is trying so hard not to explode.

-Vincent and Victor decide to eat lunch together because they like each other now. They head on down to the cafeteria, load up their plates with food, go to get the last two puddings on the shelf -

-Somebody takes the last two puddings.

-GUESS WHO?

-Albert: “I believe it is they who snooze who must lose.” He didn’t even want two puddings. But while people can get temporarily impressed with his prowess, annoying people is the only way he can REALLY get lasting attention. Most people go “Albert’s painting is so cool!” and leave. Vincent, though? Vincent keeps on making a SCENE out of it and Albert likes that. So he made sure neither Vincent nor Vincent’s friend could have any pudding.

-Vincent and Victor sit down, pudding-less. Victor: “Who was that guy?”

-Vincent explains the whole thing. He rambles for almost the whole lunch period about how much he HATES Albert. Culminating in how he knows that Albert’s art project is going to get highest marks and make Vincent’s look so much worse by its very existence.

-Victor: “You know...I have a plan, but it’s not entirely legal. If you want to get back at him, though...” Vincent: “I’m listening.”

-They break into the locked art studio after hours and RIP ALBERT’S PAINTING INTO SHREDS. That’s, like, twenty hours of work just gone. They leave no evidence.

-The following day, Albert approaches the two of them at lunch: “I know it was you. You can’t lie to me about this. From now on, we are at war. You, Vincent, are my mortal enemy. And you, Vincent’s accomplice, I know were talked into this by him, but you’re on the thinnest of ice.”

-Vincent’s fine with this. Victor thinks it’s funny and doesn’t own up to having come up with the idea.

-Anyway, Vincent and Victor start hanging out more, so when there’s a school dance, they decide to go together. Just as bros, not as PARTNERS what are you even - no. Platonic. Heheheheh

-And they have a good time dancing! Vincent doesn’t normally like this sort of thing, but Victor’s into it, so they’re cutting a rug.

-A small throng of students is gathered in the middle of the floor, watching some spectacle. Victor wants to see what’s going on. So he brings Vincent over.

-Everyone’s watching a particular student just absolutely breakdance with the greatest of skill. And GUESS WHO?

-Vincent enters RAGE MODE

-Victor: “Oh, no, here we go.” (Secretly thinking to himself that Albert did have some sexy moves indeed.)

-Vincent storms in and CHALLENGES ALBERT TO A DANCE-OFF. Albert accepts. Victor calls himself a third competitor so as not to be left out, and Vincent rules that either he or Victor winning will be a victory for Vincent.

-Well, Albert gains more applause by a LANDSLIDE. Vincent and Victor are good dancers, but Albert is FANTASTIC. Vincent complains the rest of the night and Victor’s just “Look, I know he was gorgeous and he got all the attention but please pay attention to me”

-Things continue like this until the next semester, when classes are shuffled and FINALLY Vincent is free of Albert.

-You know who walks in to find Albert just staring creepily at him from the front row of his first class? VICTOR.

-It’s Biology. Right away, the class gets a partner assignment, and the prof sticks Albert and Victor together.

-Might as well make the best of this.

-So they get to just awkwardly chatting. Victor tries to keep himself level-headed. Albert still doesn’t know it was Victor’s idea to destroy his painting. So they’re just playing it cool.

-And...it’s actually kind of fun to talk to one another?

-Albert lets slip that he likes bio a bit better than psych, but everyone’s expecting him to take up the position at Krueger Health Corp. Victor’s just like “So fuck ‘em. Switch majors.”

-Albert then blurts “Have you ever wanted to dismember someone who wronged you?”

-Victor: “Yes. All the time.”

-So for the first time, somebody is giving Albert attention that is NOT rivalry and is NOT just marveling at his talents and antics. This is new. He’s not sure how to handle it.

-For the rest of the semester, Victor is technically on Team Vincent, but he still waves at Albert when they pass on the grounds.

-Vincent and Victor go off campus to a house party with alcohol! Albert doesn’t actually show up to steal the spotlight this time. And...that kinda pisses Vincent off. Where IS he? He usually shows up to these things -

-Victor tells him to pleeeaaaase stop obsessing about Albert, please. (But Victor also kinda wishes he was there and isn’t sure why.)

-Later in the night, some beefy upperclassman starts a fight and threatens Vincent. Vincent and Victor are both buzzed and riled up. Victor jumps in and decks the guy to protect Vincent. The guy decks him right back and HARDER. So Vincent tackles the dude because now HE’S protecting Victor.

-They both end up in the hospital with broken bones. Roommates, again. And when they look at each other across their hospital room, they realize something has changed. That they now know they would defend each other to the death, and each has to repay the loyalty of the other. They’re in this for the long haul, and most certainly not going to request new roommates.

-They get their classwork shipped into the hospital and have some nice calm chats with each other, away from the buzz of student life.

-Albert, however, suddenly has his archnemesis and his lab partner both MISSING and it’s driving him insane. Where are they where are they where are they

-When they get released from the hospital and finally go back to campus, Albert has to refrain from RUNNING UP TO THEM AND HUGGING THEM BOTH. HIS LIFE HAD NO MEANING

-Instead he says “Pity. I’d’ve hoped that you’d die and be out of my hair.”

-Vincent and Victor can’t really admit how much he was the missing piece of their lives either.

-It’s gonna be a few interesting years at RMU.

#vincent edgeworth #victor blake #albert krueger #blakeworther #vincent the secret of myers #vtsom #therapy with dr. albert krueger #twdak

121 notes · View notes

everything-laito · 3 years

Text

Hypersexuality and Laito Sakamaki (UPDATED)

Hiya guys! Been a long ass time since I’ve made a post like this, I’ve been getting so much ask box activity + had school so I haven’t had the time to make an original post! This has been something I wanted to write for a while, and not only was I busy with school, but this one hits home hard to me personally, so I was going back and forth for a bit writing it. But I think I’m ready :)

I know there’s kind of a general consensus that anything DL related comes along with a trigger warning whether stated or not, but just a TW considering I’ll be talking about some real life experiences; not in depth or detail of course, but just mentions of it :) Not only is this a Laito analysis but it’s also an educational tool to help other people know about this!

So, without further ado, rant under the cut!

Hypersexuality is something that many sexual assault/harassment and rape survivors experience after the abuse. People associate asexuality or sexual repulsion as the only (or common) psychological affect after experiencing those situations. However, there is another affect that can happen, and it is more common than people think, and aforementioned, it’s hypersexuality. It’s basically having more sexual feeling and urges after the experience, in order to cope with the nonconsensual one. And it’s exactly what Laito experienced after Cordelia’s abuse.

I’ve also experienced something like this. I don’t believe I’ve experienced it in full swing, but definitely something like it. I haven’t been raped thankfully, but I have been sexually harassed/assaulted before a handful of times. I know I’ve briefly mentioned that in other analyses, but I’m just explicitly stating it here.

I first learned about hypersexuality this year actually, and my Laito nerd brain was like “holy shit that’s the name of what Laito is going through.” Then I was like “oh fuck I’ve gone through that a little bit too.” I thought going along with would help me “heal” myself, and it really was doing the opposite. (UPDATE: realized that what I thought was a lot of sexual trauma/hypersexuality was mostly compulsory heterosexuality (but still with those dabbled in too—quite a terrible combo) because last month I realized I’m not attracted to men! Although those experiences I mentioned did mess me up a bit, realizing this is a huge step in the right direction for my own mental well being. Just had to make this correction on my part, since the original post had more emotional investment than I would have liked it to :))

Like I have said in my little update, I realized I was going through mostly compulsory heterosexuality while also going through some minor sexual trauma/hypersexuality. Although again, I have not had it as bad as Laito has or other sexual assault survivors (which I am grateful for that), I still have a personal grasp of coping mechanisms with traumatic experiences or experiences I did not particularly enjoy. (If you are interested in learning more about compulsory heterosexuality, feel free to send me an ask! I just don’t feel that it’s appropriate to talk about it in regards to Laito or make a post about it, since it doesn’t relate to him)

And that’s probably also why I can resonate with Laito so much, at least on that scale, and even if I experienced a grain of what he’s going through. I know he’s fictional but these are definitely real experiences and real feelings.

Laito’s case is a bit different than just feeling overtly sexual. Although he’s trying to heal himself through sex and other intimate actions, he’s also doing it as a type of revenge. He doesn’t like purity, and in fact, he’s quite jealous of it. I’ve heard this is also a pretty human way of coping with this type of abuse, and it is why I love Yui as a character. She’s incredibly strong and sets an example for Laito. This makes Laito jealous yet entertained by her, and that’s also a reason why he probably keeps her around. He also attempts to use Yui as a vessel to avenge his own feelings (even not knowing about Cordelia being in her at first). I personally wasn’t like that, but given the circumstances, there’s definitely people who are. Laito’s character can be so human to me sometimes, its astonishing, despite him being a character, a vampire, and just generally does some wacky or terrible shit.

You could say his hypersexuality could also be similar to typical Pavlovian Conditioning. You’ve probably heard of the whole experiment of training (conditioning) a dog to expect food when they hear a certain sound and thus, his mouth waters. We’re conditioned by a lot of things in our lives, from triggering a “flight or fight” response from this specific ringtone or high school bell. It’s just a built in “routine” our minds utilize to process pattern recognition. I know I say this a lot, but we don’t know how vampire brains in the DL universe compare to human brains (and quite frank, I don’t think we will), so I will just do my typical human brain picking.

In Laito’s case, he was conditioned to “love” Cordelia in a fashion that was incredibly gross. No, I won’t sugar coat it. In my Cordelia/Laito analysis, I talk about how Laito was probably groomed. Grooming is another type of conditioning. Although I don’t believe his grooming was sexual, it definitely “prepares” the victim to be exploited in that fashion later on. It’s to build a false sense of trust to be betrayed. Later on, when Cordelia started having sex with Laito, he became used to it in a “conditioned” fashion. When someone said that Cordelia was calling him, he knew what it was. He also thought it’s what he wanted, even though he knew that he didn’t. I believe I have referenced his MB Dark Prologue monologue before, but not this part of it. Here’s the monologue:

――Who is it that I give my love to? Throwing myself away, I caught the sight of someone Someone I didn’t recognize, Suddenly, I realized I was looking into a mirror. The mirror reflected myself within it. I couldn’t see anything else. I am disgraceful for this greed. I was wearing a visage. What I wanted, certainly was love. It’s not that easy. Because of these words, I suffer. No matter how many times love is said, The only thing that will be important to me, Is only the physical contact and body.

I know I've said it in the Laito/Cordelia analysis, but Laito is visibly confused in his flashbacks. He’s trying to grasp what love is, but then convinces himself that love is physical contact, and not emotional connection, especially near the end. He knows he’s suffering but he is still conditioned to think like this. Same case for people who suffer from hypersexuality.

Although many people do not know why it occurs, it can be a symptom or “side effect” from disorders, medication, and the like. In the sexual trauma case, I believe a main reason is that the person utilizes sex to cope with trauma, or because they are used to sexual acts being forced upon them. That’s where conditioning still comes in. He’s treated as one of her suitors, lovers, or the like. Even as a stand-in for Richter and Karlheinz. He doesn’t consider Cordelia to be his mom until the DF Vampire ending. On top of him not receiving emotional gratification which leads to all sorts of just awful stuff for him, sexual attention is the only type that he receives until Yui comes along. He is used to not having emotional support or connections, which is why physical contact is what he is more “comfortable” with, while at the end of the day it still does not satisfy him.

It creates a positive feedback loop of him being unsatisfied, while being confused about where he’s unsatisfied in, leading to him trying to “fix” himself or avoid his own personal, emotional problems through lust and sex, but then still finding himself not “healing.” Then the cycle continues, enthusing his hyper sexual behavior even more.

I was sent some great articles from @souchiika on the DL discord (thank you so much!) and one of the articles stood out to me, since I did not talk about this type of topic on this blog yet. Here’s the link to the article, and here’s the quote that stood out to me!

Furthermore, indirect effects were also statistically significant, providing support to the hypothesis that depression and guilt would be serial mediators of trauma-hypersexual behavior relations. The paths through depression and guilt have been found to be the most significant with moderate and high indirect effects on hypersexuality. Moreover, male gender, as covariate variable, is a relevant risk factor for hypersexual behavior.

Hypersexuality is something that is still being researched like I mentioned earlier, but since these findings came out, it definitely makes sense in Laito’s case (and in general). Like I said, Laito does feel unsatisfied and even shameful of his actions, which is more apparent in the beginning of his and Cordelia’s “relationship.” In those flashbacks, he asks himself if this is what he really wants, and although he attempts to force himself to like these actions as a coping mechanism, there is still a relative degree of shame and guilt he has. It is also apparent nearing his DF Ecstacy ending when he finds out that Karlheinz foresaw Cordelia having sex with him, and even wanted it to happen. All that shame and guilt came bellowing out while he was in a fit of distress. In initial attempts to mediate this guilt and shame, he projected his feelings onto other women through sexual acts, leading to more of this hypersexual loop. I know I talk about Laito projecting a lot, but it is frequent in his character. Like I’ve always said, it’s typical “bully” power dynamic manipulation. If Laito can bring a victim of his down to his level, then he feels better about himself (but it satisfies him for only a short while, until Yui in MB+).

Also, note that this is no excuse or justification for him to rape or sexually assault others. It is merely an explanation as to why he does it (as for my posts in general, it’s not a justification, it’s an explanation).

Another reminder that rape and sexual assault isn’t about the sexual urges, but about power. That’s why anybody with any background can do it, given the circumstances.

This post was a bit hard for me to write, so I apologize if I got too overtly personal for your liking. Like I’ve said in the past, I’m not writing this to gain sympathy too, and sure that sounds superficial of me to say now (although I truly mean it), I just want to use my platform as an educational tool. Sorry about the change in my typical tone :)

Sorry if this was too much of a doozy, I really wanted to talk about it and to educate people, despite it being a bit personal. I just felt like the most effective way was to convey how real this topic is, despite this fandom knowing about it in a fictional setting.

I hope you have a great day! -Corn

#analysis #laito sakamaki #sakamaki laito #corn gets personal #sakamaki raito #raito sakamaki #diabolik lovers #dialover #dialovers #dl

128 notes · View notes