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zigtheeortega · 3 years

Text

come back to me

pairing | colt x mc

word count | 5.3k

warnings | blood, guns, bullets, wounds, and a mention of death. there’s a section of the fic where mc gets shot when a job goes awry – it’s used in a hurt/comfort scenario, but be warned that it’s in there! lmk if i need to use any other tags!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @senatorraines, @jaxmatsuo, @rodappreciationweek

author’s note | i’ve never written a colt fic before, so i wanted to take a crack at a slowburn colt au – this fic takes place over the span of about ten-ish years (fifteen-ish total since the events of book one). i’m not the biggest colt expert so i hope i did him justice!

•─────────────────•

“If you ever ask me to do this much ass kissing again, I’m divorcing you.”

Colt flung himself onto the bed, still fully clothed, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Raquel laughed, reaching back to unzip herself, the soft fabric of her sundress sliding down her body and onto the floor.

He hummed from his place on the bed, neck craning to watch her as she changed into her pajamas.

“Stop distracting me from being annoyed,” he grumbled, letting his head fall back, his gaze trained on the ceiling.

“Are you actually mad at me or are you just complaining to hear yourself talk?” She asked, but before he could respond she’d climbed on top of him, wrapping him in a koala hug, nestling her head under his chin.

Naturally, he hugged her back, his arms snaking around her waist.

He shrugged. “I’m not mad at you.”

She giggled into his chest, sending tremors up his body, the warmest kind. “You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why you married me,” he kissed the top of her head. “You’re too good for me.”

Raquel pushed herself up till they were nose to nose, giving him a pointed look. “I haven’t been too good for anyone since we were kids.” She pressed a quick kiss on his lips, intending to pull away, but he gripped her chin before she could, kissing her deeply.

He’d never get tired of that… and he’d never get tired of her.

For the longest time, he thought it was too far-fetched to expect he’d find someone willing to stick around through all of his bullshit, much less someone who’d legally binded herself to him.

He was still in awe with how it played out.

He’d returned to Los Angeles dangerously too soon after their run in with The Brotherhood. Incidentally enough, he was laying low on high alert for so long… but nothing came of it.

Maybe they’d been arrested, maybe they’d gotten justice, or maybe they just moved on to terrorize another city. He’d always assumed it was the latter.

Rebuilding his father’s autoshop was painful, no matter how deep he tried to shove those feelings down.

Colt’s vision for his father’s crumbling empire wasn’t one that came into focus for him for years.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, all he had to show for it was a struggling auto shop with a few criminal employees who barely knew how to hotwire a car.

It seemed like there were no hills in sight, only cavernous valleys.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, the death of his father, and the end of the Mercy Park Crew, she came into focus.

Raquel stepped into the garage, heels clacking against the dirty concrete, her gait determined.

He watched her from his tiny office, peering through the blinds as she glided confidently across the auto shop and up to his door.

She rapped her knuckles against it a few times, a little too heavy handedly.

There’s no way she’s really here, he thought, shaking his head. No fucking way.

He debated whether or not to let her in – the last time a Kaneko opened their doors to her, they nearly ruined her life.

He twisted the knob and yanked it open anyways, an insult bubbling up his throat. After all these years, he figured he’d be relieved to see her, but the tiny sliver of relief was easily overshadowed by his knee jerk reaction of annoyance and shock.

There was a small part of him that was excited, but not enough to warrant being nice to her.

When he came face to face with her for the first time, she spoke first. “Hi, Mr. Kaneko. I’d like to apply for a bookkeeping job.”

He blinked when she shoved a thick manila folder in his hands. “I think my qualifications speak for themselves.”

He thumbs the edges of the papers, flipping through her resume and the thick Master’s thesis. She’s too fucking smart to be back here.

Before anyone in the shop could see, he tugged her arm till she was inside, all but slamming the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

She ripped her arm from his grasp, brows furrowed. “I’m here to work.”

“Don’t you get how dangerous it is for you to be here or are you just stupid?” He all but spat, slapping the folder onto his desk.

“If I’m stupid that makes you just as much of an idiot as me,” she countered, crossing her arms firmly. “I know the risks.”

“You can’t be dumb enough to think I’d take that risk, though,” he rolled his eyes, plopping into the chair at his desk.

She laughed – actually laughed – at him, covering her mouth. “Forgive me for that.”

He cocked a brow at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I went to school with pretentious male academics for five years, Colt. Whatever you’re gonna say to me has already been said, and it won’t hurt my feelings.”

He leans forward, flipping to her resume, tearing it off the top. “Let’s see, here. Langston college, yeah, I remember that. Graduated with honors? Predictable to do that three times in a row, don’t you think?”

She laughed again. “That’s a new one. I’ll have to log that under my favorite insults.”

“Well, I have loads. You’re giving me lots of material, Miss Olvera,” he mocked her, going back to skimming her resume.

Truthfully, he was trying to scare her away by being mean, and it wasn’t working. He didn’t want to dig too deep, though, because he wasn’t that evil.

He liked the girl – hell, if he didn’t like her, would he be bending over backwards to make her hate him purely for her safety?

“I can’t pay you well. I’m still rebuilding, and we’re barely breaking even. We’ve been sticking to straight work till I can manage to rebuild our reputation and relationships with buyers.”

She nodded. “I completely understand, and I don’t mind.”

“What, are you gonna ask me for a place to stay next?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes.

He was lying if he didn’t feel a little something stir in his stomach at the possibility of her staying in his apartment above the shop.

“No, I’m alright.”

“You came back to L.A. and you immediately have a place to stay? You’re lying.”

Her lips pressed into a firm line, she shook her head. “I’m back at my dad’s house.”

“What? There’s no fucking way I’m letting you work here if you’re living with a cop –”

“He passed away last year,” she chewed her lip, trying to keep her face neutral. “He had a heart attack in the middle of the night. Couldn’t get to the phone in time.

“Thankfully, he had a will set in place soon after mom died,” she shrugged. “I got the house, so I’m good.”

His fists clenched at his side. He’d already taken it too far without even meaning to.

“Sorry to hear that.”

She scoffed, a single forced laugh bursting from her lips. “You don’t have to respect him in front of me to save face or whatever. Your feelings about my dad don’t affect me.”

He nodded once, and the room descended into silence. He took the time to actually read her resume that time around, finding himself genuinely impressed with what she’d accomplished.

What he wanted to ask was “Why the fuck did you come back here?” but instead, what came out was, “You’re sure you can handle this?”

“I’m sure.”

She said those words with such conviction that he never had to ask again.

Raquel cuddled up to him, her breathing evening out. He hadn’t realized they’d gone that long without speaking.

He didn’t mind it though. He didn’t care as long as she was with him.

She stirred in her sleep, nearly rolling off of him, so he took that as his cue to tuck her in.

When she was settled under the covers, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped out onto the deck.

The beach house they’d rented was a hundred feet from the shore, the waves grating against the sand creating the perfect white noise.

Perfect for sleeping, he mused, thinking about how quickly Raquel fell asleep in his arms, watching the water crash and retreat, push and pull over and over.

That same back and forth was what eventually brought him and Raquel together. They butted heads constantly, but had the same view on lots of decisions. They’d finish each other’s sentences and the crew would give each other knowing looks that he ignored.

A year in, she finally broke down. Not purposefully, and certainly not with the intent of him finding her curled into a sobbing mess outside of the garage.

“Hey what the hell, Raquel? It’s dangerous out here,” he called as he jogged up to her crumpled form.

He didn’t notice she was crying until he’d crouched down to check the injuries he thought she’d have.

She shielded her face with one hand and used the other to wave him away. “Just go.”

“I’m not leaving until you’re safe.”

It wasn’t even meant to be romantic. He’d do it for the rest of his crew since they’d grown so close.

There wasn’t a possibility of anything happening between them, or so he thought at the time. And what she admitted to him that night sealed their fate for years.

He’d managed to help her inside to his office, pulling back his worn office chair for her to collapse into.

A short “You okay?” Was all he could manage. He was new to this wellness check stuff and it didn’t come naturally to him.

But he knew as a leader, he had to do a lot more than just telling people what to do. Even if they split without a word in a week’s time, they were still a working machine that needed a little elbow grease every once in a while.

Even in the dim lamp light he could tell her eyes were red rimmed.

“I don’t think you want to hear my explanation as to why I’m not,” she laughed humorlessly, using the sleeve of her shirt to scrub the streak of makeup under her eye.

“I’m not good at this comforting shit, but I’ve got ears and I’ve gotten pretty good at using them,” he joked, sliding into the rickety folding chair in front of the desk.

She shrugged, flinging her hands up. “You’re gonna make fun of me –”

“– I won’t –”

“– You will, Colt. I know you and you’re gonna scoff the minute I take a breath.”

He couldn’t hold back the small smile at that.

“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to take it to heart.”

She sniffled, laughing. “You’re hard to ignore.”

“So are you, hard ass. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The sigh that came from her was labored, struggled, like she was about to drop heavy weights onto the floor of the office.

“Today’s the one year anniversary since I started working for you.”

He cocked a brow. “That’s it?”

“If you’d just let me explain then you’d know,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re already sucking at being a good listener.”

He held his hands up in surrender, leaning back into his chair. “Sorry.”

“My whole game plan was to figure out how to make myself useful. It’s why I got my Masters in accounting in the first place. I wanted to have my solid place in the crew, you know? Like I earned my spot.”

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“I just had this stupid fairytale idea in my head about coming back to L.A. and none of that’s come true.”

“Well, what was it? Anything I can do?” He asked.

Raquel sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She shook her head in response, taking a few deep breaths till she could finish.

“I wanted our old crew back. I… thought Logan would be back here by now, or looking for me at the very least,” she rubbed her temples, closing her eyes. “I waited five years to come back here and I’ve barely lasted one year in L.A. without him.”

He couldn’t help but flex his hand in and out of a fist a couple times as she spoke.

Yeah, it was true he didn’t care for Logan that much, but she liked him. Loved him, even.

If she was this dedicated to him six years later and he still hadn’t tried finding her, he didn’t deserve her.

“So it’s about Logan?” He asked with zero judgement, and she could tell.

She nodded, sniffling again. “Maybe I’ve just deluded myself into thinking we meant more to each other, but I’m still in love with him and I don’t know when that’s going to end for me.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he did what he thought was best.

He stood up, taking a couple steps till he was close enough to lay his palm on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb gently across the fabric.

She laid her hand on his thumb, holding it in place, as the sobs shook her body.

After that, he tried his hardest to keep her from crying. Which entailed leaving Logan’s name out of things.

Colt abandoned his shirt and shoes at the back door and hopped off the deck, landing softly on the sand. He took his time walking towards the water, gaze transfixed on the moon, which was at its peak in the sky.

He always thought the fact that the sea and moon were interlinked was kind of peculiar. The moon, thousands and thousands and thousands of miles away, had just enough power to pull the waves in the right direction.

He thought of Raquel like his moon far too often. The minute he was in her gravitational pull, he found himself wanting to follow her – to let her take the reins – and that was rare.

The first time he knew it was the beginning of the end with her was when a job went south.

Three years after she broke down about wanting the old crew back, they got a taste of the old violence.

One of their crew members, Isaac, had said for weeks that he had a weird gut feeling about that job in particular. Colt waved him off, reminding him that he’d value proof over superstition anyday.

In short, they were ambushed – nothing out of the ordinary in terms of their day to day risk.

What Colt wasn’t expecting, however, was for Raquel to be the one who got hurt.

They were cornered by the masked group, and before their crewmember Aly could grab her gun and shoot, one of them fired, the cracking sound of the gunshot echoing off the concrete flooring of the rundown parking garage.

Raquel’s pained groan followed immediately after.

Colt’s heart stopped when he saw the fabric of her jeans turning a deep deep maroon, the blood spreading faster than he could process what’d happened.

Her eyes fluttered and she stumbled to her knees, crying out as she knelt, bending her legs, one of which had been freshly torn through with a bullet.

“Don’t let them get away –” he shouted, flinging his arm in the direction of the fleeing criminals. He knelt down to scoop Raquel’s crumpled form into his arms. “Isaac, stay here.”

Isaac froze, nodding. “Anything you need, boss.”

“Drop me off at the shop so I can patch her up. I have to stop the bleeding.”

Colt’s voice was calm and even, but inside he was at his breaking point. He sat in the backseat of the car with Raquel strewn across his lap, the color draining from her face with each passing minute.

His palm was firmly pressed against her calf to halt the bleeding. He was thankful that the adrenaline was numbing the pain till they could make it to the shop.

She’d wince every time he adjusted his slippery grip, instinctively turning her head into the crook of his neck. That didn’t cross his mind till much later.

When she attempted talking once or twice, he furiously shushed her each time. “Save your energy. You’ll need it.”

When Isaac skidded to a stop in the garage, Colt tossed his keys Isaac’s way. “Take my car and get out of the city for a few days. Lay low. I’ll clean this one up and it’ll be good as new when you come back.”

Isaac nodded, brows furrowed. “I should’ve… I knew it was gonna go south but I should’ve tried to convince you again –”

Colt held up a hand. “You were right, and I should’ve trusted your gut instinct, and I will from now on. This is solely on me. Don’t blame yourself.”

He nodded, hopping out of the car, sliding into Colt’s convertible, and disappearing into the night.

He’d managed to get Raquel into the apartment and onto the worn leather couch in the office – she was pale and clammy, flitting in and out of being fully aware of what was going on.

“Colt… I can clean up my leg, just… just give me a second to catch my breath,” she said, her eyes drooping closed.

“Absolutely not. Give me a second. I’m trying to find the goddamn gauze but I don’t see it anywhere –”

He was glad his back was turned, because he was shaking in terror and rage in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

The first aid kit clattered out of his hands and onto the desk, and he cursed, gripping the side of the desk till his knuckles were bright white and screaming at him to let go.

“Colt…” she whispered. “I’ll be fine. I’m just hurting.”

He dragged a chair to her side, propping her ankle up against his knee before getting to work cutting a thin line up the outer seam of her jeans. The blood trickled onto his own leg, saturating the denim of his pant leg immediately.

“Are you gonna ignore me the whole time you work on my leg?” She joked, wincing. “Fuck –”

The scissors were close to the wound, and he tried his best to stretch it away from it before cutting further.

“Sorry,” he murmured, grabbing two rags and dousing it in hydrogen peroxide. He rolled up the second one, handing it to Raquel.

She sighed shakily before stuffing it into her mouth, digging her fingers into the cracked leather of the couch.

She nodded once, giving him the sign to get it over with.

The second the damp rag touched her bloodied skin, she panted through her nose, eyes screwed shut.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He grunted, grimacing as her thigh bucked against his hand, despite him trying to hold her in place.

When he touched the wound, she screamed, devolving into choked, muffled sobs.

He’d made a vow to make sure she never cried over Logan again, and instead he’d broken his promise by putting her in direct danger over and over and over again.

There was no reason for her to accompany them on jobs – she knew the risk, and didn’t care, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t stop her from coming.

No matter how hard he tried, he was always the reason she was getting hurt.

“This is all my fault,” he said, when he’d finished cleaning her wound. “I should’ve never let you come along to our trades.”

She scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, a couple stray tears still glistening across her temples. “I wanted to be a part of this. Like you said to Isaac, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“I don’t care what you say, alright? It was my fucking fault and you should’ve never been a part of this life.”

“Colt.”

He glanced up, barely able to meet her gaze.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, I’ve been a part of this life for nearly ten years now. I’m almost thirty. You’re closer to thirty than me. I know what I’ve gotten myself into, and I’m sticking by you regardless of the risk on my life.”

She slipped a clammy hand over his, which still held her thigh firmly in place. “If I lose my life on a job, I don’t regret it at all. I’d never regret meeting you.”

She took a labored breath, laying back against the armrest. “That took a lot out of me.”

Colt shook his head. “Stop talking. You need your energy.”

Raquel rolled her eyes. “I try being nice to you and you ignore it every time.”

“I just don’t know what the fuck to say to that. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that, huh?” He asked incredulously.

She blinked, her eyes narrowing. “I just got fucking shot, and you’re cursing at me while asking me to be your therapist? Am I hearing that right?”

He picked up his bloodied hands from her leg and threw them up in the air. “I have a lot going on in my head right now, and I’m not trying to fight you or get you to be my fuckin’ therapist, alright? I’m just confused.” He was barely below a shout, his chest heaving when he was done.

“I can’t read your mind, Colt. I’m kind of delirious with blood loss right now, so the least you can do is not yell at me and ask me politely to slate this conversation for later,” she said firmly, wincing while she shifted on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he panted, shrugging his stained black thermal off. He tossed it to the side, revealing his equally as bloodied white tee.

He slipped that shirt off, too, tearing the shirt into long strips.

Raquel watched him, her brown eyed gaze one of both confusion and something more he couldn’t place and didn’t care to think about.

Wordlessly, he plopped back down, tying the shredded strips above the wound on her calf, fingertips grazing her skin as delicately as he could manage.

He let his hands linger for a bit too long, staring at the open wound on her leg.

Daring a look her way, Colt caught her watching him with a soft gaze, one that he hadn’t earned.

“You’re not mad at me for being there tonight… you’re mad at yourself for not protecting me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded once.

“You’re hoping that this makes me want to leave, because you won’t ask me yourself. You don’t want me to leave.”

He nodded again, glancing away from her.

After a long silence and avoidance of turning her way, she spoke first.

“You’re worried I don’t feel the same.”

He froze, dropping his hands from her leg. She was right, but if he admitted to it and she still didn’t feel the same, then what was he risking all this shit for?

Why was he still clinging onto the hope that she’d feel the same if nine years of pining was seconds away from being thrown out the window?

Mustering up his remaining courage, he nodded one last time.

And when he looked at her that time, she was beaming. Through the excruciating pain, she was smiling.

He broke first, scooting to the edge of his chair to get as close as he could. “What?”

“It’s funny that you were worried we weren’t on the same page. I think we might’ve been for a long time,” she laughed, hoarse and weak, but it was still her laugh that he loved so much.

“What do you mean?”

And then she said the words that he’d desperately needed to hear for nearly a decade.

“I came for Logan but I stayed for you.”

Once Raquel admitted that to him, he was all in. Completely committed, never faltering.

Their first kiss was anything but, the sensation one of nine years of pent up feelings from Colt’s end, and years of her own. Their first kiss was more of a sealant of their future (and their fate).

Their first kiss was everything Colt had dreamed of.

He kissed her like she was air and he was drowning and she was filling his lungs to the brim, her warmth spreading from his insides out.

She didn’t pull away after the first one, and neither did he.

For who knew how long, he was on his knees next to the bloodied couch, cupping her face with his palms, and kissing her like he had a decade of missed opportunities to make up for.

After that, they were inseparable.

And he never doubted her devotion to him again.

They fell into a routine of working at the shop together during the day and into the late hours of the night after everyone had left, before stumbling upstairs into Colt’s apartment, lips locked, hands roaming.

And she drove him to every job from then on, easily evading cops and maneuvering the underbelly of L.A. like it was second nature.

Colt waded into the warm water, barely feeling it as it lapped at his ankles, calves, thighs.

When he was waist deep, he opted to float on his back, using the opportunity to revel in the star littered sky. One he didn’t get to see too often in the heavily light polluted sky of Los Angeles. Was this really the same sky he’d lived under all these years?

He didn’t really plan on marrying Raquel.

It was never in the sleazy way where he was going to leave her the second he got what he wanted – he was content being with her. Living with her. Kissing her. Loving her.

But he didn’t think he needed to go through the motions because that’s supposedly what people in love did. He figured it was enough to spend his life with her without doing all the extra shit.

She brought it up first, nearly four years later.

At that point, he moved into her father’s house with her – they’d crash in Colt’s old apartment above the shop if they were too tired to drive home.

They were curled up on the old futon in his room, huddling under the blankets, and she was curled against his side, drawing circles through his short tuft of chest hair.

“We should get married.”

“Hmm?” He asked, in a haze, nearly drifting off to sleep before she’d spoken.

“You heard me.”

“You really wanna?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve always wanted to get married, even when I was a little girl.”

He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her closer.

“You’ve always been a daydreamer then,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I used to dig up my old Easter dresses and strut into the living room asking my Dad to walk me down the aisle.”

“And did he?”

She laughed, lifting her head to get a good look at him. “Yep. Walked me right down the hallway and back to my room to change me out of my clothes.”

Her face fell a bit despite the fond memory. “I think I care more about it now because I know my parents won’t be there. It feels like if I don’t get married, I��m breaking a promise, as dumb as that sounds.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t sound dumb at all, sweetheart. I don’t care what we do as long as it makes you happy.”

She smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

Wrapping her up in a hug, he kisses her back with fervor, echoing her sentiment in the form of mumbling against her lips. I love you.

Roughly a year later, they opted for a quick courthouse wedding and a honeymoon that consisted of staying in bed all day and ordering food to build back the calories they’d burned.

Around that time, Raquel reconnected with some of her only living relatives on her Dad’s side. She’d gotten close to a few of her distant cousins, and they convinced her to have a small ceremony for their family in Belize.

And fifteen years after he’d met Raquel, on the cusp of spring and summer, he married her again in front of an intimate crowd and kissed her like it was their first time.

He’d complained about having to ass kiss her judgemental old relatives, but he didn’t really mind. Seeing her in a white dress, beaming like it was the best day of her life, was enough to make any issue nothing but a minor annoyance.

“Hey!”

Colt swirled his arms in the water till he was upright again, grinning when he noticed the bright red lines on her face – she’d clearly just woken up.

“Hey, sweetheart. You sleep okay?”

“Come back to bed,” she asked, pointing at the back door of their beach house.

He tipped his chin at her. “You come out here.”

She rolled her eyes, before tearing off her nightgown, running towards the water at full speed, no hesitation.

He caught her in his arms, letting her wrap her legs comfortably around his waist while he waded out to deeper waters.

“Ugh. I was having a good dream, too, until I realized the bed was empty,” she grumbled, looping her arms tighter around his neck.

“Sorry about that. I promise next time I’ll wake you up before I head out.”

She nodded, content with his answer.

They were both chest deep in the water, faces close, the soft rays from the moon the only light they had.

“Why’d you bring me out here, Colt?” She murmured, eyes flitting to his lips, which were upturned in a soft smile.

“I was just thinking. This spring makes fifteen years since I met you.”

She hugged him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “And only, like, six years since we came to our senses.”

He laughed heartily, squeezing her tighter around the waist. “You’re right.”

“Remember when we jumped off the cliff together?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course. It was the first time I ever felt a spark with you,” she grinned. “Took a long time for it to turn into a flame, though.”

“That was the first time I knew I loved you,” he admitted. “I wanted to kiss you so badly and I kicked myself in the ass for years for not trying –”

She cut him off with a passionate kiss, her tongue slipping into his mouth almost as soon as his mouth moved in tandem with hers. It was the sloppy, unplanned kiss he’d envisioned for that day.

“I think everything worked out for the better. I’m not sure we were ready for each other back then,” she said honestly, her forehead pressed against his.

“We needed to grow a little bit before falling in love, huh? You’re so smart,” he said, voice low, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“Yeah, and now we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

She was right (like she always was), and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his chest like he’d felt many times before.

He’d waited that damn long for her, so he was going to savor the rest of their life together as much as he could.

#playchoices #choices rod #rodaw #rodtimecapsule #colt kaneko #colt kaneko x mc #jade writes choices fics #cw: injury #cw: guns #cw: blood #tw wounds #tw injury

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escapewithbts · 3 years

Text

From Fight To Flight - Yoongi

———————————————

Ah, Sunday. Laundry day.

You didn't mind though. Doing laundry was one of the few chores you actually enjoyed. You found it relaxed you.

You picked up all your boyfriend's dirty clothes from the bedroom floor and placed them in the hamper. Then you lugged the hamper down the hallway to the utility room where the washer and dryer were hooked up.

The item that showed up most in you and your boyfriend's mixed laundry was sweatshirts. It always made you chuckle, he seemed to have more hoodies than you did! But it never really surprised you... that was his signature style after all.

Just as you were picking up his last one from the hamper and throwing it with the other darks, a small white box fell from the front pocket. You stared down at it in shock.

Cigarettes.

Your heart stopped and your mouth became dry.

Yoongi smoked? Since when? And why didn't he tell you?

You hesitantly picked up the box and slowly went down the hallway, walking into the living room where Yoongi was sitting on the couch watching a basketball game on the tv.

"What the hell are these?" you spat out shakily, holding up the box and making Yoongi glance at you.

He gave you a look that was completely expressionless.

"They're cigarettes," he replied flatly, turning back to the tv.

You rolled your eyes.

"Obviously, Yoongi. But since when do you smoke?" you asked, the tone of your voice coming out a bit angrier than you intended.

"I don't," Yoongi responded, keeping his eyes fixated on the television, "they're my manager’s."

You cocked your head and furrowed your eyebrows.

"What?"

Yoongi stared back up at you, a look of annoyance becoming evident on his face.

"They're. My. Manager’s." he repeated.

You shook your head and looked down.

"I don't believe you," you mumbled.

He narrowed his eyes at you.

"What?"

"I said I don't believe you, Yoongi!" you yelled suddenly, shocked it came out as harshly as it did.

Yoongi stood up and walked toward you.

"You don't believe me?? What the fuck, (y/n)!? When have I ever lied to you?" he ran a hand through his dark hair, "What, you don't trust me now? Is that it?"

Well that escalated quickly.

"Why would you have your manager’s cigarettes, Yoongi, if you weren't smoking them too?!" you interogated, ignoring his previous question.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"For this exact reason! So his girlfriend doesn't blow up in his face about it! She doesn't like when he smokes, so he asked me to take them so he wouldn't be tempted! That's it!"

A few tears fell from your face but you quickly wiped them away with the back of your hand.

"I don't believe you, Yoongi," you croaked out once more, throwing the box at his chest and retaliating into the ajoining kitchen.

He followed you.

"Well whose fault is that, (y/n)?? I'm not lying to you, I. DON'T. SMOKE!" he yelled, obviously very angry and frustrated at the accusation.

"Then don't carry around other people's cigarettes! It clearly sends the wrong message!" you yelled back through falling tears, unable to hold them back any longer.

Yoongi rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in frustration.

"Fucking hell, okay, MOM."

You narrowed your eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me! You're acting like my mother! And honestly, you're being really fucking annoying!"

Those words made your heart sink. Yoongi had never called you annoying. Were you being annoying?

"You think I'm annoying?! I'm like this because I care, Yoongi. But fine, if you think I'm so annoying, maybe I'll just leave!" you exclaimed, grabbing your keys off the counter.

Yoongi stopped you by saying,

"No. NO. I'm leaving."

And with that, he swung open the front door, walked out and let it slam behind him.

You rushed back into the living room and threw yourself on the couch, sobbing into the cushion.

You hated fighting with Yoongi, and this one had been one of your worst fights yet.

He had gotten so defensive and that bothered you... it scared you. And he said you were annoying? He has never said that before. Is that what he really thought? That you caring about him was annoying? Or maybe he was right. You had jumped to conclusions and accused him pretty quickly. Were you being overdramatic?

Your crying slowed down eventually and you turned around to stare at the ceiling. You just laid there for a long time... an hour? Two? You really didn't know. Time seemed to be frozen.

Finally, you came to the conclusion that if Yoongi found you annoying or if you had overreacted, maybe it was best to give each other some space and time apart to really cool off. It would probably be good for your relationship anyway.

Heading down the hall with a heavy heart, you grabbed your small suitcase from the closet and carried it to your shared bedroom. You pulled piles of clothes out from your drawers and stuffed them in, not caring how neatly everything was packed. Then you went into the bathroom and retrieved all you tolietries, putting them in the suitcase, too.

Just as you were about to zip it shut, you heard the front door open.

Shit. You had hoped to be gone by the time Yoongi got back.

You heard his footsteps come down the hall and get closer and closer, until finally they stopped in front of the bedroom doorway.

You froze, just the sight of him brought you to tears again.

"(y/n)..." his head was down, not looking at you.

You let out a sniffle and started to zip up the suitcase.

The sound of it made Yoongi look up, his dark brown eyes wide in shock.

"(y/n)? Wh-what the fuck are you doing??" he asked frantically, rushing towards you and putting a hand on the suitcase.

"Yoongi... please," you croaked out.

He put his hand under your chin, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes.

"Jagi, no, don't leave, please. I'll-I'll get rid of the cigarettes right away, and tell my manager I can't hold on to them anymore, okay? Just, please, jagiya, don't go, I don't want to lose you."

Tears were falling down his cheeks now, too, a sight you had never seen before. He wiped them away with shaky hands.

You looked down, away from his gaze.

"You think I’m annoying..." you whimpered.

"Oh, jagi..." Yoongi pulled you to him in a tight embrace as you cried into his chest, "It was just the heat of the moment. I was angry, I didn't know what I was saying. I don't think you're annoying, not at all. You love me, and I love you. Please stay here... don't go."

You were surprised at how emotional he was being and you pulled away to look up at him, knowing you also owed him a big apology.

"I'm sorry, too, Yoongi... for being so accusatory. I should have believed you."

Yoongi wiped a few tears off your face.

"It's okay, (y/n)-ah, it’s all right."

You shook your head and sat down on the edge of the bed. Yoongi sat down next to you and took your hand in his.

You took a deep breath,

"I just... I care about you so much. You being healthy is so important to me. I want you around for a while... And also, when I saw them I just felt like... like I didn’t know you. Like you were keeping something from me. It scared me. I know it’s dumb but I-“

Yoongi shook his head.

“It’s not dumb, (y/n), I get it. I didn’t even think of it that way but I see now,” he pulled you gently into his chest, "I'm sorry, (y/n). If I had known I wouldn't have yelled at you like that. But I do want you to know I will never lie to you. And I'm healthy and here, and I will be for a while. Okay?"

You nodded in response and buried your face farther into Yoongi, clutching onto his black shirt.

The two of you stayed like that for a while as Yoongi calmed you down. You were glad you were able to work it out so easily, and were thankful he was so understanding and supportive. Soon the idea that you wanted to leave felt ridiculous.

"So you're not going to leave?" Yoongi asked you with a hopeful look on his face as you both stood up.

You shook your head and hugged him again.

“Good,” he mumbled, “that really scared the shit out of me.”

You knew that was hard for him to admit so you hugged him tighter.

“I’m so sorry I scared you, Yoongi-ah.”

There was a pause before you finally pulled away from him and sighed.

"Well, I guess I should get back to doing the laundry."

You began walking to the door but were suddenly stopped by Yoongi lifting you off the ground. You yet out a yelp followed by a fit of giggles as you threw you gently on to the bed. He climbed on top of you and gave you a gummy grin.

"Psssh, clothes," he winked, "Who needs 'em?"

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expiredfairydust · 3 years

Text

best friends ~ bubblegum rock/kazuleon || ft. nb gay! kaz || pt. 2

//tw: self hatred, kinda internalised homophobia, uncensored F slur bcoz the author can reclaim it//

a loud gasp forced the two to pull away from their kiss quickly, both of them quickly moving to look in the direction of where the noise had come from.

kazuichi went red due to embarrassment, noticing the unmistakable blonde hair of miss sonia darting away.

she had poked her head around the door to souda’s room - they never locked it in case leon wanted to come and cuddle - meaning to ask the pinkette if they’d been given any homework as she had been in first aid for most of the day before, unaware of what was happening between the mechanic and their crush.

and now she was running off, trying to give the pair privacy. souda, panicking because their illusion of heterosexuality was likely being broken, ran after her, calling “miss s-sonia! wait!! i-i swear it’s not what it looks like i’m s-sorry miss sonia you’re the only one i love i swear!!” they were crying for real now at the realisation that they had just ruined the one thing that was theirs.

the blonde suddenly stopped in her tracks and turned back to kazuichi. her face had an odd expression that kazuichi couldn’t read.

she put a hand over the mechanic’s mouth. “you do not understand souda, i do not care about you and kuwata’s relationship! in fact, i am glad because now you can leave me and miss fukawa to our relationship in peace - i was and still am rather disgusted at your lack of knowledge on personal boundaries but now i do not have to worry about that because you have no reason to!” she spoke slightly forcefully without meaning to. when she was done, she took her hand away and started walking off again.

“miss sonia!! i-i-i-“ kazuichi couldn’t gather their words, thousands of thoughts racing through their head. “we’re not dating... it was.. it was only a kiss....” they would mumble, more tears streaming down their face with every word. “i-it was all my fault anyways... i-i.. i was.. i was the one who kissed him and it was so so stupid of me because he’s the only person i have left and now he probably hates me for- for-“

their voice cracked and they couldn’t go on speaking, their legs giving way underneath them. “for being such a disgusting fucking faggot!! and-and-and i don’t blame him because i hate myself too!!” they were practically shouting now. “but dammit i love him so fucking much! so much, it hurts! god it feels like my heart is being ripped apart and i can’t fix it and i don’t know what to do and i hate that! and even if i could ever tell him properly i just know he’d hate me because who could ever like such a pathetic little FAG”

they didn’t know why they were telling all of this to miss sonia, maybe it was because they didn’t want her to think leon’s standards were so low as to date them. maybe they just needed to let everything out, needed to rant. because the moment they opened their mouth the words seemed to vomit out.

and once they were done ranting they ran off to the loos so they could actually vomit, as they often did out of distress. they ran to the far away disabled loos, on the opposite end of campus - they were the only public gender neutral loos on campus - so they wouldn’t have to face leon again, who they assumed was still in their room.

key word: assumed.

because leon had actually heard every word, only a few paces behind kazuichi during their confession. he had ran to try and take the mechanic in his arms, to say that it was okay because he loved them that way back. he had ran, just as kazuichi ran off.

meanwhile the princess was just happily beaming to herself, knowing that leon heard every word. she had successfully wingwomanned for the creep and the punk! it was a double win, as leon tended to flirt with touko as well as kazuichi’s horrible attempts to look straight by chasing after miss sonia herself. she made her way to her girlfriend’s dorm to tell her all about what she did.

leon’s thoughts were racing, as he tried to figure out what was even happening. kaz was in love with him... kazzy loved him back... but they thought that kiss was all their fault? as if leon hadn’t chosen to kiss them too? and now they thought he hated them? why? why would he kiss them if he hated them? god kazuichi was a dumb bitch at the best of times...

leon couldn’t help but smile through his tears, which he hadn’t noticed either.

kazuichi really loved him back..!

him!

but they thought leon felt the opposite...

right...

well, leon would just have to change that, he decided as he started looking for his best friend. he knew the mechanic got physically unwell when they were unwell, so he’d just have to check all the loos until he found the right one!

except kazuichi was nonbinary and relatively androgynous, so the baseball star had no clue which loos they’d be in, and he couldn’t exactly barge into the women’s loos checking to find his friend.

so, that meant he’d have to find ibuki, who had joined his band, and ask nya to check the girls’ loos while he checked the men’s and disabled loos. nya was also non binary, but at least she passed as a girl enough to enter the women’s loos.

it wasn’t hard, seeing as the noise they made made all over on the other side of the campus-

(conveniently close to one of the only gender neutral loos on campus)

-was loud enough to be heard in another country. leon was regretting leaving his ear plugs in kaz’s dorm, as he plugged his ears with his fingers and ran towards the sound.

“IBUKI!!!!” he yelled once he was in the practice room mioda was in.

“WHAT?!?”

“WHAT???”

“WHAT?!”

this was going to be tedious, leon thought, as he moved towards where everything was plugged in and unplugged the speakers.

ah, silence,,, at least it would’ve been if mioda wasn’t screeching at leon for what he did. “jesus christ calm down ibuki! i need you for something important” leon hissed, ibuki going completely quiet at the word “important” - void loved being helpful!

the bubbly musician sped off to search once leon explained what he needed. knowing nya, she’d probably check all the men’s loos too, void didn’t seem to get what made people so iffy about not sharing a bathroom with different genders.

but with that, leon got to looking too. and it wasn’t long before he heard the sound of sobbing in the disabled loos, accompanied by the sound of vomiting. well, there’s kaz...

he knocked on the door “kazzy?” he tentatively spoke. there was the click of the door being unlocked for leon to enter. he soon dropped to the floor, next to the pinkette, pulling them into his lap and holding them tightly. “shshshhh... i’m here kazzy...” the ginger would whisper sweetly into souda’s ear.

he held the younger student’s hair back as they puked again. “now how about you tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours?” he whispered, despite knowing already. he wanted kazuichi to say it again. to him, not to miss sonia.

but kaz didn’t want to talk. “it’s stupid” they said, snuggling against leon.

“if it’s stupid why don’t you say it?”

“coz you’ll hate me even more than you do for kissing you” their words were hard to understand through their tears.

“what makes you think i hate you? if i hated you, would i be here with you now? c’mon how about you wash your mouth out? all that puking must have left a horrible taste” leon spoke with a gentle tone, which was unlike him but comforting to the sobbing boy in his lap.

once almost all traces of puke had been ridden from the mechanic’s mouth, leon sat them on his lap again, holding them tightly. “how about you tell me what’s wrong now, eh kazzy?” he said sweetly, wiping his best friend’s tear stained cheeks with his sleeve.

“promise you won’t hate me?”

“pinky promise”

the pinkette drew a deep breath, getting ready to speak. then shook their head. “i-i can’t”

a realisation dawned upon leon then. this was his chance to reveal his own secret! “i’ll tell you something about me that i’ve been hiding if that would make you feel any better” a slow nod gave him the ok to speak.

“i’m intersex. when i was born the doctors told my mom and dad and they were.. well, i don’t know how they felt but i was forced into an opporation to make me “fully” male as a baby and all my life i’ve had to take medication to keep my hormones at a “normal male” level, which is odd coz i was never actually told that’s what it was for until recently” the ginger spoke, resting his head on kazuichi’s shoulder

“but, i want to stop taking my meds, i don’t want to be 100% a boy, and that decision kinda scares me in case people won’t accept it. in case you don’t accept it” he added after hesitating. “now do you wanna talk about your problem?” he wanted to change the subject.

kaz had gone quiet. then, after a few seconds they said. “it sounds silly now that you’ve told me how serious yours is... but- but-“ they paused to figure out the words they wanted to say. “i-i- i’m so sorry for kissing you! i had no right to do it and i-i- i didn’t even take the time to ask you if you wanted a kiss and- and- and- i’m so sorry i know you hate me for it and i don’t blame you because i totally deserve it” the words seemed to fall out quicker than kazuichi could think of them

“and i know you probably never want to see me again but if you could ever forgive me i’d really appreciate it because you’re the only friend i’ve got and i love you dude!” as those words came out, the pink haired mechanic started tearing up again. “i-i love you... i love you so much it hurts and i don’t know what i’d ever do without you but i totally understand if you hate me because how could you ever love someone who’s such a disgusting f-“

their words were cut off by leon kissing the shorter mechanic. it was a brief kiss, even shorter than their first, but the pure, raw emotion behind it was clear. love. reciprocated love.

“if i thought you were disgusting, why would i choose to kiss you twice? because now you know it sure as hell weren’t just you who wanted that first kiss” leon said simply, wiping the shorter guy’s tears away. “but i don’t still want to be friends,” he said, suddenly going cold, making the pinkette’s face drop. “i want to be boyfriends!” he said, making kazuichi start laughing with relief.

just as they were about to share another kiss, in barged mioda, yelling about how nya had found the pink haired mechanic, then once void noticed the ginger sat next to them and started yelling about how unfair it was that she had been looking all over for kazuichi for leon when the ginger was probably with them the whole time.

the couple smiled and sheepishly promised to make it up to the ultimate musician. the end.

#bubblegum rock #kazuleon #soudawata #kazuichi souda #leon kuwata #leon x kazuichi #kazuichi x leon #fanfic #dr fic #dr fanfiction #gay #nb gay #fag life fag life

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kookoosbunnynose · 4 years

Text

Ch.1 || Ch.2

Pairing: Neighbor!Jungkook/FWB!Jungkook x Artist!Reader

Genre: Slowburn, Smut, Angst, Humor

Word Count: 11.4k

Summary: You’re an art student in need of a partner for your new collaboration piece, who is there to help you but your new neighbor, Jeon Jungkook. You two paint together but leave with much more than a colorful canvas.

A/N: Hello! I know! Dumb bitch finally updated the fic lmao. but i’m really excited about this part and even more excited for the rest of the fic. If you haven’t read chapter 1 yet go read it!

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

Thankfully, even though you didn’t get to bed by the time you wanted last night, after the whole ‘y/n is a dumbass and got locked out’ debacle, you woke up with enough time to take it slow this morning. Mornings like these were your favorite, no rush. Just you sitting at your vanity getting ready for your day, jamming along to whatever song comes on your shuffle, using various items as a makeshift microphone.

You’re in the heat of Colors by Halsey when there’s a knock at your door, you abruptly cut off your poorly tuned melody, feeling caught. You quickly finish the eyebrow you’re working on as you don’t want the person at the door to see you with the one and a half you’re currently sporting. Good enough.

You rush to your front door, careful not to let your fluffy socks make you slip on the linoleum. When you open the door only to be greeted by your fluffy haired neighbor. He looks good in the morning too? Well that’s just fucking peachy. You’re making this difficult Jeon.

“Good morning.” You smile trying to hide how distraught you are.

“Good morning, sorry to bug you” he smiles sheepishly. “I was just hoping I could steal an egg from you? We’re out.” He asks hopeful.

“Oh, yeah of course. Just a second.” You turn on your heels to grab an egg from the kitchen. When your face is hidden by the fridge door you take a second to take a deep breath before making your way back to him. “Just one?” You ask when you hand it to him.

“Yeah one’s good, thank you y/n.” He gives you a small bow and opens his door. “See you later.”

---

“Hello gorgeous.” Yoongi says as your trio approaches the counter.

“Morning handsome.” Jimin smirks and steps in front of you.

“I was talking to y/n.”

“Her?” He looks over his shoulder at you. “While I’m here? That doesn’t sound right.” He scrunches his nose as if he’s doing mental math.

“I’ll just get your usual started.” He says leaning to the side so he can see your face.

“Thank you.” You laugh at them swipe your card and take the blueberry muffin he slides your way. You step to the side and wait for your boys to order their drinks.

“Remind me why we still come here.” Joon asks the two of you as you make your way to the pick-up end of the counter.

“Because we’ve been doing it since we started uni. We’re old and stuck in our ways, Joonie. There’s no backing out now.” You reply woefully.

“What are we? Boomers? We can go to a different coffee shop.” Namjoon furrows his brows.

“Order for Sweets!” A now familiar boxy smiled boy behind the counter says.

“Oh no we can’t. Not anymore.” Jimin says his attention caught by Tae.

“Look who wants to fuck the neighbors now!” You whisper yell at them before stepping toward the counter.

“Ha! You admit it!- Wait, neighbor?” You hear Jimin behind you.

“Hi Tae! Thank you.”

“Hello y/n!” He smiles and leans in to make his voice hushed. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you and Yoongi a thing? He covers like half your bill and calls you pet names everyday.” He lists off the, admittedly odd, circumstances of your relationship.

“Oh, no we’re not. We just flirt back and forth. I think if he had any real intention behind it he would’ve asked me out by now, in my experience he’s pretty straight forward.” You chuckle.

“Ah okay. Would you want him to ask you out?”

“I did in the beginning but it’s been well over a year. As far as he goes, I’m sated with just the flirting.”

“Ah, I see.” He turns away to grab the next two cups. “Orders for Jimin and Namjoon!” He calls over.

“Why do you ask?”

He pauses for a second. “I was just curious, he’s kinda like that with a couple girls but you seem to be his favorite.”

“Well it’s been a while, seniority I guess.” You shrug and your counterparts join you at the counter. “Oh how rude of me, these are my roommates. This is Taehyung.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, I’ll probably be seeing you guys a lot. I’m across the hall pretty often.” You all chuckle. “I wish I could talk longer but I don’t want to hold up the line, see you!” He smiles.

The three of you give various forms of a goodbye as you leave to find your usual table.

“Okay, is no one gonna say it?” Jimin says once you’re seated and safely out of ear shot.

“Say what?” Namjoon asks scrunching his face at his hot coffee.

“What do you mean ‘say what?’” Jimin says blinking slowly at your brother. “What is in those boys’ cheerios?”

“Fiber?”

“No! You fucking tree!”

“Y/n really? Now he’s calling me that, too?” You shrug.

---

You take a breath in as you walk into the art studio, the smell of paint and pencil lead tickling your nose. You take your usual seat at a large table and check your phone for your list of assignments. The professor sends you a large list of all the assignments at the beginning of the semester. Giving students the freedom to choose what order they do them in, the only stipulation is that you must have half turned in by midterms and the other half by the end of the semester. A much more doable lesson plan than a lot of your past professors. Being forced to be creative is draining and doesn’t get you far.

You scan down the list of possibilities until you find one that catches your eye. Monochromatic self portrait (any color)? No. Pretend you have synesthesia and illustrate your favorite song? Eh, not today. Collaboration piece? Ugh, I can’t even if I wanted to. I need to find someone to work with. Create 5 random custom colors and paint a landscape using only those colors (5”x5”)? Sounds like I could get that done before I leave. Perfect.

You pop in your earbuds and get to work. Deciding acrylic would be best for a quick painting, you grab a pallet and a sizable glob of each of the primary colors along with black and white. A little red here, a little yellow there, and some white for this one. You continue putting in different combinations until you have five colors you’re happy with not worrying if they’ll make sense for scenery. Fuck it. Who says trees can’t be purple?

As you dip your brush into your small selection of paints and watch the way the colors glide onto the canvas, it makes a sense of ease wash over you. Breathing life into a piece no matter how simple creates a new little reality in it’s own right. Expands our universe one brush stroke at a time. In the least cringy art kid way possible, of course.

You continue your work, mouthing along to your music as you go. Rust tinted grass and a peachy sky coming together in a way that definitely isn’t realism but ends up having a sunset feel due to the warm hues you chose. Just a few touch ups here and there and you’re done.

You pack up your things and head home with your new little creation to dry completely overnight. It’s already mostly dry but the textured parts still have a way to go.

---

“I really need to go grocery shopping. Thank you again, y/n.” Bunny teeth shining as he leaves your apartment with a mug of tea in place of the hot water he showed up with.

Today is day… eight? Of a new routine has developed over the course of the week. Everyday without fail, whether it be morning or evening, an egg or a cup of milk. Jungkook comes over and asks for a small food item, thanks you, and returns home. No big deal, but it’s apparent that those idiots really need to restock their fridge. It’s like having a stray cat that comes around every night after you feed it once. A really big stray cat… with pretty hair, and a cute lip mole, that always smells like fresh laundry and citrus… anyway-

Time to officially start the day and pretend that little mental tangent didn’t just happen. Go team!

You finish doing some light makeup and throw on some ripped mom jeans and a black hoodie. Enough effort to look like you care, but still comfy. You throw your bag over your shoulder, slip your boots on and head out the door.

Finding parking on campus at this time of day is a nightmare and usually takes longer than just walking since you live just off school grounds. So you make your short walk and stop by the cafe by yourself. You usually go alone only once a week; there’s only one day where you’re the only one of your roomies to have a morning class.

You order, give Tae his morning hello and make your way to class.

Classes pass with relative ease. You listen and take notes; taking notes more so meaning doodling along the margins of your notebook than anything else. Really putting those scholarships to good use.

Art history, meeting with the theater department about painting props, studio, home.

You enter your apartment and are met with Jimin and Namjoon sitting on the couch about to start the obligatory bi-monthy screening of Your Name.

“Hey! Were you gonna start the movie without me?” You kick off your shoes and take a running leap onto your spot on the couch.

“No! We were waiting for you, we’re not monsters.” Namjoon retorts in defense.

“That’s exactly what someone who wasn’t waiting for me would say.” You narrow your eyes at your little brother at the other end of the couch.

“Would you two stop bickering for two seconds. It’s starting.” Jimin puts a hand over both your mouths from his spot between you.

“Sheesh, grumpy pants.” You grumble when he lowers his arms.

The movie is filled with the same sobs and ‘awe’s that it always is, always ending in tears for at least one of you. Breathtaking animation coupled with a heart wrenching story, no matter how many times you watch it, it never fails to amaze. As much as you would’ve loved more closure at the end of the movie, the ambiguous ending couldn’t be more poetic.

“Joonie, what would you do if we switched bodies?” You turn to your brother as the credits roll.

“Probably get a discounted coffee.” He deadpans.

“Oh, you’re no fun!”

“More money in my bank account sounds very fun.”

Your retort cut off by a knock at the door from your neighbor for his daily snack, so you settle for throwing the pillow sitting in your lap in his direction as you stand. Which he tries to swat away only to end up with a faceful of cushion. Ha, get got bitch.

“Do you need an egg?” You say as you open the door.

“Uh- No I’m good? Thank you for asking.” Tae chuckles, you freeze your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, I thought you were Jungkook.” You let out a stiff laugh and shuffle your feet in embarrassment. “Anyway, what brings you all this way?” You joke, attempting to alleviate a bit of the blush on your cheeks.

“I just wanted to see if you’d wanna chill with us tonight? We had a lot of fun last time. Nothing special, but I wanted to see if you were up for it.” He smiles. “You guys are more than welcome to join too if you’d like!” He shouts over your shoulder at the boys sitting on the couch when he notices them sitting there.

“Nah we’re good Jimin and I have a test in the morning, and if I don’t force him to study with me he’ll fail.” Namjoon says from the couch

“I would not!” Jimin turns to him offended.

“Okay, I’ll study alone then.”

“No, please help me.” He deflates.

“See.” Joon smirks. “Thank you for the offer though!” He calls over to Tae.

“No problem, next time?”

“Next time.” He echoes.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He points a slender finger in your brother’s direction. “What about you, y/n? Are you down?” He directs his attention back to you.

“Right now?”

“If that works for you, Kook will be back from work shortly, it’ll just be Hobi and I for a little bit.”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” You smile. “Just let me go grab a couple things real quick and then I’m good to go!”

You scurry to your bedroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror, evaluating the damage the day has done to your makeup. Not bad. You give the apples of your cheeks a quick squeeze to bring back a little color, scramble to find your tinted lip balm, and fluff up your hair a little. There we go. Cute. Now to find something to bring with me so this little panicked face check isn’t a complete lie. Phone charger is good.

With your phone charger in hand and a revived complexion you head back out.

“Thanks for waiting.” Tae gives you a nod and you smile while you give your boys a wave as you walk out the door.

You walk into the boys apartment and are immediately greeted by a wagging Bread who you kneel to give a plethora of loves, giggling when he hops up and tries to kiss your face.

“Hey y/n!”

“Hey Hobi!” You say as you follow Tae over to the couch with Bread right on your heels.

“Glad you decided to join us. Kook will be here soon, he left work not long ago.”

“I gave her the run down before we came over.” Tae smiles.

“How have classes and shit been?” You ask them

“Not ideal. I pulled a muscle in my leg.” Hobi rubs his calf. “With a big performance coming up on friday, but the show must go on, you know.” He shrugs.

“Oh shit dude, will you be okay?”

“He does this at least once a semester.” Tae says waving it off, used to his friend pushing through his injuries.

“Yeah, it sucks for a bit but I’ll have some wiggle room to rest after this test.” He reassures.

“Okay good, just don’t die.” You chuckle.

“I’ll try not to.” He laughs.

“I’ve been doing a few surveys for my psych classes, would you mind if I get some data from you?” Tae looks to you, taking full advantage of the small lull in conversation.

“Tae no.” Hobi’s face falls and he rubs his temples.

“Do you find Chuck E. Cheese fuckable?” He asks, a genuine question mark in his eyes.

You blink. “What the hell kind of psych classes are you taking?”

“Just answer the question, y/n.”

You look at Hobi for some sort of answer, though you’re not even sure what your question is. “You’re gonna have to just answer him, he’s been on about it all day.”

“Fucking of course not. Why on earth would I want to fuck a rat? And even if I did, why would I want to fuck a robotic rat roughly the size of an entire kindergarden class?”

“First of all, he’s a mouse.” Tae corrects. “Second of all, THANK YOU!” He throws his arms up and flops against the back of the couch. “One kid in my class started this somehow and the room was surprising split. About forty percent of the people in that room said ‘Charles Entertainment Cheese’ was sexy! It got pretty heated, people were yelling that the opposing side that we ‘just couldn't handle his raw sexual power.’” He says exasperated with overdone air quotes. “So I’ve been asking everyone all day because I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I suppose I can see how that would plague your mind.” You laugh.

“Anyway!” Hobi interjects, clearly tired of the subject. “How are your things going, y/n?”

You chuckle at his wide eyes. “They’ve been good. I’ve been spending more time in the studio with midterms coming up. But I need to find someone to work with me on a collab piece. I wanna have it in by midterms so I don’t have to worry about it during finals.” you sigh at the thought.

“Awh, I would help with that but I already did that assignment and I’m not sure if they’d let me do it again with someone else?” Tae says with a small frown.

“I’d offer but the only thing I am versed in is drawing stick figures and arguably anatomically incorrect dicks.” Hobi chuckles.

“Thanks you guys.” You smile. “It’s alright though, I might just ask Jimin to get drunk and throw some paint at a canvas with me.”

“Hey! This reminds me, a couple days ago when you got coffee you promised you’d show me some of your work when we hung out next.” Tae looks at you sternly, arms tight across his chest. “The time has come Miss y/n.”

“Ah, I suppose I did.” You say as you grab your phone to show him your album of a bunch of your work. “Okay, but I’m no Van Gogh. Go easy on me.” You warn before you hand over your device to him; you always get a little nervous when you show people your art for the first time.

“Hey hey! None of that nonsense! If the way you talk about art is any consolation, then I’m sure the passion alone is enough to make it beautiful.” Tae gives you a stern look followed by a reassuring smile.

“Do you want me to cry? Because this is how you make me cry.” You chuckle and relent your collection of work over to him for them to inspect.

They open the first photo and you’re met with a mixture of a ‘holy shit’ from Hobi and a ‘wow’ from Tae, their reactions make you smile and your face heat up.

“These are amazing y/n!” Hobi says as Tae swipes through.

“Thank you guys so much, really.” You say blushing and all but clutching your chest.

You watch their faces intently as they go through, Tae stopping every so often to zoom in and inspect a certain brushstroke that catches his eye. They get toward the end of the photoset when you hear a key in the front door. You’re the only one to turn your head to see Jungkook walk into the apartment. He sets his keys down on the table next to the entrance and his feet stutter a little when he sees you on the couch with his friends.

“Hey Kook! Y/n was just showing us some of her art, dude she’s so talented!” Hobi calls over his shoulder.

“It’s really good, you should come take a look.” Tae adds, and you laugh nervously.

“That’s so awesome, I will.” He says looking at you with a smile. “I just need to talk to Tae, for a quick second.” He says turning his gaze toward him and tilting his head toward the hall.

“Oh, is it about that thing?” Tae grits his teeth and sucks in sharp breath.

“Yes, exactly, the thing.” He confirms vaguely, looking relieved.

“Is everything okay?” You furrow your brows and look at each of them.

“He just has a rash, no worries.” Tae tells you in a hushed tone as he stands up. All you can do is blink in response. Jungkook lets out an exaggerated laugh as they disappear into the dark hallway and out of sight.

Once they are safely in the other room Jungkook flicks Tae in the forehead.

“Ow!” Tae gasps.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Jungkook whisper yells at his idiot of a best friend.

“I was covering for you!”

“You could’ve said literally anything else! I don’t even have a rash!”

“She doesn’t know that!”

“Exactly, you fuck!” Jungkook whispers flicking him again. “Why is she here?! You didn’t warn me!”

“This is what I get for trying to help you?” Tae says rubbing his forehead with a pout.

“Hey! I was handling it just fine on my own!”

“Oh yeah, your plan to slowly raid the entire contents of her fridge was going so great!”

“I just thought!... I thought we would eventually talk or... something?” Jungkook says realizing maybe it wasn’t the best plan in the world. “That’s how my parents used to get to know our neighbors, they’d borrow each others sugar and shit.”

“It’d be easier to talk to her if you just hung out with her and I invited her over for you. You’re welcome! And your parents weren’t trying to fuck your neighbors, were they! Different goal calls for different strategy.”

“Dude gross, I hope not.” Jungkook scrunches his nose. “And I don’t… just wanna fuck her.”

“Aww, does Googie have a bigger crush than we thought he did.” Tae teases pinching his cheek.

“Fuck you. But thanks I guess… just warn me next time, will you?” Jungkook relents.

“You got it.” Tae says patting him on the shoulder. “I’m only kinda sorry though!” He whispers as he slips out the door. Jungkook follows him to join all of you in the living room.

“Sorry about that.” Jungkook smiles at you as he and Tae take their places next to you on the couch.

“No worries.” You assure.

“Kook you should take a look at her work, I think you’d like it.” Hobi says passing your phone over to him and your face heats up a little. “I was just telling y/n how you were really artsy in high school.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Jungkook waves him off as he starts to look through the photos and stopping a little longer on ones that catch his eye.

“It wasn’t nothing.” Tae interjects. “Actually y/n, you mentioned needing a partner for that collab piece? Since I can’t assist, I’m sure Jungkook could help you out.” Tae gestures to the two of you.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask him to do that for me.” You shake your head, looking at both their faces.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side for a second. “I wouldn’t mind at all, it would be fun. I might be a little rusty though.” He says with worried eyes.

“Really? you wouldn’t mind?” You light up. “That would help me out a ton. I’ve been stressing over that piece for weeks.”

“I’d be happy to.” He smiles bright. “I’m off on Saturday, we could work on it then. If that works for you, of course.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” You reach out to shake his hand, effectively sealing the deal. “Thank you so much.” you say and squeeze his hand a little.

“So Kook, I’m collecting data for my psych class-” Tae takes this opportunity to stain your moment of gratitude.

“I already told you, I’m not fuckin’ rats!” Jungkook cuts him off.

“He’s not a rat!”

“Which side are you on?!”

---

“Did I call it? Or did I call it?” Jin looks at you with his stupid smug ass face.

“Listen! It’s nothing!” You throw that damp rag you’re wiping down a table with in his direction.

“It’s not nothing! I can smell your pent up sexual frustration for him from here. You guys are gonna be alone for several hours making art together? What is he, Swayze?”

“Men and women can be platonic friends! You’re not thinking very progressively here, old man.”

“Of course, men and women can be platonic friends.” He says gesturing at the air between you. “But you and what’s his fuck, Junglebook, you said? You two, cannot.”

“Your lack of faith in me is astounding.”

“I wouldn’t call it a lack of faith in you, more of an educated assumption… And a lack of faith in both of you.” He smirks. Asshole.

“Fuck you.” You deadpan.

“You know you love me y/nie.” He blows you a kiss.

“You’re lucky I do.”

---

You: I can bring the supplies over whenever you’re ready, just lemme know! Thank you for letting me come over there, it would be hard for creative juices flowing with Joon hovering over us all night. Trying to figure out a deep psychological reason for me painting a flower yellow lmao

You: Oh! And wear clothes you don’t mind getting paint on, stains are inevitable :)

And send.

Okay listen to me you dumb bitch. You can do this. We got this. For fuck sake why are you so nervous? Pull yourself together! Just enough to prove Jin and Jimin wrong. Do it just to rub it in their faces! Fuck. What are you 12? We can hang out alone with him. This is stupid. I’m stupid. It’s fine. Everything is fine! Shut up.

Tight Buns McCute-Dog: You can come over now, I’m just gonna change real quick, the door is unlocked! (:

After receiving that reply, instead of him just cancelling, you were relieved he was still willing to help you. However it didn’t help the whole sweating from your ass cheeks with nerves, thing. So overall about the same. Great.

Doing an abstract painting in these mental conditions will result in accidentally painting several phallic shapes. A Freudian Slip of the wrist if you will.

After a couple deep breaths, effectively shoving half your feelings deep into the crevices of your mind, and changing his contact name, just for good measure. You grab all the supplies you’ll need and walk across the hall.

You struggle to open your door while balancing your small box of acrylics, easel and canvas in your arms. Deciding to abandon your easel in the hall for a second while you knock on your neighbor’s door a couple times before you turn the knob.

Bread is already eager and yipping at you for attention while you attempt to bring everything in and set it up to the side of the living room adjacent to the kitchen.

---

Jungkook opens your texts and mouths a small ‘oh shit’ not wanting to keep you waiting, but quickly regretting his decision to work out right before he saw you. He wanted to look a little extra muscley but didn’t consider that he’d be a sweaty mess after doing so.

He settles for telling you he’s changing and hopes you take a few minutes to gather your things so he can blow dry his hair a little.

Your presence in his apartment is made known when he hears his dog barking and scuttling around. He gives his hair a quick tousel, throws on one of his many black hoodies and a little spritz of cologne.

Jungkook emerges from his bedroom to find you fumbling with your easel. Cute.

“Do you need help?” he asks through a giggle.

“Nope! Got everything a hundred percent under control over here.” Your sentence punctuated by your canvas falling to the floor. “Shit.”

“Allow me.” he says handing you the canvas.

“Thank you.” you breath and run a hand through your hair.

“So what’s the plan? I hope you’re not expecting any Sistine Chapel level work from me.” he chuckles.

“A bunch of naked babies and a priest with the ears of an ass? I appreciate that you don’t bring that to the table.” you raise your brows.

“Point taken.”

“The plan is no plan. I mean I wanted to go for something abstract because it’s fun and doesn’t require a lot of brain power. Just put the brush where you think it should go.” you mime a couple brush strokes in the air.

“Sounds easy enough, paint from the heart.” he confirms, patting his chest for emphasis.

“Oh, I did think one of us could be in charge of warm colors and tints, and the other could do cool colors and shades, and see where that takes us.” you look up expectantly, hoping he likes your almost-plan.

“Sounds interesting.” He looks at the empty canvas, eyes scanning for possibilities. “Which do you want?”

“I’m partial to cool colors, myself.”

“Then today, I’m partial to warm.” he smirks. “So are we just feeling what we feel in the moment or is there an emotion we’re trying to convey?” He turns to you, eyes expectant.

You pause for a second, unsure if you should abandon the theme you were pondering for this piece before you knew Jungkook would be your partner in creation. “Is it too cliche if the theme was ‘love’?” You ask him hesitantly. Immediately regretting not just saying ‘nah man, just throw paint at that bitch.’

But much to your surprise.

“Not at all, it’s a ‘cliche’ for a reason.” He states nonchalantly. “Love is powerful. Whether it’s the painful bit or the part that makes you feel untouchable.”

A certain fondness hits his eyes that tells you he’s speaking from experience but you don’t pry.

“I’m glad you like the idea.” you smile, relief filling you after he doesn’t exhibit any signs of being uncomfortable.

He claps his large palms together. “Shall we get started, Miss y/n?” His gaze once directed at the blank canvas, now fully on you.

“Choose your weapon, Mr. Jungkook.” You feign a serious tone, giving him a small handful of various brushes. Keeping a few of your favorites for yourself.

You push your box paints toward him indicating he can grab what he likes. Normally you’re a bit protective over your art supplies, seeing as not only are they stupid expensive, but you care for your tools a lot. You wouldn’t let your klutzy brother within a ten foot radius of your things when you were growing up and even now your blood boils if he’s anywhere near your expertly sorted colored pencils. But Jungkook is always gentle and seeing the way he meticulously places small globs of white, reds, and yellows onto his palette, you know you’ve made a good choice in trusting him.

He steps slightly back letting you put the first ceremonial brush stroke of charcoal black diagonally across the upper most half of your canvas. He joins shortly after deciding to start with white in contrast with your black, laying down some bases for shapes and choosing to run his brush through to disturb the various lines you’ve made, dragging the two tones into a fading grey.

As your mind wanders towards the way his slender tattooed fingers wrap delicately around the paint brush you quickly come to the conclusion that it’s time to play some background music. Absentmindedly sticking the handle of the brush between your teeth to grab your phone and open your music library.

“What kind of music do you like?” You turn to him, the thin strip of wood in your mouth giving you a slight lisp.

“I’m not picky, play whatever you want.” he says warmly but his brow still furrowed with concentration while he finishes up his base layer.

As his answer didn’t do much in the way of helping your quest, you opted for the safety of one of those throwback playlists spotify procures for their listeners, the 90’s one to be exact. Everybody loves some good nostalgia, and it may aid in the sincerity of your painting. Past emotions and whatnot.

The first song that comes on after you hit shuffle is Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana and you hum in content. Jungkook on the other hand is pleasantly taken aback by your song choice.

“Oh shit yeah! I love Nirvana!” He smiles brightly, taking his crinkling eyes off his work for the first time since you started.

“Everybody loves Nirvana.” you tease him and roll your eyes at the possibility of him being one of those frat boys that ‘misses Kurt Cobain so much’ but can only name Smells Like Teen Spirit and maybe Aneurysm if you’re lucky.

Jungkook, sensing your tone, smirks and runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “You think so, huh?” he bemuses, rolling up his sleeve to uncover this inked skin. Across his forearm is a quote reading ‘rather be dead than cool,’ a lyric from their song Stay Away. He watches you with a quirked brow.

“I stand corrected.” you hold your hands up in defense. Trying not to let the way his inked skin hugs his veins increases your heart rate become too apparent on your features. “You do indeed love Nirvana.” your emphasis on the word being placed differently this time.

“Never doubt me again y/n.” He eyes you suspiciously. “I’ll get more tattoos just to spite you.” He narrows his eyes to add validity to his semi-empty threat.

“I will never doubt you again, scouts honor.” you say playfully saluting him.

“Now start the song over. Your lack of faith in me, made me miss half the song.” he points a finger at your phone.

“I can’t, I don’t have premium.” you let out a heavy sigh.

“What?! That’s dumb. You suffer through those god awful ads?” He screws his face up in disgust.

“Eh, I don’t mind too much.” You shrug. “I don’t wanna spend the extra money every month.”

“Okay, I guess that’s fair.” He squints at you as you pick up your brush again. “Why don’t you just use my account? I’ll text you my login.” He says fishing for his phone in his pocket.

“That’s completely unnecessary.” You laugh, and wave for him to stop. “You’re already helping me out so much with this.” you gesture to the now less blank canvas in front of you.

“I really don’t mind. What’s the worst that could happen? We expand our music libraries? Oh no!” he pretends to gasp and you roll your eyes. “And besides, I’ll sleep better at night knowing I saved a soul from those creepy ass vitamin water commercials.” He chuckles.

“You really don’t have to.” Your eyes softening at his seemingly endless stream of kindness.

“Already sent you the login, too late.” he says, sucking in a breath as if to say ‘what a shame.’

“Thank you, Jungkook.” you say as you gently grab his forearm and run your thumb over it.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “Back to work now!” he declares, sticking his paint brush, that at some point in your conversation tucked it’s way behind his ear, into his small mountain of yellow.

You work like this together for a while. Humming along to your music, that is now playing off Jungkook’s phone after he insisted he didn’t wanna hear ‘Colonel Suck-My-Ass’ sing about his chicken deals one more time. The two of you working together seamlessly; the way you blend your colors and make textures complimenting each other nicely. Switching sides of the canvas every so often so it remains balanced.

After about an hour of being immersed in your work Jungkook turns to you. “Noodle break?” He asks you frowning at his empty tummy.

Your brush stutters on the canvas at his words, your stomach not realizing it’s been hours since you’ve eaten until he mentions food. “That sounds wonderful, actually.”

“One or two packets?” he asks making his way into the kitchen.

“Just one is good.” you smile, setting your brush into your cup of water. You follow him into the kitchen. “Where do you store your liquid?” you ask standing between the pantry and the fridge, looking lost.

“Fridge.” he answers giving his approval to let you grab the two of you some drinks.

“I see you guys finally went grocery shopping.” you chuckle at the butter and cartons of eggs in his fridge.

“What?- oh right, yeah. Finally dragged Hobi out earlier today.” His smile not quite meeting his eyes while he opens up three packets of ramen, and waits for the water to boil.

“Can I steal a soda?”

“Yeah, just not the sprite. Hobi can and will throw a fit.” his tone far more serious than the situation calls for.

“Well damn, okay.” you say and grab a coke for both of you.

“Thank you.” He smiles and your fingertips brush perhaps a little too long when you hand him his drink.

He pulls the tab, puts the cold metal to his lips and you watch the way his throat bobs up and down with every swig. When you feel yourself staring your ears heat up, and turn your gaze to the water starting to roll in the pot.

As Jungkook is finishing up cooking the ramen, the song changes to Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, you let out a small gasp and start to sing along. He smiles at your apparent love for the song and starts to harmonize with you to encourage you to keep going. Which, much to his dismay, did the exact opposite.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you scold. “I didn’t know you had such a beautiful voice!”

“It’s alright, I guess.” He breathes out and rubs the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He looks at you with those big doe eyes. And you swear you’ll only look at them for a couple more seconds, as not to fall under their spell. A half hearted oath at best.

But you start to sing again, you tell yourself it’s to make the most of the song while it’s on but really, you just want to hear honeyed voice hit your ears again. And it does, eyes closed tightly and mouth wide to control his sound. You can’t hold a tune to save your life but the way he carries your sounds with his, it doesn’t matter. Your song is beautiful.

After your musical interruption, you take your bowls to the table and slurp away at your noodles. All the while Bread is at your heels begging ever so sweetly, which Jungkook scolds but ultimately ends up throwing him a noodle when his bowl is just about gone.

You take your bowl to the sink but when you start rinsing Jungkook comes over to push you out of the way so he can take care of it himself. You stand your ground for a minute but lose the silent argument due to his advantage of stature. You mutter a small ‘fuck you’ before you return to the canvas, and he smiles contently to himself.

Jungkook joins you back at your station, stepping back for a moment to assess where the two of you left off and what he’d like to add. He lets his eyes run over the varying sized lines and the way they come together but also fight one another in some spots. Some colors as bright as the sun and others look like the depths of the ocean. All coming together in a way that only really makes sense to the two of you.

You finished what was left of your drink and picked up your brush, dipping straight into your black paint for the second time since you started like you were on a mission. You drew a fluid line near the center curving over a few existing splotches, near the end of your brush stroke it became jagged and split off into several directions. A pessimist would call it a shatter, an optimist would call it several opportune paths, and a realist would probably just call it a painting. But Jungkook did none of those things.

“Y/n, have you ever been in love?” He asked as if he had only asked what time it was. He started swirling some colors together while he waited for an answer.

You blinked, trying not to show how much that question shocked you. “I suppose…” you breathed, actually struggling to come up with a real answer. “I mean, last time I was in a serious relationship was in highschool.” You trailed off. “I don’t know if I can say I’ve been in love but I’ve loved someone before… I feel like being in love sticks with you in a different way. More of a life experience than a life lesson.” You scrunched up your face a little, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer even though you yourself weren’t.

He nodded, taking in your words. “I think being in love can be just as much a life lesson as ‘lesser relationships,’ if not more so.” He adds putting air quotes as not to come across the wrong way. “But hopefully you end up with more positive lessons than not.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Like learning how you love and need to be loved. What you deserve and what you won’t put up with. Learn to let yourself be loved-” You stop your word vomit after that last comment, feeling a bit vulnerable. “Those kinds of things?” you let out a little laugh.

“Exactly.”

“Is it fair to assume that you have?” You question, hesitating slightly.

“That I have what?”

“Been in love, dummy.” You laugh, strategically placing a light green around the canvas.

He pauses slightly. “Yeah, I have.” The same fondness that found his eyes earlier that day sets in again. Not in a painful or bitter way, you noted. But in the way you’d regard your favorite childhood memory.

“I didn’t rub salt in a wound, did I?” you tensed slightly incase you read him wrong.

“No no, you’re fine!” He reassures. “It was a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like a bitch in the moment, but as they say, time heals all wounds.” he shrugs.

“Can I ask what happened?” You prompted, feeling a little braver this time.

“Well you know, same old story with high school sweethearts.” He paused to fix a spot he didn’t like. “She was a year older than me. She left for university. We tried long distance and after a few months we decided it was too hard. Nothing particularly spectacular.” He tells the story, for what you can tell is at least the thousandth time. “What about you and Mr. Not-Quite-In-Love?”

“Nothing, super special either. Unfortunately, the lessons I learned from him were less than positive. After the initial honeymoon phase, he didn’t treat me the best. Looking back I learned to know the level of respect I deserve, but in the moment his lack of just made me desperate to ‘earn’ it. It was a vicious cycle for about a year but things ended and I grew up. And like you said, ‘time heals all wounds.’” Jungkook looked at you with furrowed brows, not sure if he wants to hug you or the seventeen year old girl you used to be who would see herself as anything less than what she was. But he settled for the former.

He wrapped his arms around you, taking you by surprise. But you accept his embrace and smile against his shoulder. “I’m okay now Jungkook.” You giggle. “It was a long time ago and I learned from it.”

He pulls away. “I know, I’m just sorry it took that dickbag for you to know your worth.” he gives you a sheepish smile, and a fire in his eyes dulls when he looks at you.

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” you pat his arm before you both turn back to your respective parts of the canvas.

“Hey, just cause I’m not a complete asshole, doesn’t mean I’m sweet.”

“I’m holding firm at you’re sweet, and you can’t change my mind.” You both laugh and return your full attention back to your work.

Your rhythm returns to where it was before you ate. Both of you humming along to whatever song is playing at the moment, using your paint brushes as microphones if a particularly good song came on. Exchanging a few words here and there. Each admiring the small things the other chooses to add to the work of art. You noticed Jungkook has a habit of biting his lips when he’s concentrating. Cute.

Now here you finally are after another hour of blending, layering, and tweaking. Both of you put down your brushes down and stepped back slightly to admire what you’ve created. Letting out a sigh at your hard work, taking in the finalized piece. The way the colors run together or bump into one another. The juxtaposition of fluid lines being interrupted by jagged edges. The way the soberness of the colors you put down calm and soothe the firey and vibrant ones he laid down for you.

Ordinarily, when you finish a painting, you never quite feel done. There’s always one more thing you could fix, one more stroke you could add. But not this time. It’s finished. Breathtaking in a simple way. You’ve never felt such a sense of completeness when you set your brush down, and you can’t help but feel you have Jungkook to thank for it. The way his colors and brush work complemented yours was… for lack of a better term, a work of art.

---

Jungkook puts down his brush, watching you lay down your final touches. Truth be told he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Checking in on you every so often when you’d put down your tool and furrow your brows in concentration. Smiling when you’d absentmindedly mumble to yourself about what you’re doing. He was in awe of how much of yourself you put down on the canvas, not entirely sure what wordless stories you were telling meant. Though that didn’t stop him from taking the puzzle pieces you laid down and arranging them into a y/n shaped jigsaw in his mind. Perhaps your fondness of calming colors was to tame the wild fire he could see within you.

And just as quickly as you’d started, you were done, setting your brush down and smiling at what you saw in front of you.

“Thank you so much, Jungkook.” You breathe still taking in the painting. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.” He says just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off your beaming profile.

“Hm?” You turn to him. He looks into your eyes, once filled with fire are now a calm ocean. His gaze shifts to your lips after they form a confused pout at his silence, his body leading his brain when he leans toward you.

It’s now or never.

He leans in further looking into your eyes for any sign of apprehension before he cups your jaw in his paint stained hand. Finally taking the leap all at once when you lean into his touch.

His lips are even softer than you imagined when they meld against yours. He pulls away slightly to look at you a question mark across his features. You put your hands flush against his hard chest and answer his question by reconnecting your lips with his with fervor and you feel him smile against you. He deepens the kiss, putting his free hand on your hip to pull you closer to his warm body.

He swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters further. You mirror his action, noting that his lips taste faintly of strawberries. You slide your hands into his soft hair and curl your fingers into fists against his scalp making him groan into your mouth.

His hand that held its feather like touch against your face leaves it’s place to join his other around your waist. His hands squeezing harshly at your hips, his fingers digging into the strip of skin your shirt rode up to expose, making you shiver against him despite your rising temperature.

He pulls away to place sloppy kisses along your jaw, nudging your jaw with his nose gently to gain access to your neck. You suck in a breath when you pull him closer causing his teeth to graze your pulse point as his swollen lips leave rosey marks in their wake. He sucks harshly at the soft spot below your ear causing your nerves to flare and a moan to escape your lips. He groans in satisfaction at the way his actions affect you, running his hot tongue over your skin to soothe the marks he made.

His hands move higher on your abdomen slipping just under the hem of your shirt, making you tense slightly under his calloused palms, he feels your shift and rubs his thumbs below your ribcage to relax your tensed muscles. His gentle fingers vastly opposing his flushed cheeks when he brings his face up to yours again, his hair already messy and his eyes dazed as he looks at your lips like they’re the first glass of water he’s seen in days. He crashes his lips back into yours hungrily causing you to squeak at his desperation. You disconnect your lips leaving almost no distance between you.

“Bedroom?” you ask lowley against his lips, your vocal chords betraying you making the word come out far more shaky and less sexy than you wanted. His shoulders flex under your hands at his request.

Jungkook slides his hands down your ass to squeeze the flesh in his hands when his finger tips graze the back of your thighs.

“Up.” he says firmly, offering you free transport to his bed. You hop up, his strong arms hold you and you wrap your legs tightly around his narrow waist. He starts the small walk to his bedroom, and you try to ignore the way his stomach pressed against your clothed clit is providing the smallest amount of friction with each of his steps, instead deciding to direct your attention to him instead. You give a gentle open mouthed kiss to the small mole on the side of his neck, you make a small path sucking where his jaw meets his neck, and he hums deeply making his chest rumble against yours in response.

When you reach his room, the smell of his fabric softener fills your lungs as he presses your back against his now closed door. His hands trail from your ass, trusting you to hold yourself up around him, up your sides, he slides your arms from around his neck and to the wall until your hands are effectively pinned above your head. The air between you is heavy for a moment as his dark eyes take in how you look like this, your eyes starry as your chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move.

He kisses you again, slower this time. You whimper into his mouth when his hips grind his hard dick into your clit. His thighs flexing under yours as he grinds up again harder, swallowing as many of your beautiful sounds as you’ll give him.

He stops his hips and tucks his arms under you again to set you on his bed.

You reach your shirt to pull it over your head but he stops you.

“Let me.” He says half a statement, half a question.

You smile and say nothing but grant him permission by raising your arms above your head. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt grazing your skin making goosebumps blossom on your flesh as he pulls it up and over your head. He reaches for the clasp of your bra slowly and gently like you might break, as if he wasn’t just shoving you against his door with his cock.

“Fuck.” He breathes out harshly when your hardened nipples are finally released to the cool air of his room.

He quickly strips off his hoodie revealing that he’s been painting without a shirt underneath the whole night. Your breath hitches as all the times you’d touched his arm or chest the hours prior, not knowing there was only a thin barrier between your fingers and his skin. You run your eyes over his bare chest and hard stomach, you knew he worked out but hot damn, those baggy clothes he wears does no justice to what’s under them. However he doesn’t give you much time to marvel before he reconnects his lips with yours leaning into you until your back is on his duvet, you spread your legs to make room for him to settle in between.

His hot skin drags softly against your nipples as he descends down your frame to pepper kisses along the valley of your breasts. He licks his fingers to roll one of your nipples between his wet digits while he attaches his mouth the other, swirling his tongue in intoxicating circles. You sigh at the small relief his mouth is bringing you and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly when his teeth bite down onto your sensitive bud. You feel the bed bow slightly below you as his hips stutter at your action. He quickly tends to the small sting with his tongue. Giving a gentle kiss to your nipple as he pulls away.

He sits up and hooks his fingers into your pants, but stops before tugging them down. “Is this okay?” He asks sincerely.

“Very.” You say, your heart clenching at his concern and help him slide your pants to your ankles, eager to have his soft skin on yours again.

He brings his lips to your neck again and you wrap your legs around his waist rocking your hips up to rub your neglected clit against his rigid cock that he has yet to spring free. The wet spot on your panties rubbing off onto his sweats. You moan into his ear at the small relief you’re able to bring yourself, arching your back further in attempt to get more friction and he chuckles against your skin.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He smirks down at you and your feeble attempt to feel his cock.

“Don’t wanna be patient. Want you to fuck me.” You say trying your best not to whine, as you reach for the waistband of his pants.

He runs his tongue along his lip and leans down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, don’t worry beautiful, I will.” He moves your hands and rolls his hips into yours once to punctuate his sentence. “But I wanna taste you first.” He says and quickly sits back on his knees to slip your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him not worrying about where they land.

He settles his shoulders under the back of your thighs and makes a path of open mouth kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, stopping right before your sex and inhaling deeply as he sucks a bruise into your skin, your face heats up and your hips shake in excitement.

“You smell fucking delicious, sweetheart.” he looks up at you with soft doe eyes that completely contradict his filthy words. He lingers just a whisper away from where you want him and you roll your hips to meet his lips. He smirks again at your frustration moving his lips to your other knee to make a wet path up your other leg with his mouth, seeing how long he can push you. Stopping midthigh to speak again into your skin.

“I wanna take my time with you sweets. Greedy little girls don’t get to cum on my tongue.” His eyes darken when they look up at you, his words sending electricity through your nerves and arousal dripping onto his sheets.

You opt for silently nodding as the only thing you could muster at the moment is a whine that you want to keep at bay.

“Are you gonna take what I give you, sweetheart?” He says rubbing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Sir.” You breathe trying your best not to roll your hips into his touch and get scolded again.

“Good girl.” He smiles at your compliance and finally gives you what you want.

He licks a long flat stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue and swirling it around your throbbing clit. Your thighs tighten around his head and he groans against you.

“Taste even sweeter than I imagined.” He all but moans into your folds. He swears he could get off just like this, with his tongue buried in your cunt and his hips rocking his cock into his mattress.

You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. He obliges you and wraps his lips around your clit sucking harshly, crude slurping noises filling the room but both of you are too lost in the sensation to care. Your hips start rocking against his mouth again, this time your body fully taking a mind of its own, your climax being the only thing you can think about.

“That’s my good girl, use my tongue to get off.” You moan louder at his words and speed up your movements, balling his hair into fists. As he looks up at you with lidded eyes, he gets lost, lost in your taste, lost in the way your sweaty chest heaves with your heavy breaths, lost in the way his name falls from your lips with your eyes screwed shut.

“I’m s-so fucking close!” your voice comes out in a strained moan cracking at the end of your sentence.

“Cum for me beautiful, wanna taste your cum.” He says wrapping his lips around your clit again to pull your orgasm from you. He may have called you greedy, but he couldn’t get enough of the way your thighs shook around him.

“Holy shit! Jungkook!” your orgasm hits you like a wave starting in your stomach and sending fire through your veins. Your hips stutter and Jungkook licks you languidly through your high. All the while your mouth mutters his name in an incoherent mantra.

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and climbs over you leaning on his forearms, and captures your lips in his. You taste yourself on them and smile against his mouth.

“You look so beautiful when you cum.” He says placing soft kisses along your jaw. And you’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks flare at his comment. “Think you can still take my cock?” he says squeezing himself at the base through his pants.

“God yes.” You say perhaps a little too enthusiastically and he chuckles at you.

“You really are a greedy one, aren’t you sweetheart?” He says teasingly. “Let me get you ready first.” He says rubbing his thumb in small circles on your clit, your sensitivity makes you jump a little.

He looks down to watch the way your velvet walls swallow his fingers, but he stops his movement, realizing his hands are still covered in paint.

“Shit.” He mutters almost silently. “I’ll be right back.” He says with a smile pecking your lips before he slips out his door. Closing it behind him just in case, as not to let Hobi unknowingly come home early only to find you spread eagle on his roommates bed.

What the hell is he doing? Your eyebrows furrow, worried he’s gonna get some sort of convoluted sex toy. Which while you wouldn’t normally object, that’s a tad presumptuous on his part.

Your mental ramble cut short and worries put to rest when he reenters the room with clean hands. He strips his sweats from his hips and climbs back over you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to get some sort of paint-chemical related rash on your… lady bits.” He says hesitantly breathing out a laugh against your cheek.

“While that’s incredibly considerate of you. That sentence didn’t do much for my ‘lady bits’.” you know what his venom filled tongue is capable of, so his childish use of words makes you giggle.

He rolls his eyes at you and cups your face, pulling you in for another deep kiss. His hand snakes down between your legs and when his thumb connects with your clit you squeak and break the kiss.

“Your hands are freezing.” you say with more of a pout than you’re willing to admit. You presume he didn’t wanna make you wait too long so he washed his hands in cold water.

“Why don’t you warm them up for me?” he quirks a brow and smirks. Bringing his hand up to your mouth and sticking his middle and ring finger between your lips. You happily wrap your lips around his digits; licking, sucking, and humming in content around them.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his boxers as he watches your cheeks hollow slightly around his slender fingers, resisting from pushing them deeper in your mouth and seeing how pretty you look when you gag for him.

He removes his hand from your mouth, marveling at the string of saliva that follows it. He reaches down to tease your entrance letting your spit and arousal get you ready for his stretch. He slips his fingers into your dripping core and has to hold back from moaning at how well you hug him.

“Your pussy is so tight, sweetheart.” He breathes. “Your sweet cunt is gonna squeeze me real well won’t it?” He says catching your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help but clench around his fingers. “That’s my good girl.” He says, his eyes darkening and he curls into your sweet spot, you moan at how quickly he seems to be learning your body. Like he could figure out exactly what makes you tick if you stayed in his bed for just a while longer.

He removes his fingers making you whimper. He slips his boxers down a little and uses your arousal and his precum to wet his dick. Your mouth waters and you clench around nothing at how beautiful he looks slowly pumping himself with furrowed brows, until now he’s done a good job of not showing how badly his body demands to be touched just as much as yours does.

He lines himself with your entrance and teases your clit with the tip of his cock, fighting the urge to slam himself into you to the hilt.

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” he says mere millimeters away from slipping into you.

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure and gasp at how close he is to giving you everything you wanted since he crashed his lips into yours at the easel. Or possibly before that.

That’s all he needed to hear before he pushed his cock past your entrance and into your wet pussy, the stretch he’s giving you making you thank him silently for insisting on warming you up first.

“Fuck.” You both moan at how well you squeeze around him. He goes slow, inching in to give you time to adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist to encourage him deeper. He continues his slow pace breathing hot and thick against your neck.

He sits up to watch how he disappears inside you. “Look how well you take my cock, sweetheart.” He says picking up some speed in his thrusts. You moan at how well he hits every spot in you that’s been left untouched tonight, his dirty words only further building the pressure in your pelvis.

His thrusts become harder and you reach up you brace yourself on his biceps, his muscles flexing while he supports his weight above you. He angles his hips up slightly hitting your sweet spot perfectly, and you nearly yelp at the sensation, digging your nails into his arms making him hiss.

“Right there? Is that how your little pussy likes it?” He feigns a subtle innocence in his voice. Like he can’t see with his own eyes how well he’s fucking you.

“Yes, fuck! Please don’t stop.” you beg, mostly to get him to do just that, but also because of the sweaty fog his delicious cock has worked into your mind isn’t exactly allowing you to form the most intelligent of sentences.

He sits back on his knees and pushes one of your legs to your chest, his dick hitting deeper than you thought possible making your eyes roll back and your jaw slack. Your moans become uncontrollable and the words you’re attempting to say just come out in broken sounds.

“Such a good slut for me, look at you falling apart on my cock.” his voice almost a growl. “You gonna cum soon, sweetheart?” He says with a voice like silk to mask how close he is himself.

You can’t do more than nod fractically at his words in fear your voice will betray you. He rubs your clit with his thumb to earn your second climax from you.

And you do, your walls tighten around his cock but his pace doesn’t falter. Your legs shake and your eyes roll back. You cover your mouth to muffle a scream. Your orgasm ripping through you so hard you feel like you might burst.

Jungkook hisses at how hard you’re squeezing him and fucks you through your high. He reaches to his headboard to fuck into you harder, being selfish for the first time tonight, using you to chase his own high.

“Where do you want it?” He says in a stifled whine.

“Cum inside Jungkook. I want you to fill me up.” You say pressing your nails into his chest. The overstimulation you feel in your core is worth every thrust when he finally lets go and fills you with his cum. His cock twitching as he slowly rides out his climax.

He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily into your neck. Then rolls over to the other side of the bed, to allow both of you some cool air on your skin.

“I hope I didn’t go too hard at the end there, are you okay?” He looks over at you with worried eyes.

“No. No it’s okay, I liked it.” you smile, your lungs and heart rate working hard to steady themselves.

After he’s caught his breath a little he reaches into his bedside table to get a small rag to wipe up some of his cum leaking out of you, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable at his thoughtful gesture.

The post sex clarity hitting your mind, not quite in the way you hoped. As you lay there the height of what you two just did sending your mind go into overdrive.

Oh fuck. You run through the events of the night starting to panic a little. He’s my friend, how did this even happen? I wasn’t gonna do this. I wasn’t gonna let this get more complicated than my attraction to him already was. Shit, I’m an idiot. I mean he did kiss me, but… I can’t let this happen again. I don’t want this to end badly and have to move just because I think with my idiot vagina. It makes things too complicated. Okay, I have to end whatever that was now before things get even more complicated. He won’t mind right? He’s a college dude, he’s probably fine with just hittin’ it and quittin’ it. Yeah, everything is good. Friends can fuck once and then be good, it happens all the time.

You sit up from his bed and run your hands through your hair a couple times in an attempt to tame it and start to pick up your clothes.

“Are you okay?” He says, watching you as you attempt to find your underwear.

“Yeah, I’m good, just have an early class in the morning and I should probably get going.” you force a smile.

“Oh, uh okay.” He says not quite convinced. Though you weren’t lying about that, you really did have a class in about seven hours.

“Hey um,” you hesitate, sliding your pants on just choosing to abandon your underwear. “This was just a one time thing, right?” you ask him, hating the way you said that.

He senses your tone and feels a little twinge in his chest, but he ignores it, putting on a smile instead. “Yeah, definitely. Why do you ask?”

“Okay, good.” Another twinge. “I just don’t want things to be too complicated, with us being neighbors and all…” You trail off, trying not to cringe at yourself.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He pauses, realizing for the first time that this could have negative consequences. “No worries, it’s forgotten. Just friends.” He reassures pulling his pants on.

“Just friends.” You smile and extend your hand to him. You shake on it.

You pull your shirt over your head.

“See you later, neighbor.” You say attempting to bring back the way things were just an hour ago. And you slip out his door.

He doesn’t walk you home like he normally does, and honestly you’re thankful. You just want to be back in your apartment where you can pretend that didn’t just happen. Even if that was one of the best fucks you've ever had, you're certainly not going to think about it. What is there to think about? Nothing happened.

You slip out his door, and into yours, met with Jimin munching in your kitchen, presumably after a party and your feet halt in their tracks.

“Damn babe, you look positively wrecked.” He says with a knowing smirk.

“Jimin, I am so not in the mood for whatever you’re about to say.” you say exasperated.

“Oh, so I should save the ‘I told you so’? Would you rather get it in the morning?” He asks innocently, though he’s anything but.

“Preferably never.” You quip and slip into your bedroom.

Yeah, never is good, we’re just gonna pretend none of that happened.

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

Taglist: @taezeus @spoopysoph @gucci-prince-tae @jiminiesthiccthighs @veryuniquenamegoeshere @hermiones-enchantment @irissilujm @flo-music @scalbra @sugarrimajins @embrace-themagic @megsmiiiii @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @livorna

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atinybitofau · 4 years

Text

S A N ➪ the breakup

THE ONE WHERE YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU REALLY NEED

warnings: may contain triggering content. (non-suicidal, social anxiety, depression)

• it’s not your relationship.

• it’s not.

• it’s definitely you.

• and San will fight like a soldier in battle,

• with no other reason to live,

• just to keep you forever.

• but you can’t take it anymore.

• because sometimes when your heart hurts too much,

• you forget about the people who are really trying to help.

• he just wants to hold you forever— his baby.

• he’s holding you.

• shaking.

• trembling.

• scared.

• just like you are.

• “No. No. Hey, baby. Hey look at me. I can help you. Help you through this.”

• but you don’t let him.

• you think it’s wrong.

• wrong to let him suffer helping you because you’re so broken.

• you think he’s cutting himself by holding you.

• “San! Let go of me!”

• you flail trying to pry your boyfriend’s hands away as he tries to keep you steady—

• gentle all the same.

• he loves you.

• “I love you.” he’s crying to you, trying to cup your crying face in his hands. “I love you. And I’ll be here for you, baby. You just have to let me.”

• you shove him harder than you think.

• it’s hurting him.

• how you hard you push him away.

• and seeing you so frustrated that it’s driving him insane.

• “No, San! Stop helping me. I don’t need your help. I don’t need you.”

• you keep insisting.

• you don’t know that he’s keeping you together.

• you’re so torn by hurting him because you’re so broken,

• that you don’t see that you need him as much as you love him.

• “Get out. Get out! Leave me alone and please for the love of god, San. Don’t come back.”

• so he leaves you.

• but not because he wants too.

• but because he can’t watch you tear yourself apart because you think you don’t need him.

• months pass and you aren’t any happier.

• no actually—

• fuck you, because you’re selfish, is what you’re thinking.

• losing San might be the worst thing.

• the worst feeling.

• you’re sad enough as it is.

• and you do that to San?

• the biggest ball of sunshine to ever live.

• the only thing ever to put a smile on your face.

• his.

• now you want him back?

• you’re dumb.

• “H-he’s dating her?”

• Seonghwa sips on his coffee while he confesses to you. “It wasn’t something he wanted to do. His parents just think that maybe since you aren’t in the picture anymore that he’d be willing to marry into family benefits. Of course, he’d never say no to his mom.”

• it kills you.

• Seonghwa knows you aren’t suicidal.

• just sometimes not always there because you feel different from others.

• like, crying before you sleep.

• hiding in a locked room for days because you’re afraid of hurting people’s feelings.

• he knew that your heart was weak.

• that you need someone who can hold you even though you push them away.

• no better than San. EVERYONE knows that.

• “You okay, y/n?”

• “Hm?” you blink up through wet eyes and smile. “Yup, happy. Happy for him.”

• the handsome boy raises an eyebrow at you not convinced. “He’s not happy. I just told you his parents forced him into it.”

• “H-he deserves somebody.. who can take care of him too.”

• Seonghwa knows what you mean.

• knows too that you broke up with San because you didn’t WANT him to take care of you anymore.

• that you think you’re a burden in his life. Much less of a child.

• but he also knows that’s not true.

• “You know, y/n.” Seonghwa reaches over to hold your hand, something you didn’t know you needed for a long time. “It’s okay to be with San. To tell him you aren’t okay and let him hold you.”

• a tear falls from your face from his reminder.

• “There’s no one. NO ONE. In this world that can tolerate the pain of holding a broken glass like San can.”

• he’s telling you softly in a way he’s not direct. so he doesn’t hurt your feelings. “Don’t wait for the glass to break completely where he’d have to pick up the pieces, y/n. A little cut here and there won’t hurt anyone. Won’t if they’re trying to save someone.”

• you’re nervous.

• biting down on your lip as you hold the fluffy stuffed animal San gave you years ago to ease your griefs— your panics.

• but when a woman very familiar to you opens his door.

• you can’t help but think the plush pillow wasn’t going to do much.

• “H-hi, is San home?”

• her eyebrow arches eyes raking you up and down before sneering.

• “And can I ask why you need to know?”

• “Oh.” You look down at your feet tightening your grip on the pillow.

• seeing white, dizzy,

• for a moment pretending it’s San’s hand holding yours.

• “U-um. I.. I just want to.” you stutter over your words. “I thought I could.. I could come and talk to him? I-is that okay? Is it a wrong time?”

• she looks disgusted at your presence.

• it doesn’t help your anxiety.

• the little devils in your head that grew when San was away.

• you feel like falling and your eyes are blinking more.

• lost— completely lost and just looking for San.

• “Is this your way of trying to run back to him? After what you did breaking up with him?! You think coming here to my boyfriend’s house would be okay?”

• you stumble back and you don’t notice.

• how hysterical this woman was being.

• and the normal right thing to do was punch her sqaure in the face.

• but your heart is too weak, it really is.

• especially when hearing someone else call him her boyfriend.

• you see a glimpse of pure black before someone hoists you up.

• holds you tight before you fall to the ground.

• you’re shivering in his arms and he’s more scared than you are.

• “Baby? Hey baby, no look at me. Look at me, you’re okay.”

• you gulp, eyes wide when San’s holding you.

• one hand on your back and the other on your cheeks.

• he’s frantic and hot, worried like hell when his arranged girlfriend attempts to hurt you.

• hurt his baby.

• “She’s nothing, okay?” he’s moving so he meets your wavering eyes to keep you from looking to the woman behind him. “Her mouth is shit. Doesn’t know what’s good for her. Don’t listen to her dirty words. Baby, look at me.”

• you frown, fumbling with his shirt when your panic settles.

• settles when you look at him in his glowing eyes.

• like a crystal ball that hypnotizes you to serenity.

• “I love you.” his forehead’s pressed against yours now that your breathing has calmed.

• likes to feel it when your heart goes from fast to slow against his chest.

• “You love me too, that’s why you’re here right baby?”

• you nod hands moving so you could hold him back.

• rare.

• he knows it.

• knows you don’t give him much affection sometimes, not that he minds.

• but he feels you finally try.

• and girl does it SEND him.

• “Don’t cry.”

• he’s caressing you like fine glass that’s so thin he could break it any second.

• but he’s the only one.

• only ONE who can touch it without breaking it.

• “I love you so much and I’m so glad you’re here. You came to find me all by yourself.”

• you kiss his lips.

• now that he’s brought you back.

• “I’m sorry.” you mumble to look straight up at him the way he deserves. “I’m sorry for saying fucked up shit that could’ve ruined you. Could’ve made things worse for me and you. I’m so sorry, San.”

• “No.” his eyebrows furrow. “You didn’t make anything worse. Don’t say that to me.”

• now that you’re back.

• you’re ready to take care of him too.

• “San, I’m not all there sometimes.” You admit even though his girlfriend’s watching from behind. “I know I’m a lot of trouble. Hard to handle— when I have my attacks and I’m about ready to break. And you’ve always been there.”

• “I don’t mind. You know that.” San’s always ready for you no matter what you throw at him. “I don’t give a shit even if you think you don’t need me. If I know you do, you do. Alright?”

• “I feel bad. For making you have to take care of me sometimes. I’m not a child and you should never feel like you have to take more care of me than you actually do.”

• “I’d take care of you forever.”

• you chuckle because sometimes San’s more hopeless than you are.

• “I have no idea.” you tell him. “I have absolutely no idea how you can put up with my crap sometimes.”

• “But I know though. I know.”

• he presses another kiss to your lips not removing his as he pulls his now ex girlfriend out of his house and replaces her with the both of you.

• arms tangled and body against the door.

• “It’s because I love you. So fucking much. No one can take care of you like me.”

• you giggle under his lips fingers grazing his flawless jaw.

• “I want to take care of you too this time. This time if you let me.”

• he lifts you up so your legs are wrapped around him and your arms rest on his shoulders on each side of his head.

• “Baby you’ve always taken care of me. You just never knew it.”

• you didn’t know that.

• didn’t realize cause you think you’ve got bigger problems than him.

• but he gets sad too.

• get’s angry too.

• states of panic too.

• but you’ve always been there to hold his hand.

• “I was thinking I lost you.” he’s pressing you so close, you feel like if you move you might break him. “Thought I’d never have you hold me again. That I’d never be able to take care of my baby again. That maybe you really didn’t need me anymore.”

• you shake your head against him, your laugh sending him to places better than heaven if they existed. “Even if I tell you I don’t. I think at this point we both know I do.”

• he kisses you again.

• more for closure than anything else.

• “I love you, y/n. So much it’ll kill me. So will you take care of me for a long time? As long as you can. As long as you’re able.”

• you obviously can’t say no.

• not when he needs you as much as you need him.

@atinybitofau

#san #san x reader #choi san #ateez san #ateez reactions #ateez preferences #ateez imagines #san imagines #san reactions #san scenarios #ateez scenarios #seonghwa #breakup #social anxiety #ateez #ateez au

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formless-monkeys · 4 years

Note

What is your favorite relationship(s) in the show (romantically or platonically, doesn’t matter!)

Anon you will regret opening pandora’s box. Or not. In any case, this post is going to be very long because I’m full of love. Also, anything marked romantic does not need to be romantic for me to lose my shit over them. In no particular order, either. Just in the order I thought of them.

1. The Black-eyed trio

Characters: Otto, Sparx, and Gibson.

Type: Platonic, Romantic,

Explanation: These three are grouped together by virtue of not being obscenely powerful and serving more practical uses on the team. Also, their eyes are all the same color. Besides the poetic connections of the colors of their design, they were alone in the robot together while the other three monkeys were out training.

Sparx and Gibson’s interactions give me life, going from playful jabs to genuine fighting right back to ride-or-die is amazing. The beginning of Night Of Fear, the battles in Brothers In Arms, and a bunch of small moments throughout the series are wonderful for this.

I could write an essay about Otto and Gibson, and someone else already has, but I’ll summarize it as ADHD autism solidarity with a side of Shut The Fuck Up Gibson. They care about each other and learn to respect each other in a way that’s better for both of them. I know a real-life Gibson to my Otto and learning that she’s just pretentious and doesn’t really hate anyone, and figuring out that we’re both equally brilliant and incredibly similar has made life a million times better.

Otto and Sparx don’t have as much development as Gibson with both of them, but their jokes together and general trust is amazing. Sparx is the dumb monkey and Otto supports him in his himbo endeavors.

These three together make an unstoppable technical team, and the only reason they probably couldn’t be a superhero team on their own is because of the raw power and fun dynamics brought by the other half of the team.

Romantically, these three would make the DUMBEST polycule ever. There is no true mediator here. It’s three dumbasses figuring out how they could possibly share a twin-sized bed when they have the ability to just make a bigger bed. Gibson calculates the most efficient 3 monkey makeout and none of them follow the statistics. They all give Chiro equally useless and conflicting advice on homework. Trying to give them a mediator in the polycule just makes me go back to shipping polymonkeys because I literally can’t decide if Antauri or Nova go better with them.

2. Quiet trust and encouragement

Characters: Otto, Antauri

Type: Platonic, Romantic

Explanation: When Otto is being dismissed by the other monkeys, or by the show itself, Antauri is usually the first to say “that’s bullshit, Otto is wonderful”. Circus Of Ooze is a notable example, but there are little moments in other seasons as well.

I just love the idea of the historically MOST SERIOUS and strongest monkey, sometimes even elevated to god-like status by some fanworks... paired with the monkey that has been infantilized and disrespected to no end. I personally like making Antauri have to lean on Otto, just to subvert that even further.

Beyond spite, I ship this simply because I like their dynamic. Antauri needs someone to ground him with more tactile physical things, and Otto needs someone to share his more nebulous thoughts I can’t imagine the others listening to. I love them.

Also, I want Antauri to unlock his true dumbass potential. He has the abilities, but not the will. Be silly with Otto. I want to hear him snort-laugh.

I literally forgot all the silver monkey stuff but I got three fics about that you know I go nuts over mechanic x robot shit.

3. The monkeys and their human son.

Characters: Chiro, Antauri, Nova, Sparx, Gibson, Otto

Type: Familial

Explanation: This family gives me joy. They were forced together through astronomical means and they made the best of it.

Everyone living in the robot is absolutely fucked up. They help each other in the darkest of times. They lift each other up when it’s light. They are a perfect team and nobody can be missing without it feeling wrong. But they can add people!

“Girl Trouble” as a concept is AMAZING to me but my secondhand embarrassment is so strong that I hate the episode. But never once is any of the monkeys resentful of Chiro. Not even Mandarin is like “wow I wish he didn’t take my place” no he’s also struck with the urge to nurture this kid to his fullest potential. Whether you see the team as a bunch of older siblings or 4 dads and a mom doesn’t really matter, they’re a family.

I mean, this also has a sprinkling of shipping all the monkeys in a really domestic way because I like seeing my optimal future in characters I like, but like literally all of these, it doesn’t need to be romantic for me to go nuts. I just think it would be fun to throw just a big monkey wedding or whatever. And funnier for Antauri to go “Chiro I’m having a baby. The baby is you” and holding up adoption papers because on the principle of Toby “Radiation” Fox I love that joke, especially when made much less weird than the original context.

I have a set of characters who is just 5 people in a polycule raising kids and living life because I really love this concept as a family.

4. Evil Coworkers

Characters: Mandarin, Sakko

Type: Romantic, Platonic,

Explanation: Why the hell are these two, in particular, working together? SK could’ve put Mandarin with literally anybody else and he chose what on the surface appears to be the LEAST compatible person on the account that they’re both monkeys. Some bitter asshole who now looks like the epitome of toxic masculinity and this tiny pink pet who used his femininity both as an advantage and a style. They’re different but it ends up working really well for both of them because they’re different in ways that cover each other’s bases. It’s wonderful. Pink and Orange go well together. Green and Purple go well together. Mandarin and Sakko go well together. Also, they clearly trust each other. During almost the entirety of “Hidden Fortress” Sakko was presumably just chilling inside of Mandarin’s armor. Mandarin trusted him enough to have Sakko in a place where he’s able to mess with his cybernetics, and Sakko trusted Mandarin enough to go into the battlefield with him and probably get tossed around.

If they were both human and in a more modern media, then they would definitely be shipped in the straightest way you can get without actually being straight. The Straightest Gay Ship.

5. A Witch and her Accidental Evil Coworker

Characters: Skelemandarin, Valeena.

Type: Platonic, Romantic,

Explanation: These two have been through some shit. Skelemandy was made to serve Skeleton King only to have that purpose yanked away from him. Valeena was groomed to idolize and serve Skeleton King for nearly her entire life. They were forced together by SHEER CHANCE and they both hated it. Arguably they both died at some point.

They both have absolutely NOBODY they can trust so let’s make them trust each other. All hilarity and sweetness comes from that.

Their dynamic is so good that I have them on a blog for a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FANDOM and people love them with no context.

This is the only cross-species ship I have (besides chinmay and the antauri ships but that doesn’t count), but the fact that Skelemandy isn’t actually a monkey and needs no cybernetic assistance to be human-level sentient makes it a lot less weird. Just put them on equal ground power-wise (like by nerfing Valeena’s magic) and you have the ingredients for bonding.

They have like, no cute moments in canon, but that’s why we have fics and art. They have potential. I want them to help each other figure out who they are without their purpose. I want them to survive this horrible life together. I want them to figure out how to trust again. I want a lot but Valeena is fucking dead.

But she doesn’t have to be.

(Also Valeena is REALLY HOT and Skelemandarin is just me as a monkey)

6. Gay Dads

Characters: The Alchemist, Captain Shuggazoom

Type: Romantic, Platonic

Explanation: Oh my stars. Oh null. Oh me oh my hhougfhfakjghf. These two have the angst of Mantauri but on crack.

They only appeared in about two episodes each and all three episodes are top tier. They call each other “Friend” multiple times in their shared episode. THEY’RE FRIENDS!!!!!!!!! The face Al makes when he realizes that Cap is visiting makes me really happy. The fact that Cap had this whole Batman Double Life thing and he shows the Alchemist BOTH OF THEM is amazing. The alchemist is a hermit living in the woods and he lets Cap into that life.

There isn’t a lot shown, much less than everything else here. But that makes every single fanfic so much richer since they’re almost completely based on headcanons. Friends who have a mutual crush on each other but are No Homo about it? Secret boyfriends? Husbands with 6 monkey kids? An Old man and a grumpy Skeleton making it work? Literally just platonic friends? Dude, you can do whatever you want.

The tragedy of these two losing each other to one big horrible event crushes me. It influences my every move in my creative work. I have an entire character dedicated to reuniting these two in the most astronomical and ridiculous way possible because the alchemist angered the gods but she thinks he needs some company in his eternal punishment.

I want Clayton to unlock Al’s less serious, more fun side. I want them to work together. I want them to hold hands. GHGHGHDFBG UTTHTYE CNAZSNT EBCV ASUA ER

7. The girl power duo

Characters: Nova, Jinmay

Type: Familial

Explanation: These two were my only comfort during the uncomfortable nightmare that is “The Hills Have Five”

Nova was the one who trained Jinmay, and it seems like they hang out a lot offscreen in season 4. They fulfill the early 2000′s cartoon archetypes of girl and Girl, so they’re supposed to get along. If they didn’t I probably wouldn’t like Jinmay.

Nova is a really good big sister/parental figure to Jinmay, who never had any family to speak of.

Anyway, this entry has to be shorter because most of their bonding is in “The Hills Have Five” which is either #1 or #2 in my least favorite episode list. Not because it’s bad, but because it makes me viscerally uncomfortable. I really wish literally any other character than Jinmay was in her role in that episode. Or that the “taken to an offscreen area by an adult man while she screams” just wasn’t there. SHE’S 13!!! Nova did literally all she could to help.

I really like that scene in questionable where Valeena kills almost the entire gang. It’s what they deserve.

Look I just really like Jinmay and I always have. She deserves a good Mom.

8. "My Second In Command”

Characters: Antauri, Mandarin

Type: Theoretical

Explanation: The fandom has really made this ship go from “literally nothing to stand on” to “integral plot point in a lot of fics”. Seriously. I have TWO screenshots that vaguely imply these two ever stood next to each other on the battlefield. This was entirely title-based and fan-made until ProjectAfectivity interviewed Ciro. Yeah he knows Antauri but only as well as the rest of the team. Anyway. Wow. This ship.

This is by far the worst breakup in history. These two, despite what Antauri says, were on equal ground at some point. According to Ciro (and fan speculation), they trained together. This (and other Mandy ship) changes wildly depending on if you think Mandarin was corrupted by the portal or not. Maybe Mandarin was once a kind leader who just crossed the wrong boundaries and paid for it. He could’ve held Antauri gently before battle. He could’ve been the monkey Antauri went to when he needed someone to talk to. He could’ve hyped the team up like Chiro does.

Or maybe, they were constantly fighting against each other in small ways. An incredibly unhealthy relationship, yes, but an interesting story. I like stories where Antauri isn’t this all-knowing pillar of stability. He’s got weaknesses. One of them may have been Mandarin.

Now that’s a good nickname from one to the other.

Imagine Antauri, in a moment of complete trust, declaring Mandarin his weakness. A sweet sentiment. They both know the other is incredibly strong, and trust that the other would never take advantage of that connection. They love each other. Until...

9. "My Closest Ally”

Characters: Otto, Mandarin

Type: Theoretical

Explanation: Okay I'm looking at the screenshot I put for this entry while also having watched Evil Ages recently. My brain is making uncomfortable connections. Combine that with the fandom and the show’s general treatment of Otto and I’m about to slam my head into a wall. I really do not like that, but I feel like there’s somebody out there who does.

Anyway, this is Gibotto and Ottauri but with all the spice that shipping Mandarin with one of the other monkeys brings. When done well, it’s all the respecting Otto that comes with Ottauri and all the intimate partnership of Gibotto. And the Angst of Mantauri, but a lot more grounded.

It paints a lot of stories. A story of a single point of comfort in a world Mandarin thinks is out to get him. A story of powerful validation from the one authority in Otto’s life. Of letting your guard down. Of trust, then breaking that trust.

I’d LOVE to see some things with Mandottotauri because that’s epic and cool and poggers. Don’t see a lot, though.

10.The Hets, I guess.

Characters: Jinmay, Chiro.

Type: Romantic. Platonic. Canon.

Explanation: Look two entries on this list are polyamorous and four of them are mandarin so I have to say SOMETHING for the heteroes following me. Picked this ship over Spova because when I was a young child still suffering from comphet, I never watched the last episode of the show. I only saw up to season 3 at the most. This was the only canon ship for me. And out of all the ships, it’s the most relatable. I’m currently a teenager with black hair who looks really good in eyeliner dating a girl with pink hair who can pick me up and is unbelievably sweet. Except we’re gay and polyam. Wait a second I totally had a crush on Jinmay as a kid and now my gf is the Jinmay in this situation. Oh my god I was going to make this comparison if I did Spova too and I liked Nova.

ANYWAY

These are two LONELY kids. Chiro had bullies during school, and now he doesn’t even go to school. Jinmay hasn’t really had friends at all. Two kids with places in their universe that they aren’t too sure about, and just need someone to lean on. Their date was cute. They instantly bonded over their love of monkeys and I love that.

The super robot is sometimes an analog for Chiro, in the first two season at least, and the way the super robot held Jinmay’s hands to keep her steady on the COB while her head flew in was SO SWEET. Chiro’s instant recognition and reaction to Jinmay’s head being thrown at the team, as well. He really loves her.

I think it’d be interesting if she didn’t love him back, though. I might take a stab at writing that.

#srmthfg #super robot monkey team hyperforce go #srmthg #chinmay #Mandotto #Mantauri #Mandareena #Manokko #Captain Alchemist #Ottauri #Polymonkeys #Gibottarx #Anonymous

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ghoul-lover9000 · 4 years

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Dating Ace Merrill Would Include

You’re the nicest person in Castle Rock. Everyone loves you. You’ve never done anything wrong ever! At least, most of the residents of your small town believe this. Your reputation is pristine, your look is clean-cut, but your actions when no one is looking are less than pure.

I fully believe that Ace would be over the moon about a slightly manipulative, secretly bad person. Like you steal things from the General Store, but who would suspect you! You’re so respectful and upstanding; it was probably the neighborhood hooligans at it again.

Ace catches you taking some cash from a store’s register while the clerk was in the backroom and he cannot believe his eyes. The same person who helps old ladies cross the street or what-the-fuck-ever is stealing from the local grocer.

He comes up to you at school and slyly mentions it. “So, babe, you make a habit out of stealing?” You’re taken aback, you were so careful and, after years, you’ve finally been caught by one of the infamous guys in school. “What are you talking about, sleaze ball?”

Let’s cut to the chase, you both come to a mutual understanding. You go on with your stealing and he takes a 20% cut. (You both negotiate for an hour or so. You’re both so fucking stubborn.) This business proposition is the start of a beautiful… sexual relationship.

Yeah, you both are attracted to each other and you both are horny high school kids. Things happen. (Could go into detail, but that’s for another imagine, for another day)

However, he gets possessive of you. If one of his boys sees you at a Drive-In movie with Tommy Richardson, you best believe Tommy’s tires are gonna be slashed and Ace is coming to have a chat with you. Ace: What do you think you’re doing running around with a meathead like Richardson. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize I was your ward. What are you, the holy unfeeling Ace, so jealous about anyway?” Ace: I’m not jealous, just making sure you’re not going straight for good. I gotta make sure I get my cut. “Well, cool down, hot head, it’s an act. Sweetest girl in school like me and I haven’t got a fella. I can’t just sneak around. My reputation would take a hit and that threatens your precious money more than me going out to a shitty movie with the only guy in town that’s a bigger asshole than you.” Ace: Oh, my reputation, my reputation, my reputation. Can you be concerned with anything other than what local busybodies say about you? Then, we wouldn’t have to sneak aro-… “Finish that sentence.” Ace: No. “No, finish. You don’t want to sneak around? What more do you want?” Ace: You’re putting words in my mouth. Just stop being so uptight all of the time. “No, it’s all so clear. You really are jealous of Tommy! You like-” Ace: Shut up! “No, Merrill. You like me, you want me to be your girl. You wanna go steady!” Ace: Fine, you fucking menace. What if I do? “Well, then I guess you’ll have to take me out, dream boat.”

Your first date is very representative of the both of you. You work your magic and, instead of money, you get a bunch of snacks (Box of Atomic Fire Balls, Box of Sugar Babies, two Cokes, two big bags of Bar-B-Q chips, and a pint of vanilla ice cream). After the heist, Ace drives you guys up to a point that overlooks Castle Rock. You both sit on the hood of the car, snack, smoke, and ask each other some of the stupidest questions ever. A few quotes from the night- “What are three things that you would buy to weird out a clerk?” “You would not survive the Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Aliens would inhabit your body in the first few days.” “The zombie apocalypse is nigh. You have a baseball bat and station wagon. What’s your next move?”

You both stop sneaking around and the whole town is shocked. You with Castle Rock’s violent leader of the Cobras? Anytime someone asked you what you’re doing, you just smile secretively and say, “Oh, I don’t know. He’s not that bad.”

You would never say out loud that Ace had a soft spot for you because, to quote Ace himself, “I’m not soft, sweetheart”, but he’s so soft for you.

He likes to see you wearing his Hawaiian shirts, especially around town because, like stated before, he is possessive as fuck and wants the whole town to know whose girl you are.

The Cobras know not to make fun of how whipped he is for you because he will make them eat dirt if they do. Also, they know about your undesirable habits, so you kind of become apart of the gang a little bit because they’ll ask for favors from you like “Hey, Y/N, I scored another date with Nancy Baughman and I was wondering if you could steal some *whispers* rubbers from the Johnson’s General Store. I don’t got any money and, plus, my mom is real close with Mrs. Johnson and you know how people talk.” “Say no more.”

You both are very sarcastic in the way you call each other pet names. It’s so confusing to other people. Ace: Y/N, darling, love of my life, what the fuck are you doing? “Acey-baby, stud muffin, what does it look like, dumb fuck?” He does call you “baby” on a regular basis, the only pet name that isn’t completely sarcastic.

You only call him John, his real name, in really intimate situations where you both are alone like late at night when he’s snuck into your house when he can’t be at home anymore.

He ruffles your hair a lot. I have no real explanation for this except that he just wants to piss you off by messing up your hair, the little shit.

Any guy who flirts with you or harasses you is dead. He’ll fight the whole school for you. Really, who’s dumb enough to fight him? He’s made it known to the whole town that he’s a force to be reckoned with.

You both go out for rides together and he’s just the smallest bit less reckless with you in the car. Don’t bring it up because he will start swerving back and forth on the road like an asshole if you do.

When you walk around town together, he gets more glares than usual because everyone thinks that he’s corrupting you and trying to turn you into a bad egg. You think it’s hilarious and you bring it up as much as you can. *Ace offers you a beer* “Oh, Ace Merrill, you bad boy, you! Introducing me to alcohol, the sinner’s water.” Ace: Do you want the fucking drink or not.

He gets you back for the previous bullet point when Teddy Duchamp gets a very obvious crush on you for a month or so and unashamedly starts talking to you when he sees you around town. *Teddy starts walking up to you with the unwavering confidence of a peacock* Ace: Oh, look, Y/N, it’s your preteen knight here to sweep you off your feet. (Also Ace: Beat it, Duchamp. She’s mine.)

#stand by me fanfic #stand by me headcanon #stand by me #80s movie #john merrill #ace x reader #ace merrill #ace merrill imagine #dating would include #ace merrill headcanon #imagine #headcanon #x reader #kiefer sutherland

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innenofutari · 4 years

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On Goro Akechi’s morals and forgiveness (character analysis, but also just a very rambly post)

Akechi is… a very interesting character, I have no doubt about this. Also my favorite of course, if you hadn’t figured that out yet by this giant text you’re about to read (sorry). I have a lot I want to talk about in regards to him since he is so intriguing and we actually don’t have that much info about how his thought process works so it leaves a lot of room for speculation.

In any case, in this meta in specific I’m going to be talking about Akechi’s...morality(?), forgiveness and his relationship with regret. I’m not sure if that’s the best word to define this but I’ll roll with it for now. I’ll try to be fair and talk about things as I personally see them, it’s totally fine if you don’t share my views! Now, onto the actual meta.

Starting off, as people are obviously aware, Akechi is a morally gray character, a darker shade of, but he’s a sympathetic and tragic character nonetheless. That much is undeniable, he was written to be sympathetic, even if I’d argue Atlus did a pretty poor job of it in Vanilla (he was still my favorite ever since then though lol) but he’s reached his true potential in Royal, which makes me immensely happy to see. I get so unbelievably happy whenever I see people saying Royal changed their perception of him and started to like him more! But even then, there are a lot of people who just can’t forgive him for what he did, and that’s only natural. I personally think that, if you don’t try to sympathize with Akechi and truly, truly try to understand his mind and history, you’re doing him a huge disservice. But, forgiveness is something that everyone is free to think and decide if he deserves it or not. In Akechi’s case, I feel like forgiveness is something much more personal to the player, and this shows between the Phantom Thieves too.

There is a visual novel I hold very close to my heart called Umineko no Naku Koro Ni (which I’ll be quoting relentlessly throughout this entire post) that illustrates what I think better than I could put into words, so I’ll be quoting that scene with a few tweaks for better context:

“You said you understood the culprit’s motive.”

“...Yes.”

“Is that motive… a satisfying explanation for why they’d [commit murder]?!”

“Who knows. That’s for you to decide. Even if I say it’s satisfying, that doesn’t mean it will satisfy you. …You have to decide that for yourself.”

I really like this. It reminds me a lot of Akechi’s situation. I firmly believe that this has no “objective”, “most correct” answer to, just your personal feelings, which are the most important. I, as a player, do forgive Akechi, I want him to have a happy ending, another chance at life, manage to live happily with Akira and have some fun for once. That’s what “forgiveness” means to me in this situation, but while some people may empathize with Akechi, they still can’t forgive him. They think he should stay forever in jail or die since he cannot be redeemed in any way in their eyes. Where do I wanna go with this endless blabbering you ask, and I respond, I just want to try and see Akechi’s actions through two different lenses.

Well, I personally don’t like downplaying the crimes he committed and dumbing it down to “he was being manipulated” because, even if this is not false, it is not entirely correct either. Akechi is so fun to speculate about because he’s a character who is always clashing against himself in various ways as if he was in a constant state of internal turmoil, and this is not very different.

Akechi himself made the choice to go to Shido. It is extremely unlikely that he didn’t know he was going to be using his new powers for murder. He may have been very young, but despite the fact that he was a child forced to mature prematurely, he knew exactly which type of person Shido was. When he walked into that deal he was aware of the consequences and had fully made peace with the fact that he’d be taking another person’s life. Now, I’m not saying that Shido never manipulated him because he did, but not with that particular choice.

This alone tells plenty about Akechi’s morals. I believe that Akechi indeed has some level of empathy for other people, but I sincerely doubt he feels especially bad about the Okumura-like people he had to kill. He might feel bad for the family of the victims or just feel nauseated with himself, however, he doesn’t regret a thing. As if he had grown numb to it. ...Until a certain point, that is, but I’ll talk about that later.

I would also like to elaborate further on Akechi’s continuous conflict with himself, and this particular piece of Maruki’s confidant immediately reminded me of this:

He’s talking about Akira here, but isn’t it interesting to note that Akechi’s internalized and externalized realities are, in contrast to Akira’s, the farthest they could possibly be from each other? His sense of justice, childlike desire to be loved and seen as a hero, in contrast to the cold-blooded murderer he had become? It’s like there are two people fighting it out inside of Akechi’s brain (lol) which must cause him a lot of distress. I don’t believe that Robin Hood is a ruse or that his Detective Prince façade is entirely fake. The way I see it, they are his ideal, which he strayed so far away from he lost grasp of who he himself is.

In my opinion, Akechi has never cared about fame the slightest bit, he used all of that as an opportunity to act out the person he wished he was, just and virtuous, while still being the feral murderer and bloodstained person he is today. These are two integral parts of him that he has never known how to reconcile. It’s interesting to note that in the third semester he was the one who since the beginning advocated firmly to return to the harsh reality but he had spent the entire game living in the comforting “detective prince” dream he made for himself until the engine room scene happened.

With the third semester context, the engine room becomes so interesting because that scene is akin to Sumire finding out she’s not Kasumi. It’s a cold bucket of water thrown straight to Akechi’s face and telling him to wake up from this lie he made to comfort himself and face reality: he is no hero. Despite the fact that he is, too, a victim, he is simultaneously a murderer who perpetuated with the cycle of his father’s aggressions and he cannot escape that fact. Worse, he was being manipulated all along and his revenge plan and arguably his only reason to live AND justification for his actions was completely crushed.

Once again, this Umineko scene illustrates what I think Akechi’s situation up until that point was like:

Akechi rationalized every awful, inexcusable thing he did as, “It’s for my revenge’s sake” and ran with it. He was incredibly blinded by his hate and ignored the weight of the consequences of his actions up until that point where everything came crashing down right in front of his eyes. There is no excuse and no justification for that.

However, Akechi was also abused himself. There is no excuse for what he did, but is getting back at the person who took everything from him so reprehensible a thought? Is wanting justice against someone who essentially ruined your life not understandable? Many people like to say “cool motive still murder” or things of the like, but I’m asking you again to put yourself in his shoes.

Yet AGAIN with a Umineko screencap:

I played this the other day and one of the first things I thought of was Akechi. A lot of people draw parallels between Akechi and Adachi, but that’s just so damn wrong and make me lose my hair so much and become completely bald because that couldn’t be farther from the truth and I’m gently asking you to reconsider. In the pic above, Adachi would fit the “homicidal maniac” mentioned to a T, and while Akechi is by absolutely no means free of guilt and much less a stellar person, his crimes were moved completely by his heart.

For the people who use his choice to become Shido’s hitman to say Akechi does not deserve any kind of forgiveness and that he’s a murderous maniac, I ask you to at least think of what state of mind he was at that moment. Think very hard about it, imagine how completely bleak life must have looked like then, to the point that he risked everything on murder.

This is nothing more than my speculation, but I believe Akechi’s thought process at that moment was something along the lines of, “I have nothing to lose since my (current) life is completely meaningless". It was as if he had reached such a numb state he chose to forgo all his morals and humanity in pursuit of at least one thing that would give his life meaning, that being his hate for Shido, which I also think was the only emotion he ever truly understood well ever since his mom passed.

Since Akechi is all about conflicting emotions though, I would also like to remind you how vulnerable Akechi really is to any kind of affection. His “childlikeness” that Robin Hood represents was, by all accounts, still there. Akechi has a desperate need to be loved while simultaneously putting up walls and wearing masks, making it extremely difficult to have any kind of meaningful relationship. This is something that Shido thoroughly takes advantage of, too.

That’s also why one of his lines to Akira hit so much harder for me, following this reasoning. “If only we had met a few years earlier,” expresses many emotions at once. If Akechi had known something other than misery and hatred during that period of his life he would not have latched so thoroughly to that revenge plan. Akechi simply had nothing to lose, since he had nothing at all.

I mentioned earlier that Akechi doesn’t regret a thing, which I still think it’s true. Before he had met Akira, he truly did not regret a thing, but meeting Akira caused him a lot of strife because not only Akira is a person whose whole existence flaunts everything Akechi could have had if he hadn’t fallen into fate’s trap, but Akechi also experiences happiness through his connection with Akira. Hanging out and talking to him truly makes him happy, and it’s something more genuine than he’s ever known. Yet, it’s too late, because his choices were already set in stone and he had already pulled the trigger with no way to take any of the bullets back.

That’s why Akechi is so confusing, so controversial and sometimes uncomfortable to think about. There is no clear line between good or bad, he just is something in the middle. Akechi is both a person who ruined a lot of people’s lives with no regard whatsoever to the consequences but also a victim rebelling and retaliating against the person who took everything from him and made his life a living hell. That’s why it’s so hard for not only some players to form opinions about him but also downright uncomfortable for the Phantom Thieves to think about. There is no objectively best answer for what he deserves. It just doesn’t exist. Should he spend the rest of his life in jail, or dead, because his crimes were inexcusable? Or should he be given another chance at life to learn to be happy? It’s entirely subjective, and that’s why he’s so great to think or discuss about.

Aaand that’s it, I’m grateful you read so far, hope I didn’t piss anyone off, also not gonna pretend this wasn’t very self indulgent because of the amount of times I quoted Umineko in it. Anyways, thank you!

SIDE NOTE: I didn’t write this recently, it had been sitting on my drafts for some months now and I found it again today and decided to just release it into the wild because why not? I think this was meant to be much longer than it is and to elaborate more eloquently on a lot of points I brought up (like the PT with Akechi) but alas, I lost the train of thought and so it Perished.

#goro akechi #meta #p5r spoilers #persona 5 #p5 #persona 5 royal #character analysis #long post

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quicksilversquared · 4 years

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Papa Bear

If there's one thing that Tom Dupain will not stand, it's threats against his daughter. So when Mr. Agreste demands that Marinette and Adrien break up or else, Tom isn't about to let that stand. So he makes a call that ends up setting off a chain of events that no one could have expected.

a Chat Blanc rewrite

(links in the reblog)

Mr. Dupain was steaming as Nathalie and her tablet- with Mr. Agreste still on-screen- sauntered out of the bakery, as cool and unaffected as when they had entered, despite the crying girl they had left in their wake.

How dare they tell Marinette that she and Adrien had to break up. How dare Mr. Agreste say that she was negatively impacting his company image. And how dare he threaten Marinette and say that he would pull Adrien out of school and away from his friends- and his girlfriend if Marinette didn't end her relationship with Adrien. That was- that was just cruel.

What, was Adrien not allowed to have a happy relationship just because Mr. Agreste couldn't, because his wife was missing? That was dumb.

Tom would show him a negative effect on company image.

"I- I guess I have to do that, then," Marinette sniffed, wiping her eyes, and Tom pulled himself out of his plans for a street fight, maybe, or going to Madam Chamack and having her run a story on Mr. Agreste's interference, and looked to her daughter. Despite the shock, she was clearly trying to pull herself together. "A-Adrien loves school, and it's not- we weren't dating that long. M-maybe we can try again l-later, if Mr. Agreste changes his mind-"

"We are not bowing to Mr. Agreste's delusional demands," Tom told her, his eyes catching on the camera that was installed in the corner of the bakery and his anger abruptly receding as a plan hit him. The camera was a newer addition, one that Sabine had insisted on after several attacks had taken them out of the bakery, leaving it unstaffed. They hadn't had any problems with thievery, but they didn't want to take that chance. He caught Marinette's shoulder, turning her towards the camera and pointing. "You know, I was a little unconvinced when your mom insisted on getting a camera with audio recording as well because it was far more expensive and I didn't see the use, but I'm glad she did now. We've got evidence of Mr. Agreste's threats."

Marinette sniffed again. "I- what?"

"We won't let this stand, Marinette," Tom told her. "That threat of his, of pulling Adrien out of school if you don't break up with him- that is so out of line. It isn't tolerable, and could very well be an indication of more issues at home."

"I'm sure of it," Sabine finally chimed in. "There's been so many things that Adrien has told us about his home life that- well, some of it just doesn't sit right with me. And this- this is just the cherry on top."

Marinette nodded, jerky and tearful.

Tom patted her shoulder, steering her towards the back. "Why don't you go upstairs and text Adrien about what's going on. Don't break up with him, okay, sweetie? I'll get everything sorted out."

"But- but what if Nathalie is going straight to the school to pull Adrien out?" Marinette asked, clearly anxious. She was picking at her fingernails, a clear indication of how nervous she was. "And Mr. Agreste is just at home waiting to see if I break up with Adrien fast enough? I- Adrien worked so hard to get into school, and his father keeps threatening to take it away."

...so this was a reoccurring threat, then. Mr. Dupain was even less impressed.

"He can't possibly expect you to immediately turn around and break up immediately," Tom said instead. "That's unreasonable. You would need some time to get over the shock. So I think we have a little wriggle room."

"Since when has Mr. Agreste been reasonable?" Marinette asked, which- well, was a very valid point. She clung to his arm. "M-maybe we should break up, and then try again later- we can still be friends, Mr. Agreste didn't ban that."

"If this doesn't work, I would say stage a breakup and then date in secret," Tom told Marinette. "Keep Adrien in the loop, that's most important. Don't break up out of the blue without an explanation, that will just crush him. But I'm confident that I can get something worked out. Mr. Agreste can't be unreasonable and push you kids around like this without consequences, and it's about time he learned that."

Marinette considered that, then nodded and darted inside the bakery. Tom had a quick, hushed conversation with Sabine, and then retreated into a back room to make a call.

If Mr. Agreste thought that having Marinette and Adrien dating was somehow negatively impacting his company's image, then it was time to see how the company's precious image looked after Mr. Agreste got a visit from child protective services.

The agent that Tom reached was very interested in what he had to say about Mr. Agreste. Apparently several of their agents had wondered what Adrien's home life was like after his mom's disappearance after seeing Mr. Agreste just straight-up vanish from public life, with his few public appearances making them no less concerned. Mr. Agreste was apparently not exactly giving off the image of a stable, reasonable parent, even to the largely uninvested bystander.

"We'll be over for a visit to see your footage," the agent told him. "And to talk to your daughter, as well, to hear what she knows. Threatening a healthy teenaged relationship like that, just to try to control Adrien...well, something tells me that that's just the tip of the iceberg."

"Yes, I thought the same," Tom agreed. "And Marinette said that Mr. Agreste has threatened to pull Adrien out of school for other minor perceived offenses before, and I've certainly heard plenty about the times that Adrien has suddenly not been allowed to go on outings with his friends, even if he had been told that he could go out before."

There was tapping at the other end of the line- the agent entering what Tom had just said in her computer, perhaps, or making note of more questions to ask. "All right. Do you think your daughter would be willing to answer some questions today? I know she must have just had quite a shock what with Mr. Agreste barging in and threatening her, but I'd like to move this case along as quickly as possible, before Mr. Agreste catches wind of what's going on and can start putting pressure on anyone to change their story."

Tom nodded, then remembered that there was no way for the agent to see that. "Of course. I think Marinette can talk today- she's a strong girl. She'll want to help Adrien right away."

"All right. We'll be there in a few minutes."

Tom thanked her and hung up.

"Any news?"

"They're coming right away," Tom told Sabine, following her back into the bakery front. "Threats to isolate kids like Mr. Agreste is doing are taken very seriously. And in Paris right now, they want to make sure that people aren't being abused, because of the threat of akumas."

Sabine let out a breath. "That makes sense. I'm glad they can work fast. Adrien and Marinette have been so happy together, so forcing them to break up, even for a little while..."

Tom nodded, quickly washing his hands before doing the rounds of the shop, rearranging things and making sure that there was enough stock in front. A couple of things needed to be refilled- a quick run to the back took care of those problems easily enough- and by the time everything was just how he wanted it, a pair of child protection agents had arrived.

"Tom Dupain?" the first one asked, sticking out a hand for him to shake. "I'm Sylvia Faye. We just talked on the phone?"

"Hi," Tom said at once. "Yes, I'm Tom, and this is my wife, Sabine. Marinette is upstairs- oh, I probably should have given her a heads-up," he added, wincing. Whoops. He had been so nervous about the agents coming that...well, warning Marinette had kind of slipped his mind. "I'll show you guys up, then give her a minute's warning once we're there."

"Fantastic." Sylvia and her coworker followed him at once, into the back and up the stairs. "Now, we'll be asking Marinette and Adrien as well, but can you think of anyone else who could truthfully vouch for what Adrien's home life is like? We're going to end up having to interview everyone in the household, of course, but we don't want to give Mr. Agreste too much of a heads-up and allow him time to rehearse excuses for everything by approaching someone loyal to him right away."

Tom thought about it. "Well, there would be the teachers at school- they would be able to provide a, ah, less biased view of Adrien and Marinette's relationship than Sabine and I might..."

Sylvia's lips twitched towards a smile. "You mean they wouldn't accidentally refer to Adrien as your future son-in-law."

"...yes." He wasn't good at being put on the spot, that was Tom's only defense. Also, he had once said something similar to Adrien, and it had since become a bit of an inside joke. "And Adrien's other friends- Nino Laffe and Alya Césaire, and then, ah, his friend from fencing- Kagami Tsurugi? I think her mom is friends of a sort with Gabriel, so Kagami has seen Mr. Agreste more often than some of Adrien's other friends. Adrien has private tutors for all sorts of things- piano, Chinese, probably some other stuff that I've forgotten- but I don't know how likely they would be to side with him over Mr. Agreste. And- oh! Adrien's bodyguard. Mr. Agreste's secretary has always felt somewhat off to me, but his bodyguard clearly cares for Adrien."

Sylvia jotted that down. "Fantastic."

"I don't know if he can speak, though," Tom added, remembering all of the times when he had seen Gerald- also known as the Gorilla, which (oddly enough) he didn't seem to mind. "I've never heard him talk. Adrien might be able to tell you more, though."

"Ah, that sounds like a good lead." Sylvia smiled as they reached the landing, and Tom pushed open the door to lead the two of them into their living room. "I take it we should wait here?"

"If you would." Tom gestured to the sofa, then headed up the stairs to Marinette's room. He tapped on the trapdoor, then stuck his head in. "Marinette? I called some people about Mr. Agreste's threats, and they'd like to talk to-" He cut off abruptly as his eyes cleared the floor and spotted Marinette on her chaise lounger, curled up with...Adrien.

Huh. How had Adrien gotten in? Tom had been downstairs in front of the door and in the hallway ever since Mr. Agreste's appearance, with the exception of only a very few short minutes. For Adrien to have somehow managed to slip in during that time...

"Chat Noir saw me trying to slip out and brought me over," Adrien volunteered at once. He cringed. "I- I wasn't planning on making a habit of this, sir, I swear."

Aha. That made sense. "I'll have to thank him the next time I see him, then." Tom climbed fully into the room, crossing over to the two teens and pulling up a chair. "Adrien, after the scene with your father earlier- Marinette has told you about it, right?"

Adrien nodded, exchanging a glance with Marinette. Their fingers were wound together tightly, curled up as though they didn't want to part. "Yeah. That's why I was trying to come over. I- I don't know what's gotten into him! He liked Marinette! She won his design contest, and was great about switching out the feather on the hat so that I wouldn't sneeze on the runway, and has come home with me for lunch before and it was all fine then. And it's not like anything should have changed since she was last over at my house! He's not talked to me about us at all." Adrien snorted, but it sounded sad. "Or at all, really. As usual."

Marinette wriggled closer to him, her legs pressed against his and practically in his lap, and the two of them exchanged a look.

"Yes, well... what he's trying to do- the way that he's trying to manipulate you and Marinette- that's not normal in any way, shape, or form, and it's not okay. I called child protection services."

Adrien's eyes widened. "Oh."

"And they're here right now. They wanted to speak to Marinette, but since you're here as well..." Tom studied Adrien, trying to gauge his response. Considering Adrien's acting training- something that he had told the Dupain-Chengs about over dinner one night- it was hard to tell exactly what the boy was feeling, but he didn't seem nearly as torn about that as Tom might have expected.

Maybe it was because their family had fully embraced him, accepting him as family, too, and so losing his father- well, he wouldn't be losing everything.

"I can do that," Adrien agreed. He paused. "So, ah, one at a time, I'm assuming? Or...?"

Tom glanced towards the open trapdoor. "Well, there are two of them so, ah..."

"May we come up?" Sylvia called. "I heard that Adrien is here?"

Both teens nodded, so Tom called back an affirmation. Moments later, Sylvia and her companion- oh, Tom should have asked for her name, where had his manners gone?- came into the room.

"Hi, Adrien and Marinette," Sylvia said at once, heading over to where Adrien and Marinette were curled up. Tom could see her professional gaze taking in the way they were curled up together and he winced, hoping that she wouldn't decide that Mr. Agreste's sudden, random decision to end his son's relationship might have some merit to it after all because of them getting too serious too fast. "I'm Sylvia Faye, and this is my colleague Alice Durand. We're both agents at France's child protection agency, and we'd like to be able to talk to both of you about your home life, Adrien."

"Together, or..?" Adrien asked, exchanging a look with Marinette.

"Separately, if we could. We don't want one person's answers influencing the other person." She glanced back at Tom. "And we'd like to be able to talk to you and your wife after this, Mr. Dupain. I know you have a business to run, but..."

"This is far more important," Tom assured her at once. "Everything else can wait."

Sylvia and Alice talked to Adrien and Marinette for quite a while. Alice finished talking to Marinette first, and then came down to talk to Tom. He left the back bakery in the very capable hands of his staff, then sat down in the break room to tell her everything. Every interaction he had had with Mr. Agreste and his staff, what he had heard from Adrien and Marinette, all about Adrien and Marinette's friendship and relationship.

Tom made sure to wrack his memory for everything he had ever heard. Right before they wrapped up, he remembered the story of Marinette's gift to Adrien on his birthday, only a little over a month after meeting him.

"She made this scarf- hours and hours of work, with very fine yarn- for a kid her age, it was expensive, too," Tom told Alice. "And she brought it over to Adrien's house to deliver it. Her name was on the package at one point-" the fact that there may have been some breaking and entering to get Marinette's name on was irrelevant, really- "but Adrien showed up at school with the scarf the next day, under the impression that it was his father who had given the gift to him. Marinette didn't tell him that it was her, because he was so happy about it- apparently Mr. Agreste had just given Adrien a pen for his birthday for several years running prior to that, so a scarf was a huge deal. I still don't think she's told him."

Alice had frozen. "He stole a gift from- good lord." She was shaking her head. "The emotional manipulation that we're seeing here..."

She didn't continue. Tom suspected that she probably wasn't allowed to say much more. Anything that Adrien and Marinette told her was in confidence.

"We're going to talk to a few more people today," Alice told him. "Sylvia is still talking to Adrien, so I'll talk to your wife and then go get one of our other agents to help me do other interviews. If Mr. Agreste or his assistant come by again, let us know right away."

"Of course."

"And if you think of anything more to tell us- well, Sylvia will leave her contact info," Alice told him. "Just shoot us a message."

Tom nodded again, then ducked out to go up front and take over for Sabine so that she could talk to Sylvia. Marinette was up front as well, decorating petits fours for an order they had. She looked a lot better, steadier than she was before but still quiet.

"Do you think that they'll do anything about Mr. Agreste?" Marinette asked Tom after a few minutes, after the few people in the bakery had been served and had left. She had put her piping bag down, and he could see her hands shaking. "I mean, he gives Adrien food, and quality tutors, and a roof over his head, and he hasn't- well, as far as I know, he hasn't hit him."

"Hitting isn't the only form of abuse, sweetheart," Tom told her. "Emotional manipulation, at the level that Mr. Agreste does- well, even if Adrien doesn't get removed from his father's care, they're going to keep a close eye on the situation and check in regularly. That by itself might be enough to keep Mr. Agreste in line."

Marinette nodded, but her brow furrowed. "And- and if it doesn't? If he has connections- he's rich, he's friends with the Bourgeois family, who knows who else he knows-"

"And we have connections, too. I'd like to see how that-" Tom hastily reconsidered his word choice, no matter how angry he was he did still have to control himself in front of his daughter- "arrogant man would react if that footage got 'leaked' to Madam Chamack. He might be famous and connected, but public opinion can ruin those people."

Marinette's eyes flashed to him. "You- you'd do that, Papa?"

"Of course." He hoped that it wouldn't come to that, of course, but he had stood by and trusted that the authorities would do the right thing one too many times when it came to bullies at Marinette's school. "We want to keep you and Adrien safe, no matter what it takes. Maybe going on the news would be a little underhanded, but if it's necessary..."

The smile on Marinette's face was more than welcome as Tom watched her turn back to her petit fours, noticeably steadier. He turned his attention back to the store as a new rush of people came in, focusing on them and doing his best to not seem off at all. He didn't run the front of the store as often as Sabine did, but he could still manage well enough. Marinette finished up with the order of petits fours, boxing them up neatly and putting them to the side before cleaning up, clearly trying to focus on that instead of worrying about what was going on upstairs.

Tom was worried. Even more so after Alice finished up talking to Sabine and headed out to go collect another agent and do more interviews, but there had been no signs of Sylvia or Adrien yet.

Maybe it was just- well, Adrien had been in that household for years before they knew him. There were probably more things that he had experienced but never told them. Of course he was going to have more to tell the agent than they did. It was unfortunate that he had to talk about all of his awful experiences all at once, one after the other, without so much as a break, but hopefully it would all end with Adrien being removed from a toxic situation.

They could only hope.

They got the news before the sun set and Mr. Agreste came looking for his son: Adrien was, at least temporarily, being removed from his father's household.

"We don't like to have kids stay in their homes when there's an ongoing investigation," Sylvia told Tom when she called with the update. "It can result in the parents lashing out at their kids, and that can turn really ugly, particularly since we have Hawkmoth looming over everyone's heads. Ah, about housing for tonight..."

"We do have a guest room," Tom told her. "Which, son-in-law jokes aside, we will insist that Adrien stay there instead of in Marinette's room. They're far too young for that."

"Ah. Fantastic." Sylvia sounded relieved. "Adrien indicated that he would prefer to stay with you guys for the time being. We'll probably look into a different placement long-term once the investigation has wrapped up- from what we've heard and seen today, I'm confident that we will end up charging Gabriel Agreste with emotional abuse and manipulation- but that has nothing to do with your household, I assure you. It's just that we prefer not to place kids with the families of the person they're dating. It can get messy if anything goes wrong."

Tom could understand that. "Right, right, of course."

"After today's interviews, we're looking at Adrien's current bodyguard as a more permanent placement, but again, things can change."

He knew that the man seemed trustworthy. And it was nice that Adrien would be able to stay in Paris and with someone he knew. If Adrien was taken away from his controlling, manipulative father, only to be sent away from Paris and Marinette and all of his other friends, he would be crushed.

"We'll keep you updated," Sylvia promised. "And someone might drop by tomorrow to check up on Adrien's sleeping situation. It's not that we don't trust you, it's just..."

"You have to make sure that kids aren't going from one bad situation into another," Tom finished. "Or staying in a household that's not equipped to handle them, I understand. It's no problem. Ah, will Adrien have a chance to get back to his house to grab his clothes and school things soon? We're willing to buy supplies for him, of course, but I'm sure he'd like some of his own things."

"We can arrange that," Sylvia promised. "Now, ah, we're going to be calling Mr. Agreste and letting him know soon. I would suggest, just based on what we've seen from him, that you lock down your house and business so that he doesn't try to barge in."

Ah, that was a good point. It wouldn't stop any akumas if Mr. Agreste flew into a rage and caught Hawkmoth's attention, probably, but it should deter Mr. Agreste if he decided to storm over. "Will do."

"And again, thank you for calling us," Sylvia finished. "We can only do our work when people act as our eyes and ears for the children of Paris. Have a good evening, Mr. Dupain."

"And to you as well."

Tom flashed a thumbs-up at Sabine as he hung up the phone, and she perked up. "Good news?"

"He's not going home tonight. I get the impression that they're pretty confident that Mr. Agreste will end up losing custody, but of course they're not going to call that for a bit." Tom was feeling quite triumphant as he headed to the front door, double- and triple-checking that it was locked. Then he triggered the security system, locking down their shutters over the windows and the door. Just in case. "They said to make sure that we're locked down, so that Mr. Agreste can't retaliate. So I'm going to do that before I help you clean up if that's all right?"

Sabine nodded, clearly anxious. "Of course. They're calling him soon, then?"

"Right after they called us." Tom ducked into the back hallway, making sure that that door was locked, too, before heading into the bakery. The delivery door had to be checked, as did the emergency exit, and the few windows, just in case.

Maybe he was just being paranoid, but... well, Mr. Agreste didn't seem like the most stable of people, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

By the time the last lock had been checked and double-checked, Sabine had finished up the cleaning and had headed upstairs. Tom set up the alarm system- he would have to put several notes in their room and on the stairs so that they wouldn't be alarmed by it tomorrow morning- and headed upstairs, where Adrien was actually smiling as he helped Marinette get dinner ready, circling around her like she was his sun and he was her earth like he always did.

Honestly, Tom, had been worried that Adrien would be taking this whole investigation harder than he was. Maybe having Marinette there and the support of their entire family was a bigger help than he had anticipated.

No matter the reason, Tom wasn't about to complain.

It didn't take long for Gabriel Agreste to get declared unfit for parenting. He flew into a rage about it, of course, but the child protection services weren't about to budge.

Perhaps he hadn't abused Adrien physically, but the emotional manipulation and neglect were enough to throw up all of the red flags in the agents' minds. And as if that weren't enough, apparently Gerald had brought up some other concerns he had had about Mr. Agreste's behavior following the disappearance of his wife, suspicious activity that he had never really told anyone about before.

Apparently Gabriel Agreste had never really been investigated for his wife's disappearance, or at least the investigation that he had undergone was short and very much inadequate. Someone at the police station had been paid off, they suspected, and so no attention had been paid to if his story made sense, if it had been verified, if- well, anything, really.

So Mr. Agreste had been called into the police station along with Nathalie- apparently he had had to be told that so, he could not just call in via his tablet or get interviewed in his office at home, and that suggestion had been received none too kindly by the police officers who had been re-assigned the case. While he was out of the house, Adrien and Marinette were going over to get more of Adrien's clothes. Gerald had been able to smuggle a small bag of Adrien's things out earlier, but Adrien had more things that he wanted to pick up, too, and he wanted to have more changes of clothing.

Tom had offered to come along to help, but the two of them had insisted that they would be fine, and anyway the Gorilla was going to be there to pick up the suitcases and bring them over to his house afterwards, since Adrien was staying there now. So Tom let them be and went about his day, throwing himself into the bakery work and making sure that everything was running smoothly. He made sure to ensure that his bakers knew how to run everything without him, because if he got called away again to support Adrien throughout any other legal stuff that needed to be done, it would be better if the bakery could still stay open.

His staff, of course, were well-trained and experienced, knowing exactly where all of the books were kept with the lists of what needed to be made when. Tom beamed in pride, plenty proud of how well they had learned.

They were like a second family, really. Most of the bakers were people he had taken in as interns as the bakery grew, and he had brought them from floundering culinary school graduates to confident bakers and patisserie-makers.

Tom was bringing empty bread baskets back to the back kitchens to clean them out when the side doors banged open, and Adrien and Marinette came flying in. Adrien looked far closer to tears than he ever had before, barely holding himself together. Marinette was pale, practically green, as she clung to Adrien.

What had happened?

"We- we found some stuff," Marinette managed when Tom rushed over, leaving the baskets on the hallway floor. She pressed a fist to her lips, clearly trying to pull herself together. "Since Mr.- Mr. Agreste was out, and Nathalie, too, we explored a little bit, and we found- we found-"

"Mom," Adrien choked out. "I don't know what- what's wrong with her, b-b-but..."

...okay, they needed the police. Right now.

"We'll find out," Tom promised. He placed a gentle hand on each of their shoulders, guiding them upstairs. Some settling tea and a few cozy blankets was definitely in order. They didn't know when Hawkmoth could strike, so it was important to help as quickly as possible.

...but seriously, the police hadn't looked hard enough to find anything suspicious after Mrs. Agreste's disappearance, but Adrien and Marinette were able to find Mrs. Agreste while just exploring? That was- that really painted a really terrible picture of the police, honestly.

(Was Tom surprised? No, not really- disappointed, definitely, but not at all surprised.)

Adrien was shaking as he headed up the stairs, hard enough that he nearly stumbled several times. Marinette was steadier, clearly having had a huge shock as well but seeing Adrien so shaken was helping pull her back from the same sort of breakdown that Adrien seemed to be having.

If they had actually found Mrs. Agreste- well, heaven knew what kind of state she was in. If she had been dead this whole time, there was very little that would have kept her actually looking intact. If she was- what? Sick? In a coma?- then why hadn't Mr. Agreste gone to hospital experts to help?

This whole thing- it was weird.

"Should I text Gerald and ask him if Adrien can stay the night?" Tom asked, aiming the question largely at Marinette. She seemed the most likely to be able to respond, after all. "I know you're not left alone all the time like you were before, Adrien, but if being with Marinette would help..."

Adrien nodded, a jerky little move of his head. Tom mentally patted himself on the back. That was a victory, no matter how small.

"I'm going to put some water on for tea," he told them as they straggled up the last few stairs and headed for the living room door. He paused to head over to the linen closet and pull out a big, fuzzy blanket. "And then you two can snuggle up on the couch while I call the police."

Adrien nodded again, but he didn't look entirely focused. Marinette hugged him tighter, pressing her face into his neck briefly before moving back slightly.

Tom hustled them in, wrapping them up before putting the kettle on and rustling through their packets of tea to find the kind he was thinking of. It was good for helping with shock, and they had stocked up on it after the first akuma attack- after all, while they might have turned almost into background noise at this point, there were some particularly nasty ones that were especially nightmare-inducing, and it was best to be prepared. He had just found the box he was looking for when the sound of feet pattering quickly across the floor and the bathroom door slamming shut caught Tom's attention. He spun around, spotting Marinette sitting alone on the couch, looking startled. Seconds later, the sounds of retching from the bathroom told Tom exactly why Adrien had made such a hasty exit.

"Marinette, what happened?" Tom asked quietly, stepping towards his daughter. Her eyes had been trained on the bathroom door, but snapped to him quickly enough. "I need to know so that I can call the police. What did you find?"

Marinette worried her lip for a second before saying anything. "We- we were just exploring-" Her words trailed off, and she have herself a good shake. "Adrien had asked the Gorilla about what suspicious activity he saw, just out of curiosity. I don't think he told him everything, probably, but he had told Adrien about what he thought was maybe a hidden elevator in Mr. Agreste's office. So we went looking, and the buttons- they were hidden in this painting of his mom. And we experimented a bit, because you could kind of see the spots that had been pressed a lot, and it worked, and brought us to this underground chamber."

...Tom had so many questions. Why they couldn't just wait for the police to investigate definitely topped the list.

"There were buttons that we didn't push, though," Marinette continued with a frown. "Like they were part of a different combination, one that would make the elevator go somewhere else. And the tunnel that we went down- there was a split in it, a track that led up instead of down. He's got to be hiding something else."

Tom blinked, a little taken aback by both the hyper-focused look on Marinette's face and the fact that apparently, despite the (definitely traumatic) experience that she had just gone through with finding Adrien's mom in whatever condition she was in, Marinette had managed to notice, remember, and think about what the worn buttons and the extra tunnel might mean. If he had been in that position- well, Tom was pretty sure that he would have been all but useless to the police because of the shock, especially when he was Marinette's age.

"In the chamber- it had a metal walkway, and water running underneath, and the walls were rock. It was huge, like a church." Marinette's eyes went distant, and Tom wondered if he should maybe be taking notes so that he would know everything to be able to report it. "And there was this little garden at the end, and a- it looked like a glass coffin sort of thing, and there were machines tucked under it- they were beeping, so I think she's still alive, maybe, but if she's been down there over a year..."

Tom cringed. That was...not promising. Not at all- unless.

Unless there was magic involved. And the only way that there might be magic involved was-

Tom pushed the thought away. He wasn't going to think it, not now. They already had enough things to be concerned about, and if magic was involved...well, the police would come to the same conclusion soon enough, and then it would be Ladybug and Chat Noir's concern. Marinette and Adrien didn't need to get even more tangled up in this.

"There were butterfly cocoons, too," Marinette said quietly, and Tom startled. How had she noticed that when there was the practically-dead body (he was assuming, but based on what he had heard it was probably accurate) of her boyfriend's mom in front of her? "Little white cocoons all over the plants. We didn't look closer, because Adrien was about to be sick, but..." She trailed off as Adrien exited the bathroom, looking even more shaky than before. Tom was up at once, half-carrying Adrien back over to the couch and wrapping him up in the blanket with Marinette.

Shock was a hell of a problem to have to deal with. And if Adrien had been even half as observant as Marinette had and come to the same conclusion that Tom had...well, it was a miracle that he had managed to make it back to the bakery at all.

The teapot whistling was a welcome interruption.

Tom watched them out of the corner of his eye as he quickly prepared two cups of tea. Adrien was practically curled up in Marinette's lap, his head tucked under her chin as she ran her fingers through his hair. She was whispering to him, dipping her head down to press a kiss to Adrien's hair. He could make out the occasional word from where he stood, kinda-sorta-definitely eavesdropping.

Kitty seemed to come up pretty often, oddly enough. Maybe it was a pet name- Adrien and Marinette seemed to like using those fairly often. It was a little odd for a pet name, admittedly, but it might be an inside joke or something.

"Tea for you two- careful, it's hot," Tom told them after a couple minutes of steeping. He carried the two cups over, pulling their coffee table closer to Adrien and Marinette so that they could easily reach the cups. "And I'm going to step out and call the police. If you need anything...well, I'm not going far."

Marinette nodded, glancing down at Adrien in her lap. Tom waited for a moment to see if they needed anything, then headed out, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he did. It took a moment for him to pull up the non-emergency number- after all, nothing was on fire- and dial. Someone picked up right away.

"Hello, may I speak to a sergeant?" Tom asked, doing his best not to rush his words. "This is Tom Dupain, and I have some information regarding Emilie Agreste's disappearance...and possibly also Hawkmoth's identity."

With Mr. Agreste already at the police station, it was easy enough for them to come up with an excuse to separate him and his Miraculous, and Nathalie from the Peacock Miraculous as well. Apparently they told each of them individually that they needed to go to a back room, and would need to remove any jewelry to go through the metal detector. They had both been irritated by the whole thing, Tom had been told- apparently Mr. Agreste had been deeply offended that anyone would even consider that he might do something to his wife- but had been acting outwardly cooperative, which meant that all jewelry came off and into the storage bins. Even the Miraculous.

Somehow Ladybug had heard about the discovery and showed up long enough to reclaim the Miraculous and thank the police for their clever work in getting the Miraculous off without a fight. She had also heard about the discovery of Mrs. Agreste and her condition, and promised to send an expert to the hospital where she had been transferred as soon as possible to see if there was anything that could be done.

Tom was of the opinion that Ladybug was actually superhuman. Like, not just a human with a Miraculous, like Gabriel Agreste had been, but a superhuman with a Miraculous on top. How else had she managed to hear about everything so fast, before things had even gone public? It was incredible.

And of course, with the evidence piling up against him, there was no way that Mr. Agreste was ever going to get custody of Adrien again. Not, of course, that he would be able to, not when he was going to end up behind bars for quite a while.

Whether or not Mrs. Agreste would wake up- and if she would pass the inspection that the child protection agents would no doubt level at her- still remained to be seen. Tom was hoping that she would wake up, for Adrien's sake, and that she was a better parent than his father. Gerald was a good guardian, from what they could see, but of course it would be even better if Adrien had a loving parent, one who would actually treat him right.

Adrien was clearly still reeling, but he seemed to be coming back slowly. Marinette was with him, of course, and Sabine had turned over the counter to Tom for the rest of the afternoon so she could go up and stay with the two of them. Gerald was going to be coming as soon as he had gotten Mrs. Agreste settled and her paperwork at the hospital completed, and then Adrien would have one more person who cared about him to help get him through his shock.

Tom couldn't help but smile, a hint of triumph dancing along the edges of his lips. He hadn't known, of course, that he would be setting in motion a chain of events that would end up taking down Hawkmoth and Mayura when he called the child protection agents- it was a very unexpected outcome- but he couldn't deny that he was maybe just a bit proud of that.

Soon enough, the news would be breaking to the rest of the city, and everyone in Paris would know who Hawkmoth and Mayura had been. The impact on the Gabriel brand would leave the employees reeling, probably- the one thing that Tom felt bad about, but it wasn't his fault, but Mr. Agreste's. If he hadn't turned to supervillainry...

Tom could understand wanting to do anything for his wife, because the thought of losing Sabine- well, it wasn't a thought that he wanted to entertain. But there were boundaries that had to be respected. Grief wasn't a fun thing to go through, but it was healthy to be able to remember those that had been lost but move on anyway, instead of becoming shut off from the world and manipulating others.

No matter what happened, though, with Mrs. Agreste and the fallout from Hawkmoth's reveal, at least Adrien and Marinette would be safe. There would be no threats from parents, no attempts at emotional manipulation, no unstable supervillains trying to target them. They could be happy together, just like any other teenagers. If any other threats came along...well, Tom would do his best to help get them through it.

After all, they had been through quite enough already.

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #oh look adults actually being useful #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #Tom Dupain

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thegc4life · 4 years

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Do you any other Hawks fic ideas you'd like to write? Or is Hawks-sensei all you've got on your mind right now?

Wyv. You know not what you ask. I have to put them in categories, Wyv. Categories.

Kid!Hawks:

-Kid!Hawks growing up with the LOV (both as a permanent thing and various ridiculous drabbles) This involves Unwilling Big Brother Shigaraki, scarily willing Big SisterToga who knows all the coolest knife tricks, Best Uncle Twice who sometimes on his real good days doubles as temporary Dad, the Dad who teaches you how to hot wire cars and laugh people’s money straight out of their wallets Compress, mother-henning can-not-leave-you-alone-for-one-god-damn-minute Spinner, True Mom Kurogiri, Big Sis Mag who seems to be the only actual one that realizes that children need to sleep at some point for the love of god, extremely confused but horrifically soft Dabi who may or may not eventually turn his whole life around because of this feathered idiot that needs someone to make sure he lives a happy life whether it be a permanent shrinking or not. Oh, and Machia. The best Mountain Monster Dog brother (?) a boy could ask for.

-Kid!Hawks with UA (staff edition) also both in temporary and permanent circumstances. Temporary is already in progress. Permanent? Oh boy, permanent world. They raise him within UA so as to keep him from the Commission. Hawks often sits in on their classes with coloring books, picture books, or just to sit there and watch them. He is very smart. He picks up on things, but mostly he just likes being around all the staff. He picks a new person to sleep with every week because some of them have really shitty sleep schedules and even as a kid he knows they would feel bad keeping him up, thus forcing them to go to bed through good-person guilt so he tragets the sleepiest looking people for the week (hint: Aizawa gets picked a lot, and even if he’s not sleep deprived Hawks would pick him because he adores his grumpy cat Dad). Thirteen does crafts with him all the time. She watches every kid show and gets really into it with him. Hawks and Mic make the meals and they sing the entire time. They sing together throughout the day. Hawks will chirp out a line of notes and out of nowhere Hizashi will burst in to sing the lyrics. Midnight reads him bedtime stories cause her voices are the best. She does his nails and lets him do hers. He practices on the UA students to surprise her with new designs (the students fall over their own feet to offer to be his test subject). Snipe does little challenges with him. Things that, while technically helping him get used to controlling his quirk, are more fun than anything else because Hawks enjoys using his feathers in games. Hawks dresses up like a cowboy for an entire month, quoting old western movies and driving everyone but a very proud Snipe up the wall. Hound Dog and Hawks go on walks together ALL THE TIME. They explore the woods around UA and Hound Dog tells Cementoss to change up the geography every once in a while so they have something new to explore. He teaches Hawks how to go camping and Hawks fricken adores him and is always on his shoulders just kicking his feet or napping in Hound Dogs hair. Ectoplasm is Hawks favorite person to play any kind of tag based game because the others are too easy to catch with his feathers. But with Ectoplasm and all his clones? hawks goes nuts. Ectoplasm cried once when Hawks asked Aizawa for peg legs for Halloween and when someone asks him if he wants to be a pirate he says no because he wants to be a super cool hero like Ecto for Halloween. No one will be as cool as him. Hawks fricken loves Vlad. Like, adores him. Whenever Vlad is in the room Hawks will just go hang off his shoulders, or tuck under his arms with a book to read, or just lean against him. He has a little stuffed bull dog that has Vlad’s exact resting bitch face and carries it with him every time he leaves the dorm because he feels safer with it. He goes to Vlad when he’s injured because Vlad just takes care of it, gives him a hug, and doesn’t tell him to be more careful. Just asks if Hawks learned something and moves on. Hawks and Nezu are penpals. They see eachother every single day, but they are penpals. Hawks grows up with the most beautiful calligraphy handwriting because he keeps trying to out-do Nezu’s. He absolutely tattles on every single teacher in these letters, giving Nezu years worth of blackmail. Hawks thinks Nezu is a stuffed animal until he is fourteen because Nezu never fesses up. He just thinks the staff is even cooler for letting a stuffed animal run the place. He only ever cries around Nezu.

-Kid!Hawks UA(Student edition): So many. There’s lines I’ve written where they’re still in school when Hawks is kidified. When they’re already pros. In Canon, in Hawks-sensei, I even a small blurb sentence of Deku running a preschool that Hawks gets put into in an AU with quirks still. I can’t even... there’s too many students, cause I’d do all 1-A and 1-B. My favorite one to randomly wake up in a panick and write about though is the one where it’s Hawks-sensei verse based and Kid!Hawks gets taken in by the Monoma family. Rui and Eiko are older and Monoma is a pro-hero by then. The pure amount of fluff, sass, and Hawks spoiling that will happen. Big Brother Rui and Bigger Sister Eiko. I think about this one a lot.

-I’m currently (slowly but progressing) writing a gift for @saltwater-sweets where Kid!Hawks is taken in by the Uraraka family. Like, he’s not even shrunk in this one. Uraraka’s newlywed parents were involved in the accident he first saved people in and they found him before the Commission. They realized his homelife situation and opened their home to him and now he is Uraraka’s big brother and that one line I threw out there? About him being a global superpower in household moving? Teaming up with Uraraka for that? Yeah.

-Kid!League of Villains and adult Hawks. Yeah, you heard me. They all get shrunk instead of him. And he can’t just... turn them in. They’re kids. They haven’t done any of the crimes their older counterparts have. And if it’s a permanent thing? They stay kids? Then he has a chance to really, truly save them. To give them the happy lives stolen from them. The Commission doesn’t like that. So Hawks takes them and runs. Dabi can be an adult too, I guess, if that’s the ship or something, but I just really wanna write Kid!LOV and Dad!Hawks.

-Kid!Aizawa. Dad!Hawks. Same concept. Beautiful dream. Need I say more.

-Kid!Hawks, Best Jeanist

-Kid!Hawks Gang Orca

-Kid!Hawks RUMI!!

Vigilante Hawks:

- Raven was born and I dived down that rabbit hole so fast I went back in time. Raven. But from a way earlier age. Those guys mugging Hawks when he was fifteen? The spark. Hawks stayed on the streets, he never went back, and he learned some things. He got some freedom, learned some shit, and realized that hero society was pretty fucked up. Shigaraki starts the LOV up and realizes there’s this whole underground community he was never aware of that Hawks has been building for years. It’s great.

-Hawks was never found by the Commission so he was never ‘Hawks’. His Dad raised him as a criminal but Hawks, with his little heart of gold, took every chance he could to make something good out of the bad deeds. Then he got old enough and he took full control. You ever seen the Levi OVA’s of Attack on Titan? Where he’s walking down the stairs and you realize every single person there is part of a huge ass gang of awesome with Levi at the head? That. THAT.

-Hawks loses his shit in Canon and goes completely AWOL. full Feral. He sees the problems, and he is prepared to do whatever it takes get rid of them. Whatever it takes.

AU Hawks

-Horribly injured, recently retired at the ripe old age of 23, and looking for something to save him from depression. Hawks meets Todoroki Fuyumi who gets him a job at her school. This one makes my brain happy.

-Takami Keigo and Todoroki Natsuo meet in college, graduate together, join the same hospital, and open one as partners as soon as they can. Ship or no ship, they go through their entire lives together. (I just... I really like the Todoroki sibs, okay?)

-Takami Keigo was born a lot earlier. So much, earlier, in fact that he is classmates with this overly optimistic ball of light named Yagi Toshinori and the grumpy ball of flame Todoroki Enji. Big Three anyone? Also, everyone needs a dumb smart birb to keep them sane. Hawks loves his friends, and he’ll kick anyone’s ass that tries to hurt them be it physically, mentally, or emotionally. Also, he meets Nana.

-I LOVE THE IMAGINARY KAMAKIRI FAMILY DYNAMIC OKAY?! literally anything with Hawks involved in their lives, okay?! I did not expect to spiral so hard when I made up Hideo and his relationship with Kamakiri but my god did I spiral! I just really love them!

-I’m a sucker for the classics. Tattoo/flower. Coffee shop. College. Roommates. Love.

- (she made me write this) a story surrounding the amazing love story of my sister and Iida Tenya with Aizawa crashes the wedding even though he was invited and Mirio is her maid of honor, with Eri as the ring bearer, and All Might is the flower girl. Twice is the officiator. Uraraka releases a flock of fake pigeons (not real ones cause they don’t deserve that). Oh, and everyone else is there too, I guess. Except for Mineta. Cause he’s in jail.

Right now, at this very moment, I can not for the life of me think of any others but I KNOW there’s at least seven more that I just can’t remember because my brain is work dead. Wyv. @wyvernspirit do you see what you’ve opened here? Close the box! Close it before it’s too late! There is always more! I am never without MORE ideas!

#adorable bean response #pandoras box #i only vaguely spell checked

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Why The Great North Isn’t Just Another Bob’s Burgers

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It’s easy to take one look at FOX’s newest animated comedy, The Great North, and assume it’s exactly like the long running and beloved Bob’s Burgers. Two of The Great North’s creators wrote a good chunk of Bob’s Burgers episodes and the shows share a near-identical art style after all. At first glance some of the Bob’s Burgers character archetypes seem to be involved as well: awkward daughter, an odd sarcastic youngest child, and a loving, if somewhat offbeat, father. So why bother with something like Bob’s Burgers when you could just watch Bob’s Burgers?

While there are a few surface similarities, by the end of the first episode of The Great North you’ll realize there’s so much more to it than just an Alaskan set version of the Belcher family. It’s got humor all its own, unique characters, and the potential to be something that isn’t merely a rival to Bob’s Burgers but a truly unique experience.

So let’s head up north to discover all the reasons why The Great North is so wonderful. As a brief primer, the show is set in Alaska and follows the Tobin family with fisherman dad Beef, artistic daughter Judy, loveably dumb son Ham, bear-suit wearing son Moon, oldest and eager to please son Wolf, his always chipper and new to Alaska fiancé Honeybee, and Judy’s best imaginary friend Alanis Morissette…played by Alanis Morssette.

The Family’s Lack of a Mom is Refreshingly Handled

A lack of a mom is a huge trope in animation at this point (look at damn near every ‘90s Disney movie) and if there is a mom, especially in a comedy, she tends to be wacky or overly loving. The Great North puts a new twist on both of these in its very first episode.

The plot of the premiere deals with Beef struggling to get over his ex-wife years after she abandoned the family. An ex-wife isn’t anything to write home about, a single dad taking care of a family is a comedy trope in of itself, but it’s what we learn about Beef’s ex that makes this element so refreshing.

Instead of the mom just not being present or having died off screen, Beef only acts like she’s dead, a fabrication everyone goes along with to keep him sane. When he isn’t around though Judy is quick to point out the rest of the family doesn’t buy this and they never liked her much anyway. She even flat out states,

“She was a really bad mom, okay? And it was actually better when she left.”

The other kids then list off horrible things she did, like name their dog Grandma solely so, “she wouldn’t be lying when she said we were with Grandma when people asked.” She runs a blog with her “new lover” about stores that wont chase you if you shoplift. Even in her goodbye letter to Ham she just wrote, “smell you later.”

I love this so much because it replaces all the easy sentimentality of a dead or simply absent mom that comedies love and instead opens up some fantastic new storytelling opportunities. In the pilot alone it gives us deep insight into Beef, that despite how awful she was he refuses to think anything but the best of her. Why is he like that? Is it his way of not thinking about all the terrible things she did? She’s left him so broken he has to concoct an elaborate fantasy to keep himself sane. It makes you instantly love the character and while he does seemingly get over this denial in the pilot I can foresee it impacting him for the rest of the series.

It’s also so refreshing because the kids aren’t all that broken up about it. Knowing their mom was terrible helps reflect a lot of what kids go through in real life. Sometimes they just have a bad parent and there’s no deep explanation of why, they just are and it’s not great. Maybe Judy and the others are hurt by this and I’d love to see the show tackle that in the future but even if it strictly keeps this part of their characters on the comedic side of things? It’s empowering. These kids aren’t broken up by their awful mom and want her back; they’re thriving BECAUSE she isn’t around.

Nick Offerman Being Nick Offerman

Over the years Nick Offerman has perfected the deadpan and loveable character that brought him to fame in Parks and Recreation. His role as Beef isn’t a major departure from that mold but it does allow Offerman to be even warmer than his most famous character.

As Beef he’s a capable man who gets up to see the sun rise and chop wood. He loves nature so much he steals a potted plant from a mall to take better care of it. His love for his family is on full display and he often goes to absurd lengths to keep them together. Offerman brings a great charm to the role and all of the jokes he delivers are winners.

The Rural Location

Bob’s Burgers draws much inspiration from its city setting, while The Great North is set in rural Alaska. This may seem like a surface level change but once again opens up all kinds of new opportunities for stories and characters. Where the Belcher family was somewhat cynical to city life (you would be to with a landlord breathing down your neck) the Tobin family openly embraces the chilly north.

Judy sits out on the roof and talks with her imaginary best friend, Moon takes great pride in his ability to mimic a soon to be eaten cadaver laying out in the snow, and Beef specifically gets up every morning to stare in wild wonder at Alaska’s majesty while whispering “hot dog.” The whole family even delights in going to the mall, which is the kind of joy only someone living out in the middle of nowhere can truly appreciate.

The Different Character Dynamics

Even after eleven truly fantastic seasons Bob’s Burgers characters still manage to never feel stale and the team behind the show always finds new ways to play around with them. With such a rock solid cast of characters you’d think they could tackle any story imaginable but The Great North is already proving to be a home for stories that just wouldn’t work for Bob’s Burgers.

The most noticeable change is that most of the kids are older. Judy and Ham are both sixteen which opens up a lot of possibilities that couldn’t be done with the Belcher kids. They can get involved in more serious relationships, have jobs (as Judy gets in the first episode), and are able to be more autonomous from the family. Wolf, the oldest of all of them, is engaged! Imagine what could be done with a soon-to-be married couple? Honeybee herself also functions as a delighted fish out of water to Alaska, her thoughts on the Tobins’ life a needed commentary. Her outgoing personality also clashes well with Moon’s stoic nature.

The 10 Best Bob’s Burgers Episodes

By Chris Cummins

Judy and Ham also share a more loving sibling dynamic than any of the Belcher kids ever have. In Bob’s Burgers the kids don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves, they’re more likely to make sarcastic quips about one other. The Great North though has Judy and Ham share a special bond, the two have a secret handshake that goes for an indeterminable amount of time. It’s really sweet and it makes me excited to see what kind of comedy can be mined from this more openly affectionate family.

Ham Is Gay And I Love Him

Ham is my favorite character so far in this show. He’s a little slow on the uptake but loves everyone in his family a lot and can even make a perfect replica of a cadaver… in the form of a cake. He also happens to be gay, a fact that is wonderfully confirmed in the first episode when he blurts out, “I AM GAY!

To which Moon responds, “we know. You’ve come out to us a bunch of times.”

Beef then adds, “we love you just the way you are, damn it!”

Ham, clearly not remembering his past comings-out, yells, “WELL, THANK YOU FOR BEING AN ALLY!”

It’s a great scene and kicks any subtext out the door. Queer audiences don’t have to sit around guessing who COULD be queer in the show (as they’re so often forced to do with so little representation in media) there’s a character who said OUT LOUD he’s gay. He’s one of us!

Bob’s Burgers has had several one-time gay characters (Bob did refer to himself as “mostly straight” once but that was more of a gag) but getting a gay teen in the main cast is sublime. He’s also a different sort of gay teen then we’re used to in television, with a tiny “probably thinks it’s cooler than it actually is” mustache and his “not quite all there” personality. He’s not a stereotype, he’s got some obvious flaws, but he’s loveable! Sure enough, his family loves him and accepts him.

Having a gay character in the cast opens up so many story possibilities. Are there any other gay kids in this rural town? What if there’s only one and he’s forced to date him? Does he know what kind of guys he likes yet? Where do the gay kids hang out in this town?

It also must be reiterated that his family loves him and accepts him. While drama over coming out and acceptance is totally valid, I’m glad that Ham will get the chance to just be gay and his family will support him all the way. We can just see him happily (if somewhat absent-mindedly) live his life and that’s needed in a world with so little queer representation. As a pansexual man myself it’s heartwarming. I wish I had a character like Ham when I was growing up.

Alanis Morissette Is A Main Character

Yes, Alanis Morissette is in The Great North (played by the actual Alanis Morissette) but in an absolutely perfect choice she’s not the REAL Alanis Morissette, she’s Judy’s best imaginary friend who just happens to be Alanis Morissette. Judy’s artistic so it makes sense she’d look up to someone as incredible as the Canadian musical genius. As an imaginary best friend she tends to serve as a sounding board for Judy’s thoughts and gives absolutely flawless advice.

Even better though? The imaginary Alanis Morissette also only appears in the Aurora Borealis. That’s… incredible. What a way to take advantage of the show’s location!

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The Great North is a delight. It’s only been two episodes (the third one premieres February 14 and the first two are available on Hulu) but it’s already shown a lot of promise. Not in the “oh it’ll get good eventually” sense but in the “no it’s already great and I want to see more of it!” Don’t think of it as another Bob’s Burgers, just think of it as its own wonderful moose-filled show (it’s Alaska, what did you expect) and you’ll have a fantastic time. Truly, in these dark times we could all use a little help from imaginary best friend Alanis Morissette.

The post Why The Great North Isn’t Just Another Bob’s Burgers appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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zwritestuff · 4 years

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Some Things Are Bound To Be (Chapter Two) - Kyara

A/N: Kiara is twenty-two today, and what a better way to celebrate than with a new chapter? I’m very much in love with this fic, and a third chapter should be on the way. Hope you enjoy this one though! It didn’t turn out according to my plan, but oh well. Shit happens.

Read on ao3 too!

***

If Kiara is completely honest, she has no idea why she started “hiding” at Kyne’s office in the first place.

Well, maybe she does have some sort of idea; she was mad at Wilbur, that one bitch of a CEO her father was — is, sadly — great friends with, for having completely dismissed her when she tried to express her opinions during a meeting, and spoke down to her as if she was a little kid and not an adult.

She had left the meeting seeing red, and the fact Lena was all over her, reminding her of all the things she had to do and blurting out message after message didn’t help. Kiara understood that it was just her job, but god damn it, Lena couldn’t understand simple hints for the sake of her life. So, before she undeservingly snapped at her secretary, she came up with a half-assed excuse to leave her office; she just needed to wander around to calm herself down.

Her first thought was to come to Rita, because she always knew what to say and how to calm her down, and Rita’s secretary, Tynomi, was probably the bluntest, funniest woman in the entire company. They always managed to cheer her up. Unfortunately, Rita had yet another meeting — Kiara swore she was the only CEO besides her that actually did her job.

She was wandering around the offices of the accountants when she saw Kyne’s door; Kyne had something that pulled Kiara like a magnet, though she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. Maybe it was the fact she made her laugh within a minute of meeting each other, or that every time she came to pick up or drop off some reports, she always managed to, at least, get a giggle out of her. And god knew she needed a laugh now.

So she knocked on an impulse she would later be grateful for.

Kyne was totally entitled to not want to listen to her problems or to kick her out (which she wouldn’t do, because everyone was afraid of her, apparently), but she let her stay, and offered her as much of her attention as she could, considering she still had work to do. And she even gave her advice — well, of sorts.

“I mean, you’re the boss of the boss of my boss; if anything, you could just tell her to chill or you’ll fire her. That should calm her,” she had said, placing her chin in her palm, her voice coming out as monotonous, though Kiara distinguished a playful gleam in her eyes. A giggle came out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“I would, but I’m not that mean — and she’d tell my dad, anyway.” She shrugged, slightly rolling her eyes. She heard Kyne chuckle, and her heart skipped a beat. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I have to go, I have a meeting to attend, but thank you for letting me hide here.” She winked at her out of yet another impulse, but Kyne didn’t seem to mind, since she smiled at her in a way that knocked the air out of her lungs.

Okay, that was weird, Kiara thought.

“You’re welcome to hide here any time, miss Schatzi,” Kyne said, with that pretty smile still on her face. Kiara turned to see her, grabbing the handle of the door for dear life.

“You know what? Just call me Kiara.” She smiled bashfully and left, walking back to her office as fast as her heels allowed her.

She had shut the door in front of Lena’s face when she wouldn’t stop asking where she went, and had silently resolved that she wouldn’t go back to Kyne’s office unless it was for the sake of her job.

Kiara was also a pathological liar.

She came back one, two, three, who knows how many times, again. She’s not sure, but she knows it was enough for it to become a habit. Sometimes she’d also bring some sort of sweet so Kyne wouldn’t think of her as such a burden. Kiara knew she would get annoyed of her visits at some point, but that had yet to happen, and she was glad for it.

But their almost daily meetings hadn’t escaped the eye of the other employees, much to Kiara’s annoyance.

After setting the record straight with Lena and asking her to be a little less suffocating, they had managed to struck up a friendly relationship, built on the fact that Kiara asked her to be as blunt as possible with her, and in exchange she was honest with her when she went to visit Kyne in the middle of work hours. So it didn’t surprise Kiara when Lena had told her without hesitation that a good chunk of the employees thought she was sleeping with Kyne.

While Lena being blunt with her wasn’t that out of the common — her employees thinking she was sleeping with Kyne? That sure was a hell of a shock.

“You commit a mistake once and people vow to not forget it ever again,” she had grumbled once Lena was done telling her all about the gossip surrounding her and Kyne.

Lena cocked one of her perfectly painted eyebrows, intently staring at her. “Come again?”

Kiara quickly dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Nothing.”

She tried to not pay attention to what the people said about her — in fact, she was great at it — because she shouldn’t pay any mind to cheap office gossip. So Kiara went on with her life, without letting the rumors stop her from visiting Kyne.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before the rumors reached her father.

Kiara’s father is a lovely man, he accepts her for who she is and always seeks out for her wellbeing. Though he makes misplaced comments more often than not, he never does it with ill-intent — oh, and there’s also the fact that he tried to turn Kiara into the son he never had, and when she came out he thought it was his fault that she was a lesbian. She finds it funny now, though she can’t say it was funny at that moment.

And because he cares about her, he’s always asking if she has had any dates recently, or if she’s going out with anyone at the company. It’s safe to say that when one of his friends came to him with the gossip about his own daughter, he got excited rather than offended.

“Am I going to meet your girlfriend at the ball next weekend?” He asks over dinner, and Kiara nearly chokes with her lasagna.

Now that’s why he wanted to have dinner out with her; he usually stays late at work, and Kiara ends up eating dinner with her mom and their three dogs.

Kiara swallows her lasagna and coughs a little before speaking. “Girlfriend? What do you mean?” She squints, tilting her head a little. She knows he’s talking about Kyne, but she prefers to play dumb.

Her father gives her a complicit smile, the kind he’d give her when she was little and they had gotten mud on their clothes after Kiara’s mom told them to not get dirty. She hasn’t seen that smile in years.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, pumpkin. I’m glad you’re seeing someone! You’re young, you should enjoy your life.” He sounds so supportive and happy, that Kiara can’t bring herself to tell him it’s all just a huge misunderstanding.

So Kiara decides to bite the bullet and tell her dad she’s dating one of the accountants of the company, and the proud smile on his face makes it more difficult to lie to him. But at the same time, it isn’t hard to list off all the things she likes about Kyne, because she does like her — as a friend, clearly, but her dad doesn’t have to know that.

He promises her he’ll get Kyne on the guest list of the charity ball, so she can properly introduce her to him and her mother, as well as their friends. Though Kiara nods and thanks him with a huge smile that she hopes doesn’t look forced, her hands are sweating and she knows right away that the first thing she’ll have to do tomorrow morning is talk with Kyne.

***

It’s Wednesday morning, and Kiara buys a cup of coffee and a bagel on her way to work, because she knows what she’s about to ask Kyne will probably make her hate her guts. She wouldn’t blame her.

Surprisingly, it goes far better than she expected. Kyne says yes, in her very Kyne-like way. And Kiara can’t believe it. What surprises her more is the fact Kyne seemingly had no idea about these rumors; if Kiara is lucky, she has no idea about what people said about her even before she started working full-time at the company.

She promises to take her shopping for a dress and leaves her office with her heart plummeting in her ears, the sight of Kyne’s flustered expression ingrained in her brain.

Kiara goes back to her office, walking past Lena and asking her to pretty please get Kyne’s phone number from the company’s records. Kiara notices she’s curious, but Lena doesn’t ask why she wants it or how she doesn’t have it, considering she spends almost every day with her; she just cocks a brow her way and replies with a polite yes ma’am.

She tries to get her job done, to answer the e-mails still pending in her inbox and call back all the people she has to call back, but the only thing on her mind is Kyne. She’s not sure if it’s the guilt of having dragged her, or the impatience for Friday to arrive bubbling up in her stomach, but as soon as it’s time for lunch she sprints off to Rita’s office.

Rita always knows what to say, and right now, Kiara needs someone to tell her this isn’t an incredibly bad idea, even though that would be a lie.

Before she notices she’s knocking on her door and finds Rita along with Tynomi, who greet her with a wide smile.

“Hey Kiki, we were just heading out, wanna go have lunch with us?” Rita asks with a smile, but Kiara shakes her head no.

“I’m fine, thanks. But I could use your help with something,” she says, fidgeting with her fingers. Rita motions at her to take a seat, as she sits back on her chair and Tynomi perches herself against the desk.

Kiara tries to sum up the mess she had gotten herself into, and she can’t blame them when they try to hold back laughs by biting their lower lips and squeezing each other’s wrist.

“So now I need someone to tell me this isn’t a catastrophically bad idea, and that we won’t get caught lying at the ball,” Kiara dramatizes, and Rita snorts, exchanging a brief look with Tynomi before speaking.

“Poussin, you leave me speechless. You could’ve just told your dad it was a misunderstanding,” Rita says with a shrug and Kiara groans, folding her arms.

“Kyne said exactly the same thing — it’s not that easy!” She protests childishly, and the older women laugh at her expense. Kiara wants to be pissed, but she’d also laugh at herself, honestly.

“I mean, it’s a bad idea depending of the way you look at it,” Tynomi says, “You can either be the laughing stock if people find out you’re faking a relationship with this woman, or, you can win an actual girlfriend. Depends how you play your cards,” she explains, as if it’s that easy. Rita hums in agreement, and Kiara rolls her eyes.

“I don’t like Kyne like that.” It’s the first thing she says, sounding more defensive that she intended to. “I just don’t know how to go about this. I enjoy Kyne’s friendship a lot, and I don’t wanna lose it if we fuck this up,” she admits bashfully, and their expressions soften up.

“Then I think you should be talking things out with her, not us,” Rita says, with that motherly tone she always uses when she knows she’s right, and Kiara knows there’s no use fighting her logic.

“What’s the worst thing that can happen? She’ll break up with you?” Tynomi jokes, earning a laugh from them.

“If I run, I think I can get to her before lunch finishes…” She mumbles absent-mindedly, standing up and heading to the door. “Thank you, girls. See you later!” Kiara gives them a grateful smile and a wave before she leaves.

“Be careful running with those heels!” Rita exclaims as she’s closing the door.

Kiara walks as fast as she can through the hallways, trying not to trip with her own feet. She anxiously looks around, searching for Kyne’s purple jacket — God bless Kyne for always wearing jackets with unconventional colors to work.

She hears a ping and pulls out her phone, smiling when she sees a message from Lena with a contact attached. Her message reads that she’s sorry for the delay, but she got distracted by someone — Kiara has an eerie feeling that said someone is a woman from the architect team, but she just replies with a thank you.

She turns in a corner, ending up in the hallway of Kyne’s office. Kiara smiles when she sees Kyne’s purple jacket at the end of the hallway, walking away with her friends.

“Kyne!” She exclaims, ignoring the ache in her feet as she trotters towards her. Kyne turns around, looking at Kiara with a flustered expression. Her friends turn around too, but their faces read nothing but pure mischief. “Wait up, I was looking for you.”

“Me? Why?” She asks once Kiara is near enough. Her brows are knitted in a frown, stealing glances at her friends, who have their attention focused on Kiara.

Kiara shakes off the nerves, sucks in a breath and smiles at Kyne, hoping that she goes with the flow. “Well, we’re going to have lunch together, aren’t we?” She bites her lower lip, hiding her sweaty palms behind her back.

Kyne squints. “We’re— oh!” She blinks repeatedly as she catches what’s going on. “Oh, yeah, we are. Sorry guys, I forgot. Go on without me.” She gives them a bashful look as she ushers them, and the one Kiara recognizes as Priyanka from the architect team snorts as she drags the other two women with her.

Once they’re alone, they stare at each other awkwardly, until Kyne speaks again.

“Uh, mind telling me what this is all about?” She asks, fidgeting with the ring in her index finger. Kiara bites the inside of her lip, with her hands still behind her back.

“We’re going to have lunch?” She replied, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. Kyne cocks a sly brow, and Kiara groans. “Okay, fine, this is very last minute, but hear me out.” Kiara takes a few steps closer, face inches away from Kyne’s. She tries to not get distracted by the rosy undertone in Kyne’s cheeks. “I know we spend almost every day together, but when you think about it, we don’t know much about each other, and couples are supposed to know each other to every little detail. If someone finds out that this is a lie, it’ll probably be because of our lack of knowledge about each other – and lord knows I don’t want to be the laughing stock of the company.”

“Why would you be the laughing stock of the company?” Is the only thing that Kyne questions from her logic, tilting her head to the side as she furrows her brow. Perhaps it’s just Kiara’s mind, but she could swear she felt a tinge of defensiveness in her tone.

“Imagine how embarrassing it’d be if the daughter of the owner was caught faking a relationship? A lot of people already think I’m a hoe that sleeps around; I’m sure this would be deemed pathetic instead of debunking my reputation,” she explains with an eye roll. Kyne’s expression softens up, and she gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I know this great place some streets away, if you don’t mind walking in heels,” Kyne offers, and Kiara smiles widely.

They get to really know each other beyond what co-workers do they hate and how much they dread Sandy the secretary of the front desk over pumpkin pie and sorrentinos; Kiara learns that Kyne knows how to play the flute traversière since she was a teen, knows how to sew and is fluent in Tagalog.

She offers Kiara to teach her some insults, and between laughs she replies that she’ll teach her French insults in exchange. In the back of her mind, Kiara thinks this might just work.

#some things are bound to be fic #kyara #kyne #online kyne #kiara schatzi #rita baga #tynomi banks #my fanfiction #rpdr fanfiction

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 3 years

Text

Dying on PLA (Pure Love Alliance)

This post was written by a former BC who questioned an authority figure on PLA and experience life-threatening consequences.

I’ll start with this: the moment I was dying was when I felt my soul sinking into the ground during the PLA 2000 tour, in a lavish town house owned by The Unification Church in Kensington, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in London, UK. I was 16 when this all happened. For some reason, my soul wasn’t rising as you might imagine when people die, probably because it was too tired, instead, it sank. I was in a sleeping bag and surrounded by 300 other kids all in sleeping bags, lined up like goods in the grocery store with little room to walk. Asleep, I slowly realized that I was sinking through my sleeping bag, past my body, into the oriental rug and through hardwood floor, deep into the ground, creeping further and further below the foundation of the building. So I knew I was dying—but I didn’t feel the least bit sad or upset. In fact I was relieved—even ecstatic. It meant that the torment from my supposed fellow BCs would be over, that this pain from the infection raging through my body that left my neck, arms, wrists wrapped in puss filled bandages, and my body so fatigued (so. fatigued.) would be over. The ground felt cool, and was getting colder, and it was really actually quite refreshing.

How great would that be to not have to wake up? Who cares if these people found a dead girl in her sleeping bag in the morning. Good for them. They might be surprised but they’d get to spin some fantastic story about my soul paying indemnity for the crimes that my Japanese ancestors committed against the Koreans; that’s apparently how they were explaining my mysterious illness to friends— an illness that had my upper body oozing a relentless and embarrassing flow of thick yellow puss, that had me changing my bandages every hour if I had the energy and a clean bandage on me. I found out that this story was making the rounds through the 300 or so BCs who were also on that tour. Before that, someone who I went to summer camp with for years, actually asked nonplussed, if I was currently struggling with Satan. Another story that others hinted to was that I was fallen. Writer’s note: At that point in time, like many of you, I had not so much as held a boy’s hand, let alone kissed anyone, made out and definitely never lost my virginity. I was precocious, spirited, ballsy—like any teenager trying to find humor in strange places. Most things I did was for the sake of a good laugh. But I was in my heart a total straight arrow, and I believed in the church, seriously, like the best or worst of them.

On this trip, there were also elders who took me aside from the group dinners and recounted the amazing stories about my dad and what a great guy he was at the religious seminary, the New Yorker Hotel, Belvedere, etc. And then they would say; Why would you disappoint him so horribly?

I wouldn’t know exactly how much I was disappointing him because I was never allowed to call him or my mom, or make any phone calls for that matter. I was being guarded 24/7, my passport was locked up, I wasn’t allowed to sleep much (I would be kept up later and woken up earlier than the others), nor take showers, which caused, what I would later find to be a trio of life-threatening infections coursing through my body. I had a very different experience from other BCs who were free to eat, shower, and sleep.

When I felt like my soul must have been half a mile below ground. I stopped, because this was it. Then I felt something big—bigger than me, bigger than everything and everyone around me, pulling me up with the utmost urgency, and I knew that this big thing gave a damn— even if I didn’t. I snapped back to my body with a whiplash that woke me up, panting, freaking out. Even if I didn’t care to live (and I really didn’t), even if these 300 other people around me, even if my religion didn’t care, God, the universe, this force, without a doubt, cared violently. This is when I realized that God did not move exclusively through organized religion, he/it moves and vibrates in anything, in everything. So my direct relationship with this force was felt for the first time under those floorboards, separate from and despite the machinations of my religion.

I immediately woke up and saw in the reflection of this gigantic ornate gold mirror on the wall opposite me, what looked like at least 20-30 white, blue glowing shadows, all very tall, standing around me and the dozens of sleeping BCs around me. Who they were, I’m not sure, I was delirious, and more importantly I was terrified that I had almost died, and so willingly. I couldn’t go back to sleep. But now I had a fire in my stomach, to get through this alive and a rabid indignity against those who’d put me in this position, including myself. I would do right by the universe, by God, by surviving this.

I got here by making the mistake of questioning the director of the PLA on the modus operandi of the Pure Love Alliance, on Day 1 of the tour. My fellow BCs didn’t make the mistake of vocalizing the inconsistencies in the logic of posing as a non-denominational group when we were 99% BCs, they didn’t stand up for the not even 1 percent non-BC kids who didn’t have a choice but to read the Divine Principle and join our prayers. If you are too precocious with too many rhetorical questions for elders, you’ll see just how nasty and how quickly the machine will mobilize against you.

Why. During the previous PLA tour of 1999 I remember lying about our religious association when being interviewed by the local news in Birmingham, AL. We were vetted and instructed to withhold our association with the Unification Church so when a reporter asked me what I was, I responded “Lutheran"— my father’s previous religion before joining the church.

I hate lying about something as grand and dumb as my religion. I didn’t think that we needed to constantly lie, it frustrated me always having to hide the church from my school friends and I wanted to do away with the smoke and mirrors and live openly about this. So at the beginning of the 2000 tour that would be marching through the US in July and then marching through Europe in August, I went up to the director and I asked him: why can’t we be forthright about who we are, if we’re truly non-denominational?

I didn’t immediately realize what a total coward he was, I just thought he was an adult, he must have some good answers. But he pandered with half answers, trotted me around the ring with half baked logic all while getting increasingly upset and dismissive: you just don’t understand; this is much too complicated for you to understand (more upset); this is God’s will; do you want to go against God’s will? And I responded with: I think it’s pretty simple, God doesn’t need us to lie. We should be honest to the press and other churches about being associated with the UC. Otherwise we should stop calling ourselves non-denominational, right? The conversation went nowhere and I eventually walked away.

I was probably earmarked as being a troublemaker but it wasn’t that bad. At least in the beginning, I hung out with my BC friends, some of whom I’d been growing up with and all was well during the tour through the US.

It was when I noticed that there were 3 or 4 non-BC kids on the tour—how they were roped in to hang out with us nutjobs for two weeks, I’m not sure, but I know everyone looked at them with a special wonder. They were special to us because we were showing them that there was this great camaraderie and communal life that we had together amongst ourselves and we really believed that we were letting them in on something special.

I noticed that while we were reading the Divine Principle and praying in circles, they were expected to do the same with us, without any opportunity to decide for themselves whether or not they wanted to in the first place. This would be a small but important gesture to extend for any organization that called itself non-denominational to the outside world; to accept and respect people of other faiths; to let them have the opportunity to pray in their own way if they needed to. It really bothered me because it seemed wildly disrespectful and a bit dishonest. If I were traveling with a Christian youth group, wouldn’t I want the right to read the DP and pray my way at 5 am in the morning on Sundays?

It became a breaking point when late one night on a tour bus in Europe, I brought up the issue again during a bus reading of the DP, and I got pissed. I openly pointed out to the bus leaders the hypocrisy of a so-called non-denominational youth group posing as such to the press, all while not respecting the faiths of others on the tour.They said that this is how it’s done, that everyone does the same thing so that they can stick to the strict schedule to get through the tour. This is the will and mission of the PLA, this is God’s will, and we need to see it through. Then I said: If they aren’t allowed to choose, than I refuse to read the DP and refuse to join prayers until they do have the choice.

I’m not really sure why I cared so much but it was because I could see my bus leaders acknowledging my logic, I could see behind their eyes that they did. But they towed the line and refused to acknowledge that there was any right. But my refusal to pray or read DP, they took very, very seriously—yet in my mind, I wasn’t doing anything drastic, I wasn’t leaving the church. That would be crazy! I was just taking a stand.

These non-BC kids were, at least outwardly, complacent. But let’s be honest we were all 14, 15, 16 years old and expected to do everything en masse, but why shouldn’t they/we have the choice to read the DP or not? What was faith if it wasn’t a deliberate, and educated choice? Shouldn’t anyone be allowed the right to question things, if only to return with stronger answers?

As soon as I had this fight on the bus, that was when the horrible things really began. I was always being shaken awake on long rides when everyone else was allowed to fall asleep, even if only for an hour or two. Lack of sleep breaks you quickly. I wasn’t allowed to sleep with my friends, instead I always had sometimes two unnis sleeping and walking with me. I could mingle with others, but I was always being watched by them close by. I was escorted to bathrooms but never allowed to take a shower, they said I could take one later, but later never came until it was too late, after my infections had become so severe they couldn’t exactly ignore it.

It was 3 in the morning when the buses filled with BC teenagers and our wranglers parked on the curve of the fucking German autobahn to let us out. We were released into the cold night by our demented but well-meaning leaders, searching along the curve of the freeway in the wet grass and mud trying to find our suitcases. Let me repeat, 3 am, 300+ teenagers trudging in the dark along a sharp curve of the German autobahn before entering what, in my mind, was the Black Forest.

I don’t even remember who was in charge of me at that point but it seemed to be predetermined that one sister became my handler in Germany. She came out of the blue, barking at me to move out, and personally marched me into that forest, literally behind me nipping at my heels, always on the assumption that I would flee sideways, off the trail, deeper into the forest, to what, I don’t know. I had no desire to leave, I was just hungry and exhausted. When we reached the top it was a huge building that wasn’t even fully constructed with insulation hanging out and utility lights haphazardly nailed and dangling from the ceilings. It was in a huge large barn like space where we convened in a long line to finally get some split pea soup as dinner, and by the time I finally got some, someone knocked it out of my hand, on purpose? Who the fuck knows. I would have cried but I was too tired and I don’t need sympathy. Some other BCs said that was too bad, but my handler wouldn’t let me go back in line to get more. Instead, we had to pitch our tents in the mud incline below the barn, my tent mate was of course my ever-watchful unni/handler.

I’m not exactly sure how the tent stood up, it was lopsided because of the mud and the wet grass, and the incline, but once that was done I went to go brush my teeth, and saw behind the barn, a bunch of white statues staggered in a terrifying symmetry along the hill; literally, I don’t think I’d ever seen anything as frightening as those statues in the moonlight. They were the true family, ghostly white and with their arms outstretched like they were dancing, I went up to them unsure as to what they were. They were smooth and so white but when I touched them, they weren’t marble, just hollow and plastic—creepy, empty lawn furniture. And for the first time in my life I saw them as this insidious, careless force who either had no idea, or simply had no compassion for the ramifications of their will and franchise. That was the night when my perspective on everything started to shift.

I wasn’t allowed to shower the next day even though I could see my other friends lining up with their towels. And I was always ferried away from communal meals, to have a one on one with some important elder who would shame me for an hour. And it worked. I remember one guy telling me with beady eyes, rather emphatically, how disappointing this will be for my father, who’s such a good guy, everyone loves him, I don’t know him, but everyone loves him— when he finds out how I’ve been working against the mission. I really tried hard to imagine if my dad would be proud or disappointed in me for taking a stand but my thoughts fizzled into a murky question mark while I stared at the white statues now in daylight. I didn’t know the answer and I was so tired, exhausted and hungry, and I was beginning to slowly not care as much.

But I also began to resent these elders for believing that I was working against them, I wasn’t! I was only asking good questions! I was on their side, and I believed I was still a good person.

Instead of not really being able to hang out with my friends, I sensed they were also avoiding me. I remember incredulous looks. It got super lonely fast.

It was when one elder oppa along with a whole slew of younger oppas in training crowded around me in a circle in front of everyone after one march to give me a talk. "Stop setting a bad example to the other sisters, this is your last warning.” Their vague warning was made abundantly clear. Even if it wasn’t true, my generation believed that I was fallen and that’s why I was acting out…

At that point I didn’t even consider the sheer stupidity in this non-linear logic, clearly, I ruined my chances of a good match! That was the end for me. No one would want to be blessed to me and that was when I began to really lose it because it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t have an arranged marriage, that my trajectory would be anything less than what was expected of me, or any different from anyone else. Even when I was asking these people seemingly simple rhetorical questions, it didn’t mean that I wanted to leave. But I was beginning to realize that it would be impossible to have a happily ever after ending in the church.

I don’t remember France, France was a blur, I just felt sluggish and horrible, light sensitive the entire time, still wasn’t allowed to sleep much and was barred from the showers. I was hiding a nasty rash that was breaking out all over my skin by wearing a cardigan, the only cardigan that I had brought on the trip.

My illness was getting bad when we arrived in the posh neighborhood of Kensington, London. The buses unloaded this shocking fire hazard number of teenagers into one townhouse that strangely appeared to have a bullet proof vestibule and a security camera at the entrance which only added to my feeling that I was being held captive. Meanwhile, nobody else seemed to care about this detail, the fact that we were in a fucking compound. You wouldn’t know it from the unassuming white exterior that blended in with the row of townhouses exactly like all the others in the neighborhood.

I remember after marching through Leicester Square, my subgroup broke off to Trafalgar Square where we shouted our testimonies at one of the fountains and anyone else who would care to stop, but no one did. My leader wasn’t really convinced by my conviction to Pure Love. It was a bit hard, being exhausted, with a fever, to be shouting about Pure Love all while being slut shamed by my generation for no good reason at all. I didn’t really feel like shouting, I just wanted rest and to be alone.

My illness was getting from bad to worse quickly, I had a fever, felt hot, then clammy cold, sweating bullets, in addition to huge open sores spreading on my neck and arms, but whenever I asked to see a Dr. they wouldn’t allow it, I later realized it wasn’t because of money, even after I offered to pay myself, it was because they were afraid that I would talk about everything happening on the tour. It hadn’t even occurred to me to go public with any of this. With what? I didn’t know that there was a story, how bad it really was until afterward.

I did finally get to take a shower in London, I think because that was more reasonable than covering up a dead girl, probably. But the shower didn’t help at that point. Whatever was happening with the sores, it was also in my blood, I felt exhausted, jumpy, crazy, sensitive to light, miserable. When they wouldn’t let me see a doctor, when the pus was spilling out of my bandages and running down my neck, running down my arms, like in some horror film, I begged them to at least let me go to a pharmacy to buy bandages, Neosporin and hydrogen peroxide. They agreed so long as a brother escorted me, a tall one who could easily outrun me if it came to it.

Maybe it was because they were making such a huge deal to keep me on watch that I began to fantasize about getting away. Not to tell on anyone or anything, with no agenda in mind, I just wanted to go home. I asked if I could get my passport and my ticket to try and go home early but that was not possible. I just wanted to get away and so on our way to one rally, I had this brilliant idea and I jumped out of a subway train and onto the platform, I only ran 5 steps before I was yanked back into the train by my unni. After that everyone thought I was totally nuts and definitely pure evil. I had no idea where I was planning to go, I think I was just going to ask directions to a hospital— at that point my sores on my upper body were just getting bigger and were oozing, no amount of soaking the sores in hydrogen peroxide or neosporin would help. It was embarrassing because it was pus and blood soaking through my bandages and into my shirts that I could only rotate so many times. People on the subway and in public were furtively staring at me, they probably smelled the disease on me, but I couldn’t ask for their help.

In my mind today, my older self rewrites the history of that trip. In my older self’s version: I’m unstoppable even though I’m sick. In a fit of manic strength, I jump out of the train, out run my guard, and I don’t stop running until I get to a doctor or to a police station, whichever happens first — then I seek protection at the US embassy despite not having a passport or money on me, and then I get to all major news outlets and I expose this youth group for their psychological and physical abuse, and for misleading the public on the PLA. By doing so, I set a chain of events on an international scale that would bring to light all of the questionable things we’ve had to quietly endure. I put a small chink in the church’s armor and it all comes crashing down. I save my fellow BCs from a life without an educated choice to believe or not, from the waste of time spent fundraising for a thankless institution while their families struggle to get by, in questionable matchings, in a sad, vicious cycle.

In actuality, after nearly dying in a sleeping bag, I’m too tired but crazy alert and a day and a half later I’m somehow on my way to Heathrow airport via the subway. On the way there I fall asleep hugging my backpack, only to wake up to find that other passengers are just looking at me horrified; my bandages had soaked through again, I was pouring pus onto my backpack. I’m so embarrassed for alarming these strangers but there’s nothing I can do, I had changed my bandages only an hour before hand, right before leaving the townhouse. All I can do is zip up my anorak and hope I can rinse these out later.

Finally at Heathrow, I’m handed my plane ticket and finally, my passport and it turns out that the tour is over. I can’t even believe it but the elders, including my handler, are walking away to catch their own planes. I curb my hysteria and get to a pay phone where I finally call my parents in Seattle on a collect call, and I’m freaking out, I’m worried that someone will come out from nowhere and cut the line, capture me, throw me in a white van, what with my luck.

My parents are so happy to hear from me! How are you kiddo? I have to fight to keep from sobbing, I’m shattering and yelling, focusing on just one thing: that they have to get me to a doctor as soon as I land, I keep repeating this until my dad promises and repeats this to me. I’m scared I just might drop dead right then and there. Once I’m appeased, I take deep breaths to cool down and I ask my mom if anyone in her family did anything to the Koreans during the occupation. She doesn’t understand the question until I explain to her the theory behind one of these rumors.

The line went quiet.

My dad doesn’t know what to say, but my mom blew her top, she was furious.

In my mother’s adorable, hot headed Japanese mom fashion, she emphatically starts yelling into the phone about how my ancestors did nothing. No one in my family served, and in fact, my family was socially ostracized for years for accepting a Korean family who were on hard times into their farming community in Shizuoka prefecture. (see Footnote)

She was furious and I think stormed away from the phone but I was happy to know, without a doubt, that this dark age posturing was completely ridiculous. My sense of what was reality and what wasn’t was a bit diminished in my daze the past few days, I was glad to have my intellect reinforced.

My parents collect me at the airport and are stunned by the shape I’m in. The doctor explains that I have several severe infections, a staph (staphylococcal) infection and impetigo— a highly contagious bacterial infection on my skin, but it was progressing as an infection in my blood—septicemia, which would have killed me in 48 hours without medical attention. I’m given a heavy flow of an antibiotic cocktail and I’m closely monitored. When I do get home, I can hardly move, and if I’m not sleeping or sitting in a mineral bath, I’m taking antibiotics and trying to heal my skin in time for the new school that I’m transferring to. But in every waking moment, I’m trying to make sense of the previous two weeks. I tell my parents that I’m no longer in the church and they don’t even put up a fight. We don’t talk about it but they can hardly believe what happened to me.

From that point on, I’ve kept my distance from every BC. I partially hold it against them for being complacent, for not chiming in with me, for not seeing the fatal flaws that were so obvious to me. I hold it against them for not standing up for me when they saw the quiet abuse that I went through. For not speaking up for me when people were effectively spreading lies about me. But I realize they didn’t really know me enough, or really even know what was going on all around us at the time, or themselves for that matter. And if I were them instead of me, would I do it any differently?

I hold it against the church for breeding ignorance and stupidity in its members and families; encouraging them to have upwards 10 kids before they can even think about what it means to really take care of them, giving them a real, true education and a fulfilling life; for grinding these families into poverty, a life partially lived on food stamps, for what exactly, I’m still not sure; for collectively instilling this insidious belief that it’s women who are always at fault/responsible in all situations and who carry the onus of Eve’s imprint on the Fall; that men are never to blame/never responsible and therefore unaccountable creatures save for their purpose of begetting a blessed family; that if you’re about to be raped, it’s your duty to kill yourself—not defend yourself and your right to live—before it gets to that; that you are anything less in God’s eyes if you are raped; that our sexuality is a fixed binary without room to account for a full spectrum within ourselves that acknowledges and respects humanity in its entirety—homosexuality and all. I hold the Church responsible for the deaths of BCs I knew, but that’s a longer, separate story.

When and where it all went bad for the Unification Church, I don’t know. I know it was a beautiful thing when my parents joined, I truly believe that they were meant to be together. It was something that I believed in with my whole heart when I was little. I do in fact believe that I’m a blessed child— I have no doubt that there’s a divinity in me, but I know there’s a divinity in everyone, BC or not. Our lives should be lived acknowledging and honoring that little spark, that bit of magic in each of us. It’s that simple.

My only regret in leaving the church at 16 was leaving behind my fellow BCs, especially the younger ones who have no one to advocate for their choice to question. I know they’re struggling or have struggled against parents and elders who are even more forceful and too scared to ask the same questions themselves. I know their questions are harder because they haven’t seen what I have in such crazy, sharp relief. It was made almost too clear to me but for them their experience is slower, blurred and more broken. I have dreams where I’m fighting for them, but I have to leave them behind to fight my own battles. I can hardly think about the church for very long without feeling the most violent, extreme emotions, mostly on behalf of my fellow BCs. It’s part of the reason why I’ve kept away for as long as I have, I’ve forgotten names and faces, and while I’ve forgiven the church for what it’s done to me, I will never forgive what it’s done to the thousands of individuals and families raised in almost poverty because of it. In my heart, it’s not hate, it’s justice, it’s right and wrong, clean. In my heart, I am a fucking vigilante, and part of what propels me is to vindicate them. I fantasize about doing well enough in life, to have enough money so that I can buy up each of the church’s properties so that I can burn them all down to the ground, in the name of all my fellow BCs. If there is one thing that I can thank the church, it’s for making me a fiercely passionate person. To this day, I don’t think anyone can hold a candle to the flames that burn in our hearts.

Life outside of the church is hard, reprogramming the way you consider everything never ends. Dating still feels impossible even after 10 years at it. But it’s so beautiful, it’s so varied and complex and breathtaking— the multitudes, the possibilities that I’ve experienced and are still at my feet. It’s always up to me, every mistake, triumph, difficulty and opportunity is up to me, and I’m so grateful that my conclusions are my conclusions even if it’s a process. As stupid or sad as this story is, I’m grateful for it because now I have a tenacity that rivals most anything. Now, almost 14 years later, I am a fucking panther and I don’t let anyone or anything take me down. Nothing fools me, no situation happens without my consent, and I live life fully, authentically, deliberately and always on my terms. And I want that for every single BC, in the church or not.

__________________________

Silra said: This makes me so sad. I’m an ex British moonie and the PLA was a last straw for me. I was 12 during that time and remember rumours being rife amongst all the BCs. I had to say my testimony at Leicester Square where my dad was super proud. Little did he know I wasn’t happy and the rumour mill was ripe with bullshit about me. I’m sorry you had to go through that.

__________________________

Footnote

The Unification Church heavily guilt tripped the Japanese members about the Japanese occupation of Korea (1910-1945), and about the Korean ‘Comfort Women’. To understand the psychology of this manipulation used during recruitment, see:

Japanese woman recruited by the Unification Church and sold to an older Korean farmer in an ‘apology marriage’

To understand more about the Korean ‘Comfort Women’ issue see:

The Comfort Women controversy

This ‘Comfort Women’ research is very important for all Japanese members. For some perspective, here is an extract from a piece from the New York Times. There were more Korean ‘Comfort Women’ serving the US military from 1950 than ever served the Japanese military during the colonial period.

New York Times:

Ex-Prostitutes Say South Korea and U.S. Enabled Sex Trade Near Bases By Choe Sang-Hun January 7, 2009

SEOUL, South Korea. South Korea has railed for years against the Japanese government’s waffling over how much responsibility it bears for one of the ugliest chapters in its wartime history: the enslavement of women from Korea and elsewhere to work in brothels serving Japan’s imperial army. 

Now, a group of former prostitutes in South Korea have accused some of their country’s former leaders of a different kind of abuse: encouraging them to have sex with the American soldiers who protected South Korea from North Korea. They also accuse past South Korean governments, and the United States military, of taking a direct hand in the sex trade from the 1960s through the 1980s, working together to build a testing and treatment system to ensure that prostitutes were disease-free for American troops. 

While the women have made no claims that they were coerced into prostitution by South Korean or American officials during those years, they accuse successive Korean governments of hypocrisy in calling for reparations from Japan while refusing to take a hard look at South Korea’s own history. 

“Our government was one big pimp for the U.S. military,” one of the women, Kim Ae-ran, 58, said in a recent interview. 

Scholars on the issue say that the South Korean government was motivated in part by fears that the American military would leave, and that it wanted to do whatever it could to prevent that. 

But the women suggest that the government also viewed them as commodities to be used to shore up the country’s struggling economy in the decades after the Korean War. They say the government not only sponsored classes for them in basic English and etiquette meant to help them sell themselves more effectively but also sent bureaucrats to praise them for earning dollars when South Korea was desperate for foreign currency. 

“They urged us to sell as much as possible to the G.I.’s, praising us as ‘dollar-earning patriots,’ ” Ms. Kim said. ...

The Comfort Women controversy

youtube

#PLA #Pure Love Alliance #Moonies #Sun Myung Moon #Unification Church #CARP #Japanese occupation of Korea #Comfort Women

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redvoid-40 · 4 years

Text

Happy Anniversary

Happy New Year everyone!

Here’s a little something I wrote as a “spin off” / “future chapter” for the Gaara x OC fic I’ve been posting here. It’s a little everyday life fluff for you guys to enjoy! :D

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Gaara x OC Word count: 4454 Rating: G Warnings: tiny bit of angst Categories: love, fluff, married life, family life, healthy relationships

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

She’s late. She’s never late.

Gaara sat alone at his dinner table, watching the minutes tick by. In front of him there was a whole banquet displayed, one he had prepared himself.

One he had prepared for his wife. To celebrate their wedding’s anniversary. He had gone as far as asking Kankuro to take Shinki out in the city, so both could have the house to themselves for a few hours.

And she was late.

Did something happen?

More than anger or frustration, Gaara felt worry claw at his chest.

Ever since she was a Genin, his wife had been somewhat of an ambassador for Konoha-Suna relations. After the fiasco of their Chuunin Exams - a time period Gaara was not proud of, when he almost killed his wife and friend on more than one occasion - she was one of the few Ninjas from Konoha that dared to approach him, and as such had been chosen to follow in the first talks of peace between the two villages.

Fifteen years later, she still traveled between both nations at least once a month - this month however, it was the second time. Even in times of peace like these it was important to have someone of importance present in certain meetings and agreements that took place in Konoha, and more often than not Gaara asked his wife to represent him in such matters.

As a war-hero in the Fourth Shinobi War, a dual-citizen in Konoha and Suna, wife to the Kazekage, and one of the Hokage’s best friends, she was the perfect fit.

And he knew she enjoyed it too. It gave her a chance to keep in touch with her friends, and even watch their kids grow. More than that, his wife was a Shinobi; traveling and taking missions was part of who she was. Gaara knew she wouldn’t be as happy just sitting around and being the Kazekage’s wife, she needed this as much as he needed her.

But Gaara couldn’t deny that he worried sometimes. It took his wife three days to go from one Village to another; not only there were still outlaws out there but a large part of the route was through the desert. And while he knew his wife was more than capable of taking care of herself, he still worried.

The clock hit 10:00PM. She was supposed to have arrived at 6PM.

Should I send a search party?

“Father, hasn’t mom come back yet?”

Gaara at last turned his eyes away from the clock, finding Shinki and Kankuro walking into the dining room, staring at him with confusion and some degree of worry.

“Is everything alright, Gaara?” Kankuro asked.

Gaara walked to them, laying a hand affectionately over Shinki’s head. “Your mother is a bit late is all. Why don’t you go upstairs and get ready for bed? I’m sure she’ll get here soon.”

Shinki looked like he wanted to argue, but nodded his head and left. When he was out of sight, Gaara turned to Kankuro.

“Kankuro, please gather a reckon-team. I’m worr-”

Before Gaara could finish, the door was slammed open, making both men rush towards the entrance. Standing there, backpacks on the floor and bend over herself with hands on her knees was his wife. She was shining with sweat, and having a hard time trying to catch her breath.

Other than that, she seemed completely fine.

Gaara felt some of his worry turn into indignation.

---

Shin wanted to die. She couldn’t believe she had arrived home so late, on the day of her wedding anniversary nonetheless.

I’m so stupid. How could I be dumb enough to take a nap while waiting for the sun to go down a bit? Of course I’d oversleep! Don’t I know myself? I’m so stupid!

“I-I’m so sorry.” Shin wheezed, raising big brown eyes to Gaara. Her husband stood a few feet in front of her, staring at her with narrowed eyes. “I know I’m late, Gaara. I’m so sorry.”

“Shin! Are you alright?” Kankuro asked, walking towards her. He made to lay a hand on her back but thought better of it. Shin couldn’t blame him for it; she was dripping with sweat. “Did something happen on the way here?”

Shin glanced at Kankuro and felt her face burn in shame. “I-I… I overslept.”

There was a pregnant pause. Shin looked down at her feet in shame as Kankuro’s eyes went back and forth between her and Gaara; the grimace on his face speaking volumes at how uncomfortable the situation had just become.

Gaara didn’t say anything; sea-foam eyes that betrayed absolutely nothing fixed on his wife.

“I-I’ll go upstairs, leave you two alone for a bit.” Kankuro said, already halfway up the stairs.

Shin watched Kankuro go before moving her gaze back at Gaara. She put on a nervous smile on her face as she walked to her husband. “Gaara, I’m-”

“Dinner’s on the table. You can help yourself out.” Gaara spoke coldly, turning his back to her. Shin’s eyes were wide as she watched him walk to the front door and put on his shoes. “I’m heading back to the office.”

“Gaara, it’s past 10PM. Surely it can wait until tomorrow?”

“I took the whole afternoon off, so there’s a lot of paperwork left-over. I’d like to at least get something done today.”

Shin’s eyes were already brimming with tears. “Gaara, please. I’m sorry I’m late but we can still do something. Ah! I brought you a present! I’ve been after it for a few months now, and Ino-chan managed to…”

Shin’s voice trailed off as she looked down at her luggage. There was her backpack, a side bag and a large water bottle.

But there was no present.

What?! I had it with me! Did I put it in my backpack?

Immediately Shin grabbed her backpack and started to rummage through it, stopping for a moment to dry unshed tears on the back of her hands. “I-I had it with me this morning! I’m sure of it! I-”

Gaara sighed at the display, as if it was too painful to watch.

“I’m going Shin. We’ll talk later.”

Shin opened her mouth, but the door had already closed behind Gaara.

-----

After that, Shin hadn’t dared to touch the food Gaara had prepared for them, putting it all away in the fridge as quickly as possible, feeling her guilt eat at her inside out.

It must’ve taken him the whole afternoon to prepare all of this. He didn’t even leave any dishes in the sink.

Drying unshed tears on the back of her hands Shin dragged herself upstairs, ready for a cold shower and hours awake, waiting for Gaara to come back. Before going to her room, Shin dropped by Shinki’s, opening the door just a bit to peek at her son.

Of course, he was wide awake.

“Mom?”

Putting a smile on her face Shin walked in Shinki’s room, bending down to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Why aren’t you asleep, darling?”

The boy sat up in bed, shrugging. “Uncle Kankuro took me out tonight and we just came back. Also I was hoping to see you get home. Why were you late today?”

“Sorry about that… Remember that Inn I told you about? The one built on an oasis a few hours from here?”

“I know. It’s a traditional stop on the way from Konoha.”

“Well, I stopped there for an early lunch and to wait for a couple of hours until the sun dropped down a bit. And… well…”

“You fell asleep and didn’t wake up.” Shinki concluded, staring at his mother with a raised eyebrow.

Shin blushed, smiling awkwardly at her son. The boy knew her far too well, just like his father.

“Yes… I’m really sorry for being so late.”

Shinki shook his head, reaching out to grab one of her hands in both of his. Shin’s forced smile softened to something true as she dropped to her knees by her son’s bed, careful not to let her sweaty body come into contact with his clean sheets.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad nothing happened. Father looked really worried when we got back.”

The woman nodded and kissed her son’s cheek, chuckling when he pulled away slightly. “I’m sorry mom, but you’re smelling.”

“That will do it. In going straight to my shower now. You go to sleep now, alright?”

“Alright. Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams, darling.”

---

Shin took her time in the shower, hoping with everything she had that by the time she left the bathroom Gaara would be waiting for her in their bedroom.

But all that met her was an empty bed and the accusing clock.

00:17AM

Shin sighed, pulling a strand of her hair to twirl around her fingers. She always did that when she was particularly anxious about something. Her eyes were already filled to the brim with tears.

Is he still mad at me?

This was uncharted territory for Shin. Sure she and Gaara had had a few disagreements before, but they never lasted more than a few minutes; and they certainly have never gone to bed angry at each other before.

I’m not gonna let this happen.

Swallowing her tears, Shin dropped her towel and quickly put on her civilian clothes before rushing out of the house.

She had to take her report back to the engineer from Kaminarimon Company anyway. might as well drop by her husband’s office on her way back, right?

---

Shin knocked softly on the door to Gaara’s office before peeking inside. Surely enough, Gaara sat at his desk, a small mountain of finished paperwork on each side.

Unfinished on the left, completed on the right.

Shin couldn’t help but smile. It was such a familiar scene; it was comforting in a way. She had lost count how many times she had come to his office late at night, bringing him dinner or just some freshly brewed tea for them to enjoy together before she found a way to drag him back home.

“Gaara?” Shin called softly, allowing herself to walk inside, until she stood in front of his desk. “Aren’t you coming home? It’s past midnight.”

Gaara didn’t raise his eyes from the sheet of paper in front of him. “I still have a lot of work to do.”

Shin put on what she hoped was a warm smile on her face. “You seem to have done a lot already. Surely it can wait until-”

“Until I’m done with overlooking my responsibilities?”

Gaara’s voice was calm and low, but his words were still enough to bite. Shin felt her whole body flinch as she lowered her gaze to the floor.

“Gaara…”

“What even caused you to be so late in the first place?”

“I… I stopped by that Inn - the one in the oasis about three hours from here; I told you about it before - for lunch and to wait until the sun went down a bit. You know how hot it gets at noon. I was just so tired I thought I’d take a quick nap. I overslept. I’m so sorry, Gaara. You know I’d never do something like that on purpose. I was just… really tired.”

Again Gaara didn’t as much as glance her way. He calmly set the paper he was signing on the right pile before taking a new sheet from the left.

Immediately Shin’s hand twirled her hair as she held back tears.

“I-I will leave you alone then.” She settled, walking around her husband desk. Despite the way he tensed at her proximity Shin dared to plant a kiss on the top of his head. “I love you, Gaara.”

She left without response.

---

Gaara sighed, letting his head fall against the back of his chair. The sun was rising in the horizon, and he could see the soft glow of early morning illuminating his office. When he looked at the wall clock it accused 5:16AM.

The pile of paperwork on his left was gone.

I actually finished all my paperwork. But what for? Most of it was not due until next week.

With a depleted sigh, Gaara buried his face in his hands. Exhaustion hit him like a freight train, and he wondered not for the first time that day, what in the world was he doing in his office at such an hour?

I should be home, lying in bed with my wife. Loving her.

Gaara was overreacting, he knew that.

His wife was late, so what? How many times had they spent birthdays and Valentine’s Day having a late dinner in his office instead of out celebrating because he had work to do?

The only reason Shin was so exhausted and away from Suna in the first place was because he had asked her to go back to Konoha less than a week after she had returned. News had come up on the Thunder Rail dealings and there were papers that needed to be looked over and signed so the Kaminarimon Company could at last start bulding the train station in Suna. And he had asked her to do it for him.

Again.

I can’t wait for that train to be up and running. Shin won’t have to spend so many days away from home then; away from Shinki and… me.

Gaara needed to go home, apologize to his wife, and hopefully spend the rest of the morning lazing around in bed with her, until it was time for his 1pm meeting.

I should bring her breakfast in bed. Shin has never resisted the smell of fresh coffee before.

Determined, Gaara raised from his chair.

And stood still with his heart in his throat as his office door was opened from outside.

“Shin?”

The Kazekage immediately deflated when the door was fully opened, revealing the chief engineer from Kaminarimon Company, who tumbled inside with multiple scrolls precariously balanced in his arms.

“Ah! Kazekage-sama! I’m so sorry, sir! I didn’t expect to see you here so early! I received Shin-sama’s report last night about the meeting in Konoha and went straight to work. I was just going to drop these blueprints here in your office… I was wondering if we could go over them whenever you have the time?”

Gaara hesitated for a moment. His afternoon was packed with meetings, as were the next few days; while he was willing to put in late hours to go over this matter he couldn’t demand that others would stay until 10PM.

On the other hand, he was free this morning, and the sooner he went over the blueprints and gave his “go ahead”, the sooner the construction could begin.

And the sooner Shin’s trips to Konoha would only take one day instead of three days each way. And she’ll be able to rest in the train.

Bottling up his exhaustion, Gaara sat back down and motioned to the chair in front of him.

“Would you be willing to talk about it now? Of course, I understand if you’re unable. But I have some free time at the moment so-”

“Oh, thank you Kazekage-sama! I promise I’ll be done with this as quick as possible!”

Gaara smiled politely.

Just a couple more hours, Shin.

---

It was almost 8AM when Gaara got back home. The house was silent and the breakfast dishes were still on the sink.

Kankuro must’ve left late to take Shinki to the Academy.

Gaara smiled as he washed the couple of plates and cups that had been left there; noticing they had had waffles for breakfast.

Kankuro could be a bit messy, but he always helped with Shinki in every way he could. And Gaara couldn’t be more thankful for it; he and Shin were often so busy, it was nice that they could count on his brother in times like these.

Once he was done, Gaara went straight to the bedroom he shared with his wife. He was too tired to get close to a stove at the moment. He’d serve her breakfast in bed next morning; right now he just wanted to curl up against his wife and sleep.

But when he opened the door, the bed was empty. Shin's side of the bed was crumpled, as if she had laid down over the covers instead of under them.

She must have had another of her insomnia episodes.

Gaara walked to her side bed and sat down on the mattress, reaching out to lay a palm over her pillow. When his skin touched the fabric he froze. It was slightly moist, as if…

She cried. I made her cry.

Confused and now slightly desperate, Gaara called out her name and checked their bathroom - also empty -, before going back down. He was sure he had only washed the dishes from two people, and there was no coffee pot in there. Shin never left before having at least one cup of coffee.

Gaara walked through every room in the house, but only when he stepped back into the kitchen he noticed something: a little post-it note glued to the fridge.

Good morning everyone!

I had to leave early to pick up something, but I should be back before lunch.

I’m really sorry I won’t be there when you wake up today, Shinki. But I left some waffle batter ready in the fridge for you and your uncle! :)

BTW, Kankuro, would you mind cooking Shinki the waffles and taking him to school? Gaara is still at the office doing some paperwork, and I’m not sure he’ll be back in time. =.=

Kisses!

~Shin

Gaara narrowed his eyes. She had just arrived from Konoha, what could she possibly need to-

“Gaara, please. I’m sorry I’m late but we can still do something. Ah! I brought you a present! I’ve been after it for a few months now, and Ino-chan managed to…”

Shin’s voice trailed off as she looked down at her luggage. There was her backpack, a side bag and a large water bottle.

But there was no present.

Gaara’s seafoam eyes widened in realization as the piece of paper slid out of his hand. He knew where his wife was, and the knowledge made his heart twist in worry.

She was going back to the Oasis Inn, a place that was about three hours away from Suna. Knowing Shin she would’ve left just before dusk, around 4:30AM, to void the overbearing desert sun. In optimal conditions she’d be back by 11AM, a time when the sun would already be high in the sky and walking through the desert would be nothing short of torture.

But she wouldn’t be in optimal conditions. She would be tired and hungry. She’d be lucky if she was back before 1PM.

Of course, she’d be the person to run back into the desert without sleeping or eating just to recover a present.

Gaara wasn’t unfamiliar to the feeling of guilt. He had dealt with it for a long time in his adolescence and childhood. But it didn’t make it any less unpleasant.

Without taking a moment for himself, Gaara marched out his home again. He knew Shin hated when he used his status as Kazekage to give her any sort of special treatment, but he didn’t care.

He was sending a team to find her and bring her back to him.

---

Shin was breathing hard, hands on her knees to support her weight as she desperately tried to catch her breath. She was sweating bullets through every pore of her body and when she reached for her water bottle she found it almost empty.

Deciding to save it for later, Shin put her bottle away and straightened up pulling on the straps of her backpack. She felt the comforting weight of the present inside it against her back and it was enough to get her to start moving again.

Just a couple more hours.

One foot in front of the other, that’s all there was to it. Even if she wasn’t in prime condition Shin believed she could make it to Suna by noon.

Maybe I could pick up Shinki from school, find Kankuro and we all could surprise Gaara at his office for lunch. No, no… what if he’s still angry with me? That would just make it worse. It would be best if I waited at home for him to return. I could order food from a nice restaurant for dinner and we could all eat together. Gaara, Shinki, Kankuro and I… It’s been a while since we enjoyed a meal together.

Shin felt a smile tug on her lips; easily putting the pieces together in her mind until they made for a perfect picture. And she would focus on that picture with everything she had, instead of on the shadows slowly taking over her vision.

One foot in front of the other. That’s all I need to do.

---

Kankuro didn’t know who he should blame more for his situation: his brother or his sister-in-law.

Amazing how love can make even the smartest people act so stupidly.

His brother would never take something so small as being late personally if it wasn’t such an especial occasion. Not nearly as much because it was their wedding anniversary - Kankuro had watched the couple content themselves with much less in such dates before - but mostly because they hadn’t been able to spend too much together. With the negotiations of the Thunder Rail going on, both Gaara and Shin were spending more time working and less time with family than either of them wanted to.

“Kankuro-san! I see something! I think it’s her!”

Kankuro focused his attention back on the present, and sure enough there was the shadow of someone standing a few ways ahead of them. They weren’t moving as fast as Shin could though.

Actually, they’re not moving at all.

The figure doubled over and fell to their knees. Kankuro and the Shinobi exchanged a worried glance before speeding up. As they approached, they noticed something else.

Is that... iron sand?

---

“Kazekage-sama!”

Gaara wasn’t too proud to admit he leaped to his feet when the Jonin barged into his office. No matter that he and Baki had been in the middle of something; it could wait for a few minutes.

“Did you find her?”

“She’s in the hospital, sir.”

Gaara had never moved so fast in his life.

---

Kankuro had been waiting for him at the entrance when the Kazekage marched inside, footsteps as hurried as it was acceptable inside a hospital.

“How is she?”

“She’s okay, Gaara. She was dehydrated when we found her, but nothing life-threatening.” Kankuro spoke, putting himself in front of his brother. “Calm down, take a moment and hear me out.”

Gaara was visibly agitated. “Kankuro, would you please let me see my wife?”

“I will. But you won’t be seeing only her.”

“What do you mean?”

Kankuro hesitated, massaging the back of his neck nervously.

“You see… It seems Shinki also connected the dots in Shin’s notes and figured out she had gone back to the desert. He skipped school and went to find her.”

“What.”

“He’s fine. They are resting in the same room.”

---

Gaara opened the door of his wife’s room slowly, not knowing what he would find in there. He wouldn’t be surprised if his wife, patient and kind as she was, didn’t want to see him at the moment.

It’s my fault she went back out there unready. Worst of all, Shinki ended up involved. I wonder if she’ll even let me sleep in the same bed as her tonight. She has never thrown me out before, but then again, I never put Shinki in danger before.

Drowning in his thoughts and worries, Gaara walked inside the private room and for a moment the breath was taken right out of his lungs.

The room was simple, with two beds pushed together, a bedside table with a pitcher of water over it and a small lounge area by the window, with a table and two chairs around it. The soft orange rays of sunlight that sneaked through the blinds of the window illuminated the scene, giving the room a warm and calm atmosphere.

And in the centre of it all, his wife was sleeping in the bed, with their son snoring softly in her arms.

Gaara watched them, completely stunned. Not for the first time he wondered how in the world did he get so unbelievably lucky. There was a time in his life he wouldn’t dream of having anything even close to love and now he had a strong, kind, beautiful wife, and a smart, honest, hard-working son.

I love them. I love them so much.

Silently Gaara walked to their bedside, until he could reach out and gently comb his wife’s bangs out of her face.

Shin’s eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. It took her a moment to focus on him, but when she did, her reaction was nothing like Gaara had imagined.

His wife looked at him and smiled.

“Did you get your present?”

Gaara blinked. “Huh?”

Shin’s brown eyes danced to the table by the window, and Gaara followed with his gaze. Standing there, alone and unassuming, was a small pot plant. It was a small cactus, barely as big as a fist, with a peach-fuzzy exterior and a yellow flower crown on top of it.

Gaara’s seafoam eyes widened at seeing it.

“It’s a Parojia cactus.” Shin whispered, carefully laying a hand on Shinki’s ear as not to awake him. “Ino-chan found one in the wild a couple of months ago and managed to grow a couple in her store. She told me there’s an estimate of less than a hundred growing in the wild, and even less being cultivated in private.”

“Shin…”

“They are hard to maintain. She even gave me a list of orientations. It’s a bit tricky, but I’m sure it’ll thrive as long as you’re taking care of it.”

Gaara could only stare at his wife, stunned. However, his wife took his silence the wrong way, and her smile faltered.

“Gaara? Did you… not like it?”

The man blinked once, before a warm smile pulled on his lips and relieved Shin of her worries. He bent down at the waist and touched his forehead to hers.

“I love my present. I love you.”

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