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writer-monster · 3 years ago

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11 reasons why cap 4 should reintroduce Bucky Barnes as the love interest, an essay

to start this off, i am not writing this essay from a shipping place nor do i believe that this would have any influence at all over the upcoming movie. i expect nothing. this is simply something that i would personally like to see. (of course no hate to anybody who thinks differently)

here are 11 reasons why i think making Bucky into Sam Wilson's love interest in Cap 4 would be a good move for Disney.

1. on the Chinese film market - and why it's an irrelevant argument against the inclusion of homosexual themes in Cap 4

the Chinese film market is something that has been blamed for a lack of diversity in Hollywood films a lot lately. many people claim that this market with a lot of buying power has been responsible for the lack of gay and black representation in particular within Hollywood films.

and we have certainly seen Hollywood treating it as such, going so far as to cut gay scenes from movies for their Chinese releases, and vastly minimising John Boyega's (a black actor's) presence in the Chinese poster of Star Wars The Force Awakens.

[image ID: on the left is an image of the American poster for Star Wars The Force Awakens, featuring John Boyega prominently on the right-hand side. And on the right is the Chinese poster for the same movie, in which John Boyega is barely visible.]

so we know at the very least that Disney believes this through their own actions and efforts to self-censor for the different markets.

but Captain America 4 is a black-led movie, don't you forget. and Disney can't minimise Sam Wilson/Anthony Mackie in the movie or the poster because it's his movie and his poster. and no amount of creativity in the editing room can change that (thank God!).

so if by their own argument the film is already going to be either banned, panned or slammed in China... then what do they have to fear from making it a gay movie too?

2. oh, the queerbaiting

queerbaiting is an unusual cultural idea. and sometimes i find myself thinking that the term is far too easily used, but then all of a sudden i will stumble upon a movie or show that is so quintessentially cruel and overt in it's... well... queerbaiting that i will start to wonder what the hell kind of a bizarre relationship all these straight people seem to have with their friends. take Troy and Abed from Community or John and Sherlock from Sherlock as the perfect examples of this. (in which my reaction to the show's creators saying the show wasn't gay was to ask so then why did you make it so gay?!)

i felt that Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes in tfatws were getting quite close to this level of queerbaiting.

there was the field scene, the couple's counselling scene, the boat scene, the couple's counselling scene, Bucky going with Sam to face Karli when she told Sam to come alone, the couple's counselling scene, ALL the staring scenes, Sam checking out Bucky's ass here as they said goodbye, the "i would move in with him but" hidden scene, "Uncle Bucky" showing up at the cookout scene, the romantic walking off together into the sunset together ending scene, and the couple's counselling scene. did i forget anything? but i mean seriously, the couple's counselling scene!!! that thing they did with their legs and their crotches while staring deep into each other's eyes, would any straight guy willingly do that? do straight guys crotch-snuggle now?

[image ID: an image of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes during the therapy scene with the quote, "Isn't anybody going to drag me into impromptu couple's therapy and slot my legs firmly between theirs before staring deeply into my eyes?"]

(yeah i stole this image from a buzzfeed article on the fan reactions to the couple's therapy scene. but given that they stole 80% of the content of that article from fandom tumblr, i think it's pretty even-steven.)

there's also the fact that people started talking about bisexual Bucky Barnes a lot after the tiger pictures line, and the lead writer Malcom Spellman responded to the talk of Bucky's bisexuality with "just keep watching". well we watched, Malcolm. but it's beginning to feel like you were just jerking us around.

3. the writing

seriously though, what else is Bucky Barnes doing right now in the MCU? his only remaining connection to anything going on right now is through Sam. there is literally nothing else established that's left for him to do that doesn't involve Sam. he moved to Louisiana to be closer to Sam (canonically), he hangs out with Sam's family (canonically), and Steve is presumably gone and is definitely not coming back for more adventures.

he has no villains or loose ends left. he has no other superheroes that he appears to be in contact with. he has no girlfriend or potential love interest, or even other friends or family. he is living in a tent that he has secretly set up in Sam's backyard and is mysteriously appearing from the bushes when it's time for dinner like a stray cat.

in my opinion there is no other meaningful and pre-established progression for Bucky's character that wouldn't just feel cheap.

plus, i don't think the general audience would be all that surprised if they kissed. i think a LOT of people picked up on all that tension. i think a lot of straight people picked up on all that tension too.

4. the chemistry between the actors & the chemistry between the characters

the original pitch for tfatws was essentially just this, it was the chemistry between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie and their respective MCU characters of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.

now obviously Anthony and Sebastian are simply friends, and i wouldn't mean to imply anything more. but they are also not their characters.

Sam and Bucky's scenes together before tfatws were both limited and short, and yet audiences still fell in love with the dynamic between the two characters.

in interviews, these two actors are constantly slipping into character and flirting with each other and frankly it's adorable. plus it's really entertaining. i'd love to see that dynamic, unfiltered, in a movie.

because believe it or not the flirting is actually even more open in their interviews than it was in tfatws. and i'm leaving some links as proof.

this here is known as the "married" compilation

and here's a "lucky dip" selection of interviews - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

and here's Anthony trying to get Seb to take his jacket off.

i'm just saying, why not let their chemistry shine? these two are so talented and so entertaining, especially when you put them in a room together. and can you imagine how absolutely hilarious and brilliant it would be to watch them navigate being a couple?

(and for those who bring up the "friends would be uncomfortable pretending to be dating" argument, i'm not here asking for a sex scene or anything. i don't think anyone would expect them to show any more intimacy (physical or emotional) while playing a couple than what they've already shown together in say... tfatws or in their own interviews. not that i actually expect anything regardless.)

5. if they were a man and a woman they would've gotten together in tfatws

i have no more to add here. just that... yeah, they would've.

6. and i'm not talking about the comics here, i'm talking about the MCU.

i understand fully that none of what i'm saying here falls in line with these characters from the comics. but the mcu itself doesn't fall much in line with the comics either, and these two characters especially are very different from their comics counterparts.

i'm not asking for these two to get together in the comics. tbh i don't think that it would work.

but the mcu Sam and Bucky are different and closer than their comics counterparts. they've got different histories, different backstories, and a very different dynamic. please rest assured that i am only talking about them in the mcu.

7. Bucky Barnes is believably bisexual. and Sam Wilson has never been proven to be straight in the mcu, nor has he had a love interest.

(now please continue to keep in mind that these points only stand for the mcu versions of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, and not at all for their comics counterparts.)

Sam Wilson has never had a love interest, which is crazy because have you seen that man! he has had two blink and you'll miss it moments of verbal expression of attraction to women, both in TWS. and that's the extent of it, through his entire history in the mcu.

Bucky Barnes has had a number of surface-level female love interests, but none of them even came close to the level of connection and chemistry that Bucky shares with Sam.

and i'm sorry SarahBucky fans, but i just don't think there's very much to their relationship either. i love Sarah, i really do. but it's Sam who shares all the meaningful moments and history and chemistry with Bucky. and i don't see what making her into a love interest would do for Sarah's character either, what would that add to her story?

[Picture ID: Bucky at the cookout with Sam, Sarah, Cass and AJ. Bucky and Sam are looking at each other and smiling.]

and also there is the whole tiger pictures thing... again. which does strongly suggest that Bucky is bisexual whether this was intentional on behalf of the writers or not.

8. it's representation... AND it feels natural

marvel hasn't had a lot of queer representation that's been noticeably present in the MCU at the time of writing this.

there have been a lot of failures so far, from the bisexual erasure of Valkyrie in Thor Ragnarok to the wlw erasure in Black Panther.

there was queerbaiting almost identical to the bisexual Bucky baiting for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2. when asked if he had considered featuring a gay hero in gotg2, director James Gunn stated that "We might have already done that. I say, watch the movie." after the movie's release audiences were understandably confused about the lack of queer representation. To which the director followed up his comments with, "But we don't really know who's gay and who's not. It could be any of them."

there is also Loki, considered by most fans after the airing of his six episode series on Disney+ to be both a poor attempt at both genderfluid representation and bisexual representation. with both attempts being summed up fairly well by the term "blink-and-you'll-miss-it". (also it's just terribly written and Loki doesn't wear any interesting clothes! fanficcers are a Goddamn blessing in this hard time!)

and let us not forget that Andrew Garfield was apparently FIRED for pushing for a bisexual spiderman. a bisexual spiderman within an interracial mlm relationship no less.

so for all these failures, marvel, why not allow us queer fans this? two brilliant and heroic men in a loving interracial relationship. two heroes that we can look up to.

now, one of the biggest detractions from the argument for representation is the idea of "forced diversity". and some poorly written characters certainly do end up feeling forced into the narrative. take Iceman in the comics for example, with Jean Grey just straight up suddenly telling him he's gay. like, marvel, sweetie, that's not how this works! and i don't know a lot of queer people who thought much of that "representation".

but the crux of the "forced diversity" argument is almost always that it feels unnatural within the story, right? and i don't think that anyone could say that about MCU Sam and Bucky ending up together, given these characters' existing chemistry and their history. they've both played characters in gay relationships before so we know that it's not outside of either actor's wheelhouse. and y'all know that Anthony and Seb can act, people. if it's in the script i believe that they'll make it seem like the most natural thing on earth.

9. it'd be a nice change

there's been an ongoing meme lately about "Disney's first gay character", the joke being that they continually announce gay characters without really ever including gay characters in their films.

this is to the point where Disney has formed a reputation amongst queer audiences of being homophobic.

if Sam and Bucky were to become a couple, then Disney could have its first actual gay character within a gay relationship. AND have him be in the lead of his own movie, no less.

it's also worth keeping in mind that there's likely an overlap between the people who were outraged by a Sam Wilson Captain America, and the people who'd be outraged by a gay Captain America. and if they were already not seeing the film, then i don't think much is gonna change that.

queer audiences would definitely love it, and the media attention would be guaranteed to be huge. i mean, simply look at the amount of media attention mere rumours of a character's queerness gets you and multiply that by a canon confirmation of said rumours.

but i'm pretty sure that Disney already knows this.

10. and yet, in truth, it's not about the representation

in truth i've never felt that i had any trouble relating to characters of any sexual orientation, race, gender, sex, body type, etc. (although that is not to throw any shade at all on people who do wish to see themselves represented) but for me, i think it's more about the story than the packaging.

and yet, a love story is still just a story. straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial. when two characters have chemistry and history and have sacrificed for each other time and time again, and they also can't keep their hands or their eyes off each other, then i'm pretty sure that that's a love story.

straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial, it shouldn't be about these simple labels. it should be about how well written the relationship is. it should be about chemistry, and history, and sacrifice.

because i'm fucking sick of all the hollow, forced romances in media no matter the genders of the participants. i'm sick of lazily written, shallow relationships where any two people sharing the same space for any extended period of time will simply fall in love. it's boring, it's repetitive, and as a writer myself it drives me up the wall!

romance stories suck! and everyone knows that romance stories suck. between twilight, and most of the entire YA genre, and love triangles (so boring), and romance used as poorly-written throwaway subplots in Hollywood movies, the world is in agreement that the romance in western media is simply dreadful. and yet we still want love stories. it's an entire genre that sits at the heart of the human experience (<3), and yet one which so few of today's best known writers seem truly able to capture.

i don't think that i'm the only one who feels this way, either. i suspect it's actually a large part of why fandom is so romance-centred in the first place, that we're all just starving for a good love story.

(btw i think fandom has a reputation for being something that as a whole that it is not. it has this reputation for straight up demanding things and harassing people until they get their way. while unfortunately there are a few people who do this, they're fucking annoying and i swear that they're far from the majority.

in my experience fandom is mostly about writing a five thousand word story at three am while drunk off your ass because it might make someone whom you've never met smile, editing it in the cold light of day, and then posting it. expecting nothing. sometimes getting nothing. and sometimes getting someone send you kudos or a comment so heartbreakingly wonderful that it makes you smile in return.)

11. so once again, it is all about the writing.

i want to see Sam and Bucky get together in the mcu, not because they would be a gay couple but because i genuinely believe that their story has potential to be an amazing love story.

and i know the mcu isn't about the romance. it's why in my personal opinion we haven't gotten a lot of good canon romances besides Peter Quill and Gamora. and i don't think that the mcu should be all about the romance either. i fucking love the action and the fighting scenes. i love the comedy. Captain America: The Winter Soldier had no romance and it was a fucking treasure, it was an amazing spy-action-thriller and it made my little gay heart dance. Thor Ragnarok had no romance, and it was an utterly brilliant comedic spectacle action film. not every movie needs romance.

but mcu Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were doing couple's therapy and fixing a boat and walking off into the sunset together in tfatws. they were inseparable on the battlefield. they've got a dynamic. it's beautiful, it's romantic, and it's gold.

a budding relationship between them in the next movie would be a good way to explore both characters more without the narrative feeling too stilted and separate. at the end of tfatws, both Sam and Bucky fans found that their respective fave felt somewhat underutilised and that their characters were underexplored.

now, that problem would be even more difficult to remedy in a movie, because the plotline of a movie needs to be really tight to work (giggity). and we know that the central conflict of the movie is gonna be action-based (which is good), but we still need each character's personal journey and growth to tie into the main conflict. (which is another issue that some fans found with tfatws, that these characters didn't really feel connected to the action-based plot on a more personal level.)

if Sam and Bucky are already in a relationship, however, this whole dynamic changes. first, their relationship has already been set up for nicely since TWS and through tfatws and they would officially be the best-fleshed-out couple in the mcu. but most importantly, a relationship gives them a perfect vehicle to explore both of their pasts comparatively and connect them personally to the action-based plot.

do you want to establish that Sam is a little too trusting and naïve? then establish this through his relationship with Bucky, and through showing his placing his trust in Bucky. (rather than through having him sympathise with a villain who threatened to murder his sister and his nephews).

perhaps you want to show Bucky recovering from his trauma? show us how comfortable he is with Sam. they get along, they're enjoying each other's presence, we see more of Sam's life and of his family, and then let Bucky tell Sam something that's raw and dark and honest about his life as The Winter Soldier. something about a memory, one that he only just recalled. he's opening up. and maybe what he tells Sam is even something that sets up the future action-based conflict, to ground that in something real.

you want to explore that Sam has trauma too? do this through Bucky. he tells Bucky a story about his time in the military. in the form of a flashback, he shares his own story of loss to evoke before the audience the shared theme of feeling at fault even when you're simply a helpless bystander to an act of pure destruction.

then, action sequence! and it's directly connected to Bucky's time as the Winter Soldier. explore the grief of someone whose life the Winter Soldier tore apart manifesting into a villain perpetuating the cycle of pain. establish your villain.

Later, Sam is dragged into battle against this villain for protecting Bucky. But Bucky doesn't want Sam to protect him. He feels guilt for what he can't control and he doesn't want Sam getting hurt because of him. Bucky reminds Sam that he has a family, one who needs him and who loves him. He tells him to go home.

Sam reminds Bucky that he's a part of that family. And that sure Sam's a hero and his job is to protect anyone and everyone, but that he's doing it because he wants to. It's not simply to prove that he can, or to prove that he's not a bystander (this connects to Sam's trauma here), but that he's doing it to help people.

and this gets Bucky thinking about who he is and what he's doing here. is he a hero who stands by Sam's side? or is he an ordinary man who stands aside? or perhaps, does he stand alone? what does he stand for? Maybe Sam knows. But does Bucky?

Sam and Bucky fight off the villain again, and for the first time Bucky meets this adversary face to face. And Bucky recognises this villain, and has a flashback to the genuine pain that he inflicted upon them in the form of the Winter Soldier. Bucky freezes mid-fight, he almost dies, and Sam has to save him.

Sam chews Bucky out for almost getting killed because he was afraid for him. but Bucky takes this the wrong way and goes off to fight the villain alone, or perhaps to die alone, he's not quite sure.

He puts up a half-hearted fight. He apologises for what the Winter Soldier has done, and he waits for the killing blow, when Sam swoops down and he saves him. He asks Sam why he saved him and Sam calls him a moron. And then, Sam asks him what sacrificing himself would solve. He tells him that you can't choose your past but you can choose your future (connecting to his own experience of loss and guilt and grief). And that no matter what Bucky Barnes still has a future, whether that's as the Winter Soldier or the White Wolf or just some dork with a day job. And that he has a future as a part of Sam's family too.

Sam fights the villain, and it's toe to toe. He delivers a few good blows, but receives a fair few himself. And then the villain tears off his wings, first one and then the other, in a manner reminiscent of what the Winter Soldier did to him in TWS. Through Bucky's eyes there's a flashback to highlight the parallels. Sam gets back on his feet and he fights his best fight, but is now losing.

And then the heavily injured Bucky steps up and fights by Sam's side, and only together do they take down the villain.

"So... I inspired you, huh?" Sam teases with a smile, utterly exhausted. "With my heroism and-"

"You inspired me." Bucky said, equally exhausted. "Let's leave it at that."

Together, Sam and Bucky go back to the safety and warmth of their family. Sam fixes his wings. Sam goes back to being Captain America. And Bucky... he's around, but it's unclear what he's doing.

That is, until the very end. When Sam is in a fight, and suddenly Bucky shows up and helps him out.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks.

"I've made up my mind." Bucky says. "I'm the Winter Soldier. But now I'll save lives, Sam. Now, like you, I'll be a hero."

Sam smirks. "So does this make you my sidekick, then?"

Bucky smiles. "C'mon, at least make me a partner." He says.

"How about co-workers." Sam says (in flashback, he remembers back to the death of his last on-the-job partner).

"How about friends." Bucky says, with a wry look.

"Bucky... I don't want to see you put your dumbass self in danger." Sam says.

"Oh, and it's ok for you to go running off into danger on your own all the time?" Bucky asks.

"Yes." Sam says stubbornly. "Absolutely it is."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a dumbass?!"

"Sam, if you think I'm not gonna be watching your back for the rest of time... then you're the biggest dumbass I know. And I don't care if you need me or not, I will be there for you."

"Because Sam, you're more than Captain America. You're more than a good soldier. You're a good man. And I think sometimes, the world forgets what the difference is."

...or something like that.

(i only spent like 15 minutes on that. you know if i were actually writing this movie i would come up with something much better. and if anyone from marvel is seeing this, yes i can come work for you. i will make the time, let's do this thing right!)

finale

at the end of the day, whether or not the mcu chooses to make Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes a couple, it's their decision. and they don't owe me anything.

i'm just some random person on the internet. who thinks that Captain America 4 should #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend

#givecaptainamericaaboyfriend #meta #analysis #captain america 4 #caatws #fatws #tfatws #captain america #cap 4 #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #marvel #mcu #mcu phase 4

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lovehotelreservation · 3 years ago

Text

Formulaic

Summary: There was a process to every solution.

And while Cid was aware of one particular solution he so dearly wished to attain, the process was simply too formidable to even attempt:

To confess his feelings to Maria, the Warrior of Light.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: WoL!OC/Cid

EVERY TIME I SEE CID I GET WHIPLASH THAT HE’S ONLY 34 HEWWO ??? MANS LOOKS LIKE HE’S GOT WERTHER’S ORIGINAL KISSES NOT LA CROIX MAKEOUT SESSIONS!!!

ANYWAY HFLKAFHAKL THANK YOU TO MY DEAREST COMMISSIONER FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY--ESP SINCE I PROGRESSED FURTHER ON THE OMEGA SERIES BECAUSE OF THIS!!!

---------------- Cid regretted ever fixing that damn kettle.

While doing so finally got the whinging pursed lips of Nero to finally hush up so he could hone his focus upon Garlond Ironworks’ current endeavor of seeking out Omega, the repair of the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster only served to give his lifelong rival all the opportunity to cozy up to the very person that Cid wanted him to stay the furthest away from.

Or attempt to at least.

A personality utterly kind and demure, eyes grey like rain clouds on a cozy morning, soft and silken locks of gold that cascaded to the middle of her back, a mind so brilliant and witty.

Eorzea’s Warrior of Light, but his own precious weakness.

She was Maria and oh how his heart yearned for her.

All while his eyes bore holes into the ground beneath which Nero stood every time he approached her with a mischievous glint in his eyes and an arrogant smirk on his face.

While Cid was more than overjoyed to see Maria fix herself a cup of tea during the lulls between endeavors in the Datascape, whenever she went to pour herself a drink, Nero was sure to be trailing after her, going on about superior blends in Garlemald and how he was more than ready to show her the breadth of his refined palate.

His intentions were clear.

And though Cid was ever prepared to step in as need be to keep Nero from pestering her further, the crux of the underlying issue in face of all this remained present in place:

His own feelings for Maria.

If the situation called for it, he could easily give a fully articulated lecture on the Allagans while inebriated to the point he was face planted on the floor in a drunken and naked slump right in the middle of Sapphire Avenue during peak Starlight shopping season.

But to confess how he genuinely felt about the woman who captivated him so dearly, who inspired him to go beyond any boundary?

The thought of risking the friendship that he treasured with her like nothing else was enough to push him to drink.

After all, with how often that the world relied on her strength to help defend it, he was protective of her--even lamenting that time he jokingly declared his need for her mainly due to her usefulness while he was guiding her through the tumultuous depths of The Praetorium.

Yet with the aftermath of that infamous night in Ul’dah and her subsequent escape to Ishgard, it was then that he began to realize that his fondness for her went beyond mere allies, mere friends.

This was made apparent the moment they were properly reunited after her far too close encounter with the Vundu at the Sea of Clouds, having successfully escaped pursuit by the Bismarck.

What with the way he could not hold himself back from taking her into his arms, hugging her close as all tension within his body was swiftly relieved as he took her in.

Her presence, her scent, her adorably surprised stammers as he embraced her right in front of Hauchefant and Emmanellain.

Along with Wedge and Biggs, with the former letting out a startled “Chief--!” while the other released the hearty chuckle of “Aye boss, demonstration of affection’s handled a whole lot differently in Ishgard, you know!”

For all his intentions to never let her go from the moment he feared the worst upon her disappearance, he was ever quick to relinquish her, a faint dust of pink spreading across his cheeks.

Cid was thankful that she didn’t seem to catch onto Biggs’s cheeky remark, looking so gorgeously flustered more so from his sudden embrace, despite her attempts to look composed in light of their reunion.

And it was from then on that he happily took his place within her journey, whether physically together during their attempts to thwart the return of Alexander, or when they were apart and remained joined together by way of letter or linkpearl.

To hear her say or see his name in her handwriting was a joy that could not ever be replicated by anything else.

As a pursuer of knowledge, he had to abide by what was factual.

There was no denying of his longing for Maria.

Not while he had Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie chiming in to ask if he had been talking to her whenever they handed her letters to him with knowing smiles on their faces.

And now, with Maria dedicating her time and effort to assist him and the rest of Garlond Ironworks with Omega’s ongoing trials, he could feel his heart welling with his increasingly overwhelming desire to express how he felt.

It was just only more irritating that Nero had stoked the flames by his pompous ways, of which left plenty on Cid’s mind, especially with the completion of the first gambit of battles under Omega’s watch and the return to Rhalgr’s Reach for some needed rest and recuperation.

Though, relaxation was in the furthest corner of his mind, whether by the mystery of Omega’s intentions or his current predicament of his feelings towards Maria.

With the hour late, rather than try to force himself back to sleep within the sleeping quarters set aside for Garlond Ironworks, he thought a walk around the now quiet compound would serve him better instead.

A change between sleeping clothes to a light shirt and a pair of pants--more suitable for the arid Ala Mhigan weather.

There was a small grin on his face as he emerged from the sleeping area.

Already he could hear Maria’s voice of exasperated curiosity with the inquiry of “How are you not evaporating?” whenever she saw his usual day to day attire.

Yet the voice that was in his head was heard by his very ears as he entered the common area that led out to the rest of Western Rhalgr’s Reach.

“Cid?”

Seated at one of the communal tables was none other than Maria, her expression curious and mug in her hands steaming, all while the Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster presided by her on the tabletop.

The gods may toy but sometimes their mischief was simply too much.

His heart aflutter and his grin widening, Cid approached where Maria was sitting. “Well now, someone’s up late.”

The corners of her mouth quirked into a small smile as she proceeded to take a sip. “I see it as being up early.”

But though her tone was jovial and her expression relaxed, there was a distant look in her eye that signified a preoccupation.

He knew that look.

“I see--though, a warrior like yourself ought to get her rest, no?” Pulling out the chair beside her, he proceeded to take a seat, all while his grey eyes gazed towards her with concern. “Tell me, what keeps you up on this good night, Maria?”

While it was often joked that Cid was married to the pursuit of knowledge, he liked to think that his devotion to his studies made him especially perceptive of properly assessing emotion.

For surely, who else happily devoted one’s efforts to knowing so much of Maria such as he?

It was then that she set her mug down on the table.

Just before she turned towards him, her lips forming into a pout.

A pout he so dearly wished to kiss.

Huffing, she remarked as her arms folded over her chest, “Are we speaking about the general burden of being the go-to person for everyone’s dilemma, or that Nero is getting under my skin again? Take your pick.”

No words in modern and/or Allagan vernacular could fully describe the relief that washed over Cid’s body.

Still, always wishing for her to be at peace, he responded in turn with a sympathetic grin as he chuckled, “Ahh, one of those pesky reasons to stay up. What has our comrade in reluctant arms done this time?”

Maria turned her attention towards her mug on the table.

Her favorite one of the Garlond Ironworks’s collection, which Cid always made sure to have on hand whenever she was working alongside them.

Though many thoughts were swirling in her mind at this very moment--especially with Cid sitting right beside at an otherwise romantic hour--she continued as disdain intertwined itself with each word she spoke, “Earlier, Nero insisted that I try his cup of tea, and right when I did, he started gloating about an indirect kiss.”

If the thought of Maria’s voice energized his soul to go on a walk at such a late time, the mere utterance of Nero thinking himself to be so charming he could think to flirt in such a way made the inklings of a migraine begin to form within Cid’s head.

With her body visibly cringing at the recollection, the late hour had her lamenting out loud, “Is every brilliant mind from Galemand as big of a pompous know-it-all like him?”

“Well I like to think of myself as a humble servant to the majesty of study,” Cid teased with a shrug.

Setting her cheek against her palm while her elbow set upon the table, she remarked with a shake of her head, “You’re the exception.”

Cid had to wonder if he just gulped down a mug of tea himself with the rush of heat that suddenly surged through his chest. He let out another laugh, richer, deeper. “I take it that you’re not as keen to receive Nero’s odd attempts at courting?”

Maria’s eyes closed as she groaned at the thought, “I’d rather kiss the floor of the Gold Saucer during the summer season.”

“Then, would you prefer a kiss from elsewhere…?”

And then her eyelids fluttered open.

The lightheartedness in Cid’s tone had subsided into one of sincerity, as matched by the look in his eyes while he peered directly towards her.

Though unsure of how to feel or proceed, everything within her body encouraged her to step forward towards what she had yearned for so long.

And so, ever shyly but with her eyes gazing right into his, she murmured, “...If it must come from elsewhere, it can only come from one person.”

His breath caught in his throat. “‘One person…?’”

Her face grew warm from embarrassment. “I think you can figure it out, humble servant to the majesty of study.

Cid couldn’t resist from gasping with delight. “Gods Maria--”

His hands swiftly cupped her cheeks and their mouths met for a long awaited kiss, the warmth of the tea on her lips making them both melt further into their connection.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, bringing the two of them closer.

It was yearning now fulfilled, a flood of long withheld affection bursting forth, a craving for one another looking to be satisfied, to be changed from midnight fantasy to joyful fruition.

Kisses once shy and careful turned earnest and heated, tongues stumbling against one another as hands groped with need.

Were it not knowing her penchant for reservation, he would have ravaged her right then and there at the commons table.

Instead, he opted to lift her up into a carry, her arms and legs hugging around his shoulders and waist as he hurriedly brought her back to his quarters, his walk and her tea forgotten.

Surely, this had to be a dream in some way, no?

But as her back fell upon his mattress, as their hands continued to undress and feel each other as physical confirmation that what was occurring was very much real, the joys of the present couldn’t have been more sweet.

And how Cid savored her moans like that of an addictive confection.

Even without trying to be mindful of others at this late hour, Maria stifled her moans out of shyness, all while her back arched into warmth of Cid’s lips as they kissed over her dribbling core, the bristles of his facial hair scratching against her quivering as he eagerly lapped his tongue along her slit with long and indulgent strokes.

Though, she couldn’t quite be as quiet when she was eventually seated on his lap, her face buried into his shoulder as she rode his cock, all while one of his big sturdy hands held onto her hip while the other fondled her ass, guiding her up and down the length of his thick dick at a brisk pace.

This provided an ample opportunity to plant his lips along the crook of her neck, gentle suckles leaving red marks in their wake.

While he knew that Maria would do everything in her power to understandably cover up, the thought of Nero thinking twice to pursue her while seeing the marks on her neck was satisfying.

But nowhere near as satisfying as feeling the muffled whimpers of his name from her lips against his skin, the hot and slippery confines of her slick walls squeezing around his cock, up until they reached their orgasms with her core clamping onto his dick and his seed flooding inside her in a lascivious, scorching burst.

Much like as they began, they ended with their lips on one another’s yet again as they fell back onto his mattress, joined together now by their arms embracing one another, fingers intertwining, his lips against her temple, her head nestling upon the sturdiness of his chest.

Though they would have much to fully confide and earnestly convey once their bodies were properly rested, both Cid and Maria were relieved, their hearts feeling warm.

Far warmer than any brewed cup of tea.

#Cid Garlond #wol x cid #wol x npc #Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #Fic #super freaknasty writing

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inkmyname · 4 years ago

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The Ember Island Players: performing toxic masculinity and narrative complicity in propagating misogyny

Initially I wasn’t going to respond to concerns about Katara’s racist/misogynistic portrayal in the Ember Island Players with anything more than snarky tags, but apparently I can’t keep my mouth shut, so I’m posting my response as a standalone meta about how the writers’ insistence on creating drama for drama’s sake leads them to--in lieu of actual character development--fall back on lazy narrative shortcuts whereby a performance of toxic masculinity against a gendered heternormative background is used to create tension in a romantic relationship, presumably with the goal of keeping the audience invested.

The Ember Island Players is problematic for a lot of reasons, not least of which is the pervasive tone-deaf misogyny, including racialized misogyny, directed at Katara. There’s a lot of meta on this, so I’d like to focus on something different: Aang’s relationship with gender and romantic attachments.

Aang seems so uncharacteristically chagrined the whole episode: “I’m not a woman!” Based on his previous characterization up to this point:

The Fortuneteller. This is the same Aang who makes a necklace for Katara when she loses her mother’s. Observe how he responds to Sokka’s jibe about jewelry-making, which can be seen as a feminine pursuit: Sokka: Great, Aang. Maybe instead of saving the world, you can go into the jewelry-making business. Aang: I don’t see why I can’t do both. Femininity isn’t presented as being mutually exclusive with narrative pursuits like saving the world which have traditionally centered male protagonists (especially if we take the entire canon of anything every written in any genre that’s not specifically, say, something like shoujo or jounen which are directed and young girls and women, the narrative focus on male personalities is overwhelming).

The Warriors of Kyoshi. Oh, and this is the same Aang that dressed up in full Kyoshi gear, kabuki makeup and all, without complaint. Why would he? After all, she was him in a past life. (There’s a whole meta here about gender-critical analysis of kabuki productions where male actors typically assumed female roles and how Avatar both takes inspiration from this real-life kernel and subverts it in Rise of Kyoshi where Kyoshi’s signature look is not only an homage to her parental heritage but also a reimagining of who can inhabit what roles. Her legacy, though imperfect, is also notably feminist, taking face paint worn typically by men IRL and expanding it into war paint for women warriors.) (There’s also great headcanon-adjacent meta here about gender non-conformity and non-binary identities in Avatar. Avatar was not overtly explicit about its feminist or gender-progressive mindset outside of episodes like The Warriors of Kyoshi or The Waterbending Master, but it was still way ahead of its time. If anyone was to be presented or headcanoned in such a way, it would be the Avatar who’s lived a thousand lives, inhabiting a thousand skins and a thousand identities, including gender identities. There’s also cool crossover meta here about the Legend of Korra depicting a female Avatar in Korra with masculine tendencies and visible muscle vs Aang as a male Avatar with a gentler pacifistic spirit and gender nonconforming tendencies.)

The Cave of Two Lovers. Aang wears a freaking flower crown and is generally wholesome and adorable, even leading up to the “let’s kiss lest we die” scene with Katara. He’s not pushy or overly concerned with appearing masculine and it is in fact Katara who suggests the kiss and Aang makes a fool of himself. From the transcript: Katara [Shyly, blushing.] Well, what if we … kissed? Aang [Very surprised.] Us … kissing‌? Katara See? It was a crazy idea. Aang [Dreamily.] Us … kissing … Katara [Fake-jokingly.] Us kissing. What was I thinking? Can you imagine that‌? Aang [Fake-jokingly.] Yeah. [Awkwardly laughs.] I definitely wouldn’t want to kiss you! [Beat.] Katara [Insulted.] Oh, well! I didn’t realize it was such a horrible option. [Angrily.] Sorry I suggested it! Aang [Realizing his mistake.] No, no, I mean … if there was a choice between kissing you and dying … Katara [Disgusted.] Ugh! Aang [Desperately.] What? I’m saying is I would rather kiss you than die - that’s a compliment. Katara [Enraged.] Well, I’m not sure which I’d rather do! [Slams the torch into his hand and storms away.] Aang [Miserably.] What is wrong with me … Aang, sweetie, this is not what you say to a girl you want to kiss, but generally, this is Wholesome™ and narratively, this is Good™. Eventually, they do kiss and that’s perfectly acceptable because there’s a whole conversation beforehand with humorous romantic framing. There’s consent and communication and initiative by the female protagonist. So solid A on the sensitive writing.

General Air Nomad culture. We don’t get a lot of Air Nomad culture in the show (and what little we do get what presented in such a misguided way, especially the whole commitment to forgiveness/pacifism which was handled in such an amateur black-and-white way from a writing perspective in season 3). But I digress. I really, really don’t think that Air Nomads who were so concerned with the spiritual side of bending and general existence had stringent notions of gender and romantic relationships–at the very least, they had very different notions of these issues compared to, say, the Northern Water Tribe. Canonically, even though AN philosophy emphasized detachment, Air Nomads practiced free love. Same-gender romance was freely accepted unlike in the homophobic Earth Kingdom (which even Kyoshi, a bisexual woman, wasn’t able to change) and the militant Fire Nation (Sozin outlawed homosexuality after declaring world war, essentially). And though the temples were gender-segregated, it seems that the burden of raising children fell to the entire community instead of just the women. Both male and female Air Nomads are revered. In the case of the former, Guru Laghima who unlocked the power of flight through achieving complete detachment from the material world. And in the case of the latter, Avatar Yangchen, who has statues everywhere because she came to be revered as a deity not just among Air Nomads but in the physical world in general. Nowhere in Air Nomad philosophy is the concept of gender, romance, love, sexuality, relationships etc. etc. tainted with jealousy and possessiveness (especially towards women) or rigid binary heternormativity.

So this was Aang for the better part of the first half of the series. Not overly concerned with gender roles. Pretty much fumbling his way through his first crush like a lovesick puppy and it’s all very wholesome. Supposedly a classic product of Air Nomad upbringing.

Meanwhile, Aang in EIP:

Checks out Katara’s butt as she’s sitting down.

Gets mad at being portrayed by a woman.

Accuses Katara of being the racialized misogynistic version of herself depicted on stage ([sarcastically]“Yeah, that’s not you at all.”).

Nods in agreement when the misogynistic stage production of Katara presents her as the “Avatar’s girl.”

Unable to differentiate between fiction and reality and puts the onus on Katara to do the emotional labor to justify something she never said (”Katara, did you really mean what you said in there? On stage, when you said I was just like a … brother to you, and you didn’t have feelings for me.”)

Assumes they would just… fall into a relationship… just because he forcibly kissed her at the invasion and again pressures Katara to do the emotional labor to justify why their relationship is not how he wants it (“But it’s true, isn’t it? We kissed at the Invasion, and I thought we were gonna be together. But we’re not.” / “Aang, I don’t know.” / “Why don’t you know?”)

Forces a non-consensual kiss on her even though “I just said I was confused!”

So, there’s so many things wrong with this, most of which are a laundry list of behaviors typical of toxic masculinity:

Ogling

Outdated misogynistic humor (what’s wrong with being a woman?)

Verbal abuse

Offloading emotional labor

Gaslighting

Pressuring a potential romantic partner

Lack of direct communication about romantic desires

Lack of sensitivity

Lack of active listening

Lack of emotional intelligence and empathy

Lack of consent and sexual assault

I could go on and on.

My question is Where and when did he learn these toxic behaviors? What happened to the wholesome boy making necklaces, wearing flower crowns, and generally being adorable in a kid with a first crush kind of way when it comes to romance?

Now, you can argue that EIP players Aang has been through a lot, including being shot by lightning and actually dying, and after the failed invasion, he’s stressed out with the weight of the world on his shoulders and maybe not expressing himself or his desires in the best way and taking out all of his frustrations on Katara.

Except… that is all just conjecture because the actual writing of the show doesn’t put in the hard work and make those connections. Instead, they fall back on misogynistic tropes and toxic heternormative romance tropes and a forced love triangle subtext and they just, to put it politely, fuck it up, two and a half seasons’ worth of work, gone, in the space of one episode. And even if it weren’t conjecture, it would still be wrong of Aang to act the way he did.

Let’s list Aang and Katara’s interaction in relation to each other in season 3:

The Headband. “Don’t worry about them. It’s just you and me right now,” Aang says as he pulls Katara into a dance. I have qualms about the writing of this episode: the creators wasted a golden opportunity to flesh out the Air Nomad genocide because they were too busy playing footloose in a cave, they wrote Katara–the same Katara would said fuck you to Pakku, freed enslaved earthbenders from a Fire Navy prison, and became a spirit goddess ecoterrorist to help a village in an enemy nation–as uncharacteristically shy just so Aang could sweep in and pull her into a dance. But like fine, whatever. It’s cute and really well-chreographed and there’s actually appropriate romantic framing here for once and at the end of the dance, look at Katara’s face–she’s happy! Positive Kataang interaction, and I don’t actually mind it. 7/10.

The Day of Black Sun Pt.1. He forces a kiss on her on the mouth, taking her completely by surprise. A chaste kiss on the cheek and a wistful pining last look and “Be safe” might have been acceptable, but given Katara’s shocked and uncomfortable body language, the kiss on the mouth was not. Worse yet, the show just… forgets… to follow up on it for several episodes and when it’s brought up again, it’s used as a sledgehammer to punish Katara for not magically being with Aang. 0/10.

The Painted Lady. Let’s look at the transcript: Katara [Using a disguised voice.] Well, hello Avatar. I wish I could talk, but I am very busy. Aang Yeah, me too. I hate that. [Looks at Katara’s face from behind the veil.] You know, you’re really pretty, for a spirit. I don’t meet too many spirits, but the ones I do meet, not very attractive. [Looks at Katara suspiciously. Tries to look under the hat.] Katara [Giggles nervously.] Thank you, but- Aang You seem familiar too. Katara A lot of people say that. Aang [Suspicious.] No, you really seem familiar. Katara Look, I really should get going. [Covers her face and runs, but Aang uses his airbending and blasts her hat up into the air, exposing her.] Aang Katara? Katara [Guiltily.] Hi, Aang. Aang [Shocked.] You’re the Painted Lady? [Pointing at Katara.] But how?Katara I wasn’t her at first, I was just trying to help the village. [Takes her hat off.] But since everyone thought that’s who I was anyway, I guess I just kinda became her. [Drops her hat on the ground.] Aang So you’ve been sneaking out at night? Wait, is Appa even sick?Katara He might be sick of the purple berries I’ve been feeding him, but other than that he’s fine! Aang I can’t believe you lied to everyone, so you could help these people. Katara I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have … Aang [Happily.] No, I think it’s great! You’re like a secret hero! Katara Well, if you wanna help, there’s one more thing I have to do. Aang gives her a curious look. Cut to the Fire Nation factory. Aang and Katara run along the river’s edge toward it. Aang looks at the polluted water. Aang You wanna destroy this factory? Katara Yes. Sokka was just kidding, but he was right. Getting rid of this factory is the only way to help these people permanently. He helps her blow up the Fire Nation smelting plant! Yes, he does call her pretty, but more importantly, this is one of the few times he acknowledges her faults (lying, deception, putting the mission at risk to help the enemy nation etc.) and still thinks she’s so fucking cool. He calls her a secret hero! There’s a lot of admiration and support here from Aang. He’s raising up Katara (instead of putting her down as in EIP) not because he sees her as a potential love interest but because he admires her and her compassion! This is great. Solid wholesome Kataang interaction. 10/10. But all good things must come to an end…

The Southern Raiders. I’m not going to spend too much time on this because there’s a million pieces of meta on this episode. He’s completely out of line asking Katara to be forgive her mother’s killer, the source of her greatest trauma as a victim of targeted ethnic cleansing. Given that he’s a victim of ethnic genocide himself, although he personally wasn’t there for it/didn’t actually witness it unlike Katara, he should have understood. He does say “You need to face this man,” which is good and supportive and he should have stopped there, because he continues on to say, “But when you do, please don’t choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.” Stop. Stop stop stop. No one should tell a traumatized victim of ethnic cleansing how to deal with their trauma. By the end of the episode, Katara doesn’t kill him–but she crafts a third path as the conclusion to her hero’s journey and it is not the path of forgiveness that Aang preaches. Ironically, it is Zuko, who also confronts Ozai, the source of his greatest trauma, who never tells Katara what to do but follows her lead instead: even though he redirects lightning at Ozai and could have killed him, he doesn’t go through with it. He understands Katara and he understands that she needs to this. Kataang interaction rating: 0/10.

So that’s where we are with Aang and Katara in Ember Island Players. Some positive interactions that are appropriately romantically framed and some that are just wholesome and good… but all ruined by forced kissing and moralizing about Katara’s trauma instead of offering understanding. So that still doesn’t answer when Aang would have learned all of the toxic masculine/heternormative behaviors he displayed in The Ember Islands Players.

The only answer, I’m forced to conclude, is bad fucking writing, where the creators were not only tone-deaf in portraying Katara in a racist/misogynistic way or, you know, in writing solely for the male gaze because fuck half the audience, I guess, but they just wanted to create drama for drama’s sake. They completely disrespected their female lead and I would argue they disrespected Aang’s character too in making him a stereotypical self-insert Gary Stu who displays toxic masculine behavior without consequences because that’s what’s expected of a toxic heternormative romantic plot device.

And worse yet, they never follow up on this, just like with the kiss at the Invasion. In the last five minutes of the finale, Katara looks up at him with admiration for saving the world and then kisses him. This is not only a missed opportunity for character development for Aang, but also a big fuck you to the female audience because the message is clear: the guy gets the girl as a trophy for saving the world, and fuck input from the female half of the partnership because that’s just not important and is not worthy of screentime. But I guess screentime dedicated to displaying toxic masculine/heternormative behaviors without ever condemning such behavior as a follow-up is just fine! :)))

If the EIP was supposed to make an argument for Kataang, then it failed. but more important:

By the show’s own high standards, The Ember Island Players is a failed episode, full of bad writing and worse characterization. For a show that was so ahead of its time, this episode is a narrative black mark, a failure of progressive representation and a disservice to its main characters.

There’s some wholesome Sukka and Zuko/Toph interaction, but even that doesn’t manage to save this episode, especially given there’s no resolution to the central conflict: the relationship between Aang and Katara. The entire unnecessarily OOC and forced Kataang drama drags it down.

We know Aang is capable of lifting up Katara and being supportive of her, as he was in episodes prior. We could have had honest, supportive, and open dialogue between Aang and Katara that actually followed up on the Invasion kiss, with Aang clearly expressing what he wants, Katara expressing that maybe she didn’t want that right now, and Aang completely respecting that and them hugging at the end because their friendship/connection is much more profound than pre-teen romance. This is an instance where Aang could have chosen to center Katara’s feelings, for once, instead of his own out of selfless love. If this happened, I would have been okay with a Kataang ending. But that isn’t what we got, obviously.

Part of what appealed to me about Aang as a male protagonist in media aimed at young audiences is that he–at least initially–did not start out as a toxic self-insert Gary Stu lifted from every problematic heternormative romance film ever. In fact, given his playful trickster archetype, general kindness/gentleness, and his stance against violence (a typically masculine trait), he both subverted expectations of and expanded the boundaries of what a male protagonist in children’s media can look like. Unfortunately, the creators don’t go all the way with Aang. In fact, they took a step back with his portrayal in The Ember Island Players, where the creators not only rely on misogynistic tropes to create drama but also make him complicit in propagating said misogyny. And that’s just a damn shame because we could have had a wholesome Kataang storyline and a sensitive male protagonist who cares not about your outdated gender roles and respects his partner’s autonomy!

#atla #aang #katara #kataang #eip #meta #my meta #aang deserved better #katara deserved better #queer #heteronormativity #toxic masculinity #misogyny #feminist criticism #kataang critical #but only in the sense that the writers messed it up #nothing against kataang personally

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saeransboy · 4 years ago

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Radiant

my work for @mysme-rbb! art is by lynnimaybe on twitter. thank you for letting me share!

An obnoxious chime rings out from a speaker as the bottles fall, the clanging of glass against asphalt making Saeran wince. This was far from his first attempt at knocking them over, and he was grateful he finally won, hearing you let out a quiet cheer next to him. Rubbing his temples, he shuts his eyes, briefly granting him reprieve from the bright neon lights of the booth. He knew you were having fun, and he had been, but the noisiness of the festival was beginning to seep into his mind, rendering him exhausted and overwhelmed.

You‘re an angel. You always are, and this time was no different. A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and despite its gentleness, Saeran still jumps. You’re there as usual, staring at him with wide, worried eyes. A black cat plushie is clutched tight against your chest with your free arm, its beady eyes reflecting his worn-down expression. “Saeran?” You start, voice just loud enough for him to hear, “I was calling you, but you didn’t answer. Do you want to take a break?”

The answer is obvious, but you always offer him a choice. He nods, and you carefully take the sleeve of his hoodie in your hand, guiding him over to a free bench. Saeran accepts the help wordlessly, practically melting into the wooden seat. Joining him, you stare out at the sky, not speaking. He doesn’t either, silently thankful for your understanding. Even if he had something to say, he wasn’t sure his body would cooperate. Every part of him felt so tired.

It wasn’t surprising, really. He was still recovering both mentally and physically, and moving around the fairgrounds had slowly worked up an ache in his muscles, burning down to the bone. You both hadn’t done much, admittedly. He was too nervous to try the rollercoasters for today, and you both agreed the haunted house was not a good idea. You’d been considerate of him the whole time, mainly choosing booths or rides where you had to sit, but the lines were still soul-crushingly long.

The biggest break he’d had was on the ferris wheel. At first, the inability to leave the basket and the sheer height made his heart race, and you had to take his hand to soothe him. But once he pieced together that he was safe, he wouldn’t get hurt, he was able to relax and enjoy the view. It was almost dreamlike, the way the red-purple warmth of the sunset lit up your face. It had been hard for Saeran to look away, but when you turned your attention from the sky to check on him, he had to. He had been too embarrassed to admit he was admiring you instead.

Now, Saeran watches children busily run up and down the slowly clearing paths, chased after by amused but stressed parents. The fireworks show would be starting soon, you had informed him earlier. He wasn’t too sure about the event; it would be loud, and crowded, and new, just like the rest of the fair had been. All overwhelming sensations for him, but the spark of excitement in your eyes when you spoke about the show made him want to try it. If only for your sake.

He glances over at you, watching you brush your fingers over the short whiskers of the cat plush, waiting for him to give a sign that he was ready to move again. You seem happy, a content smile on your face as you admire the prize. When he’d noticed you adoringly eyeing the plush hung up on the display rack, he knew he’d have to cave and get it for you. The encounter with the the booth attendant had been uncomfortable, having approached them without you, and it took six tries. Seeing you now, it all felt worth it.

A small hum is all he offers you, but you get the cue all the same. “Come on,” you say as you bounce to your feet, offering Saeran your outstretched hand. Even after all this time, you always ask, never simply grabbing ahold of him. He didn’t deserve your kindness, he thought, but he accepted it anyways. You seemed happy trying to make him happy. Silently he takes your hand, allowing you to help him up.

Waiting until he gives you a nod, you set off, the balloon tied securely around your wrist bobbing with each step. Feeling more relaxed than before, Saeran takes a moment to enjoy the atmosphere. It was peaceful, the bright neon lights of the fair reflecting on the river barely visible through the treeline. He’s almost too distracted observing the way the colors distort and ripple on the water to notice the small form rushing past, but the excited squeal the child lets out sends him stumbling back into you, his grip on your hand tightening in a brief moment of fear.

Oblivious parents hurriedly walk behind, leaving Saeran clinging to you, trying to steady his breathing. Your soothing whispers don’t quite sound like words, but your voice still manages to bring him back down, the tension in his shoulders releasing with a heavy sigh. “Sorry... dumb kid. I’m okay now,” he mutters, loosening his vice grip on your hand. You nod in understanding, but still don’t continue your walk, so he takes initiative, leading you down the path and around a corner.

Suddenly, there’s a loud whistle and a startling pop, a burst of orange and pink illuminating your face as you both whirl to face the sound. Saeran jolts and freezes, moving a bit slower, and by the time he’s turned the source of the noise is gone. He feels his heart pick up, but your face doesn’t share his fearful expression. Oh... was this was it was supposed to be?

Watching the horizon, it isn’t long before a single streak of white shoots up into the sky, exploding into a soft golden color. Right. Fireworks. As soon as he rationalizes the source of the sound and determines it to be safe — not coming towards you, not a weapon, a good and harmless distance away, all the way across the river — he turns back to you with a still slightly apprehensive look, tilting his head curiously.

Your eyes are filled with wonder, tracking another rocket as more shoot up into the air, widening ever so slightly as it erupts into white and blue. The excitement was almost radiating off of you, and it doesn’t leave your eyes when you catch his uncertain gaze.

“It’s alright,” you soothe, “just watch.” Clutching the plush close to you, you shift to tug the oversized sleeve of his hoodie up, just enough to entwine your fingers with his. You didn’t grip much, letting him make that decision on his own, squeezing your hand in silent thanks.

It was always overwhelming, going out and experiencing these things for the first time that everyone else around him was so accustomed to. The whole time he’d felt like a fumbling mess, never able to bring his voice above a mutter, too embarrassed by the signs that shone through that showed he was new to everything happening. This felt no different, and all the more imposing.

He’d heard about fireworks before, but never bothered to look into them. Now, though, seeing the vibrant display, he couldn’t help but be silently breathtaken, his lips slightly parted in awe. Did he have the same dumb expression as the small children? Probably, his brain says. If he did, you wouldn’t mind. You never had, even when he thought you should, when you had all the reason to shoot him a judging look like the ones he’d picked up before. But you never looked at him in any way but loving. You were always safe and familiar when everything else was new and jarring.

Relaxing slightly, he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. He knows you’re watching him now, feeling your perpetually adoring gaze on him. This isn’t unusual; you always look at him with stars in your eyes when he’s able to unwind and enjoy the moment despite his reservations. You think he doesn’t notice, but he does every time, and it makes his heart a bit warmer. The fear that he’s not good enough, that he isn’t progressing enough, always lingers at the back of his mind, so he’s happy he can make you proud like this.

Deciding to tease you, Saeran turns his head back to face you. “Enjoying the view?” He asks stoically, and your face noticeably heats up. In some desperate attempt to get out of the situation, you smile and nod frantically.

“Y-Yep! They sure are... bright.” You noticeably wince at the clumsiness of your words, attempting to redirect the conversation. “Are you? You seem happy. Um, just by seeing you now, I mean.”

Deciding to spare you, he hums happily, turning back to watch the show, noting the way the colors reflect in the water, blooming on the surface before the sparks sizzle and fade out. “Yeah. It’s a bit noisy, but otherwise it’s... alright.”

There was so much he had to thank you for: for always being by his side, for your unending patience with him, for teaching him how to love and feel loved again. “Thanks for bringing me,” he says instead, but the soft look he gives you out of the corner of his eye shows everything he can’t bring himself to communicate in words.

Pressing yourself to his side, moving slowly to give him a chance to stop you, you lean your head against his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me bring you,” you respond. It’s a hidden message just like his; he can tell by the way your voice wavers with emotion. Thanking him for trusting you despite all he’d been through, and for not closing himself off from you.

Adjusting, he leans back against you, feeling strangely alright with the public display of affection. He barely minded the crowd of people that had gathered to watch the fireworks. For once, Saeran’s mind wasn’t swimming with paranoia and fear; to him, it was just the two of you and the colors lighting up the night sky.

#mysme #my writing #se saeran #saeran choi #mysmerbb

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ronsenburg · 4 years ago

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Since you mentioned you were looking for drabble requests, if you haven't moved on from AA already, could I request something where Apollo or Klavier is struggling against pride/feeling that his problem isn't a big deal/some kind of internal roadblock to seek comfort from the other? Maybe they lost a case they don't think they should have lost, or it's the anniversary of something sad, or they just feel crappy physically or emotionally. Any reason is fine. Thanks for considering my request ^^

vorher:

It’s nearly six pm by the time Franziska finds him, tucked into a chair in the corner of some pretentious and probably ephemeral bar downtown.

It isn’t one of his usual haunts, but the staff seem to know who he is well enough, anyway. Though he is just barely twenty-three and his tab has been approaching the four figure mark for the past hour and a half, no one has bothered to card him or attempt cutting him off yet. Of course, that may have had more to do with the sizable tips slid to whatever staff member is closest in proximity rather than his rather notorious celebrity status, but Klavier’s ego has been rapidly ceasing to care about such things in recent months. What matters to him at this very moment is less the thrill of universal adoration and more the ability to nurse his wounded pride in pseudo-solitude with a vastly overpriced drink.

That solitude is shattered, however, by the arrival of Prosecutor Franziska Von Karma. The sound of her heels clicking firmly against the highly lacquered floors crescendos over whatever smooth jazz cover they’re piping through the hidden speakers as she makes her way directly over to him.

“Are you finished with your tantrum yet?” she asks, removing her dark sunglasses and placing them onto the surface of the bar beside him without any sort of invitation.

It takes a moment for the words to process; Klavier has spent so long playing the role of the ostentatious expat that his alcohol muddled brain can barely grasp the crisp and nearly foreign sounding syllables of her German.

By then, she has already removed her long leather gloves and cape, handing them off to an employee that floats near her elbow like a well trained dog on a leash. When she slides into the chair beside him and signals for the bartender, the scotch she orders for herself is nearly as expensive as Klavier’s own. If he weren’t so chagrined by her sudden interruption, he would likely be impressed.

“Since when is enjoying a drink after work considered a tantrum?” Klavier returns, finally, and also in German. He attempts to fire off one of his charming smiles as he speaks, but the words feel so clumsy and out of practice on his lips that the gesture falls short and sounds far more like the kind of sulk that directly proves the point she has made.

Franziska raises a perfectly arched eyebrow in reaction, though whether it is a response meant specifically for his faltering pronunciations or juvenile tone, Klavier can’t be at all sure. “Since someone recently made a complete fool of himself in a court of law.”

The words strike out like the lash of a whip; Klavier winces despite himself. Franziska is only two years older than him, but when she glances away with an air of disinterested disdain to take a sip from the tumbler placed in front of her, the gap seems far wider.

“You heard?”

“I saw,” she replies, glancing over to him again just long enough to offer a small, disparaging smirk. “It was quite the performance. Do people actually pay you money to see such foolishness on stage?”

The shame he’d been attempting to shove away for the past five hours flares up just below the surface of his thoughts then, hot and bright enough that he suddenly feels sick to his stomach.

“You are just as charming as they say, Fraulein,” Klavier smiles; the sarcasm tastes false and bitter on his tongue.

In truth, he had made a fool of himself.

Klavier has always prided himself on being meticulous in his pursuit of the truth, in perfectly balancing the demands of both his prosecutorial career and his life as a musician. And, most of the time, he’d succeeded so brilliantly that it had blinded him to the subtly advancing and yet still discreet signs that he might have been slipping.

There had been issues with the band’s latest album.

With the ink long since dried on the studio’s contract and their chosen title already heavily marketed, the pressure to produce something of value had been mounting. Every song he’d written since then had seemed increasingly vapid, words that fit a theme but lacked any sort of meaning, chords that sounded deliberately catchy but were devoid of anything new and surprising. They were going through the motions, but those motions were long since stale. There was nothing of the artistic fire that had skyrocketed them to success in their early years and that alone drained any last bit of excitement he might have derived from the process.

It was driving a neat wedge through the center of the band; Daryan called him a diva, so used to having things his own way that he fell to pieces at the idea of ever being told what to do. Take the money, release an album that was shallow but on brand. They could always switch it up next time when time was on their side. You’re the lawyer, he'd mocked, you should know exactly how much of our asses are on the line here.

Their arguments on the subject had become more and more frequent as the days passed, spilling from band practice to crime scenes and, finally, to the kitchen of Klavier’s apartment. This time, it was Daryan who had packed what few belongings he’d scattered throughout Klavier’s various shelves and drawers into an old duffle bag and left, slamming the door shut behind him with finality as he’d gone.

As Klavier’s luck would dictate, Daryan had been the lead detective on this last case. While they were both professional enough not to ignore each other completely during the proceedings, the type of communication necessary for a successful indictment had been… difficult, to say the least.

And so he’d been distracted in his investigation, enough that he’d overlooked a piece of evidence so decisive in the opposition’s favor that when it had been presented, he’d been left gaping in uncharacteristic surprise from his place at the bench.

Yes, he’d been slipping, unable to see the progression of his descent until he had been standing firmly at the bottom of a tall slope.

He was only lucky, he supposed, that this was not a murder trial.

Back at the bar, Klavier rolls his eyes softly, more an aversion of his gaze than a gesture for dramatic display. Franziska doesn’t seem to be paying him enough attention to notice such things, anyway.

“Well, you can consider me scolded. Your work is done.”

“And yet, that’s not why I’m here,” Franziska returns. Ignoring the eyebrow he raises toward her in obvious question, she instead tilts the tumbler back, swallowing the last centimeter of the amber drink. “I would not waste my time and energy searching the city to scold a fool who seems to be doing an admirable job of berating himself. No, despite your recent failures, there are people in this city who seem to care about your well being. It would be a shame if you were to drown in a pool of your own vomit.”

He cannot help his rather obvious flinch at her words, no matter how quickly he endeavors to mask it. “How very touching, ja? I was expecting more anger.”

Franziska pauses in the midst of extracting a matte black card from the small handbag she carries. When her steel grey eyes meet his, Klavier suddenly understands the fear the von Karma name had once inspired in courtrooms across the world.

“Oh, I am angry,” she smiles, wagging her finger in such a way that it is clear she is mocking him. “You allowed a criminal to walk free today. But he is guilty, I am certain of that. And now he will be cocky.”

Klavier is so stunned by her words that he barely registers that she has slid her card across the surface of the wooden bar, let alone has the presence of mind to argue.

“There will be more evidence to find and new charges to file,” she continues, unperturbed by his gaping. “I will assume that next time you will have your priorities in the correct order.”

With that, she stands and turns to the attendant who is still waiting nearby, ready to help her back into the dark, cashmere folds of her cloak. When the complex ritual of donning her long gloves and sunglasses is complete, she turns once again to face him.

“I will be driving you home. You may choose, now, whether you would like to accompany me willingly or if you will require Detective Gumshoe’s escort. You have until I reach the door to decide.”

It feels as though a whirlwind has swept through the room, appearing out of nowhere to disrupt his wallowing completely before disappearing as suddenly as she had come. Klavier is not stupid enough to doubt Franziska’s words, despite the fact that he is twenty-three and more than a bit inebriated. He wavers only slightly as he finds his own feet and follows her out onto the sun soaked sidewalk beyond the bar.

If she is smiling when she looks back towards him, it is the small, private smirk of victory. Klavier finds that he is too preoccupied with the act of placing one foot in front of the other along the uneven slabs of concrete to care. He stumbles gracelessly into the backseat of the car Franziska indicates, through a door held open by a man that Klavier can only assume is the Detective she had mentioned inside.

“Huh,” he comments before closing the door. “Somehow I thought you’d be taller, pal.”

A sharp stab of pain somewhere behind his left temple resonates brightly in response.

This is something he will certainly regret tomorrow.

nachher:

“Okay, spill,” Apollo demands, crossing his arms in a visible display of stubborn obstination that, at any other time, Klavier might find endlessly adorable.

Tonight, however, he has reached a new level of exhaustion, one that leaves him blinking back at Apollo in baffled surprise as he attempts to pivot his thoughts from their previous trajectory in order to make sense of the other’s sudden words. “Spill was?”

As his words indicate, the intended course adjustment doesn’t go very well at all.

“Whatever’s going on with you,” Apollo replies, huffing out a sigh of what sounds nearly like frustration. “You’ve been working late, you don’t eat, you haven’t been sleeping. Something’s up; I think you should tell me what it is.”

Though Apollo’s words and posture are combative, it is all for show. There is an uncertainty in his eyes and concern exposed in the way he bites at the inside of his lip in silence, waiting for Klavier to speak. The fact that Klavier has learned to recognize this expression through repeatedly causing it is a painful enough thing to shoulder; to admit to the reason behind his behavior when it will only bring them both all the more strife, however, would be far worse. Not because he doubts the limits of Apollo’s strength; it is his own resilience that is threatened by the thought of divulging the extent of his insecurities.

Klavier runs a hand through the strands of hair that have escaped the hasty braid he had tied earlier that evening and attempts an apologetic smile. “Ach, Liebling, there is nothing to tell. It is just work.”

“You’re lying.”

It is stated as a fact, nothing more. But while there is nothing accusatory in Apollo’s tone and his face is perfectly even as he says it, Klavier still feels the words as though they are the sting of an attack.

“Ja?” he responds. “And you promised there would be no bracelet inside the house, did you not?”

What he intends is for the words to sound facetious, a nod to the same kind of fond banter they had indulged in long before the intimacy of a romantic relationship. But Klavier is lying; it is not an offense often committed between them and certainly not one he has reveled in or perpetuated out of malice, now. Still, to be seen through so shifted his smile without meaning to. Klavier can feel it teetering on the edge of a sneer that feels both unfamiliar and familiar all at once.

What follows, then, is a long pause.

A lifted arm, a proffered bare wrist, is Apollo’s only response.

That gesture feels more devastating than the aftermath of an actual, physical fight. Klavier can feel the air exit his lungs in a sharp hiss of remorse, his posture on the plush sofa of their study crumbling as he leans forward to place his head into his waiting hands.

“That was uncalled for,” Klavier begins, though his voice is muffled by the skin of his palms pressed firmly against his speaking mouth. “I am sorry, Schatz, I—“

But his words are interrupted by the sudden creak of sofa springs, the cushions on either side of Klavier dipping under the newly applied weight of Apollo’s knees. There is the feeling of Apollo’s warm fingers wrapping around the skin of his wrists, gently pulling his hands away from his face.

“I know you, Klavier,” Apollo says softly; his voice is so uncharacteristically gentle that the words sound less like a statement and more the sweetest declaration of love. Maybe they are. After all, Klavier has been loved before. But being actually, truly known? He glances up into Apollo’s brown eyes, warm with determination and affection. “I don’t need the bracelet to see when you’re upset. If you don’t want to talk about it right now, I understand, but you don’t have to go around pretending everything is okay when it isn’t.”

“Bold words for someone who insists upon always being fine, ja?” Klavier murmurs, another half hearted attempt at humor that falls flat in what little space exists between them.

Apollo still lifts the edge of his lips in a small, humored smile of concession. “In court, maybe. But not with you. We all need to be vulnerable, sometimes.”

The breath that Klavier exhales wavers under the strain of unspoken emotions, his eyes fluttering closed just as Apollo leans forward to place a featherlight kiss against the center of his forehead, against his cheekbone, against the corner of his downturned mouth.

“You can trust me, Klavier,” he concludes. “I’ll always be here, whenever you’re ready, okay?”

Klavier finds he does not have the words to respond, then, even as the sound of fabric rustling against fabric fills the air and the hands holding Klavier’s wrists retreat. Their absence is felt immediately in the lack of warmth as Apollo slides back off the couch and onto his feet.

“Apollo?”

Apollo’s footsteps stall halfway through the door.

Klavier still finds he needs to clear his throat before he can continue to speak, swallowing back the sentiments that have collected there that he is otherwise unable to express. “Could you stay? Bitte. Just for a moment.”

This is a weakness Klavier should not afford himself. It is selfish to ask Apollo to comfort him when Klavier cannot even bring himself to explain precisely why he requires it. But Apollo’s eyes are soft when they find Klavier’s gaze once again, inexplicably fully of acceptance and, beyond that, what Klavier knows is love.

“Yeah,” he nods, “of course.”

Apollo stays far longer than a moment, his fingers combing through the strands of Klavier’s loose hair under the fading light that filters in though the slightly open window. They don’t speak, but the steady rhythm of Apollo’s breath in the otherwise silent room, the gentle pressure of his fingers, is enough to distract him from the tumultuous cascade of his own thoughts.

#this continues the trend of people asking me for one thing and me willfully misunderstanding the nature of the prompt!#and writing something entirely different!#just trying to subvert everyone's expectations jadshfskjdfhks #okay but literally that first anon is from like two years ago #SORRY DUDE #valentines day kiss prompts #ronsenburg tries to write #klapollo

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shattersstar · 4 years ago

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i love you and we’re inventing a new way to hold hands

pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

excerpt: You smiled, you always smiled at him when no one else did. You let your hand fall over his, slowly pushing him off, knees tucking underneath your body as you leaned forward, a hand falling on his chest, nose nudging his and you were so close Jason almost had to go cross eyed to look at you. You let out a breathy laugh, fingers curling into his shirt before you kissed him.

warnings: canon typical violence, fluff, good communication™️

a/n: teehee a little break from requests because @dukethmas commented “i love you and we’re inventing a new way to hold hands” on this fic and i thought it was very pretty and resonated something deep in me so i thought i’d write something for zohra. It’s mostly a thank u for all ur wonderful comments i could be having the worst day or be tired of writing then u sweep in and just say the sweetest and point out such great things and it makes me love writing so thank u ily

—

He knew he loved you, it was one of the only things he was sure of. It wasn’t as jarring as he expected it to be, everyone in books and movies were jolted by love—shot by arrows or struck with realization or the words shouted so clearly in their direction—it was meant to catch you off guard. But for him, it crept through his apartment door, nestled on his couch and hung around during movie nights or study sessions, danced through the air when you’d sing purposely loud in the shower and sat on the counter in the kitchen when you bickered over breakfast about coffee or almonds or sleeping in socks of whatever.

So when you kissed him, hard—daring even—the love that had moved into his life was still there and it only smiled. Just like you, smiling wide when he kissed you back, fingers curling into his shirt, wrinkling it even more as he grasped your waist. He never wanted to stop kissing you—that thought was a bit more jarring, but he also hadn’t expected to kiss you, ever. Jason hadn’t really expected to kiss anyone in truth, he wasn’t good at romance, he didn’t even try to be. Sure he could flirt until his tongue fell off, and often shot far more than kind smiles to strangers when out, but romance, love, dating? That was a pipe dream, something he’d ignore in the early mornings when he’d return from patrol battered and bruised and still so fucking broken.

Then you showed up and maybe it was more than a dream. It was a goal. You treated love like that, something to be worked at, achieved, and worked at until your fingers bled and tears stained your cheeks. “Everything is a work in progress.” You’d mutter, half asleep and oddly philosophical at four in the morning. He laughed when you first said in, cheek pressed against his broad chest, the vibrations were warm and made you smile as you blinked up at him, half dazed and eyes glassy. He smiled down at you, nose nudging your forehead, eyes unable to stop themselves from dropping to your sleepy grin before you pressed yourself back against him. You were curled up on the couch, legs tucked underneath you while he sat next to you, Jeopardy muted as you dozed. He watched the show in silence, listening to the shift in your breathing, although it only lasted a few minutes as you head lulled forward unexpectedly, startling you both and waking you up out of your nap.

“Jesus Christ—“ You huffed, as you came to, once again making Jason laugh. You both didn’t comment on the way his hands jumped, ready to catch or hold or whatever, you before falling against his thighs.

“Enjoy your nap?” He teased as you shifted away, palm digging into your eye.

“Shut up. How long did I—“

“Few minutes.”

“I’m probably gonna go home then, I think if I fall asleep here again I won’t like—get up.” You shrugged, swinging your feet to the ground when a hand shot out, resting on your knee.

Jason hadn’t thought before doing, and he was acutely aware of the way his fingers flexed when your eyes dropped to his hand, gripping the fabric of your jeans, fingers long and cold.

He was always cold, even if you never asked you knew why, why he tensed when your shoulders bumped and you’d shudder, or how holding your hand was never an option because of how you’d shiver—arm prickling in goosebumps. You didn’t blame him, why would you, but you knew he didn’t like this odd quirk of his, didn’t like to address, notice it, have it happen. So you ignored it with him.

Until now, until you shuddered for different reasons.

“As comfy as your couch is—“

“No.” He breathed, your eyes moving from his hand to his face, uncertainty hung in your expression.

“No?”

“You can sleep in my bed. With me.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

You smiled, you always smiled at him when no one else did. You let your hand fall over his, slowly pushing him off, knees tucking underneath your body as you leaned forward, a hand falling on his chest, nose nudging his and you were so close Jason almost had to go cross eyed to look at you. You let out a breathy laugh, fingers curling into his shirt before you kissed him. He often revisited this moment, when he’d be out of the city, even when it was just a long night and he missed you. Missed you looking at him with so much adoration, letting your lips meet and not flinching away when his hands found your sides, pressing into the soft curves when you let his tongue explore your mouth, both of you pulling away, chests rising and falling visibly. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

And you did, you slept in his bedroom almost every night, even when he moved, the safe house you were used too suddenly a little less safe. You didn’t really move in though, he knew that was never really an option. You couldn’t not have a place to go when you argued or be responsible for it all if he died on patrol, and you needed your apartment so you could put photos of him. He didn’t like them, he never liked looking at himself—he always looked so off.

He was too thin as a kid, even as Robin he was all skin and bone, arms a little too long and hair an unruly mess of curls. Then he came back, tall and broad, but now his hair was streaked in white and his eyes weren’t brown anymore. They were a vivid green, another effect from the pit and he hated them. You had seen photos of him as a kid, the difference was quite stark, the deep auburn they once were now replaced with a gemstone sort of green, sharp and intense. Sometimes you wondered if his eyes were still brown, if they’d bore into your soul the way they do now. You once suggested contacts, the most you ever dared to touch upon the subject, you earned a half scoff, half laugh and shrugged it off.

Although, it was hard to hate his eyes when he got to look at you like this, sleeping in a chair beside his bed as the morning rolled over. It was still blue—everything; the sky, the clouds, the light streaming in, the rain hitting the pavement, the sadness in the air. He had come home half dead and your tears were blue too. Your arms were folded on his mattress, head turned and resting on them. He shifted, recognizing the space as Leslie’s clinic, your blood stained jacket tossed on the small table, his gear next to it. He let his head fall into the pillows, a long breath pushing past his lips. You weren’t ever supposed to see him like this, weren’t supposed to deal with these parts of his life, the parts he kept hidden and stored away, stacking atop of shoulders.

“Jay?” He hadn’t realized he closed his eyes, until they blinked open to find you staring back at him, expectant and so fucking scared.

Suddenly, it was hard to appreciate his sight, appreciate your face.

And still, because you’re you and you’re so good compared to him, you smile. Bright and warm—too warm for this blue morning.

“Are you okay?” You both asked, a moment of silence falling afterwards as you let out a sharp exhale.

“Of course I’m fine.” You dismissed, and he couldn’t help, but knit his brows, jaw clenching because there is nothing of course about this. The words slipped from his mouth, still too drugged out and exhausted to stop himself.

“This isn’t—you’re not supposed to have to deal with this. Its ‘posed to be hidden.”

“Jason, everything with you is hidden.” You sighed, carefully climbing onto the bed, head resting on his good shoulder. You kept your arms tucked close, willing yourself to not reach out and pull him into your embrace—scared to hurt him and scared to let your words die in the air. “And it’s fine, we aren’t exactly living normal lives, and you’re still allowed normal things. You’re allowed to be closed off or secretive or touchy about subjects, that’s all fine. It’s when they start getting too much is when its not and I think they’ve been too much for a while.” You explained, voice wavering and quieter than you planned. He closed his eyes again, love sitting at the edge of the bed and waiting with you. He wanted to kick it out—you out, wanted to push you away and let himself be cold and avoid his reflection because you’re not smiling over his shoulder as he stood in front of the sink anymore, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to hurt you, or himself anymore because maybe deep down he knew he didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve to live a life where he pushed your kindness and patience away.

“You don’t have to say anything, now or ever, but you also aren’t alone Jay. I love you and I’m not going anywhere.” You confessed, lips meeting his bare shoulder, noting the way he tensed. Now love was in your throat and on your tongue and he didn’t know how to say it back, how to love you like you wanted—needed, but god, he’d try until his lungs heaved and blood poured from his body. So he looked down at you, a crooked grin tugging at his lips as he carefully shifted, turning into you and bringing a hand to your face, ignoring the way his hurt shoulder hissed in pain.

And he knew the words would get choked up in his throat, so he found the love you stored in your mouth, in your hands, in your eyes, in yours voice, in your care, in everything about you and filled it up with his kisses. Lips meeting slow and heavy, breathing you in and tasting you. Jason knew this wouldn’t be easy, his life wasn’t meant to be, but he did know he was meant to be with you.

And it wasn’t jarring.

It settled into his bones and stayed with him—always.

#i hope you like it ahh #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc x reader #dc imagine #writing #dont disturb the ghost of queue

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abbacchiosbelt · 4 years ago

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here, it’s 3 AM and i’m feeling wild so have a 10k word unfinished fic. key word is UNFINISHED, so don’t go in expecting a proofread work. some things will literally just say ‘ADD MORE’, lmao, but i thought i’d share this because i did put a lot of work into it, i just don’t think i’ll ever finish it...

it’s Goro Akechi / F!Reader. rated M for violence, some sexual content, and unhealthy relationships. i have not finished P5R and it wasn’t even out when i was playing this, so... yeah. with that in hand, enjoy i guess

Cancelled WIP [Goro Akechi x F! Reader ] 10k words, not proofed and not complete.

A familiar and delicious aroma filled the air as you entered Café Leblanc. Ren nodded at you from behind the counter as you walked in, hastily working to whip up several different blends of coffee. It was a lazy Sunday morning, and the ex-Phantom Thieves had decided to have a chill day, as Ryuji affectionately called it. An opportunity to spend time together was rare. Even if it just meant relaxing, being together would be worth it.

Ryuji and Futaba were already there. Futaba was tucked away in her usual corner, typing away at her laptop. She gave you a short wave from behind the screen. Evidently Ryuji had spent the night, still clad in a pair of pajamas while he flipped through a manga. He lifted his hand for a high-five as you took a seat next to him at the counter, which you gladly obliged. Morgana popped his head up from the seat next to you and stretched. You reached a hand over and gave him a chin scratch, eliciting a purr from him.

Between purrs, he spoke. “This still doesn’t mean I’m a cat.” “Yeah, yeah…” you replied, giving him one final pat. Morgana seemed satisfied and curled back up, keeping his head titled towards the door. “Morning.” Ren said, sliding a cup of coffee in front of you. You closed your eyes for a moment and leaned your head down, taking in the aroma. Perfection. You took a sip and grinned. “This is perfect. As always.” You took another sip of the perfectly iced coffee, which was sweet with a slight hint of bitterness. Just how you liked it. “You and Ryuji are the only ones who take it iced, so I’m glad I could perfect it.” Ren said. “Of course you could. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you make it better than Sojiro.” You winked in response and Akira chuckled. “Plus, you like us the best.” Ren laughed again before moving back down the counter to continue working on making coffee for the rest of your friends. Yusuke arrived next, a sketch book tucked neatly underneath his arm. He sat at the end of the counter and surveyed the scene for a moment.

“Ryuji,” he stated, opening up his sketchbook. “Don’t move. You don’t move either.” Yusuke said, pointing at you. You pointed at yourself, looking confused.

“I’d like to get a sketch of all of you today.” Yusuke replied, eyes already flitting back and forth between the sketchbook and the scene in front of him. “Hm, looks like I’ll have Morgana too. Ren will have to be later…” His voice trailed off and you could tell he was already in his own world. There was nothing else to do, so you intended to stay still for Yusuke’s sake.

A moment later Haru and Makoto arrived, arms linked together. They looked happy. They were the first of the Phantom Thieves to pair off, though you had noticed their glances and subtle hints of affection before they would admit to it. You had seen the same actions between Ryuji and Ren, though they were much more coy about it.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Ann bursting through the door shortly after, arms stacked full of all sorts of sweet tweets.

“Can I get some help?” Ann cried out as a box of sweets wobbled on top of the stack. You jumped out of your seat to help, eliciting a loud groan from Yusuke and a snicker from Ren and Ryuji in the corner. You helped Ann set the sweets down and she gave you a quick hug before heading to the end of the counter to sit with Makoto and Haru.

“Sorry, Yusuke…” You mumbled, and he waved his hand in the air.

“No matter, I can start a new one. Would you care to sit there again?” He said, flipping to a new page. You nodded in response, ready to head back over before the door chimed again. You felt your heart jump. Akechi was invited today, of course, but he often showed up late. He looked nervous as he walked in the door. There was a noticeable silence before Ren finally broke it.

“Glad you’re here, Akechi.” Ren said, nodding towards him. The rest of the group greeted him as well, and you could see the tension drop from his shoulders. Akechi’s face lit up when he saw you, his stride quick as he made his way to greet you. Out of sight of the others, he lightly grazed your hand. You smiled at the affection.

“Sorry again Yusuke, but I think we’re going to sit in a booth for now.” You said sheepishly, feeling guilty about stopping his progress again.

“That’s quite all right. I think I’ve got a new idea anyways.” Yusuke replied, not taking his eyes of his sketchbook. You could tell he wasn’t angry, but you still felt bad. Akechi’s light touch on your hand again brought you out of your thought. You picked the booth closest to the stairs to sit together, Ren and Ryuji not far from the two of you. Ren gave you a curious look when he noticed Akechi was sitting on the same side of the booth as you, your face flushing. He had always known about the two of you. He was too observant sometimes.

You turned your focus away from Ren’s gaze and towards Akechi.

“I’m glad you decided to come today.” You said, smiling at him. He smiled in return, and you felt his hand lightly graze your thigh. Much to your surprise, he kept it there, fingers light against your leg. You were no stranger to affection from him, but he was usually reserved in the presence of others.

“I’m glad as well. I wanted to talk to you about something later…” Akechi said, his face turned towards you. It often seemed like he was in his own world. “Privately. But we can spend time here now, of course.”

“Sure.” You said, glancing over at Ren again. He had returned to making coffee for everyone, but you saw him give you a smirk. You stuck your tongue out at him and you saw him laugh as he turned away. You turned your attention back to Akechi, who hadn’t said anything more.

Akechi’s fingers began to tap out a rhythmic pattern on your leg under the table. Akechi was more nervous than usual today. You reached your hand beneath the table and wrapped your hand around his, giving it a light squeeze. He seemed to visibly relax next to you.

Sometimes you wished that he was more open with his affection. Before his change of heart, he had been possessive, desperate for your affection and attention. Akechi was careful now, treating you as if you were a precious treasure that could break any moment. Still, he made his affection known. A knowing glance. A whisper so quiet you could barely hear it. His fingers ghosting across your back. They were moments you cherished. Moments that you wanted, needed, more of. Stripped away from his charismatic persona was someone who was hesitant but wished so deeply to be loved. To be needed. The past few months with him had been wonderful, but things hadn’t always been easy.

[ It had been months since the Phantom Thieves had succeeded in their goal of saving the hearts of the public. To most, you were just a regular college student traveling the world. To those closest to you, you were an ex member of the Phantom Thieves. After stumbling your way (happily) into the group, your life had changed.

Goro Akechi was one of those changes. You had found something special with him – a bond so deep that you found it impossible to live without him. A bond so deep that even his betrayal against you and your friends hadn’t been able to split you apart. A bond so deep that he couldn’t swallow his betrayal, leaving him to break away from the bonds of his old life to return to you. And yet, the bond was frayed now, in desperate need of repair.

That’s how you ended up back at your apartment, Akechi standing nervously in your doorway after stopping you on your way back from class. It was a bit intimate, your bedroom and living room being the same area. It wasn’t new to you two – but it felt as if he was afraid to cross that boundary now. Your communication had been limited since the disbandment. You were afraid of being broken again, and he was terrified to lose you.

Akechi eventually came in and settled at one of the seats on your kitchen island. You noticed he was tapping his fingers on the counter.

“I have a question for you.” Akechi finally stated. You plopped down on one of the chairs in your living room, giving him a pointed look. “A question?” You repeated. He nodded before continuing.

“Do you trust me?” Akechi said, eye contact unbreaking. He was intense, as always.

You didn’t want to lie. It’s not that you didn’t want to trust him… but he had attempted to betray all of you before his heart got the better of him. It wasn’t a simple thing to forgive. He carried sins on his back that he would spend his whole life atoning for. And yet, if Haru had managed to forgive him for ruining her father’s life, the rest of the thieves knew they should try too. Your feelings for him made it even harder. You knew better than anyone not to give it away yet.

“No.”

He let out a sigh in response, pushing his hand through his hair. “I suspected as much.”

It wasn’t easy to reject him like this. The moments you had shared, still tender in your mind. The way he smiled at you. The way he looked at you with such adoration. The way he had broken your heart. The moments you had shared together bonded you for life. Akechi’s reveal, and subsequent change of heart made you wary. You weren’t sure how to begin trusting him again. And yet, you still loved him so deeply that you couldn’t imagine life without him.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m incapable.” You said. Akechi looked surprised. “Of trusting you, I mean.”

He didn’t say anything in response, choosing to look down at his hands instead. His fingers were still tapping.

“Let’s start over.” You got up as you spoke and crossed the short distance, stepping in front of him. You put your hand out. “Nice to meet you, Goro Akechi.”

He looked startled. You watched him hesitate, unsure of whether he should touch you. He paused for another moment before reaching his hand out and grasping yours. You had missed his touch, and by the look on his face, he had missed yours as well.

“Nice to meet you too.” He said quietly, letting go of your hand. You smiled.

It was a start. ]

“Goro,” You said softly, squeezing his hand again. “Are you okay?”

He paused before responding, his thumb brushing against your hand while he thought. “I am... I’m just troubled by my thoughts today.”

You squeezed his hand again. Akechi often had unwelcome thoughts, as you had quickly learned. He was conditioned to be that way – to automatically assume the worst. To assume that no one loved him or cared for him.

“I love you, Goro.” You said, leaning into him. He relaxed into your side and placed a chaste kiss on your head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked.

“Ah, I’m okay. Besides,” Akechi said, giving you a small smile. “We’re here to enjoy ourselves, hm?”

“If you’re sure.” You replied, smiling back at him. It was hard to get him to open up. He was guarded – your questions always deflected easily with his signature smile. When you had learned the truth from the mouth of the cognitive Akechi, you understood why he hidden himself away. When the two of you had begun your relationship, officially this time, he finally let his walls down.

[ The first time you went on a date with Akechi, you made a trip to Odaiba Seaside Park. It had been raining on and off, so you figured it’d be a quiet day. With the events of the past still fresh, you wanted to keep things simple.

Akechi had always seemed different with you. His voice was soft and sweet, free of anxieties. When he was with you, he took off the mask. It was a subtle change, but one you’d begun to pick up on. Before, he had hidden so much from you, his secrets and pain pulling him away from life. Now was a chance for both of you to start over, to experience each other as a whole.

The day had started off pleasant – a peaceful walk down the boardwalk with plenty of conversation. You could tell he was feeling at ease, and you were too.

As the sun began to go down, you and Akechi had decided to grab a bite to eat. The only stand still open was serving ice cream, which delighted you. After grabbing your cones, you made your way back down the boardwalk, hoping to find somewhere to sit. Akechi had started another conversation while you walked.

“Are you enjoying it?” He said, smiling at you.

“It’s delicious!” You replied, grinning at him.

Before you could ask him the same, a loud voice interrupted you.

“Oi, aren’t you that shitty detective?”

You looked up to see a group of people, now leering in your and Akechi’s direction. You looked to Akechi, his face still unchanged, but hand gripping his ice cream cone harder.

“Yes. Can I help you with something?” Akechi replied, his voice sharp. It was a stark contrast from his voice with you.

“We’re just wondering why you think it’s okay to show your face around here.” One of the young women in the group said, stepping closer to the two of you. “You’re real fucked up!”

You reached out to grip Akechi’s hand, tugging it gently. He didn’t move.

One of the men piped up next. “Yeah, and now you’ve tricked this dumb little bitch too! She must be real stupid to be with you.”

“Don’t you dare talk about her.” Akechi said, breaking free of your hand and taking a step forward. His face was contorted, eyes angry.

The group laughed, and Akechi tensed. Another member of the group spoke up. “What are you gonna do, little boy detective? You don’t know how to do anything!”

You watched Akechi’s hand ball into a fist. You took another step towards him, and glared at the group.

“Just leave. Please.” You said, trying to be polite, though you wanted to scream at them. You had hoped it would make them go away faster.

One of the women laughed. “Oooh, can’t even defend himself, he’s got his little girlfriend to stand up for him instead!”

“Why don’t you come with us, baby? We’re a lot of fun!” One of the men said. You could feel Akechi shaking now, trying to control his anger. You didn’t know what to do.

“L-let’s just leave, Goro.” You said, tugging at his shirt. He hesitated before he turned back to you, his face still laced with anger. The group leered and chanted at you, but thankfully they didn’t follow as you walked further down the boardwalk.

Akechi was silent as you walked, and you weren’t sure quite what to say either. You found a more secluded area and led him to it, turning to face him.

“Goro? Are you okay?” You said.

Akechi’s hands were shaking. “You think I’m weak. A coward.”

He kept his eyes downcast, nor daring to look at you.

“That’s not true.”

“But I couldn’t even say anything.” He replied, still looking away from you. “I’ve ruined things. This whole day.”

“Goro, please. It’s okay. Talk to me.” You said. He was still looking away.

You took a step towards him and he looked up at you, his eyes watery. “I failed you. Again. And I’m going to keep failing you, and you’ll leave like all the rest, and I’ll be miserable just like I deserve.”

“Goro…” You said softly. “Can I hug you?”

He paused for a moment. In times like these, he was usually berated or screamed at, told that he was better off not being in this world. But you had changed things for him, responding to his bursts of emotion with kindness and care.

He nodded, and you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. He was taller than you, but you felt him crumple in your touch, his face buried in your neck. You felt him shaking in your touch, his hands gripping the back of your shirt tightly.

“Shh… It’s okay.” You said. You were glad no one seemed to be around. The intimacy of this moment was something to be cherished. “You have me, Goro. I’m not going anywhere.”

You heard a sob choke out of him, muffled by your shoulder. He was still shaking. You led him to bench behind you.

“Let’s sit down for a minute, okay?” You said quietly. He nodded, and the two of you made your way to the bench and sat down. Akechi had been hesitant to touch you, afraid to let himself feel comfort.

“We could… We could still be close to each other?” Akechi said, sounding very unsure. You weren’t even sure if he asked a question. “If that’s okay…”

“Of course.” You replied, scooting next to him. His body was still shaking. You felt him slowly put his arm out, hesitating to wrap it around you. You looked up to find him studying your face. His eyes were still puffy, but the tears had stopped. “Do you want to talk more?”

He wrapped his arm around you. His touch was still light, but it made you happy. “Not right now. It’s just… you just look very nice right now. You’re just calming to look at.”

It was your turn to blush. You laid your head on his shoulder and heard him take a sharp intake of breath.

“Ah, I’m sorry Goro, I did that without thinking.” You said, quickly lifting your head. He was still looking at you.

“No, please… It felt nice.” Akechi said. “It’s just… I’ve missed you. So much.”

You laid your head back down and felt him squeeze his arm around you tighter. He leaned his head down towards yours.

“I don’t want to lose you again.” He said, lips lightly brushing your forehead. “Let’s stay like this. Just for a bit.”

You stayed there for an hour, bodies comfortably pressed together, silent. You didn’t have to use words to know that the both of you were making up for lost time. ]

Since that day at the park, you had made an effort to always communicate with him. To really understand how he was feeling, and to help him as best as you could. You couldn’t fix a person. No, that wasn’t possible. But you were doing your best to help guide Akechi through life now, encouraging him to seek help and begin healing.

“Are you okay?” Akechi said, startling you. You had been lost in your own thoughts.

“Just thinking about you.” You replied, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “And how much I want to kiss you.”

Akechi’s cheeks turned pink. He still became flustered from praise and affection, having gone so long in his life without it. You delighted in making him happy.

You wanted to fluster him more, but an exclamation from Futaba interrupted you.

“It’s movie time!” She said, picking up her laptop triumphantly.

“Wait, we’re not watching it on that, are we?” Ann said. Futaba had a fancy gaming laptop, but the screen was too small for all ten of you.

“No, no, Ren has a fancy surprise upstairs for us.” Futaba replied. Ren just hummed in agreement before taking his apron off, having finished making drinks for the group. Futaba rushed ahead of you, Morgana trailing right behind her. The rest of the group followed suit, leaving you and Akechi to follow behind. Akechi reluctantly let go of your hand and got up, but extended it again to help you up.

“Why thank you, my prince.” You said, giggling and taking his hand.

“Anything for my princess.” He replied, stifling his own laugh. It was silly, but you two had found pleasure in calling each other pet names.

When you reached Ren’s room you were surprised to see the changes – twinkle lights adorned all the rafters, and what used to be an old CRT had been replaced by a large flat screen TV. There was some sort of blanket pile set up in the middle, most of your friends already sprawled out. A salt rock was letting off a gentle glow in the corner.

“Wow, Ren, this looks nice!” You said. Ren shrugged, but you saw him smile.

“He wanted to make it fancy n’ all for you guys. Both of us pitched in to buy this awesome TV!” Ryuji said, giving Ren a slap on the back. Ren just rolled his eyes, but you could tell he liked the attention. Both of them sat back down together, Ryuji’s arm slinging around Ren’s shoulder. Not so subtle anymore, you thought.

Akechi sat down near the back of the room, patting for you to sit down next to him. You had other ideas as you plopped yourself in-between his legs, resting your back on his chest. You heard him inhale sharply. He leaned his head towards you, lips brushing the top of your ear.

“In front of the others?” He said, resting his lips on your ear.

“Mm. It’s fine with me. Are you okay with it?” You said.

“Y-yes. Very much so.” He replied. You twisted around to look at him and gave him a soft smile.

“It makes me feel safe.” You said. He hummed in satisfaction, snaking his arms around your waist.

Futaba stood at the front of the room and clapped her hands. You were happy that she felt so confident now.

“Alright, it’s time for our feature film. For today’s pick, we’ll be watching ZAW 2!” Futaba said, hitting play on her laptop and scrambling to sit down.

Oh no. You weren’t exactly a fan of horror movies, especially ones with lots of blood and guts. You shifted uncomfortably, already nervous. Akechi gave you a gentle squeeze. He didn’t know about your dislike of horror movies, and now wasn’t the best time to let him know.

The beginning of the movie wasn’t even safe – the screen was immediately filled by the image of a mutilated body and the sound of a loud scream. Why the hell had Futaba picked this movie? You looked around the room, finding some eyes glued to the TV and some joining you in averting their eyes. Makoto was stress-eating some of the chocolate Ann had brought with her. You glanced up and saw Akechi was watching. You didn’t want to ruin the movie for him.

The next scenes were even worse, somehow increasingly violent. You were staring at the floor now, your heart racing. You could have tried to tolerate it if there was a plot, but it just seemed like a cheap movie for shock value. You shifted your body so you could rest some of your face on Akechi’s chest, curling as close to him as possible.

He lifted an arm from your body to reach your head, his hand gently stroking your hair.

“Not a fan?” He whispered. You shook your head. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

It was just a movie, but you felt reassured. He was always so gentle with you, his words never hiding malice behind them. He had always been gentle with you.

[ The first time you realized you and Akechi loved each other involved a grievous injury.

The Phantom Thieves had been in Mementos for most of the day, training and trying out different combinations of party members. Ren and Makoto had come up with an exhaustive list of combinations to try against different enemies, ranking them as they went.

You and Akechi had been in the party together multiple times today, both of you working together quite well. Though you tended to work well with everyone, something just clicked with him. Though the circumstances of his membership to the Phantom Thieves weren’t what you would call ideal, you and Akechi had made fast friends. He was always there to help you out, and you were always there to encourage him, inside and outside of battle.

And though you kept it hidden away from the others, you would often find yourself messaging Akechi late into the night, both of you unable to sleep. On hard days, you’d find him waiting for you after classes with your favorite drink, a dazzling smile on his face. Sometimes you’d even meet up and stroll through the darkness together, talking about whatever came to mind. You wondered if perhaps your bonding outside of battle is what made you two work so well together.

Ren had finally called for the last fight of the day, calling forth the two of you along with Ann. You were exhausted, but you knew everyone else was too. A few minutes later your party encountered a particularly tough group of enemies, Ren immediately calling out orders.

You had been hit a couple times, but not hard enough that you thought you needed healing. Akechi had insisted you heal yourself, but you reminded him of the limited rations the group had left. He reluctantly left the subject alone. The first two enemies went down thanks to Ann and Akechi. The last enemy left was enraged, its attacks suddenly hitting much harder.

“Just a little more!” Ren yelled. You watched as Akechi readied his Persona for a final attack and felt your heart jump when you saw the enemy suddenly rushing him, eyes ablaze.

“CROW!” You screamed, jumping in front of him without a second thought. You felt your body fly back, back slamming into the ground with enough force to crack it. The pain was immediate, searing and all-consuming.

Your vision was hazy, eyes heavy. You tried to move, to raise your hand, but nothing happened. You couldn’t even speak, a low groan leaving your throat instead. Pain bloomed from your chest, warm blood starting to seep from your injury. You tried to move again and your body burned, blood suddenly bursting from your mouth as you coughed.

You heard screaming, both your teammate’s and the scream of the shadow who had been destroyed. It was getting harder to see. Someone had come to your side, hands fluttering over your body.

“Hurry! HURRY!” You recognized Akechi’s voice, now strained and desperate. Someone else was beside you now, using whatever SP they had left to cast Recarm. You felt arms under you now, lifting you from the destroyed ground and cradling you to their chest.

“Oh god, please hold on. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Akechi said from above you, voice quiet and shaky. You felt something warm hit your face and realized he was crying. Ren quickly set a plan in motion to get you to the team’s doctor quickly, your body needing extra healing after how much damage you had taken. You wanted to reach up, to assure him you’d be okay, but you were weak. You felt your body start to go limp, Akechi’s voice above you again.

“Please, please stay with us—" He was saying more, but all you felt was endless darkness.

You woke up, body still aching. You wondered where you were, unfamiliar sounds and smells overwhelming you. It smelled… sterile. Your eyes were still heavy, fluttering as you tried to open them. You blinked, looking down at your body covered in bandages and hooked up to an IV. You remembered the screaming, the crack of your back as you had hit the ground and the feeling of the warm blood that covered your body.

It must have been bad, you thought. None of you had ended up in the hospital yet. Your thoughts were broken by a sudden voice.

“She’s awake!” You recognized Futaba’s voice, looking over to see her and Ren sitting next to your bed.

You tried to sit up, wincing as your body rejected the movement.

“Ah, don’t hurt yourself more! We were so worried.” Futaba said, she and Ren standing from their seats to move closer to you. You heard her sniff, watching as tears ran down her face.

“We thought we lost you.” Ren said, placing his hand over yours gently. You smiled at both of them, grateful they were here.

“I’m going to let everyone know.” Futaba said, digging her phone out of her pocket. Ren was running his thumb over your hand, his eyes downcast. You didn’t have any concerns about the gesture – his feelings for Ryuji were obvious. Instead, he seemed troubled.

“I’m sorry.” Ren said, looking back up at you. “I pushed us too hard.”

You simply looked at him, too tired to speak. You didn’t blame him. You squeezed his hand in response, trying to communicate your feelings. You sighed, your body urging you to go back to sleep.

“Rest, we’ll be here when you wake up.” His voice was reassuring, his hand still gently touching yours as you closed your eyes and drifted back off to sleep.

You were awoken this time by the sound of bickering.

“Shut up, Ryuji! You’re going to wake her up!”

“You’re going to wake her up with your loud mouth!”

“The both of you, quiet down.”

Ryuji and Ann, you thought. Morgana too. A quiet giggle left your mouth, followed by sudden silence.

You opened your eyes to find all your friends staring at you, eyes wide.

Haru spoke first, rushing to your side and grabbing your hand. “Oh my goodness, it’s so good to see you!”

You smiled at her and gently squeezed her hand back. Makoto joined her, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“We’re so glad you’re okay.” Her voice was soft, not as confident as usual.

“You idiots, you woke her up!” Morgana said, hopping up on the end of your bed. You could hear him purring. “Sorry about those two.”

Ryuji and Ann ignored him, walking over to greet you. Ann reached down to hug you gently and you leaned into her embrace as best you could, happy to see them.

Ryuji looked more awkward, his hand behind his head. “Thought you bit the dust for a minute.”

“Ryuji!” Ann said, standing and smacking him on the back of the head. “Not the time.”

Ryuji grumbled, pushing Ann over to wrap you in a hug. “Oi, she knows I’m joking.”

You weakly laughed and winced slightly under Ryuji’s hug, slightly too tight. Ryuji let go and you saw Yusuke hovering at the end of your bed.

“It’s good to see you’re okay.” He rummaged through a bag for a second, pulling out a small sketchbook. “I’ve worked on some things for you to look at while you recover. I know you’ll enjoy them.”

You smiled at Yusuke’s show of affection. Ren and Futaba were still there too, both of them coming to greet you once more. You heard a soft knock at the door, everyone’s head turning at the noise. Akechi stepped into the frame, his hands clenched tightly. You thought you saw a hint of anger on some of their faces. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Could I… come in?” Akechi said, his voice hesitant.

“Of course.” You replied, your voice hoarse. It was the first time you had spoken since you had woken up. Akechi stepped in, clearing his throat before he spoke again.

“May I have a moment with her? Alone?” He said. You saw Ryuji shoot Ren a look. Ren seemed hesitant, but finally grumbled a noise of approval.

Haru and Makoto reluctantly left your bedside, Haru squeezing your hand one more time. Everyone left the room save for Ren. He turned to look at you, placing his hand on yours again.

“Are you okay with this?” He said, looking intently at you. It felt strange. Why were they acting like this?

You nodded at him and he let go. He went to leave, pausing to look at Akechi. You couldn’t see Ren’s gaze, but the look on Akechi’s face told you it wasn’t friendly. Ren looked back at you one more time before leaving, gently sliding the door shut behind him.

Akechi stared at you for a moment before walking towards the side of your bed, eyes downcast. You eyed him curiously. All of this was so strange.

“Hi.” You said, smiling. He looked up at you, the hint of a smile on his face.

“Hello.” He replied. His hand hovered over yours, unsure. You moved your hand to touch his gloved fingertips, watching as his body relaxed. He laid his hand on the bed, fingertips still carefully pressed against yours.

Akechi was staring at you now.

“Do I have something on my face?” You said, weakly laughing. He didn’t laugh.

“You… I’m… I’m so sorry.” Akechi said quietly. You looked at him and watched as a tear slid down his face.

You were confused. You had no idea what had happened, other than the memory of the pain. “Sorry? What for?”

He looked startled at your response, body stiffening, his fingertips pulling away from yours. You missed the touch already.

“You don’t… remember?” He said, giving you an incredulous look.

“Not at all.” You replied. You heard him sigh. His hand was gripping your bedsheet tightly. “What happened?”

Akechi was silent, looking into your eyes again. He looked pained. “You took a fatal hit for me.”

Oh. You remembered it vaguely now, the fear in your heart when you saw Akechi was about to be hit. You suddenly understood why your teammates had looked angry – they weren’t exactly warming up to Akechi the way you were.

“I’m sorry. I should have been doing better, it’s my fault that you’re like this—”

“Akechi.” You said, interrupting him. You pushed your hand forward, fingertips touching his again. He didn’t pull away.

“It was my choice. I made a vow to protect my teammates. My friends.” You said. You were starting to get tired again. He opened and closed his mouth, unable to form a response. He just looked at you.

“I… I should have protected you, though.” He said, another tear rolling down his face. “You are the most precious thing in this world to me.”

His face suddenly turned pink at the realization of what he had said. You felt your heart flutter.

“Akechi… You’re important to me too.” You said, smiling at him. He smiled back this time, small and unsure. “You do owe me one though.”

Akechi chuckled. You felt warmth blooming in your chest, ebbing just a bit of the pain.

“Will you stay with me while I sleep?” You said. He nodded and reached to brush a piece of your hair back. The gesture was intimate, his touch light. You closed your eyes, letting your body relax as you tried to go back to sleep.

You felt Akechi slip his hand under yours, fingers gently sliding in-between your own. His skin was warm against yours. You realized he had taken his glove off.

You felt the warmth in your chest again before falling back asleep. ]

Another chorus of screams came from the TV and you curled even tighter into him. The movie was silent for a moment before a loud gunshot came from the screen, causing both of you to jump. You felt your skin begin to prickle, the familiar feeling of anxiety rushing over your skin. It was too much. You had to get out of here. You crawled out of Akechi’s lap and quickly went down the stairs, relief washing over you when the sounds of the TV were no longer loud. You sat in the furthest booth to drown out the sounds completely.

You had never liked guns. You didn’t find them appealing the way a lot of people did, and you had winced upon seeing your teammate’s during your first excursion to the Metaverse. What had sealed the deal for your feel was coming face to face with Akechi’s shadow, and the feeling of his gun pressed harshly against your cheek.

[ You wondered if your friends were going to have to drag your broken and bloody body out of the palace. You wondered if he would be able to handle it, watching himself splatter your brains against the floor. Maybe your thoughts should have been more urgent with the barrel of a gun pressed into your cheek, but hey, no one said looking death in the face had to be rational.

It could have been worse. Akechi could have ambushed you instead of joining you. Akechi’s help had given you the heads up on the majority of Shido’s palace. You didn’t blame him for not expecting to see himself there, twisted and full of malice. Even more, you didn’t blame him for not knowing how cognizant his shadow self would be – all the love he felt for you had seemed to turn to vile hatred in the mind of the other Akechi.

You hadn’t forgiven him, of course. But when he had texted you days after the betrayal in the Casino Palace, you couldn’t ignore the fact that he could help Ren. You couldn’t ignore the sobbing on the phone when you finally picked up, his voice panicky and desperate. And so, with Akechi’s intel and willingness, the plan the Phantom Thieves had set-up went into motion with one exception – the supposed suicide of Ren was not carried out violently by Akechi. Careful planning let the idea spread in the news.

Akechi had groveled at your feet when he finally saw you in person again. It wasn’t easy to accept his help – you would have refused if Ren had rejected him. Akechi had been eager to give every detail he knew, telling the Phantom Thieves the truth about Shido and his manipulation. Thus, the infiltration of the palace had gone smoothly, until you had reached the engine room.

All of you had split up to look around for clues. Everything was normal, until you found yourself on the floor, someone’s shoe digging into your back.

“Ah, the pet.” You recognized the voice – it was Akechi’s. But it wasn’t normal, no, this voice was laced with venom. Your struggling against the floor alerted the rest of the group, horrified gasps resounding throughout the room, something close to a growl leaving Ren’s throat. A moment later you were dragged up by your hair, a hard and cold object suddenly digging into your cheek.

“I thought you would have given up this vice by now.” Cognitive Akechi said, clicking his tongue. You felt the gun dig further into your cheek.

“The fuck is this, Crow?” Ryuji yelled. You saw him take step towards Akechi, who looked horrified.

“I don’t, god, I didn’t know this would happen.” Akechi stuttered out, panic laced in his words.

The cognitive Akechi tugged on your hair harshly, hot pain flaring in your scalp. A sick laugh bubbled out of his throat, and you saw your Akechi tense.

“You know, you were just a tool for him.” The cognitive Akechi said, pulling your face up to look at his. An awful grin was plastered on his face, eyes shining bright red. “Until he got too attached.”

“That’s not true—” You heard Akechi say, the cognitive Akechi interrupting him.

“What a fool you were.” His voice was practically a hiss now as he spoke. “You did all those awful things, and for what? To give it up for this?”

He kicked you in the side, and you cried out in pain. Akechi made a loud noise of protest, and you felt the gun press into your cheek harder.

“Shido was going to get rid of this, anyways.” He said, his faced distorted in a smirk. “And you, too. You meant nothing to him.”

“That’s enough.” Ren said, his voice low and dangerous. “Let her go.”

The cognitive Akechi laughed again, pressing the gun into your cheek again. “One move, and I shoot.”

You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your chest, chest heaving from panic. You were going to die, and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Oh dear, are you frightened?” He said, sneering at you. “I know. Let’s make it personal.”

The cognitive Akechi shot a devilish smile at your Akechi. “Come, then. Do it yourself.”

Akechi looked at you, eyes wide with fear. And then you looked up at your friends, some of their faces stained with tears. Makoto, though, had a look you recognized – determination. You were going to take your chance.

“Please.” You rasped out. You saw Akechi clench his hands into fists. “Please, Goro.”

“I can’t.” He said, his voice shaky. You met his eyes and gave him a hard look, glancing to Makoto next to him. You saw as he bit his lip – he understood.

“Hm, then perhaps I’ll make this drawn out?” You heard the Cognitive Akechi laugh and saw how Akechi tensed again. Akechi met your eyes, fear evident on his face. He took a slow step forward, and again, until he was within shooting range. He summoned his gun, identical to the one in the cognitive Akechi’s, and shakily lifted it, eyes meeting yours again.

The cognitive Akechi made a hum of satisfaction, lowering his gun from your face. A loud shot rang out and you saw the cognitive Akechi stumble backwards, groaning angrily. Makoto’s gun was in the air, smoke flowing from the end of it. The gamble had worked – the cognitive Akechi had been too self-assured, a trait he shared with your Akechi.

You scrambled away as fast as you could and heard another shot ring out, another horrible groan emerging from the cognitive Akechi. You turned back, looking between the two. Your Akechi’s gun was smoking, his hands shaking. The cognitive Akechi was on the floor, eyes wide and staring at you as he died.

It made you feel sick, stomach twisting in disgust as you watched the cognitive Akechi fade into black smoke, your Akechi collapsing to his knees. Your friends rushed over to you, smothering you in hugs and “Are you okays”, each of them talking over the other.

But it was Akechi you were concerned about. You silently got up and kneeled in front of him. A moment later you wrapped around him. He was sobbing, telling you again how sorry he was, how he didn’t want to be like this.

You knew he was carrying around years of pain and hurt, the sting of rejection from everyone in his life that was supposed to love him. He swallowed that bitter pill for years, poison seeping through his veins. He had to account for his own choices – you knew that. But you also knew that despite everything, he was worthy of more.

There was so much you wanted to say. Your heart was still broken – you knew this well. But in this moment, there was only one thing you could say to him.

“I love you.” ]

That day played in your head often, the memory of the cold metal against your cheek vivid and unsettling. It was only a few seconds later that you heard someone descending the steps, then a familiar voice softly calling your name. Akechi came to sit next to you in the booth, his arm wrapping around you.

“I don’t think I was enjoying that movie either.” He murmured, gently rubbing your shoulder. “Do you want to leave?”

Leaving would make you sad – but you had been unaware that today’s movie choice would bother you so much. Besides, on a lucky break, your group would be able to hang out next weekend as well. Time alone with Akechi sounded more appealing.

“Yeah. Let me just text Ren.” You replied. You sent a text saying you weren’t feeling well, but to tell the group you loved them and would see them next weekend. You heard Akechi groan when he saw Ren’s reply, which was simply a winky face emoji.

“Do you want to go on a walk before we go home?” Akechi asked, squeezing your shoulder. You nodded, and Akechi got up and repeated his actions from earlier. You exited the shop, locking the door behind you on your way out.

Akechi’s hand slipped into yours like it had a hundred times before.

Before, when you and Akechi had danced around the nature of your relationship, the idea of no one knowing what the two of you had troubled him deeply. Things were better now, as Akechi had taken the initiative to work on his unhealthy behaviors. Sometimes you’d still notice the way his jaw would clench when a stranger acted a little too friendly, or how his arm would wrap around you just a bit too tight.

[ It didn’t take you long to realize that Akechi was a little bit… possessive. You had been friends with Akechi for a couple months now – your late-night conversations now a norm, his presence besides you during fights a given. He was always checking if you were okay, and always wanted to be around you. You’d seen the slight grimace on his face when you talked to one of the boys in the group, especially if it was Ren.

You didn’t miss the way how sometimes he would say “my” before sweetly calling your name, or how he’d always take you to uncrowded areas to spend time together.

Still, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t you enjoyed his company. You saw through him the second you met – his artificial happiness was hiding a deeply lonely person. So, for the time being, you’d brushed it off as Akechi being insecure.

Once, Yusuke had asked you to model for an outfit he had seen in front of Akechi. By the look on his face, you’d of thought Yusuke had asked you to come over and fuck him. There was no romantic intent in Yusuke’s question – but Akechi was jealous. You accepted Yusuke’s request; you had no reason not to.

It had been a perfectly normal day with Yusuke. The outfit was an elegant, flowing white gown. Yusuke had you pull one sleeve down, exposing your shoulder. The dress hugged your hips and showed the curve of your chest, but in a way that you found sensual. It wasn’t anything you were uncomfortable with. In fact, you had felt beautiful, Yusuke’s small hums while he worked confirming that he was pleased.

During a break, you had sent a silly picture of you making a face in your group chat. Everyone had responded by saying how cute you looked, even with the silly expression. Akechi, however, had responded with something that slightly embarrassed you, a sweeping text of how you were the definition of beauty. The attention did make you feel good, even if his message had been cheesy.

You bit your lip, considering a risky move. Maybe you could send him a personal picture. Nothing too crazy – just a little more… personalized. The next picture you sent was just for him, a selfie of yourself in Yusuke’s pose. Your lips were parted, your hair wrapped delicately around your shoulders, bare skin peeking through. The picture cut off so you could see just the hint of your chest. It didn’t take long for a response.

Akechi: You look ravishing.

Akechi: But I am at work, you know. I can’t be looking at things like this, what would they think?

Akechi: Let me know when you’ll be done. I’ll pick you up. Be safe.

You smiled to yourself, knowing that you had riled him up a little. A moment later Yusuke came back, and you resumed the painting, having to fight to keep the smile off your face.

A few hours later you messaged Akechi to let him know you finished. You and Yusuke exchanged pleasantries before you went to wait outside, still dressed in the gown. The night air felt refreshing on your skin, the beautiful stars above you making it even better.

Akechi’s familiar black car rolled up a few minutes later. Akechi came out to greet you before you even reached the door. You noticed how his eyes had hovered at your chest before meeting your eyes. He opened the car door for you like he always did, and then climbed back in himself.

“Thank you so much.” You said, turning to give him a smile.

“Always. Someone as beautiful as you can’t be walking alone at night.” He said, smiling back at you. You just rolled your eyes, blush creeping over your face. A few minutes passed in silence as he drove, your eyes almost drifting shut to the soft music playing over the radio.

“Are you okay? He didn’t do anything weird, did he?” Akechi said, making you jump. His voice sounded a little off.

“Oh no, I’m fine. Just tired.” You replied. “Yusuke was the same as always.”

Akechi nodded at your response, turning his attention back to the road. A few minutes later you pulled up to your apartment, Akechi seeming reluctant to leave. Well… maybe you could invite him in.

“Do you want to come in and have a drink?” You asked. His face brightened immediately. Once you made it inside, you turned to find Akechi giving you a strange look.

“Is something wrong?” You asked. Before you could say anything else, Akechi had gently pushed you back into the door and captured your mouth in a kiss. When you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, his tongue running along your lower lip. A small moan left your mouth, and you felt Akechi press further into you.

His hand had found its way into your hair, pulling you closer to him. He broke off the kiss for a moment, meeting your eyes. “You don’t know what you do to me.” He said. You recognized the lust in his, face flushed pink. His lips met your again in another fevered kiss, tongues exploring each other’s mouths. He pulled away again and you let out a whine of frustration, low chuckle coming from his throat.

“I can’t believe Yusuke had you all to himself today.” He rasped, voice low. He placed a soft kiss on your lips before continuing.

He trailed his tongue down your jawline until he reached your neck and started placing gentle kisses on it. You wrapped yours arms around him now, pushing his hips flush to yours. He pulled away again. “No one should see you like this. You’re too beautiful.” He whispered before returning to your neck. You could feel the noticeable bulge in his work pants, and you shifted yourself even closer to him. His lips pulled off for you a moment as he let out a strained moan before returning to his ministrations, lips now sucking and nipping at your skin.

He deepened his efforts, his bites making you shudder now. You knew you would have marks tomorrow. Really, you didn’t even know Akechi had it in him to do things like this.

“Goro,” You whined, and you felt his mouth leave your neck. “You’ll cover me in marks.”

He stood up and looked you into eyes, his free hand coming to rest under your chin.

“That’s the point, my dear.” He said, giving you one of those dazzling smiles. “Everyone will know that you’re mine.”

He pulled away, leaving you dazed. His words should have bothered you, but you were still in a state of bliss.

“Now,” he said, gently grabbing your hand. “I’ll get us those drinks. I’m sure you must be tired.” ]

But now, when you would remind him that you loved him and that you weren’t going to leave him, he’d apologize. You had helped him reroute his unhealthy behaviors to other outlets, reminding him that he needed to take care of himself too.

When his hand met yours now, it was a gesture of love.

ADD MORE

[ The first time you felt your heart break, it was because of him.

You didn’t want to believe it. No. NO. They were wrong. You pleaded with them, begged them. He would never do this to them. To you. Ren had put his hand on your shoulder, and told you that he was sorry, so sorry, but this is how things were. How things would have to be for the greater good. How the Phantom Thieves were going to be betrayed. You wanted to scream. But still, you held on, waiting with hope that they were wrong.

You held yourself together when you met up before the Casino infiltration. Your heart pounded when you looked at Akechi. He was acting normal, so normal that you wanted to shake him and ask him what he was doing. Was he really going to do this? Why? You jumped when you felt his hand graze your back, his voice soft.

“Don’t worry.”

You couldn’t even look at him, and he didn’t press you further. Did he know what you knew? No, of course not. He had been outsmarted, and he didn’t even know it.

Akechi had insisted on being on the team, and Ren conceded. You volunteered as well, much to Ren’s concern. Makoto had joined as well. He was right to be concerned – your fighting was off, your mind frazzled. He took you to the side and asked if you wanted to sit out for a bit, but you refused. Your nails dug into your skin as you spoke in hushed tones with Ren, pleading. Akechi gave you two a curious look.

If Akechi had wanted to say something, he didn’t. Instead, you watched as he took hit after hit for you during battle. You felt his gaze on you as you explored the palace, his hand occasionally brushing yours. Every touch felt like another dagger in your heart. How could he do this?

It didn’t take long to complete the palace. The calling card was sent as planned, and the dread in your heart felt even heavier.

The battle was tough, Akechi still taking hits for you, fighting as if it were his sworn duty to protect you. You wanted to cry.

When the treasure emerged, you allowed yourself a smidgen of hope, that maybe it wasn’t true. The group had to split, Ren giving you a knowing look as you insisted on going with Akechi. A look that told you it was true, that this was hopeless. You just grit your teeth and followed Akechi, his emotions still not betraying him.

He stopped, turning to face you. He looked sad.

“It’s true, then.” You said flatly, looking at him. His expression didn’t change.

“I’m sorry.” Akechi said, stepping close to you and wrapping his arms around you. You felt his heartbeat, quick and erratic. You wanted to scream, to hit him, but you couldn’t. You just stepped away, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Why?” Your voice was hoarse, your eyes now on the verge of tears.

He was silent for a moment. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Of course.” Your heart was pounding now, every muscle in your body telling you to run.

“If you come with me, I can still protect you.” He said, his voice sounding weak now.

“Never.” You replied. You looked at him, fire burning in your eyes. You loved him, you hated him. “You lied to us. To me.”

“I—” He started, but you interrupted him.

“No. No.” You were crying now, starting to fall apart. “Fuck. Was everything a lie?”

He tried to step towards you again, but you pushed back against him. He winced at your rejection.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but you couldn’t bear to hear it.

“Just stop. STOP.” You cried out. You turned to leave and felt his hand grab your wrist, his grip tight.

“Please.” He said, his voice cracking. “Don’t leave.”

You turned to look at him, his hand still tight on your wrist. You looked at him, anger coursing through your veins. You loved him. You hated him. You couldn’t say anything.

“I need you.” He pleaded, trying to pull you closer. You dug your heels in, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Only I can protect you.”

“You already failed, Goro.” You hissed at him, his hand finally releasing your wrist. You looked at him one last time before turning and running, his desperate shouts echoing behind you.

It didn’t matter anymore. ]

ADD A LOT MORE OOPS SKIPPING A BUNCH BUT I HAD AN IDEA FOR THE LAST PART

“Is this okay?” He murmured, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. His lips were close to your ear, breath tickling your ear lobe. You nodded, but Akechi didn’t move yet. ��Please, tell me what you want.”

You could feel his lips curl into a smirk against your ear. Devious bastard.

“Goro, please… t-touch me.” You said, voice wavering. He made a hum of satisfaction in response, his fingers dipping under your shirt now and hand running gently over your chest. Your breath hitched in your throat as he maneuvered his other hand under, his soft hands running freely over you now. His fingertips played with the edge of your bra.

“Do you want me to keep going?” He said. You nodded again. He didn’t press you for an answer this time as his hands slid underneath your bra, giving you an experimental squeeze. His fingers brushed across your nipples, thumb lingering over them. You felt him shift underneath you.

“Could I take this off?” He said, lips against your neck now. You felt safe like this, his body surrounding you.

“Yes.” You replied. His hands left your bra and moved to take off your shirt, gently pulling it over your head and placing it neatly to the side. He brushed your hair to one side, placing a kiss on the back of your neck.

“Ah, you’re wearing my favorite.” He said, pressing another kiss to your neck. “It’s almost a shame to take it off.”

“add more” You replied, twisting in his lap to face him. He was watching you with rapt attention as you moved your hands behind your back, unhooking your bra. You slowly slid it off, placing it on top of your shirt. He was speechless for a moment, taking time to watch your chest rise and fall.

“add more” You said, smirking at him. You turned back around, pressing your back against him again. He was warm against your back.

“You’re stunning.” He said, hands wandering back up your exposed body to caress you. There was no pretense with him in private. He said what he meant. For this, you appreciated him. He gently grabbed both your breasts again, fingers taking the time to play with your nipples. A squeak came out of you as he rolled your right nipple between his fingers, testing. You pressed your back into him, his hardness even more evident now.

“Do you like this?” He said, voice low. His other hand began to play with your left nipple, shiver jumping through your spine. You moaned quietly in response, and you felt his chest rumble as he chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes, hm?”

#misc.txt #wip #persona 5 #violence cw #not sfw #goro akechi #UNFINISHED

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chaoticneutralwriter · 5 years ago

Text

Deleted Scene; Off-Chance Meeting

What if Jimin met....Jimin?

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

genre: fluff, romance, angst, comedy, supernatural

word count: 4.2k

Related works: See masterlist under guardian demon!Jimin

A/n: So this was like....a half developed scene that I was going to put in for Interlude: Second Best buuuuut I didn’t want to make the chapter too long because the main focus was guardian demon!Jimin’s POV from the events in the previous chapter. However! It’s been mentioned as a ‘what-if’ so I completed it as a fun deleted scene. Hope you like it and hope yall are doing okay! take care, be safe and I’ll hopefully see you soon again for another update, this time with story progression LOL

BTW! Thanks for the 1,026 follows!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖💖💖💖

Tag List: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatinagirl @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct

Jimin’s game plan to blend in is quite simple because it really only consists of one step; grab a staff member so that he can duplicate the lanyard ID they have. Even though he promised to not use his powers to you for the most part, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t found ways to work around it. He easily locks onto a target — a male staff exiting the artist room to step out into the hallway Jimin’s in, presumably on a short break as he strides down to stop by a vending machine. The male staff has his head down, eyes glued to his phone for a while until finally, he takes a quick glance up to view the selection of snacks before ducking his head again, clearly in no rush at all.

Jimin’s lips quirk and he makes quick work at slipping closer, steps light and so undetectable that he may as well be a ghost rather than a demon. At the last minute, Jimin cloaks himself, sneaking up on the unsuspecting male just as he reaches into his back pocket to grab some change. The demon’s touch feels nothing more than a draft, fingers barely caressing the back of the colourful lanyard hanging around his neck but it’s all he needs. The male staff carries on, punching in the numbers and watches as the bag of chips falls into the slot below. Taking it, he walks away, none the wiser.

Jimin pays no mind to him anymore, focused on slipping the thin silver chain necklace out from under his shirt and with a soft blow of his breath, the silver chain morphs into the lanyard, a perfect copy. Normally, he would do without a need for something tangible to cast the illusion but this way, he wouldn’t have to use too much magic to keep it up — a weight to the illusion is more believable than simply thin air.

Satisfied, he lets the cloaking spell disperse, rolling his neck a little at the relief that he can finally walk around more freely without the worry of hiding or arousing suspicions.

“Now… where to go?” He mumbles quietly to himself, eyes darting before deciding that he should scope out the way to the area under the stage. Just as he rounds the corner though—

“Woah!”

Jimin’s fast reflexes has him jerking back in time before he collides into the other body. With a step back, his eyes immediately catch sight of the sparkly jacket and they widen almost simultaneously in realization.

Face to face with him was none other than his own mirror, Park Jimin of BTS, only he has honey blond hair and a glowing complexion.

“Ah, I’m really sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” His eyes are a little wide, stormy grey contacts shining as he apologizes.

For a moment, he’s frozen, stuck rigid in place with shock and split second panic before realizing that he has the safety of his mouth mask and drawn up hood to protect his identity of being the idol’s face stealer. Also the fact that the idol has yet to pass out from shock at seeing his own clone or give any sort of huge reaction was a good indicator.

“A-Ah….” The demon’s voice catches in his throat, and he awkwardly coughs, embarrassed as he ducks his head and mutters gruffly in Korean, “No, it’s my mistake.”

The singer smiles amicably, teeth showing and gaze so warm and so friendly that the demon almost has trouble meeting it.

“Hey now, don’t worry! It’s nothing serious.” There’s a pause, a slight tilt of his honey blond head before those artificial stormy grey irises blink, brows furrowing. The demon starts to actually sweat, eyes refusing to meet as he unconsciously begins to lean back to put space in between. But there’s no escaping the curious gaze of the twenty-four year old singer. “Ah, I— I don’t mean to sound rude or offensive but…. I don’t believe I’ve seen you before?”

Oh shit, shit, shit, shit…

He swears his plan would’ve been completely foolproof if he hadn’t ran into the very person he’s going around parading as. The chances of the demon running into said idol was 1 in 200 and yet it’s as if fate had cursed him with the unwanted luck a fan could only dream of having. But there’s no time to curse heaven and fuck all because his mind begins to race with possibilities of escaping this situation. Maybe he could get away with enthralling the idol for a quick second, trick him into thinking this is all some sort of hallucination from being overworked and then when he’s all good and spaced out, the demon can make his escape. His fingers just about twitches when the singer’s eyes widen and his mouth opens, face alight with an epiphany.

“Are you perhaps new?”

….What?

A beat unknowingly passes between them, with the demon blinking owlishly at the young man, completely gripped in disbelief and the singer staring back expectantly.

 “Am I mistaken…?”

The hesitancy creeping into that question snaps the demon from his stupor and he finally blurts out, “No, I’m new.”

Relief washes over the idol’s handsome face (he’s never gonna get over how fucking trippy this is to watch), shoulders visibly losing some tension and the singer even places a hand over his chest.

“Ah, that would’ve been really bad — I usually am able to recognize everyone on the team.” His eyes creases again from the smile forming on his face. “Why haven’t we met yet, um….?”

“Ju—“ The demon stumbles on his words, thinking at the last second that your impromptu Korean name you had given him when he met Jaehee sounded too similar to the idol’s so his mind jumps to the next one he remembers off the top of his head. “— yeon….Kang Juyeon. This is my first day.”

Jimin the idol makes a noise of understanding, presumably taking his sloppy introduction as nerves in good strides. He inclines his head graciously in an almost small bow that catches the demon off-guard. “It’s nice to officially meet you Juyeon-ssi. I look forward to working with you.”

He bows robotically in return.

“Are you on break right now?” The young singer asks innocently.

“…Yes…” The answer comes out unsure, like he’s testing the waters and seeing where this could possibly lead — hopefully with the idol leaving him be and carrying on back to the artist room, surely much too busy to entertain a seemingly nervous new recruit. To his surprise though, the demon is proven wrong.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I must be taking up your time. Have you gotten anything to drink or eat yet?”

“Well, no but—“

The idol’s mouth gapes open almost immediately, “Would you like to head over to the catering room now? We can grab something.”

The demon is baffled, to say the least; so taken aback by Jimin’s friendly disposition to someone who he only just met that even though he really shouldn’t be overstaying his welcome like this, a part of him would actually feel guilty for turning down the offer. He’s so glad he’s wearing a mask right now because then the idol wouldn’t have to see the borderline crazed smile slowly stretching over the demon’s lips, the disbelief too strong.

But looking at the original owner of the face he wore, seeing it completely reflect a drastically different personality than his own invokes something in him; a morbid curiosity taking hold and stoking the fire to a long buried question —

Who is Park Jimin?

Beyond the worldwide renown Korean idol and a pretty face with killer vocals and dancing, the demon knows very little about who this person is, this person whom you adore so much. What is it that drew you to him specifically amongst the other members. He highly doubts its looks alone (you’re definitely not the shallow type), or maybe even the amount of talent because from what he gathered, all the members were pretty much on par with each other in all departments.

So what made Jimin special?

He really shouldn’t follow this rabbit down the hole, but he’s a demon by nature and impulsivity is practically his middle name. Without another second thought, he agrees with a nod of his head, “Okay.”

Curiosity really should be a sin.

He gets a blinding smile in response, eyes disappearing and pearly teeth on display (he spies the slight crooked front tooth that somehow only seems to add to the singer’s charm rather than a flaw). They walk off towards the room that acts as a communal dining area for the staff and artists themselves, the large selection of hot foods lined up like a buffet self-serve while there are tables available for anyone who wants to sit down for their meal. There’s only a few staff members gathered there, each preoccupied with their phones or simply grabbing a quick bite to eat before rushing back to where they’re needed.

The singer walks in and of the few people that are hanging around, he inclines his head in greeting to them. The demon has no choice but to follow in order to not draw suspicions (even though he gets a few raised eyebrows from wearing a full hood and mask but is ultimately brushed off).

“There’s a lot of choices here so please help yourself. Don’t be shy.” Jimin gestures, grabbing a plate and going for one of the rolls of kimbap. Though the demon has no intention of eating anything — for obvious reasons, he still makes the effort to thoughtlessly pick out random food items to place on his plate for the sake of keeping up the facade. He gets as far as two scoops of sweet and sour pork before the young idol turns to him and his eyes dart to his modest portion.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?”

“Uh…Yes?”

That immediately draws out a noise of disapproval, handsome face pinching along to match the tone. “Ah, Juyeon-ssi; you need to eat to keep up your strength. You can’t hold back on something as important as that.” Before any words of protest can be formed, a kimbap roll is placed on the empty space of the demon’s plate.

And then another.

And then a spring roll.

And then a hefty scoop of black bean noodles and some rice.

It goes on until his plate is adequately full, the idol satisfied as they migrate over to an empty table. The demon takes a seat and he feels his lips quirk as he observes the fact that Jimin’s own plate only consisted of two kimbap rolls and a few pieces of fruit he’s currently nibbling on. The stark contrast and adamancy is already so telling of his character, sans personal dietary considerations.

“Has the job been hard so far?” The singer asks casually.

“Not particularly….”

“Ah, that’s good to hear. Have people been nice to you?”

“Uh…Yeah, I guess.”

He gets a nod of approval, and the demon vaguely likens the feeling of a mother asking their child if their first day of school went well (or if he’s being generous, an older brother). It’s strange experiencing something so familial yet coming from the idol, it all seems so natural as if they’ve known each other for years and not just in the span of less than an hour.

It’s quite the culture shock — something he admittedly doesn’t have a good grasp on and it’s that curiosity to know that has him daringly (or perhaps, no doubt to his colleagues, foolishly) diving deeper. The wooden chopsticks in his hand push around the food on his plate meaninglessly, a gesture meant to disguise the hidden agenda he has; dissecting the idol and seeing what makes him tick.

His lips instinctively quirk under his mask but he makes sure that it doesn’t translate in his gaze as his eyes focus on the idol.

“I’m sure your job is much more tiring.” He says, taking on a tentative tone, implicating for an open ended discussion.

The singer takes a pause, eyes wandering in thought before he sucks in a breath after some serious considerations, “I don’t really think my job is any harder than some of the other staff here…” He stops, as if collecting his thoughts again and then continues, “I think it’s thanks to everyone’s efforts that the members and I are able to do these show successfully and safely. If I were to really break things down…. I really only do a small part.”

“But there’s no point to a show if there’s no performers.”

There’s a hum in reply to his statement but after the idol swallows the strawberry he’s popped into his mouth, he says, “I can see how you would say that, but I think more importantly, there’s no point to a show without the fans.”

The demon doesn’t miss the gentle affection that slips through — that quiet, soft whisper that carries the words near the end, giving way to something much deeper. It’s something he’s seen before, reflected in himself, and it’s whenever his thoughts wander to you.

Fondness.

His chest gives a twinge at the memory, jaw clenching a little as if to physically repress the feelings that begin to stir.

“You don’t even know the fans….” It comes out more as a low murmur to himself, but the contempt underlying his tone seeps through all the same. It’s just…. How could the idol possibly share the same sentiment he has with you, someone who he’s actually spent time with and come to know all the little quirks to — what makes you happy, sad, laugh, the way you laugh, the little noises you make when you eat something you love, see you at your highest and lowest points, with a group of people (not even a single person) who he’s had less than ten seconds worth of interactions?

It’s far too superficial, too scripted and said too many times with no real meaning. He wants to scoff at how impractical it is.

“Maybe so, but it goes beyond that.” The familiar sound of the idol’s lilt halts the demon’s thoughts quite suddenly, still in that soft spoken way but there’s something else with it. A sureness — steady and unwavering, and just the barest hints of….passive-aggressiveness?

That gets a quirk in the eyebrow; so this kitten does have claws after all.

“There are times where I wonder why there are so many people who like us and support us the way they do.” The singer continues seriously, already getting lost in deep thought. “Probably because we work hard, but who doesn’t work hard? Others make good music and do their best too so why us? We try our best to communicate to our fans but everyone does too…..These sorts of things are something I often think about.”

A pause, as if to find the right words, “But whenever I read the fan’s letters or things they post on SNS to us, saying how much we’ve helped them with our songs when they’re going through a hard time, it makes me realize that we’re not so different. We all have flaws and maybe it’s because we’re not perfect that they like us. Starting off with nothing and then little by little, seeing more people coming to support us…. They’re the ones who put us on the stage, so I— We cherish them a lot. They give us energy and comfort us, and we do the same back, like a deep connection, an understanding.”

The young singer stops in pushing around the remaining strawberry on his plate, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips, like he’s recalling a particularly pleasant memory. “So we want to give back by making good music and showing them our best. Ah, reminds of something really cool Namjoon-hyung said.” He takes the time to tilt his head, “He said how even if it’s just one person he could help, he’ll continue to keep trying. That really touched me, so even if we might not know them personally, they’re the ones who motivate us and makes all of this worth it.”

Once he finishes, the demon is left a little more than bewildered, overwhelmed in fact that all he could do was blink. Granted, it was a lot to take in, never having expected such an arduous confession but what’s even more baffling to him is the conviction the singer had saying all of it, so earnest in his words. Now, he’s no lie detector per se, but as a demon, he does have a more innate ability to pick up on cues and inflections that would give a person away, revealing their true nature. He’s used to it after all.

And then along comes Park Jimin.

This twenty-four some odd year old idol, thrusted into the cut-throat world that is the entertainment industry, young and bright-eyed, armed with nothing but potential, a good work ethic and a dream, yet comes out on the other side, a little bruised and scathed but otherwise, un-jaded; that young and bright-eyed innocence not diminished, instead it matured into something more resilient.

He can probably count on his finger how many people he can actually say that about. Hell, the only closest people that would qualify would be saints, and even that is debatable.

It’s....irritating because he’s faced with the fact that as much as he had wanted to dislike this person, he’s proven that he can’t.

A rush of air leaves his nose and he has to contain a rueful smile. “You’re a very admirable person Park Jimin-ssi. Not that many people keep to their beliefs so strongly like that.”

He gets a bashful giggle in return, light and melodic.

“Aish, what are you saying? I’m not all that impressive….I think I still have a lot to learn.” The singer almost whines from behind the back of his hand covering the open mouth smile he has. Once he calms, it softens. “All I really want is for the fans to remember BTS for our sincerity. I just hope that I’ve been able to help convey that so far.”

The demon lets out a breathy chuckle, finally getting up from his seat. He gazes down at this young man who’s face reflects his own yet wears it in such an entirely different way — glowing with a passion and radiance that is warm, sincere, kind, compassionate and loving.

Perhaps the way it’s meant to be worn.

And it’s with a bittersweet reluctance that the demon places a hand on the singer’s shoulder, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze. “Keep doing what you’re doing and never lose sight of yourself. As long as you remember what you’re doing this for, the sincerity of your members and you will be conveyed.”

Stormy grey eyes widen a fraction, a little confused as they blink up at him, clearly not expecting such encouragements (honestly, he didn’t expect this either yet here he is).

“Wh— Um, I—…” The idol reaches a hand up to comb through his meticulously styled hair, tousling a few loose strands as slowly, the apples of his cheeks begin to dust in a pink hue and dark eyes can’t help but watch on in amusement. As if sensing the focus shifting to his quickly reddening face however, the young man lets out a sputter and lightly smacks the demon’s forearm, refusing to meet his gaze. “Ahh Juyeon-ssi! What’s with you saying that all of a sudden to me? You sound as if you’re way older than me when we’re probably friends in age!”

Friends…

“What makes you think that?”

“W-Well… I don’t know how to explain it but…. I feel a sense of familiarity with you when we met. Like, a vibe….” The sentence pewters out into a shy mumble, the tips of his ears matching his cheeks now before comically, grey orbs whip up, suddenly concerned. “Unless you’re not….?”

The snort that leaves the demon’s mouth is quickly covered by clearing his throat but he’s sure the restrained mirth still reaches his eyes as he assures, “No, we’re friends.”

He’s met with a brilliant grin, full of teeth and a twinkle in his gaze. “Oh thank goodness. I would’ve died on the spot out of embarrassment.”

He refrains from rolling his eyes if only to dismiss the overly-dramatic relief that overcame the poor young man. But regardless, it’s his cue to go — he's starting to feel a little too perturbed being near someone so good-natured. With a final pat to his shoulder, the demon begins to depart.

“It was nice talking to you Park Jimin-ssi but you’ll have to excuse me, I have to get going now.”

“O-Oh? Is it really that time? If that’s the case— Ya! Kang Juyeon-ssi! Did you even touch your food? You—!”

“Jimin-hyung!”

“Oh?” Jimin’s attention whips to the new voice that called him from the still full plate of food left on the table. His eyes immediately meet doe-eyed ones, usually dark as coal but are currently a more lighter coffee colour, bringing out more of the brown that’s hidden in its depths thanks to the contacts. The youngest member approaches him with long strides, the sequins on his own stage outfit glitter with each step.

“This is where you were? Should’ve told me you were hungry, we could’ve gone to snack together.”

“Ah, no I was just talking with Juyeon-ssi.”

“Juyeon? Who’s that?”

“Kang Juyeon; that person who was just leaving, you must’ve seen him on your way in.”

But that only gets a head tilt from Jungkook, who swivels his head back towards the entrance, “He doesn’t sound familiar and I didn’t see anyone leaving.”

“….Huh?” Equally confused, Jimin swerves around the tall form of Jungkook to get a look however, to his surprise, he doesn’t see anyone. Glancing around lets him know that at most, there was only three other people in the room, excluding him and Jungkook but they were all immersed on the couch in the far corner, away from the entryway. Does Juyeon walk that fast? “Aye, quit messing with me. He had on a face mask, around my height? With his hoodie pulled up; probably the only one here who does too.”

Jungkook shakes his head, genuinely clueless on who Jimin could possibly be referring to. “No, I swear I haven’t seen anyone around like that.”

The furrow in Jimin’s brows deepen, mouth falling open in disbelief. The scrunched up, troubled expression the older member makes was too good to pass up on teasing so Jungkook can’t help but to lean close, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“What? Were you speaking to a ghost this entire time hyung?”

“Aish! Don’t say that! That actually gave me chills!” Jimin scowls, smacking the youngest repeatedly on the arm and causing Jungkook to cackle and skip away from the assault.

“Anyways, Namjoon-hyung wants to go over the script again so I went to go find you.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go then.”

Brushing down his jacket, Jimin gets up, taking both plates with him, discarding his own empty one while Jungkook gleefully takes the one Juyeon hadn’t touched. The two head out and begin to make their way back to the artist dressing room, with Jungkook talking around mouthfuls of food about what Jimin had apparently missed while he was away but all Jimin could think about was his meeting with Juyeon.

There’s no way he could’ve imagined it all in his head — he’s too young to be going senile. Plus, it felt too real for it to be some overworked hallucination (besides, he doesn’t feel that jet lagged). So there’s a perfectly, logical explanation for it. Yeah, he just…walks really fast.

“Jimin-hyung is here!” Jungkook calls out to the rest of the members. He gets a myriad of boisterous responses and greetings. The sound makes him inadvertently grin.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming. I didn’t think you would miss me that badly; I was gone for ten minutes.”

Thoughts of his mysterious friend are pushed away for some other time but the wise words he’s been given remain at the forefront of Jimin’s mind. Perhaps the next time he runs into Juyeon, he’ll treat him to a drink or two during the celebratory dinners — get to know him better.

He’s not sure what it is about Juyeon that makes him want to befriend him so intently, like there’s something about him….

Something that’s a little melancholy….and maybe, he dare say, a little lonely.

But to the singer’s dismay, he never really did see him again.