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eric-the-bmo · 8 months ago

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The Neighborhood Watch, s3 ep5: Smash and Grab

[Summary: We're back! John and the polycule escape the guards to find Markus in the basement, and we run into a strange figure.] @gr3y-plays-ttrpgs

Last we left off, Greyson, Mr Grant, and some security guards had entered the casino room, and Mr Grant had told John he was under arrest. As of now, Louis asks if Mr Grant has the authority to do so, and Grayson says actually he doesn't not really, but he can remove them from the premises. Grant apologizes- force of habit- and tells them to leave, as they were seen causing a disturbance with the staff. Song shoots back and asks what the fuck they're doing with the townsfolk? She's not buying the response that they're volunteers- this casino gave out money on the opening day, after all.

All three PCs read bad situation- John doesn't get anything from his roll; he's too stuck in the panic of "Oh god I'm going to go to jail." John's got his hands raised- really, he's doing it since he's seen people do the same thing in movies and shows- and Lestat walks over and quietly puts a hand on John's arm to let him know he can lower them.

Song uses her telepathy for her roll, and finds out through Mr Grant's thoughts is that he's keeping calm, but wants to get the Cast out of here before his boss, Song's mother, finds out about this. Song also knows they need to find Markus, but there's no stairs leading to the next floors, so they'd need to go through the elevators.

Louis exchanges looks with John and the rest of the polycule. Song and Louis have a telepathic communication where Song informs Louis that Markus was taken down to the basement, and Louis wants to know what else is down there.

["Do you think we four could take these? Do you think your dad would back you up if we tried to punch them?"] And with that telepathic message as the only warning, Louis thinks "hey, what could go wrong?" and suddenly going to swing a punch at Mr Grant- but Grayson steps in and takes the hit, and Louis is all "oh my god i just punched my girlfriend's dad i am Going To Die"

Song freezes time, save for herself and her allies as John wonders what the Fuck Louis was thinking, and the Hex tells everyone to Run.

Since there's no stairs and time is frozen (the button won't call the elevator), John and Lestat rip the elevator door open, and everyone goes in the shaft to climb down the cables. Song takes off her heels to do so, Louis and Lestat are very good at this bc they've done similar things before, and meanwhile John has to be careful, since his claws can mess up the cables.

["Man," Louis comments. "This place really isn't built up to code."]

----

Markus groggily wakes up in a reinforced solitary confinement cell. The door has a slot that can slide open for food. There's crude, childish drawings on the walls- Markus is filled with rage at the possibility a child was put in one of these cells. They try some different methods (they find out the bed is reinforced to the floor) before deciding to just repeatedly kick the door for a few minutes.

Faintly, they hear a faint voice on the other side of the door- it's their neighbor Kenneth, who tells them he's tried that. After throwing multiple death threats at Kenneth (like "When I get out of here I'm going to kill every last one of you"), Markus learns that he's also in a cell, and not a guard. ["Uh, I don't know what kind of situation you're in, but I'm also stuck in here."] Kenneth asks if Markus also woke up in the middle of the lobby, and he begins ramble about various conspiracy theories he has about this place and why they're here- he thinks it's the FBI behind this, because what would a casino owner need an underground bunker for? (Markus says they'll get out of here eventually, and summons some bugs to burrow into the concrete around their cell's door.) Kenneth continues, saying he had went through a few elevators on the way down here, and maybe they're keeping something down here- while the walls are sturdy, occasionally there's rumbling like an earthquake. Markus decides to Tune In to find out if there's any truth to this- And something is down here, and it regards everyone as a threat except for one specific person (and who that is, exactly, is obstructed).

Markus continues to try to ram into the door every few minutes, but it's going to take a while for their bugs to burrow through and loosen the door.

------

The rest of the Main Cast (and Lestat) have made it down the shaft. John opens up the grate on top of the elevator car, and they all enter the basement- The button on the elevator reads "Basement Floor 1." Time starts moving again (and, presumably, this is when Markus has their above conversation with Kenneth), and the Cast all prepares for when the door opens.

They do, and Basement One greets them with a long white hallway with identical doors on each side. Song tries to use telepathy to find Markus to no avail- in fact, when she tries, loud screeching static enters the Cast's heads. She asks if anyone else has anything that can help, and John offers to try and track down Markus with some shapeshifting abilities. He's able to sense that Markus was here a while ago, as well as some others- Their scent starts in the first room to the right (which is missing a door), then down the hall, and around the corner. He starts to follow it, cautious and calculating, and the others follow; Lestat, who's taken up the rear of the walk order, touches Song's arm and lets her know he smells that something else was here: There's the scent of brimstone. He says it might be a demon. Song informs Louis of this, and he reminds the Cast that hey, he's a very killable man. He's just a guy.

["I am not immortal or supernatural in any way, I am just one man who made one deal with one devil a long time ago!"]

All of us go "hey you did what??" And Louis' response is pretty much "Oh did I not tell you guys that? Anyway now isn't the time for this conversation-" (Song promises she'll protect him, and John is too focused to make a comment.)

Turning the corner leads to a more office-looking environment. There's a mail room, and a large staff elevator on the far end of the hall. The offices aren't labeled with names, moreso titles. Inside the mail room, there's a white board with letters hung up and strings attaching them- like the Pepe Silvia meme. The Cast finds an ID card in the office break room so they can access the elevator; it's large enough to fit around ten people, or even a cart. As the doors close, they see a set of buttons that lets them know the basement has up to four floors, though B4 is locked. The crew temporarily wonders if they should find a way down there first (pick the lock??), Song suggests we go down one floor at a time- and then the elevator moves down, because someone on B2 pressed the button.

["I guess the decision's been made for us!"]

The Cast panics and prepares for possible combat- Louis and Song devise a tripwire. The doors open- and it's the town librarian Lauren, carrying a stack of papers, in a state similar to the so-called "volunteer" custodial staff. She steps inside as we all go "oh shit, we can't attack her," and she's pretty much ignoring us as she presses the button for B3. Song looks into the B2 hall and sees it's all conference rooms with more locals inside filling out forms, and while it's concerning, she figures it's not worth investigating at the moment. As we go down to B3, Song feels her magic return back to normal (no interference!), and John leans over to see what's on Lauren's papers: Transcripts? They're in her own handwriting and very generic, not referring to anyone by name (Guard One, Guard Three, etc). It describes where guards will be going in a facility (instructions for the tranced people?).

The doors open and Lauren starts to head down the hall, which is very different from the other ones. It's more like a prison walkway with reinforced doors. The walls are painted with crude, pleasant drawings of suns and trees. A voice echoes down the hall- Kenneth! He calls out to us, and we eventually find Markus as well, who assures us they're not hurt- and that their bugs have been working on loosening the concrete around their cell door, so maybe John can get them out.

Lestat offers to help as well, but I roll incredibly high (with a total of 16!!), and so John effortlessly rips the door off its hinges (Lestat, who was also going to help, is like "woah ok then"). Just as he does this, a man with a dark blue suit and a cane rounds the corner to greet Lauren, who hands him the paper stack, but spots the Main Cast. It's the same man who proposed the mayor build a casino, and was there for the opening ceremony earlier in the day. He introduces himself as Mr Dark, and asks what they're doing here. He asks for them to stay put, as he'd like to put them all in a cell- and Markus immediately attacks him with a swarm of hornets.

Lestat bristles and says that Mr Dark is where the brimstone scent is coming from, and the possible demon pushes Laura out of the way so she doesn't get hit by the bugs- six bodyguards suddenly rush in, taking some damage from the bugs and drawing their guns out towards the Main Cast. John uses the door as a shield, and Louis realizes all the guards look the same. Song remembers her knowledge that Lauren brought the town's firemen to life by writing them into existence- she must've created these guards. Song lets the crew know about this telepathically.

["Hey, Kenneth!" Louis shouts down the hall towards the cell. "There's some wild things going on out here that's right up your conspiracy theory alley!" "I KNEW IT!"]

Kenneth mentions his theory that Mr Dark is part of a larger organization dedicated to strange things, and actually he'd like to interview him at some point-

We temporarily wonder about destroying the papers (and about the extent of Lauren's abilities) before Song telepathically delves into Mr Dark's mind to get more information- she's surrounded by a black void. With a burst of flames Mr Dark appears, leaning on his cane and staring her down. He knows she's looking into his head. As Song wonders the best way to protect the victims in this scenario, Mr Dark answers her: "Oh my, dear- you can't. You're done." He commends her for being able to go this deep into his mind, making it known he knows who her mother is- and Song decides to get the fuck out of his head before he traps her there!

Louis tries to snatch the papers out of Mr Dark's hands, but Song tells him to just run, casting a fireball at the papers instead. The guards burn up and melt into a puddle. Song tries to look into Lauren's head to see who exactly is behind the trance.

Meanwhile, we free Kenneth, who also decides to get the fuck out of there. Song feels Mr Dark's presence blocking her from looking into Lauren's head, and due to a jinx Markus casts, she manages to get out of there before Mr Dark actually traps her.

We genuinely ponder over whether to run to B4 or not, but fuck it we gotta go! The Main Cast and the others race the hell out, and as we get to B1 and turn the corner, we see two guards- as well as Song's father.

The guards draw their weapons, and Grayson asks what's going on before Song tells him that her mother is involved. He goes pale, and the guards aren't listening to him btw so he just. knocks them out?? And tells the Cast to follow him. We all get into the elevator, and Grayson seems confused when Markus tells him they were locked in a cell ["Cells? We don't have cells in this facility."]- all of us are all "you absolutely do. a clairvoyant nerd was also locked in there." Meanwhile Markus reminds Kenneth not to touch them, since hey Ken's psychic powers work by touching people, and Markus doesn't want him to know things- John, being reminded of this, takes a step away from the clairvoyant.

Grayson says he can't just escort us out normally, due to all the guards wanting to capture us, so he zipties our hands together as the elevator doors open.So Grayson leads the Main Cast out of the casino, we learn Song can cry on command, and he leads us to a car and nervously takes us to what he's calling a safehouse- Meanwhile, Markus informs us there's something under the casino, and it's afraid of everyone save for one person.

["Listen Song we might have to kill your mom" "Well I thought she was dead for the past 18 years so it's no big deal"]

Grayson says he'll try to protect Song, and Markus says that there's a lot more people who need protecting, given what the casino is doing. We reach the safehouse- it's the house of Gerald, the poorly-disguised guard that Grayson had hired to watch over Song. We all head inside, and Geral inputs a code into the computer and the house goes into lockdown- metal plates cover the outside. He begins to hand the Main Cast some drinks.

John, in the middle of taking a sip of Capri-Sun, gets a sudden text from Shelby- it's a link to a video, with a message from her saying "HELP!!!" With the help of Markus (since this monster man has a flip phone and Cannot view videos), John is able to view the video is of Harold: It's clearly a video meant for Shelby only, where he's pretty much saying that he loves a challenge and is asking Shelby out on a date in a really creepy way. John really wants to kill a man, but they're

Notes/Commentary:

ITS TIME TO MURDER A MAN GET ME OUT OF THIS SAFEHOUSE—

"This place isn't built to code" "We need to burn it down."

"The third basement floor is actually a portal to hell /hj"

Eveyrone cheering when I suggested John rip open the elevator door :'-) ty <3

John and Lestat are entering an unspoken monster man solidarity! And to think John wanted to claw his face off half an hour ago <3

Love how whenever we commented on OSHA violations and the like the DM was all "this place was built in a month guys"

The entire time i was like "John is the fourth wheel of this polycule" /lh

Louis was having a blast the entire time btw. heist!!!

KENNETH!!!! MY BELOVED!!

Hm. have we considered the Thing down in here, how only one person isn't a threat- maybe that person is song's mom??

There was a bit where Markus asked Kenneth if he had any weapons, and Ken was all "no but if i had my katanas with me those guys wouldn't have stood a chance," he's such a fucking dweeb i adore him (i would hate him so much in real life /lh)

Part of me wonders how to have more Hunger rolls for John but. Oh Well

Props to Louis's player for trying to convince the DM that maybe Louis could've brought in a weapon [meanwhile I describe John as a living weapon, please he's practically an attack dog-]

Louis's player Did Not realize Louis never told the rest of the Cast about his devil deal so. Yeah that's one way to reveal it ig /lh

TAHTS THE FUCKING DEVIL

"Doors are a pretty versatile weapon"

OK. OK. MR DARK IS USING LAUREN TO MAKE BODYGUARDS THATS WILD.

ayo hold on is kenneth's theory is that mr dark works for the scp foundation- /hj

"If multiple copies of Lauren's writings make multiple clones, wouldn't that mean there's a bunch of those firefighters walking around then?" "God I hope so-"

ougughghjgh. is this what i get for wishing that John could be locked up in an enclosed space. is this my monkey's paw.

will his Hunger activate in here actually. Im so serious this is an enclosed space. he's hungry. they cant leave. its a good opportunity im just saying-

ive been. fixating on game notes the entire day. no beta we die like harold, byeee im taking a nap

#eric finally speaks #motw campaign #the neighborhood watch #the neighborhood watch recap

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nathank77 · 5 months ago

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6/9/24

3:33 a.m

Speaking of i got my degree out and there is absolutely no way it'll fit in the psi chi honor society frame. I need a like 14 inch by 11 inch or so frame for it. I got to buy one. It's depressing that no one in my family cared enough about it to get me a 2022 frame thing for the tassle or anything.

My sister got a huge graduation party and all the graduation stuff. And my father couldn't even say congratulations. And no one got me a frame. I mean that's not something the graduate buys for themselves. It's something that is gifted to them from the proud family like my 2013 bachelor degree one... I'll never find one for the year I graduated but I can buy a frame that will fit the degree at least and put it on my wall where it belongs bc I'm proud.

There was only four people proud of me. Me, Katie, my mom and Elise. Elise really helped me fight through my anxiety and take the test. I remember her reaction. She made me feel even more proud cause she was so happy for me. It meant a lot cause I didn't get that kind of reaction from anyone really. I mean my mom sorta but not really cause it took me 6 years to get my masters degree. But i went back and I did it and I'm proud cause I could have never went back and finished it. Elise really helped push me to do it and I'm so proud that I faced my fears and she helped a lot with it.

The sad thing is I was right that i was being discriminated against for being trans. I found out a year after I graduated that i was labeled as female at uhart and my eyebrows were a wreck... in the photo. Everyone called me he but let's be real that department head saw my picture, my gender that wasn't my gender that some asshole assigned me bc of my eyebrows and she knew I did my presentation on transgender people. That's why she said, "your answers were right but I failed you anyways." Verbatim... now I know i didnt have my head up my ass. I actually was being discriminated against for being trans and I was misgendered on my school information...FAMILY THATS WHY IT TOOK ME 6 YEARS TO GET MY MASTERS. I WAS DISCRIMINATED AGAINST AND HAD TO GET ALL THESE ACCOMODATIONS AND BRING IT TO THE ATTENTION OF THE DEAN. THATS WHY!

If Elise hadn't pushed me I wouldn't have went back cause she fought for me when it came to all this stuff I had to actively go there and say I didn't want the same grader. That i wanted to be graded by different people and she helped me get accommodations like taking the test at home which made me much more comfortable.

I'll always love Elise. Even If she never talks to me again.

Anyways I'm going to buy a frame it won't be a 2022 one I think that's the year I graduated. Psychosis makes everything fuzzy... but I can still get a frame that fits the degree.

Still working on laundry. My head hurts from hallucinating still... but I'm going and getting shit done and I'm proud of the progress I made on my room.

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basicmyherowhore · 3 years ago

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Just read ph deku x reporter reader and it was so cute!!!!😍 do you think you do a part 2 , maybe where their go on a date or maybe someone spreading rumours about their relationship?

Combining these two bc I think they fit well together!! This is like Yandere but not Yandere but also really close to Izuku’s cry baby personality?? Idk I like this, I hope y’all do too😭

After the incident that brought the two of you together, it took all of Deku’s courage to finally reach out to you. When he finally did, you eagerly accepted his offer to go out to dinner. Sitting close together in a dimly lit private restaurant, sharing both trivial and personal information with one another made a perfect date. By the end of the night you could feel yourself falling for him. You broke your code and kissed on the first date. From there things only got better.

It’s been almost four months since then. Just a month ago you and Izuku made your relationship official, but only within a close group of people. Both of your friends and family and his work associates that he deeply trusted. No one else. You don’t mind people knowing but Izuku is more paranoid than you. He’s explained to you more than once that his greatest fear is the public finding out and villains coming after you to get to him.

There have been multiple occasions while spending the night together that Izuku has woken up sweating and searching desperately for you. Once you were in the bathroom when he woke up and from down the hall you could hear him calling for you frantically. You ran down the hall to find throwing the door open to find you. He nearly tackled you to the floor when his eyes finally landed on you, relief washing over him as he held your body close to his.

It’s simpler to say that since the two of your began dating Izuku’s anxiety has been through the roof. That doesn’t stop you from spending time with him. Even though he worries about the public the two of you still go out on dates, but only in places where pro hero’s can have privacy. Izuku still drops you off at work when he can, but only while wearing a hoodie to cover his unique hair and sunglasses to cover his eyes. It’s draining to have to dance so delicately around the situation to say the least.

But you do it because you love being with him. You love the way he makes you feel. You love never feeling less than or below him, regardless of his status. You love…him. Neither of you have said it yet and you refused to be the first. You’d rather never say it than to say it first and embarrass yourself because he doesn’t feel the same.

Things are going great between the two of your despite the constant hiding from paparazzi, lying to your coworkers, and laying low in the public eye. You were confident that the two of you could make this secret relationship work. Until something so simple brought the world crashing around you.

You sent a picture of Izuku and you at dinner to your best friend. You just wanted to show her how happy the two of you were together, especially since before you starting dating she was on your case to find someone new. She was the only person at work who knew of your relationship with the pro hero and you had to plead your case with Izuku just to tell her. After sending the pic, you only sent one additional message before putting your phone down to pay attention to the date.

“I think he’s the one.”

By the next morning that picture was plastered everywhere. Every blog, magazine, billboard, news channel, and news paper has your face on it next to ‘Pro Hero Deku’. When you first read the headlines, betrayal felt thick in your stomach. You didn’t even have time to pick up your phone to call your boyfriend before there was pounding at your door.

With a thousand other thoughts on your mind you fail to think twice before opening the door, unknowingly exposing yourself to a wave of people with cameras.

They bombard you with questions, flashing lights sting your eyes as you beg for them to leave you alone. There’s too many of them to force out on your own and they’ve wedged themselves in the door so you can’t close them out. You feel like you’re suffocating and can’t breath. Right when you think the sea of panic is going to swallow you whole, a breath of fresh air surges through your lungs when familiar arms wrap around you.

You cling to Izuku as he forces his way through the hoard of people, essentially carrying you out of your apartment building. He quickly but gently places you down on the passenger seat of his car, wasting no time before climbing into the drivers side. He drives off, leaving the paparazzi behind like a swarm on ants.

He waits patiently for your breathing to calm, driving around town in a manner that seemed to you to be aimless. When your panic has seemed to fully reside, he turns to you.

“Where did that picture come from?” The tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine and for the first time since the two of you met, you feel afraid of Izuku. It’s only now you notice the tight grip on the steering wheel and the way his jaw is clenched. As each second passes you find yourself feeling smaller and smaller next to him. You don’t realize how long you’ve been quiet until he speaks again. “Answer me, damn it! Where’s the picture from?”

You can’t stop yourself from flinching when he yells, unconsciously shying away from him and pressing yourself against the door. You’re more afraid of what will happen if you stay quiet than if you speak, so you finally do. With a gulp you say, “I- I sent it to Hana last night. But only her! And I didn’t think she would-“

“Of course you didn’t. You would never think that your best friend would turn you in like that.” He mocks you, rolling his eyes before looking back at you with rage in his gaze. “News flash, you’re a reporter. Your best friend is a reporter. Why wouldn’t she share the big scoop you happened to spoon feed her?”

His words make you feel stupid and naïve. You’ve known Hana for years even before you two began working for the press, how could you have ever predicted that she would sell you out? Instead of sadness, anger begins to build inside of you. Why is Izuku blaming this on you? You didn’t tell her to tell the world, so why is he acting like you did? Why is he even so mad? Now you don’t have to hide your relationship anymore, isn’t that a good thing?

“What’s your problem?” You glare at him, finding your voice once again. “You’re being a dick to me because our secret got out?“

“My problem is!” He yells, causing you to flinch once more. “That you’re not grasping the magnitude of what’s happening right now. Because of your ‘friend’, you’re in danger. Like, life threatening danger. There was a data leak at your job, now not only is your address and all of your other personal information open and accessible to anyone that wants it, but there have been multiple sightings of high ranking villains near your apartment. You’re being targeted and not just by the paparazzi.”

You’re dumbfounded once again by Izuku’s words. Only now is the weight of your situation starting to sink in. A mix of fear and dread are dancing in your stomach making you feel nauseous.

“What will I do now?” You ask uncertainly, eyeing the man next to you with caution.

“You’re not going to do anything, but stay where I take you.” Izuku turns onto a road that you’re not familiar with. You now realize that you have no idea where you are at all. “I’m going to have to work with my PR team and try to clean this up. Get your information private again. Get lose lipped Hana to sign and NDA for some ridiculous amount of money.” He lists, gravel in his tone. The paved road gives way to one made of dirt, rural landscapes starting to surround you. Only a few more moments pass before he pulls into the driveway of a normal looking house. He turns of the engine off and rips off his seatbelt.

“And most importantly, I’m keeping you as far away from the city as I possible can.” He growls, lunging at you and tearing you from the seat. You let out an scream of shock, struggling against his hold but to no avail. Izuku manages to drag you through the door of the house and force you into the room farthest from it.

He uses his large body to pin you to the bed as he hand cuffs one wrist to the bed frame. You fight against him, scratching, punching, and biting anywhere that you can. But it doesn’t matter. He’s too strong compared to you. And he uses his personal knowledge of you against you. He knows you have no quirk to defend yourself. You manage to get one good hit on him before he pulls away, wiping the blood spilling from his lip on the back on his hand.

“What do you think you’re doing? You can’t keep me here. I have a job, friends, my family. They’ll come looking for me.” You glare at him, not feeling guilt at the sight of his blood.

“This is for your safety. I’m going to let everyone close to you know that you’ve gone into hiding and can’t have contact because it risks compromising your location.” There’s no more anger when he speaks to you, his tone sounds empty, almost tired.

“I can be safe without being chained to the bed, Izuku. Why are you doing this to me?” Your anger wavers, making room for hurt and fear.

“Because I love you Y/N. I love you so much. And I can’t loose you.” Suddenly fat tears are rolling down Izuku’s freckled cheeks and your heart drops. “I’ve lost too many people because of villains that want to hurt me. If I lose you too? I don’t think I could stand it…I might- might do something. Something really bad. I don’t want to hurt anyone!” Sobs shake his large frame, stunning you like you’ve never been before. You watch in silence as Izuku falls to his knees before you, grasping your uncuffed hand in both of his. His green eyes are pooling with tears as the bore into yours.

“So please…stay here. Stay with me. Please…”

#bnha #deku x reader #izuku midoryia #pro hero izuku #yandere izuku midoriya x reader #Yandere! PH! Deku x Reporter! Reader #yandere deku #yandere deku x reader #ph! deku x reporter! reader #yandere izuku midoriya #dark themes #kidnapping #Yandere themes

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yandere-dark-cupid · 4 years ago

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If you’re requests are open can I get a Yandere Zuko x fem reader where after the war he looks for his darling by making his guards track her down but without anyone knowing bc he doesn’t want ppl to think that he’s back into his old ways again and keeps her in the palace

Ok Angel 💜👌💜. If you want, I could continue this as a mini part to part scenario series if I have the time T.Angel. There is just so many ideas worming around this concept and just think of the crazy things the darling and Zuko is going to go through, while also keeping both of their identities on the veeery low-key. Just let me know Angel 😊☕💜.

Also everyone is going to be aged up to 18+ Btw.

Side note: For the sake of this scenario, the darling will be from the Southern Water tribe. If this Angel decides to let me continue this as a mini scenario series, then the both of us are going to talk about if the darling can be a Waterbender or not.

Warning ⚠!!!: Their is going to be some slight Nsfw in this.

Yandere Zuko: A Dragon's treasure

Five weeks. It has been five weeks since you've went missing. Once the war has ended, Zuko was planning to propose to you. But every since his coronation of being crowned the new FireLord, you just up and vanished. It was like you were never there in the first place. And Zuko has been scattering everywhere in the palace and Fire nation to find you or some type of clue. But nothing. There was nothing there. You really covered your tracks, didn't you?

Right now Zuko was in his thrown room. He was fuming- No steaming with rage. If anyone were to walk in to the room, they'll notice it was boiling in there. He tried to look everywhere in the palace. Even outside the palace. But to no avail. Zuko couldn't find you. You've made it clear that you don't want to be with him or any where near him with this type of stunt you've pulled.

Zuko took a seat on his thrown. His hands was on his head, just about ready to pull his hair out and shout in frustration. But then a knock on the door stop him. " *Frustrated sigh* State your name and your business." Zuko said with spite and a hint of venom in his voice. The person behind the door flinched at his tone of voice. "It's me Sir. The guard you put in charge of the search party for Ms.Y/N". Zuko perked up at the mention of his missing lover's name. " Come in. " said Zuko. With out a second thought, the guard entered the room. She bowed down in respect for her FireLord.

" FireLord Zuko I have an update about Ms.Y/N's whereabouts. " Said the guard. She almost stuttered. The guard noticed how extremely hot it was in the thrown room. It was a clear sign that FireLord Zuko was pissed out of his mind. " Well, " Zuko said in annoyance and anger. Zuko was beyond angry at this point. He was a whole entire cluster fuck of emotions right now. " M-me and m-my crew found some people who could be connected to Ms.Y/N's disappearance , your majesty. " Stuttered the guard in slight fear. Zuko quirked up an eyebrow at what the guard said.

Ah. So the guard managed to find the ones responsible for his darling's vanishment, or at least had some part in it. " Bring them in. " Zuko said. The guard only merely nodded, not wanting to meet the FireLord's intimidating gaze. The guard got off their knees and went to call the other guards, to bring out the people that played some part of the darling going missing. The other guards quickly brought out four other people. Those people was tied up, bounded, and blind folded. The people was visibly quivering in fear. They were very confused and scared on what they did to upset the FireLord.

The four guards forcefully pushed the four people down to the floor. Each guard took off each person's blind fold. In front of the four people, there sat the FireLord in all his glory. FireLord Zuko glared down at the 4 people in a burning gaze. So these disgusting pathetic excuses of human was responsible for his darling going missing. Zuko scoffed at the thought. After a painful intimidating stare down, Zuko finally spoke. " So your the ones held responsible for Y/N's disappearance. " Zuko spat out to them with his voice dipped in poison.

" I-if y-you're talking about a someone that has (h/c), (e/c), and (s/c) then t-they came to m-my store to buy clothes." The woman stuttered in fear. Zuko stayed quite and only listened. " If you're talking about the same person; they came to my food stand and brought some food. " the old man said quickly in fear of what the FireLord would do to him if he took so long to explain himself. Zuko only merely quirks his eyebrow. " Y-yeah, that same person came to my Shop and bought some bags and extra equipment as his they were going on a trip. " The man said while sweating nervously. " The same person came to shack a-and brought some w-weapons. " Said the short lady in fear. Zuko only hmmed at what they said.

" So you're telling me the lady you just described went to all of your stores and shops to buy something. " Zuko said still glaring down the four people. " Y-yes. " the woman squeaked in fear. The old man only nodded quickly. " Mhm. " both the man and woman said. Zuko got up from his thrown and began to walk down to his stand. " What should we do with them you highness? " Said one of the guards. " Bring them to the dungeon. I will decide what to do with them later. " Said Zuko. " I-I don't understand what did we do wrong. " Stuttered the woman in fear and nervousness. Zuko quickly turned to the woman, the woman quickly shuts her mouth. Zuko then begins to slowly walk towards her.

Zuko shot one of his hands out and grasps the woman's face in a painful grip. The woman squeaks in surprise and fear. Zuko just merely just glares down at her. His eyes is filled with a flaming rage. " You all are held responsible for the disappearance of Y/N, " Zuko spat out in anger. Zuko releases his hand from woman's face. Zuko steps away from the woman and is now in front of the four bounded people. " Since you all play a part in my- err Y/N's disappearance, you all will be punished accordingly. " The four people only shook even more at FireLord Zuko's statement. " All of you take them away were they'll never see the light of day again. " Zuko said with venom dripping from his voice.

The four guards only bowed and said a quick " yes sir ". With that they took the four people away. Now Zuko was once again left in his thrown room...... alone.

Zuko let out a sigh of frustration out. He walked towards a window that was in the room. He stared down at his people, he was thinking about something. Based on what the four people said, Zuko can conclude that his darling is no longer in the Fire nation. Zuko dug into his pocket and took out something. It was a necklace. A betrothed necklace to be more specific. You see his darling was not from the fire nation, no no no. You were from a Water tribe, the Southern Water tribe to put it. While Zuko was on his trip to help Aang defeat his father and help him master firebending, Zuko found out from Katara on what her necklace means. He found out that from the Water tribe in order to marry someone, you have to make a betrothed necklace and give it to that special someone. When Zuko found out about this type of information, he instantly got rapped up about it. Ever since he's joined team Avatar he was thinking about what life would be like when he becomes FireLord, then his thoughts were drawn into marriage. He can't help but think, his darling would make the perfect FireLady. His FireLady.

And they'll have children. They'll be lovely children. With his darling swelled up with another one of his heirs all while holding another one of their children. It'll truly be a.. delicious sight to see ~ Zuko hmmed in delight at the thought of his darling bearing his children. But... that's if he witness such a darling sight. Zuko groaned at his mood being dampened and soured. But he knows it's true. Zuko knows if he doesn't act fast, he'll lose his darling. And that lovely little scene that played in his mind, will be nothing but a mere fantasy. Besides, he doesn't want to get himself accidentally sexual frustrated.....

With that aside, Zuko begins to start planning and strategizing. Zuko walks away from the window. He calls a servant, he orders them to get one of his best generals. The servant was slightly hesitant and confused, but never the less terrified. Wasn't the war over? They pushed their question aside, because they know now wouldn't be the best time to question the FireLord. He hasn't been acting himself lately and has been been flaring up at anything these past few weeks. With out much of a second thought, they did as they were told and went to see if someone could get one of the generals FireLord Zuko was talking about.

Zuko on the other hand, went back to sit on his thrown. He knew it will take time for the general to get here, so he decided to sit and be patient for him to get here. All while doing this, Zuko began to plan out in his mind on how he was going to get his darling. He was thinking about getting some of the Fire nation's best spies to help track down his darling. Sending out a whole search team and alerting the public while cause some type of panic. Not only that but he's trying to show that He and the Fire nation has turned over a new leaf, that and he doesn't want people and the other members of team Avatar know he's basically going back to his old ways. Since everybody knows the history on how he went to the ends of the earth to find and Capture the Avatar, and he's basically doing the same for his darling. It'll put a bad name on him and an even worse name on the Fire nation. So he'll lay as low as possible and keep shush shush about it, so he doesn't rise suspicion and ruin all the hard work he's been putting in the past time he's became FireLord.

With all those thoughts in mind, Zuko decides to call the same servant from before. So he can see if his message has been delivered. The Servant said they already sent a messaging hawk out to see if they can reach the general. Zuko only hmmed and dismissed them, and told them to report back to him once the massage has been delivered. With that the servant left, leaving Zuko in his thrown room. Zuko dug into his pocket again. He took out the Betrothed necklace out. He gently creased and rubbed the engraving and creases. He took so many hours and very much effort into making this for his darling. Looking at it always made him feel calmer, it made him happy knowing that his darling will be wearing it soon. But then his darling ran away from him before he can give it to them. Zuko pushed down on the purple garnet at the thought of his darling running away from him ( the rest of the necklace's gems are made up of smaller bits of Rudy and sapphire ). Zuko let out another sigh of frustration. He began to think. Once is darling is back with him he's never letting them go...........

My God, this was a boom ass idea. Not only that, but an idea of Zuko having a bit of a breeding kink has been floating around in my mind for some time now. I had a lot of fun with this. Like I said before T.Angel, If you want me to make a mini scenarios series about this let me know 😆! Well I hope you enjoy it. Until next time my Little Tainted Angels, see you soon ~💜❤💜

#yandere avatar the last airbender #yandere #yandere Zuko #avatar: the last airbender

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

the mystery of love ; kuroo tetsurou

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

synopsis: kuroo tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. he believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. but that doesn’t mean he can’t believe in love.

tag(s): sweet summer lovin’, friends to lovers, inspired by call my by your name, university student!kuroo tetsurou, lab intern!kuroo tetsurou, so much pining lol, fluff, angst, slow burn ; warning(s): profanity, mentions of alcohol ingestion (it’s legal bc they’re in italy!), suggestive themes ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday tetsu!! i hope you guys like this. i really enjoyed writing it ♡

Kuroo Tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. He believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. At least, that’s what he tells you. Sometimes you treat this information as a source of hope; other times, you’re not sure what to make of it.

This, you realise with his shoulder pressed against yours and both your bodies sprawled across his wrinkled bed sheets, is one of those other times. You turn your face to look at his.

“What?” he asks, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile.

For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you just said it. You could blame the alcohol. Get away with it scot-free. While you mull the option over in the dead silence of his room, your brain suddenly registers the music still playing from the living room. The low bass reverberating through the walls. How close your lips are. The sound of his breaths.

“Earth to Y/N?”

And like that, the little what-if that rose in your mind falls back with its tail between its legs. You bite your lip, look around his room like the walls have a script printed on them. Unfortunately, they do not.

“I was just thinking about my shirt.” It’s not great, but it’s the best you can do while still feeling the vodka and orange juice burn in your stomach. And smelling it on yourself.

Kuroo’s laugh booms through the room and you can’t help but giggle along with him. “I said I was sorry!” he says, hazel eyes twinkling with mirth. He pauses and glances at his closet, then nods his head in its direction. “Take a hoodie. Your pick.”

A smile–– one you try to downplay but fail miserably to–– creeps up your face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo replies. “You can also shower here if you want. It's the least I can do after spilling my drink all over you.”

When you emerge from Kuroo’s bathroom in one of his thinner hoodies, a lot soberer and drying your hair, he’s not on the bed anymore. Quietly, you step out of his room and look for him through the house. People are crashed everywhere–– on the sofa, over the kitchen counter, even propped up against walls. The floor is covered with plastic cups and mysterious pools of liquid. Wrinkling your nose, you try your best to step around the messes, looking in every corner in the house for the raven-haired boy.

You find him back in his room, actually. He’s back on his bed scrolling through his phone, the light illuminating his sharp features. When he hears you close the door behind you, he looks up, eyes immediately zeroing in on the black hoodie over your torso. The corner of his mouth twitches up.

“Where’d you go?” you both ask at the same time. He chuckles; you grin. Crawling back onto the bed, you tell him to go first.

“I went around to make sure nothing’s broken,” he explains. “Perks of being the only sober intern in the house, I guess.”

A beat passes.

This house is rented. You forgot about that. All his expenses are paid for by your mother’s lab. You forgot about that. He fits in your world so well, like maybe he’s always had a spot there, that you forgot that Kuroo Tetsurou is only here for the summer.

“Right.”

Kuroo raises a brow. “And you?”

“I went to look for you.”

He smiles and holds his hands out like a magician at the end of a trick. “Well, you found me.”

“Yeah,” you muse. “I guess I did.” Aren’t you lucky.

With that, something shifts in the air. A contemplative expression crosses Kuroo’s face. Maybe he’s realised how his words come out sometimes. Kuroo often says things that sound like they have more than one meaning and it used to throw you off, but now you just go with it. You’ve even picked up that habit yourself. “Do you ever wish that you’d met someone earlier? Maybe under different circumstances?” he asks.

Sighing, you fall back against his mattress and stare up at the ceiling. Telling the truth feels easier when you can’t see him. “Yeah. All the time.” A few seconds pass. “Do you think we would’ve been friends if we went to the same college?”

He also lies down. You’re both back in the same positions you were in an hour ago, but something’s changed. “No,” he admits. You’re not surprised–– that’s what you’d expected. “I’d be a junior and you’d be a freshman. We probably would’ve never met. And even if we had, I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with a… freshie.” He chuckles softly at the end. “And look at me now,” he adds softly, more to himself than you. You look over at his face. A contemplative smile rests on his lips.

That urge to just say it returns.

“Kuroo, I think––”

“You’re my favourite p–– oh, my bad. You first.”

And it goes away again.

“Um, uh,” you stutter, “how long do you have left here?”

Kuroo raises his brows. “On this planet? Hopefully a while, Y/N.” He sees your unamused expression and drops the front. “Three more weeks.”

Your eyes widen. Eight weeks have already passed. Blood rushes to your ears. Eight entire weeks have already passed, meaning that in three weeks, Kuroo Tetsurou will leave forever. And in four, you will, too. Except you’ll come back. You’ve done so every summer since you were born, probably will do until you die.

But this place will never be the same as it used to. Not after him.

“Y/N?” Once everything comes back into focus, you see the concern riddling his features. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah.”

Say it.

“You didn’t have too much to drink, right?”

Say it.

“I just got buzzed. What about you?”

“The only drink I was planning on having all went to your shirt.”

Say it.

“Kuroo.”

“Yeah?”

Not yet.

“Let’s go on an adventure.”

At two AM, everything is different. The streets feel different, the villas look different, and you–– you can’t put your finger on it but Kuroo Tetsurou has changed, too. He sits behind the wheel of your father’s white 1953 Cadillac with the convertible roof down, unruly hair blown back by the breeze, a euphoric grin stretched over his face. In the passenger’s seat, you sit with an equally large beam and your hands raised into the dark sky.

“Where to, Miss?” he shouts over the wind.

“The stars,” you shout back with a laugh. Kuroo’s cat-like eyes briefly flit over to your side profile, lips curving to form a smaller, more tender smile. But you miss that–– your gaze falls on him just a second after his return to the road.

“I heard you say Jack’s,” he says, smirking.

The 24/7 diner sticks out like a sore thumb in the row of sun-baked stucco and stone buildings with its bold neon lights and shiny exterior. During the day, it seems gaudy, way too American for a small town in northern Italy. But at night, this place feels like home. You’ve been stumbling into Jack’s completely shit-faced since you were sixteen. Of course, all those other times had been with the kids of your mother’s coworkers. All those other times, you could hardly remember what you even ordered when you woke up hours later.

But this time, you walk in with Kuroo Tetsurou at half-past-two in the morning, the chemicals running through your bloodstream epinephrine and dopamine, not ethanol; if you’re drunk then it’s on a feeling and your only poison is the boy next to you. You study his face and consider that thought. No, he’s not poison. He’s the antidote.

“Y/N!” the server exclaims, rushing over with two menus. “And Kuroo! My two favourite customers, but together this time!” Giovanni ushers you two to a booth by the window and takes your orders, purely for show, of course. He knows your orders by heart: the Lorenzo for Kuroo and the Quentin for you.

“With fries on both, please,” Kuroo adds, throwing you a wink. “Aren’t I a gentleman?”

“You only did that to have more for yourself,” you reply drily. Having him over at your house for dinner every night made picking up his idiosyncrasies so unbelievably easy. You know them like they’re your own. You know him like he’s your own.

Kuroo clutches his chest and pretends to be offended, then changes the conversation to what happened at the lab today, or rather, yesterday. That your mother and the other researchers are so close to finding a cure for the strain of virus that’s recently hit crickets in southern Italy.

“You should drop by again sometime,” he says. “Last time you came around was, what, two weeks ago?”

Your face breaks in a grin. “Are you saying you’ve missed me? Chemistry getting boring?” you tease, drawing a loud laugh from him.

“Sodium hydrogen, you little shit.” Your mother’s used this one on you before, but hearing it from him makes you giggle anyway.

Giovanni comes back with two plates, each loaded with fries. You both say your thanks and he retreats to the kitchen again, but not before wiggling his eyebrows at your reddening faces. Wordlessly, you grab your fork and knife and transfer at least half of your fries onto Kuroo’s plate. Kuroo stares at you with the slightest smile. That look sends your stomach into flips.

“What?” you question nonchalantly, cutting into your burger.

“Nothing,” he says, mirroring your actions. “Nothing at all.”

It’s hard to imagine that after spending almost every day together for eight weeks straight that there’s still more to learn about each other, but there is. You tell him more about your real home. Your best friend who called you at 3 AM last night because of timezones. Stories from every summer before this one, when you were a different person in the same place you are now.

He tells you more about Kenma, his best friend from high school. How they played on one of the best volleyball teams in Japan. Stories from training camp, literature class, the metro ride home after school–– you listen to every single one in rapt attention. There’s not enough time in the world for all the things you want to know about Kuroo Tetsurou, so you take what you can get. If only you’d known him before you’d known him.

“If we’d met earlier here, do you think we would’ve been friends?” you ask after paging Giovanni for the check.

“No,” he replies, picking up a few remaining fries with his fork instead of his fingers. The corners of your mouth turn up. That’s your thing. He considers the scenario seriously. “I think we met right when we should have.”

“What about the future?” you press, leaning into the conversation. “Let’s say we meet in two years here, instead of now. Would we be friends?”

Kuroo sets his fork down, eyes you steadily. “What’s this about?”

You blink. “What?”

“What’s with all these hypotheticals today?” Perhaps worried that he came off too harshly, Kuroo adds, “I thought I was the scientist.”

“I just… it feels like I’ve known you since forever.” This feels like it was meant to be, you don’t say. And I want to know you forever.

A sigh–– fond, but still a sigh–– blows through his lips. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates,” he says with a wicked grin.

“Are you calling me your soulmate?” The question, shamelessly genuine, painfully hopeful, leaves your mouth without you intending it to and you regret it instantly. Because Kuroo Tetsurou has told you many times that he does not believe in soulmates.

Is it so bad to dream, though?

You watch him carefully but he doesn’t say anything, just continues smiling wryly like you’d intended to tease him. Like he knows that you know better. But you don’t.

“Are you?” he suddenly replies. Sharp eyes hold yours, daring you to respond. Do you dare?

At that moment, Giovanni returns with the check. “Who’s paying?” he asks, unaware of the tense exchange that just occurred across the table. Inaudibly, you sigh in relief. Kuroo is about to say that it’s on him when he catches himself in the middle of his sentence, looks your way, then back to Giovanni. He says you’ll go Dutch. You nod in approval.

“So,” Kuroo drawls once you’ve both paid for your meals. “Where do we go from here?”

Good question.

Kuroo Tetsurou has never been to an outdoor club period. And though he’s been clubbing, he has never once gone dancing in his lifetime. You tell him that’s about to change as he parks the car in a lot near the venue. Before him, all your summer nights were spent here.

“You’ve been here for two months and you haven’t been to an outdoor club yet?” you ask while unbuckling your seatbelt. That can’t be possible. If you’d been in his shoes… an attractive college student in a foreign country for the summer, you would have gone wild.

“Nope. I’ve been a little busy, y’know, spending my days in a lab, handling chemicals, studying viruses, washing lab equipment, writing up reports for your mother and her colleagues, working on my own research on the side… the usual.” He flashes you a bright, sarcastic smile.

“Poor baby,” you coo, ruffling his hair. Kuroo laughs while you continue messing with the dark locks. “Was your first full day here the only tourist-day you’ve had so far?” His weekends, you already know, are spent either lounging around cafés, pools, or the great outdoors with you or the interns. But you’d assumed he’d had time to do some exploring on his own.

Kuroo nods. “And my guide wasn’t even that great,” he mutters, shooting you a dark look. “She sped through every attraction and hardly spoke a word outside of the tour to me. I think she hated me.”

You giggle and open the door, letting the music from the outdoor speakers infiltrate the bubble inside your car. “Maybe she was just nervous!” you say as you get out. That’s a lie.

“About what?” Kuroo follows suit, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “I was so friendly to you and you just brushed me off each time.” He pouts.

But you don’t reply. Instead, you just grab his hands and pull him towards the venue. As you step into the boundaries marked by fairy lights and rustic wooden fences, Kuroo stops in his tracks and tugs on your intertwined hands. You glance down before up, trying to memorise how his hand looks around yours in the few seconds you can steal.

“Y/N,” Kuroo says. The strobe lights paint his skin pink, blue, purple like it’s a canvas. “Tell me why you were nervous.” Grammatically, it’s a command. And yet it sounds like he’s begging.

“What’s it mean to you?” you ask, feeling your heartbeat speed up in your chest. So what if you just… said it? What would happen?

“Everything?” he replies with a cheeky smile. The odds that he seriously means that are slim. But… they’re there. You shake that possibility out of your mind. That’s just the hope talking.

“Depends how convincingly you say it.” You tug on his arm. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” But he doesn’t budge–– he just continues to stand by the entrance of the club with an expectant look on his face. People are starting to stare.

“Fine,” you say with an eye roll. “I’ll tell you." Kuroo smirks, something self-congratulatory ready to leave his mouth, but then you let go of his hand and dance backwards into the throng of moving bodies. “But first, you’re gonna have to dance with me!”

You allow yourself to be swallowed by the lively music, the people, the moment. Seconds later you’re deep enough into the crowd that you lose sight of Kuroo. Something in you says that he’ll show up soon, though. For now, you let yourself breathe. Forget about the heaviness of what-if’s, the itch to confess, the dread of the aftermath. Feelings are a lot like gravity. Sometimes they keep you grounded, other times, they weigh you down. This is one of those other times.

You dance up to a friendly-looking group of teens your age. Three guys and two girls. You shout your name and follow up with how it’s nice to meet them, hoping one of them finds you nice enough to keep around. Dancing alone in a club is one of the worst things that can ever happen to someone. Luckily, one of the girls–– the one wearing a purple wig–– pulls you in for a hug, drunkenly shouting back, “Bianca!” Bianca pushes you into their circle next to one of the guys and, just like that, you two start moving to the beat, feeling it in your feet, shoulders, hips. At one point, you turn around and take a good look at his face. The guy’s cute enough, but he’s not Kuroo. Still, you say nothing as he moves closer to you and grabs your hand, lifting it up and motioning for you to twirl.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grip firmly onto your waist and pull you out of the circle. “Hey!” You look down, suddenly realising they’re Kuroo’s. A shiver runs down your spine. He spins you around to face him. His lips are set in a firm line, eyes completely devoid of humour, nostrils slightly flared.

“Hi,” you say quietly, testing the waters.

“Hi,” he replies curtly. His hands are still on your waist. Selfishly, you choose not to point that out. Instead, you try to defuse the situation with a light question. Playful tone.

“Where were you this whole time?”

“Looking for you.”

“Well… you found me.” You flash him a sheepish grin. A peace offering of some sort.

“I did.” He doesn’t take it.

“Lucky you.”

Irritation finally seeps through his features. “You just left me on the dance floor!” he snaps. “And then when I find you after searching the entire venue, you’re dancing up on some random guy!”

“It was in good fun!” you retort, wriggling out of his grip. “And I wasn’t dancing up on him.” You want to ask if he’s jealous so badly, but you take a good look at his face and decide against that.

“Fun?” he asks incredulously. “Worrying about losing you, worrying about myself getting lost, then having to worry about that guy after finding you isn’t very fucking fun to me, Y/N!” The words fly out of his mouth like daggers without pause. Once finished, he looks at you with a disappointed gaze, shaking his head lightly, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down at your shoes. It doesn’t matter if you disagree with him–– a sort of shame drills itself so deeply into your conscience that all you can think about is making things right again. “I didn’t think my actions through.”

A second passes. You wonder what he’s thinking.

“Hey, look at me.” Kuroo lifts your chin up with an index finger. Your wide eyes meet his narrow ones. Just as a pink beam glides over his face, his gaze softens, falls down to your lips. And then you feel his thumb on your chin, barely grazing the skin of your bottom lip. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. The revelry in the background fades to dull beats against your eardrums. Suddenly, you register that he smells of, as usual, blackcurrant and amber.

But now you also smell of blackcurrant and amber.

You’re wearing his clothes. You smell of him.

Kuroo’s eyes crawl back up to yours, wide like he’s just been caught in the middle of a crime. You blink expectantly, ignoring the furious way your heart pounds in your chest. Shallow breaths puff through your slightly parted mouth.

“I am.” It comes out barely a whisper. C’mon. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me––

You gently touch the hand he has on your chin. Kuroo jolts back like he’s been burned. “I’ll, uhm, I’ll be in the car,” he stutters, looking away from your face. He pushes through the sea of people, leaving you all alone on the dance floor, body doused in blue light, fingers touching the area his thumb had been as if preserving its print.

Kuroo hardly notices you slip into the passenger’s seat minutes later. He’s got his forearms hanging over the steering wheel and gaze fixed ahead into the darkness, mind probably running off to a place he wishes his body was, too.

As soon as you’ve buckled yourself in, Kuroo starts the car.

The entire drive home is silent.

Once Kuroo pulls into your courtyard and parks, he turns off the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and steps out of the car. Wordlessly, you follow his actions and meet him by the stairs to your door.

“Hi,” you say quietly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Hey.”

The two of you stand outside your front door in silence as you both consider what to say next. This can’t be the way it ends.

“I shouldn’t have… done that,” Kuroo says first.

“Done what?” You choose to play dumb. Call it selfish, but you want to hear him say it. Maybe then it’ll feel as real as it had been. Kuroo sighs and leans his shoulder against the stone wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s no way he can dance around what happened. Perhaps the past two months can be summed up as the development of a strong friendship with skilled doublespeak and metaphors and just enough artistic licence, but this can’t. And Kuroo knows that. He can’t feed you an alternative truth like he’s done so many times before. What’s more, he can’t lie to himself anymore. So maybe it’s better just to not speak at all.

Your eyes burn holes into the side of his face. Fine. You’ll concede first. “I was never nervous.”

Kuroo blinks, turns his head around to look at you. “What?”

“I was never nervous. I was playing it cool because I didn’t want to risk befriending you and getting attached.” I’m still playing it cool, you don’t say. And I’m already attached. “Guess I just came off as a bitch instead.” You laugh. “But can you blame me? You were this cute, older guy. Smart, too, since you were interning with my mom. You were my dream guy.”

An amused breath blows out of his nose. “Were?” he questions, grinning, only remembering the fragility of your platonic relationship a second later. “Um––”

“Are.” It slips out of your mouth without you realising. Fuck. Kuroo stills. It’s too late to take back your words now, so you might as well just keep going. “You still are my dream guy.”

Seconds pass and neither of you says anything. Sweat gathers in the palms of your hands. You start to feel your heartbeat through your neck. The buzz of the cicadas grows louder. Oppressive. Behind Kuroo, the sky is starting to turn pale blue and pink in the horizon. That means it’s almost sunrise. The night is almost over, and, hopefully, so is this awful conversation.

“And… you don’t feel the same.” Funnily, you feel like you’re lying. You’re telling Kuroo how he feels and you think you’re lying. Does that make sense? None of this night even feels real. God, you hope this has all just been a dream. Mustering a soft smile, you say, “That’s okay. Thank you for the party. And the adventure.” It was fun while it lasted. You feel the house key in your pocket and turn to unlock the door. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, Kuroo. Can we still be friends?” The words leave your mouth feeling like barbed wire. You know damn well you can’t still be friends.

And suddenly, you feel his calloused hands around your cheeks. Suddenly, his hot breath fans over your face.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.

Your eyes close instantly. “Yes, please.”

And suddenly, his soft lips are on yours.

Kuroo breaks the kiss seconds later. “Fuck,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours, touching the tips of your noses together. “Y/N, I don’t want to be friends. Fuck.” A dry chuckle leaves his mouth. He pauses to collect his thoughts but decides that that can wait. Instead, he presses another kiss to your lips so fervently that he backs you up against the wall with no space between your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat like this, chest to chest. Kuroo’s hands travel down your waist and rest on your hips. His tongue runs across your tongue, your teeth, the insides of your mouth. You gently suck on it, drawing a satisfied moan from him. When the kiss ends, you see that his lips are red and cheeks are swollen. A warm feeling spreads through your chest. “I thought I could be happy just being friends with you but I can’t. I want you so bad it hurts. Not to mention, when I saw you in my hoodie?” His fingers pinch the material. “I thought God was testing me or some shit.”

“Sure didn’t feel like you wanted me that way,” you retort, still breathless.

“In my defence,” Kuroo says, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, “I was very scared.”

“Of what?”

It looks like he’s about to tell you, but he changes his mind and doesn’t answer. He grabs your hand and pulls you back to the car with a cheeky grin. “I’ll tell you only if you tell me where we can watch the sunrise.”

Kuroo holds your hand, stroking your thumb the entire drive there.

After a short hike, you plop down on the grassy hillside, supporting your body with outstretched arms in the back. Kuroo sits down beside you with one of his hands covering yours, fingers intertwined like a honeysuckle vine around a hazel tree. You tell him that you grew up running along this hill with your parents. It used to be your playground. Maybe, you think, it’s time to make new memories here.

“Beautiful,” Kuroo breathes, a wonderstruck look in his eyes. The sun’s just risen halfway above the pink and blue horizon, the saturated orange casting the entire city below gold. It’s not just the city, though. He’s also gold. He’s just as beautiful. You watch him with a soft smile on your lips, noting how his wide eyes and slack jaw return to normal as he stares off into the distance. After resting your head on his shoulder, you fix your eyes on the sunrise ahead. You wonder what he’s thinking so quietly about.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask once the sun has finished revealing itself.

Kuroo blinks, returning to reality, but continues to stare straight ahead. “I was just thinking about… soulmates.”

You lift your head off his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates now,” you tease.

“Hmm.” He turns to look at you, the sun turning his hazel eyes the colour of honey. That same wry smirk from Jack’s returns to his face.

“You wanna know why I was so scared?”

“Pray tell.”

“Because I’ve never felt this way towards anyone.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No,” Kuroo laughs, laying his head down in your lap, looking up into your eyes. “I’m serious. I used to purposely stay away from girls in high school. Same in college. Same all the way until you somehow wormed your way into my life. That’s why we wouldn’t have been friends.” You cock your head to the side.

“Why?” you ask, running your fingers through his hair.

Kuroo’s eyelids flutter shut. He inhales deeply before talking. “My parents are divorced. The years before the divorce were… very ugly.”

(He spares you the details of the midnight arguments, the smashed plates, the holes in the walls. He spares you the details of how he only ever knew how to fall asleep with his head sandwiched between two pillows, how he hasn’t seen his sister in a decade, how he’ll curse and snap but never yell because he always feels like a child again around the noise. That’s for another time, if you’ll have any.)

“I still remember all the fighting and yelling. For the longest time, that’s all I knew about marriage and relationships.”

“Did you think all relationships were like that? Fighting and yelling?” you ask.

“For a while, yeah. I’m still a little scared of that, to be honest. Ending up in a relationship where all you do is fight.” Kuroo sighs. “But that’s not the only thing. I thought I wouldn’t know how to love someone, growing up like that.” At that, your fingers pause in his hair.

“Wait,” you say, furrowing your brows. A wave of immense sadness (not for yourself, for him) washes over you. “You think you wouldn’t know how to love someone else?”

“Thought.” Kuroo cracks open his eyes and smiles up at you. “I’m in the process of changing my mind.”

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou scenarios #kuroo tetsurou imagines #haikyuu!!

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atalana · 3 years ago

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[copied over from my cr blog, also this is gonna get long, i’d apologise but im not sorry]

okay, so

this is a rant probably about 7 years in the making, bc when i first watched lok i had not done any music study, i had not done any composing of my own, my knowledge of music theory was at a primary school level and i still thought tv soundtracks were just made by one person composing a whole cache of music and then the audio editors pick and choose what track to place where

(spoiler alert that’s not how film and tv scoring works, i have now done a music composition course where we had to score a short film, among other things, and i have so much more respect for tv composers jesus christ)

but this one stuck out to me even way back then, bc me barely knowing what a leitmotif was was like “hey this one little refrain keeps popping up whenever bolin does lavabending, and i like it, i’m gonna see if it’s on the soundtrack”

it was not, and that’s sort of where i left it back in 2014, but i actually did a rewatch of lok pretty recently out of nostalgia, and then noticed it even more

and to explain why (and this is also a little bit why five’s stuck out to me in tua, i’ll get to that in another ask), let’s cover, leitmotifs, and tv scoring in general

so a leitmotif is basically just a short musical idea that represents something in a piece of music. when i studied motivic development we were encouraged to make that motif four notes or less, and then develop it into something longer (aka a theme), because if you can constantly come back to a really short idea while keeping the piece moving, that’s what makes a piece of music memorable

(you can ignore those rules on purpose but that’s a different essay)

so the most common way that a leitmotif shows up in soundtracks is to represent a character or a location - you play the motif when that character shows up or when you’re in that location and boom, the audience associates that motif with that person place or thing, and you can then use this to tell the audience things without actually telling them. for example, star wars playing the imperial march whenever someone does something darth vader related - darth vader isn’t on screen, but you can feel his presence, because his music is playing

and if we were a film score, where we have two hours to show one particular character’s development, great! we give them a simple motif, and then as they grow as a person we change their motif to reflect what is happening to them, until we end up with something that communicates on a subconscious level how much they’ve grown. we toss in as much symbolism as we can, and we have a really great soundtrack that’s instantly memorable

tv scoring, is harder. partially because of time constraints (have you ever composed half an hour of original music a week, and had to make sure it fits perfectly with every beat of what’s happening on screen? these guys have), partially because there’s a much larger focus on ensemble casts

so what atla and lok do, for the most part, is not score individual character motifs for everyone. this is fairly common in tv soundtracks, instead we score ideas, concepts, and feelings - these’ll come up a lot more and give you more information than just “oh hey this character’s on screen”

the avatar state, for example, has the strongest and most recognisable theme across both shows. i’m linking an atla track in here because it has the best example but you’ll know this shows up with korra too - and with particularly important moments for wan, for kyoshi, etc. they also appear in the opening of both shows, four strong notes that start and end on the same note (in the case of what i’m linking, it’s an F#)

youtube

the first part of this track is the more uncertain, pensive theme that comes up when both avatars are feeling doubt/worry/sadness, but then it transitions into the more recognisable four. worth noting though, those are both basically the same motif. if i write them out back to back, you’ll notice they both have four notes and start and end on F#. if i had to guess, four notes four elements, and it comes back to the start because the avatar is a cycle.

korra has a theme for when she’s fighting, but not an individual character theme. the airbenders as a concept have a theme, republic city has thematic instruments, as do some big name characters, like iroh and his tsungi horn (this is also a cross-series thing, he’s always playing it in atla, it shows up when zuko has to make big moral decisions, and when we first meet iroh in the spirit world in lok, it shows up there too, to let the audience know who this is before we properly see him)

so, if korra doesn’t get a single theme and instead has several for different aspects of her life, and mako and asami follow along with the mood of the story like all the other characters, the fact that bolin has a personal leitmotif at all, let alone a solid, developing one, is pretty remarkable!

now, granted, it mostly starts with book 3, before then he was like every other character, but it has clear symbolism through those last two books! and, initially i thought it was related only to his lavabending, since that’s most of when it shows up, but since my rewatch, i’ve started calling it his hero theme

see, when people wanna criticise mako and bolin, usually the comments they get are that bolin’s too immature and mako’s too serious/uptight. but like, that’s how they work, you can’t analyse either of them without the context of the other. since they were little kids on the streets, bolin chases his heart and mako makes sure they don’t die from it, that is their entire childhood. and neither would have got here on their own because mako wouldn’t take the necessary risks and bolin wouldn’t take the necessary precautions. (like. remove either one from the equation and they’d still be working for the triple threats bc s1 and their flashback miniseries make pretty clear that bolin got them out and mako kept them out)

and then book 2 proves it! because it splits team avatar up, and what happens? bolin is totally taken advantage of by varrick and used as a pawn in his evil plan and mako ends up in jail

so what’s book 3, to them? it’s, being able to find themselves without having that codependency. mako no longer has someone to protect, which is what he’s based his whole life around so far - bolin’s doing fine and he’s no longer dating either korra or asami. and bolin’s trying his hand at some of that responsibility (look at how he immediately adopts kai who is explicitly them but younger because he wants to be the older brother for once). most importantly, they find the rest of their family, and stop being defined by being orphans. they don’t have to be that singular piece of a puzzle, they can just be themselves. and that’s where bolin’s character really starts to shine, because that’s when they bring in the bending plot, and bending, perhaps more than any other character, really gets to the heart of who bolin is

if you want more of my thoughts on that i have an essay here, but tl;dr: bolin’s an extremely powerful earthbender, but he’s not a metalbender because metalbending requires you to double down on the earth characteristics and think like an earthbender, and bolin doesn’t, he’s too fluid for that, which is one of his major strengths, so of course he can lavabend

and finally - to his motif itself! (as a note, i’ve put all of these in the same key to show where it repeats, but there’s a variety of keys used in the show)

as far as i can find, it first shows up in s3e8, when bolin stuns p’li with this well placed shot

[Edit: it first showed up in the s2 finale, but again in a simplified version and again with him doing something heroic with earthbending, so we can still start the analysis here]

mako volunteers bolin for that job, because he knew bolin was capable of it. why? because bolin landed an identical shot earlier in the episode, after trying to metalbend, getting frustrated he can’t, and cheating with some extremely well aimed earthbending. it’s just a short refrain and you barely notice it, but it’s the first connection of this motif with the theme of bolin’s bending

it looks like this, and it’s always played on a trumpet, which is part of why i call it the hero theme, because, if you’re looking at music from a western perspective, trumpets were used to herald kings, and then used to represent military glory, and then when superhero themes started happening, they used trumpets too - it’s basically western music shorthand for hero these days

(it’s also symmetrical so that helps with the good vibes)

and he’s saving everyone here, so it’s linked to his bending, but it’s also linked to his heroism

it ties the two together, and they are tied together.

when’s the next time it shows up? episode 10, when the brothers are in prison in ba sing se, and bolin tries to metalbend them out. again, he’s doing this to save people, and this motif gets a few notes added on to the end in a raising pattern - they’re inspiring, but they don’t go anywhere. which is exactly what happens in the scene, because he’s trying to go about this in the wrong way. mako believes in him, but it won’t (and doesn’t) work

it appears in episode 12 when bolin saves everyone from ghazan destroying the temple, in a more fancy orchestral remake of the first version - it’s impressive, but it hasn’t actually developed yet, it’s just his discovery of it

the book 3 finale already has its own fucking amazing soundtrack, i love that entire episode’s score, but it gets its own moment there too, and the first real development!

because what we hear is not what we’ve heard before. we know it’s the same theme, because it’s using those signature trumpets, but it’s the second part of this phrase, the answer to the question supplied by the first one. why? because bolin’s figured out who he is and he’s starting to use it. it still hasn’t settled yet though, it’s early days and he’s still just turning ghazan’s lava back on him, so again, it raises, leaving it on a question mark

it doesn’t appear in s4e7 when he lavabends as a warning against the escaped prisoners, because he’s using it as a threat, not to help people. but it does later in the episode when he uses lavabending to save them from kuvira. and that’s when we get the first full phrase, question and answer

it keeps the first motif identical, takes out the first note of the second, and ties them together - except now it’s not open ended, now it knows where it’s going - it’s been three years, at this point bolin is confident in both himself and his bending

and then that phrase appears all over the place in the finale, because all bolin does is save people - everyone from the exploding building, he slows the giant mecha with lavabending, he saves opal, he slows the giant mecha again by collapsing a building on it, and most importantly, he’s the one rescuing his brother this time, instead of the other way around (though that one doesn’t get a motif appearance bc admittedly a fuck ton of other things are happening in the soundtrack at the time)

so to that question asked in book three - who is bolin when not next to someone else? well, funnily enough, we saw it in book two as well, just in a warped way, playing nuktuk. it just wasn’t truly him because it was created by varrick, and he needed to get away from varrick too. the question put forward by the narrative is who is bolin, and the answer given by the music is, he is a hero. and i don’t know why bolin is the only one to get a theme like this, but i think it may have something to do with the fact that, while everyone in team avatar has been a hero and saved people, he is the only one who has, from the start, solely been motivated by wanting to help people. he follows his heart, and his heart cares, about everyone. it’s been the driving force behind almost everything he’s ever done. and i love him so much

#so yeah those are my thoughts on bolin go forth and cry with me about five notes on a trumpet #legend of korra #lok #bolin #music

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whump-town · 4 years ago

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Red Fish, Blue Fish

This is for @genevievedarcygranger (i'm sorry you deserve better than whatever this is)

Hank chilling with Hotch but it's sad bc I don't know how to do happy

On Thursday Hank sits out on his front porch with his banana mushed in his right hand and his sippy cup in the other. He waits, as he does every Thursday, for the sound of Hotch’s old Jeep to pull into the driveway. The car doesn’t look like anything he’d drive but it’s one of the last things he has of Haley’s - the Jeep they bought together in Seattle. Her dream car. He drives it now for practicality and because as he gets older silly things make him sentimental. And he just loves this old car.

And Hank loves it even more.

Hank grows agitated - a deep feeling in his stomach making him just as upset as the mashed banana he now wants off his hands. Savannah steps out on the porch with him, having left knowing he’d stay put because he’d never miss Hotch pulling in for anything. She’s got a wash rag and drags the warmed cloth over his face and hands. Taking what’s left of the banana and tossing it into the grass for a bird to eat.

“Come on,” Savannah picks him up. “We gotta get you dressed.” Hank goes even if he’s a little confused. Every Tuesday and Thursday for as long as Hank can remember he’s spent the work day at Hotch’s. Occasionally, (if Hotch has a doctor’s appointment and when Jack has breaks from college) that planning gets mixed up and Hank doesn’t take it well. They come rarely because over the last three years Hotch just doesn’t schedule appointments for those days and Jack is nearly twenty-one and spends his breaks doing other things. Not hanging with his dad.

Hank realizes Hotch isn’t coming when Savannah starts to draw him a bath. He fights her even though he typically loves baths. “No mama,” he tries to push himself out of her arms. He wants to go back to the porch. Hotch can’t come unless Hank is down there to watch for him. “No mama no!” He cries when she’s triumphant and places him down in the tub. “Hops,” he reminds her with fat tears rolling his cheeks. “Hops comin’ mama. Hops.”

She washes the rest of the banana off of him, sighing, and trying not to get upset herself. “Hops isn’t coming baby.” He hadn’t come last week either but Hank had been too distracted by Uncle Spence making a surprise visit to notice. Which was entirely the point of Spencer coming on Hotch’s normally scheduled days. Savannah knew she wouldn’t be as lucky this week. Hank had noticed, he’d realized how long it had been since Hotch came around. And she’d still let him think Hotch was coming this morning. She needed the hour to gather herself, to call Derek, and be certain. To reassure herself of what’s happening.

Hank stops fighting her. His little shoulders drop and he sniffles pitfully as he lets her wash his body back off. “Not comin’?” he mumbles. Hotch always comes. He picks Hank up from DayCare early and they go to the park for ice cream. All it takes is one phone call and, even with other plans, Hotch will diverge his path to get Hank. How many lunches has Hank been to? Eating a banana muffin, seated on the ground, and leaning against Hotch’s leg while he and Emily talk over coffee in some dusty cafe’s bookstore. How many prestigious academy lectures? Laying on the floor and coloring while Hotch guest speaks in one of Reid’s classes.

Savannah stops and looks at her son. His little eyes are full of far too much sorrow for someone so small and typically full of such overwhelming joy. She wipes one of his tears and frowns when he sniffles, rubbing his nose with the back of his chubby fist. “We’re going to Hops’ house,” she tells him, “but you can’t see Hops. Not today, okay?” She cups his cheek, “Hops is sick.”

He didn’t tell anyone. Not Emily the Tuesday after he found out over their weekly coffee. He couldn’t. Not with Hank sitting in her lap and struggling to identify words he recognizes from One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. Not when he’d dropped Hank off knowing the treatment plan he agreed to would probably mean he’d eventually be too sick to take Hank every week. But he couldn’t say it out loud and make it true.

Last Monday he arranged for Dave to pick him up from the hospital after the surgery the oncologist thought would be minimal and a successful measure to get the cancer out of his body. With its success chemo could eradicate the rest and Hotch would manage to get through the whole mess without anyone having known a thing - the best alternative, in his opinion.

But his heart never does well under the stress of anesthesia.

“Sick?” Hank repeats and he turns this over in his head. Sick. He knows what to do. He nods his head, “o’tay. Gonna help?”

Savannah stops and refrains from the truth which is that there’s nothing they can do. This is all Hotch and the doctors. They’re only going over to his house - you know, she doesn't even know why they’re going over there. Dave and Emily have taken up a semi-permanent residence. Garcia’s bringing food and with Garcia comes Reid because he won’t say no to food. Derek’s over to put up a bar in the shower and he’ll be sucked into staying for dinner and wants her there so he doesn’t have to be alone. With all their normal babysitters there, Hank has to come as well.

With a hesitant nod, Savannah agrees. “Yeah, baby, we’re gonna help.”

Hank packs a bag to keep himself entertained under the helpful guide of his mother. He refuses the books she wants him to take and informs her moodily that he wants Hops’ books and not trucks. He can’t read the books at Hotch’s house but Savannah caves and decides that’s a problem for later. With his little bag on his back, he leads Savannah to the bathroom. Asks for the bandaids - stickers, he calls them - under the understanding that ouchies and fevers are the same as whatever is wrong with Hops and a bandaid will help. Savannah lets him take three. They’re just bandaids and it’s not a big deal.

His bandaids in one hand and his sippy cup in the other, Hank lets his mother put him in the car seat with no complaint. He’s forgotten his mother’s statement about not seeing Hotch and grows eager, excited as they take the familiar turns to get to Hotch’s house.

Derek meets them outside, his tension apparent to Savannah. He’s upset and she gets out, leaving Hank in the car out of earshot while they talk softly outside. Derek wipes his eyes of the tears trying to boil over, frustrated with himself for being upset and Savannah rubs his arm. Comforting him where he almost wishes she’d pressure him to pull himself together. She pulls him into a hug, holding him for a moment while he struggles to get a hold of his emotions. He’s scared and it hurts to see Hotch like this but he can’t and he won’t leave the team here alone. It isn’t fair and they could all use a little of Hank’s magic right now.

But Hank could care less about any of them.

He wants one person and one person only.

“Hank!”

Hank Morgan has had four-years to understand what everyone else around him leans blindly into. There is no need to knock, no shout in warning as he runs for the door of his favorite person in the whole world. His father can’t understand it, no one really can, but Hank loves Hotch. And after two weeks of missed Thursdays with no playing in the garden and napping to the sound of nature documentaries voiced by people with weird accents Hank is eager. He’s blind, he’s desperate and despite his father’s tone of voice he still fully expects to throw the front door open and find Hotch.

“Hank -” Derek tries to grab his son by the shoulders and stop his rapid pace towards the house. But even on baby legs the second he’s placed down on the ground, he’s running. Derek needs to give him a warning for what lies ahead but Hanks is on a roll with his excitement leading the pack. He slips right past his dad giving an excited little shout as he goes. It takes him a second to get up the steps, his legs too short to just run straight up them.

But Hotch isn’t standing at the front door.

Uncle Dave meets him instead on the other side of the door and cocks an eyebrow that’s humorous and light despite the way that the dimly lit living room strangles any chance at a good mood. “Where are you running off to short stack?” He’s not given a chance to answer as he’s lifted up, smothered in affections that he only pays half a mind.

Hank lets them kiss at his face. He limply goes into Spencer’s arms and just holds still while the genius squeezes the life out of him. Not even a single comment when Penelope has to brush tears from her eyes to accept him into her arms. He goes from person to person, answering their silly questions and sitting still with the understanding that he’ll end up with who he wants. He gets to Emily though and there is no Hops sitting beside her. No grumbling Hank has grown accustomed to hearing when the two of them are in the same room.

“Want Hops,” he tells Emily softly because if anyone can tell him where to find his rogue friend it’s Emily. In the way that he knows his mom is always with his dad, that Uncle Spence and Penny arrive in the same car, he knows that, typically, where Emily is there will eventually be a Hotch.

Emily smiles - a smile where her sadness is far better hidden than any of the others - and takes on a teasing tone. “Silly old Hops is taking a nap, ” she tells him with a shake of her head. She redirects him, hopes to distract him. “So, why don’t we go get a snack instead? Penny brought cookies and I think Hops has popsicles.” She kisses his forehead and stands, pulling him along with her. “What’re you thinking? Red popsicle?”

Hank turns over her shoulder, looking in the direction of the living room. He spots Hotch’s room, the door closed and the lights off. There he is, Hank knows. He’s in his room.

“Look—” Emily squeezes him, jerks his attention to the open freezer. “You want a squeeze?” She points to the box of GoGo squeez applesauce. The ones Hotch always keeps on hand for Hank. Typically, he can’t refuse them but Hank isn’t bothered with them. Emily sighs, “alright. Here, let me put you down. We’ll see what he has in the cabinets.” The second that Hank is on the ground he’s walking away. Leaving Emily in the kitchen trying to decide if these smiling gummies are half as good as they look.

Hank goes back to Hotch’s office, fingers trailing down the wall as he goes. He’s heading for the books he knows are for him on the lower shelf. He does take a moment to touch the covers of some of the larger books, ones he can only barely reach. Hotch steers him away from them but Hank likes their deep colors and their golden designs. It only makes him more curious as to what lies inside them. Mostly, he just wants to understand. That curiosity he has to know everything he can about the people around him. How his dad works with a hammer - he’s so strong it’s crazy. What Uncle Dave does with all the foods he puts in the pots and how it ends up tasting so good. And, more than anything else, what’s in these damn books.

Hank has his own shelf full of books that were once Jack’s and others that are a collection of books Hank has left here and ones that Hotch buys him when they go to bookstores. Hank decides on Dr. Seus a yellow book with fish - he has a hard time with the color yellow and as he pulls it down to take it to Hotch he’s excited to inform Hotch on it’s color. Though, he thinks it’s green.

It’s not hard to manage to get back to Hotch’s room, no one’s paying him any attention. Penelope is crying again and Savannah is rubbing Derek’s back, all of them listening to Dave talk somberly. They’re odd, Hank thinks, but that’s okay.

He pushes Hotch’s bedroom door open and is disheartened to find it so dark. No matter how many times Derek assures him there’s nothing in the dark and no matter how many times he’s taken a nap in this very room… he’s scared. Hesitantly, Hank steps into the dark back still close to safety. “Hops?” he asks softly. He can see something move on the bed, the hiss of something softly trailing through the room. Something beeps and it makes him jump and Hank bolts for the side of the bed. Running blindly to the side he thinks Hotch is at.

“Hops,” Hank frantically sweeps his arm over the side. He’s just a little too small to make it up the side by himself but he tries frantically. “Up Hops.”

Hotch coughs, squinting into the dark. He’d heard the door open - removed from himself in a distinctly drugged kind of way. In the back of his mind, the seemingly only alert part of him, assumed it was Dave back with more pills to swallow. Tiny fingers grab his wrist and Hank’s pleading, his fear, cuts through the fog idly. Hotch is pleasantly surprised to find Hank - afterall, he’d been more alert this morning enough to try and fight Dave over his typical day. Dave had been right though, Hotch isn’t well enough to watch after a toddler. Hank hits his side and the world brightens, pulled to focus by sharp pain that steals his breath.

“Please,” Hank cries. “Hops?”

Hotch can’t pull himself upright but he can vaguely make out Hank by his side. Little fingers holding onto the blanket. “Easy, ” Hotch whispers. He offers Hank his hand, grunting when the toddler quickly attaches himself to it. He’s sniffling, still crying as he grunts and struggles to climb up the side of Hotch's bed. His legs are a little too short but he makes up for it with determination. “Almost there, ” Hotch praises, moving his hand and giving the back of Hank’s pants a little pull to get him the rest of the way up.

Hank melts straight into him. Pushing his face into Hotch’s side and holding him, both arms around Hotch’s chest and holding tight. Hotch places his hand on Hank's back, rubbing it until his little sobs die down. “What are you crying for?” Hotch holds him close, ignoring the dull ache across his chest. After being stuck in this room, drugged and laying in the dark, he needs all the help he can get. He needs Hank with all his little questions and his snacks.

Hank calms down, sniffling sadly as he pops back up and rubs at his eyes. He looks down at Hotch, taking in this new situation. There’s a tube snaking around him and Hank can’t tell where it goes in or if it does but he frowns because he knows it must hurt and he doesn’t like that. Even the canal running Hotch’s nose. Gently Hank leans forward and touches it, frowning. “Hurts?”

Hotch shakes his head, “no. It doesn’t hurt.”

With a grunt, Hank adamantly accepts this. Hotch doesn’t lie so Hank trusts him but… it looks like it hurts. Hank leans against Hotch’s chest, curled up facing him. “You takin’ nap?” Hank asks.

Hotch nods his head, “something like that…” He keeps one hand on Hank, keeping the boy from getting too excited and rolling off the bed. Hank settles down close to him, scooting as close as he can. Half sitting on Hotch’s left side facing him. Hotch reaches up, ignoring the pull of his muscles, to place his palm to Hank’s face. “You gonna lay down with me?”

Hank grins and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh!” He pulls out his book, setting it down on Hotch’s chest. He scoots himself along the side of the bed, all clumsy baby movements, until he can move Hotch’s arm around him and lean against Hotch’s side. Putting his back against Hotch and laying his head on Hotch’s shoulder. Pulling his hand around him and into his lap. “Read?” he asks, cracking the book open and showing Hotch the page.

He hasn’t got a lot of energy, feels himself slipping with the simple strain of talking and watching Hank move in the dark of the room. He’s ashamed to admit, to even think, that he can’t sit up and hunt down his reading glasses and get through a simple children's book. Not even with Hank twisting around to look up at him like that. “You know the words, buddy.” Hotch has read it to him so many times and Derek even more. He gets a kick out of saying the words before them, and knows what each page says. “Why don't you read it to me?”

Hank frowns, looking at the book, and back at Hotch. He wants to read the book but he doesn’t know how. “You’ll help?”

Hotch smiles and nods, “of course I will.”

Hank settles back down and opens the book. The room isn’t really bright enough but Hank can see the page well enough. He skips the first page. There are big words and not enough pictures. “One fish,” Hank touches each fish as he goes. “Two fishes. Red fish and blue fish.” He looks back to Hotch and he nods, he’s right. “Black fish and blue fish and old fish and baby fish and green--”

“Yellow,” Hotch corrects softly. It’s not important that he’s getting the words wrong so much as the color. “It’s a yellow fish, see?”

Hank nods and repeats after Hotch. “Yellow fish and fish with a car.” He flips the page and lays his head down on Hotch’s side, curling up closer. He sits up, “can I have blankets?”

Hotch nods and Hank cheers softly and sits up. It takes him a moment but he scurries down beside Hotch, tugging the blanket up around him. “Comfortable,” Hotch asks and Hank frowns, trying to figure that out. It takes him another moment and Hank knows what it is - he sits up and pulls Hotch’s arm around him. Letting him lean back and he nods. It makes Hotch laugh a little, smirking. “Good.”

Hank lays his head back down on Hotch’s side and opens the book.

Derek finds them ten minutes later. Hank is just looking at the pictures, humming softly to himself as he traces the fish with his finger. Hotch is asleep, breathing not sounding any better than it had before but the room feels brighter. Things not so dense.

"I wondered where you ran off to," Derek whispers as he steps in.

Hank looks up from his book, "found Hops."

Derek nods, "yeah, I see that." He won't move Hank just yet. It's as calm as Hotch has been since he came home and Hank is being good. It keeps both trouble makers out of everyone's hair. "Will you watch him for me?" Derek asks playfully. "Seems like you're doing a good job."

Hank nods, attention going back to his book. "Yeah, I'm watchin'."

Derek leans over the bed and kisses Hank's head. Stopping for a moment and just looking at Hotch. His face pale and his breathing still not right.

"Hops is okay, daddy."

Derek clears his throat and nods. As he's walking out he hears Hank start the book over. His soft voice reading out, "one fish, two fish--"

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hank morgan #derek morgan #savannah morgan #emily prentiss #david rossi

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reinerispretty · 4 years ago

Text

reminiscence (? x f!reader) pt2

thank you so much for all of the positive feedback on the last chapter!! i’m super happy you guys enjoyed it :) just for some clarification, the reason i made who the reader will end up with a mystery is bc since she has amnesia, i thought it would be fun if we all found out together hehe :) enjoy this next chapter!!

pt1

pt3

“Thank you,” The woman said, hunched over as she caught her breath. When she stood, Bolin got a good look at her face. She wasn’t a woman at all: she was a girl, probably the same age as him. “I thought I had an agreement with the Triads to leave me alone, but that guy must not have gotten the memo.”

Bolin let out a laugh. “You have an agreement with the Triads?” The girl furrowed her brows and pouted.

“Gotta keep myself safe somehow.”

“Who was that?” (Y/N) asked as Kya and Korra rifled through dressers and chests to find Air Nomad clothes that would fit her. Kya gave Korra a sharp look before the girl could answer.

“That was Bolin,” Korra replied cautiously. “He’s Mako’s brother.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) said. “He looked really nice. Did he know me too?”

“Um, yeah, I think so,” Korra said and Kya glared at her. “What? Am I just supposed to lie to her if she asks?”

“I appreciate the honesty,” (Y/N) admitted. “I would really rather no one tiptoe around the past.”

“If you receive too much information at once, or someone tells you something too painful, it could harm your chances of ever getting your memory back,” Kya said as she handed (Y/N) an Air Nomad dress.

“So everyone is just supposed to pretend that they’re fine with me? That hardly seems fair.” (Y/N) gave Korra a pointed look. “I know you know something that I don’t and that’s why you’re a little stand-offish toward me.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Tell me, please? I’ll be okay. I need to know what kind of person I was.”

“Not today,” Kya interrupted. “You need rest. Lots of it. You’ve been going since you woke up.”

Now that she mentioned it, (Y/N) did feel rather exhausted. She stifled a yawn. “I’ll lead you to your room,” Kya said. “Since Korra can’t be trusted to not tell you everything.”

(Y/N) stood as Kya grabbed her by the arm again. “It was nice meeting you, Korra, even if it wasn’t nice meeting me.” Korra didn’t reply. She just watched as the girl padded down the hall.

The room (Y/N) was given was bare. It held a desk, a dresser, and a bed. The window looked out onto the courtyard below. She could see the people down there, undoubtedly talking about her, and she reached her fingers up to open the window. She paused, thinking on Kya’s words. If she found out too much about herself too soon, she would risk the chance of losing her memories forever. She let her hand fall to her side.

Everyone down there knew who she was. Maybe they knew her likes, her dislikes, or even her birthday. She wondered if at one point they had been friends.

Her experience with Mako had definitely put a sour taste in her mouth. He had said she wasn’t a good person. Was she mean? Evil, even? What made her that way? What did she do to him that was so awful?

And then there was Bolin. Mako had mentioned his name earlier, when she had arrived on his doorstep. “Bolin’s not here,” He had said. Why would it matter whether or not Bolin was there? She sighed as she looked down at the boy dressed in green. What did he know about her?

(Y/N) felt the familiar stinging at the backs of her eyes that alerted her to tears. Since she was alone, she let them fall freely. She moved away from the window and to the bed, her body shaking as she cried. She felt so alone. How was she supposed to cope with something like this? She was completely lost on the inside and it seemed like the only people who knew her didn’t want her around.

She didn’t bother wiping her tears away. They fell too quickly for her to catch them all. She wondered if she had ever had someone that would wipe her tears away. She got under the covers and prayed that sleep would come to her soon.

---

Two years ago, Bolin had been walking down the streets of Republic City. It was a warm night, signaling the start of summer, so he wore his jacket slung over his shoulder. The streetlights shone against the puddles on the asphalt. It had rained earlier that day.

He and Mako had gotten in a fight over money again. It was stupid, really, but sometimes Bolin was just so sick of Mako treating him like he was incapable. He had slammed the door as he left their shared apartment and marched into the street, walking with no destination. He was far away from home now. He could tell he had been walking for a while because the neon lights of the shops had already shut off. Republic City was beginning to quiet.

He made a right onto a dimly lit street and noticed a female figure walking ahead of him. Bolin decided to stop. He knew sometimes it freaked women out if men walked behind them, even if there was no ill-intent behind it, so he leaned his back against the cool brick of the building and waited until she had rounded the corner to start walking again. That was when he heard the scream.

Out of pure instinct, Bolin started running toward the sound, his jacket billowing behind him. He skidded around the corner, watching as the woman he had seen struggled against a member of the Triple Threat Triad. He and Mako had done some work for them in the past, but he didn’t recognize the man. He was large, towering over the woman and probably Bolin too. He had his hands around the woman’s wrists and was trying to lead her into the dark alley beside them. “Hey!” Bolin called out. “Let her go!”

The man stopped, a sinister smile creeping its way onto his features. “This doesn’t concern you, kid.”

Bolin wracked his brain for a clever reply, but when he couldn’t find one, he resorted to his next best option. He stomped against the ground, causing small boulders to pummel the man. He let go of the woman’s wrists and she ran over to Bolin.

The man let out a roar, jumping into the air and sending a slice of firebending at the two of them. They screamed and Bolin grabbed her hand, running back down the street and taking the back alley ways he knew so well.

“My place is the other way!” She shouted at him.

“I don’t think you wanna take him to where you live!” Bolin shouted back. They made a sharp right turn onto one of the busier streets in Republic City. Bolin stopped, using his head start to earthbend the ground up, completely blocking the man from following them. They dashed into the crowd then, Bolin’s grip still tight on the woman’s hand, until he was sure they were safe to stop.

Bolin let out a laugh. “You have an agreement with the Triads?” The girl furrowed her brows and pouted.

“Gotta keep myself safe somehow,” She said. She looked down at her hands and sighed sadly. “When he grabbed me, he made me drop my dinner.”

“Oh no!” Bolin exclaimed. “Come with me, I know a place!”

“Thanks,” She said, “But I don’t have any money on me.”

“Let me buy you dinner!” The words came out before he could stop them, and he knew Mako would be so mad if he found out, but he couldn’t help himself. The girl raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think it’s fair to make you pay for my dinner after you just saved my life,” She said with a laugh. Bolin smiled at the sound.

“How about this: you can repay me for saving your life by accompanying me to dinner. And if I—hypothetically—ordered too much food and couldn’t possibly let it go to waste so you’d have to eat it…then I think that’s fair!”

The girl smiled up at him. “Then I guess, hypothetically, I’d have to say yes.”

Bolin grinned and began walking in the direction of the restaurant, then paused. “Just to be clear, you are coming to dinner with me, right?” The girl laughed again and nodded.

They slid into the booth of Bolin’s favorite twenty-four-hour noodle shop. “They’ve got everything,” Bolin explained as they poured over the menu together. “Ramen, pho, pad thai…you name it, they have it.”

The girl hummed. “Think they have sea prunes?” Bolin’s face contorted into disgust. “I’m kidding! I hate sea prunes.” She picked up her menu, biting her lip as she looked at its contents. “Do you like soup dumplings?”

“Like soup dumplings?” Bolin asked. “I love them! They’re my favorite!”

“Mine too!”

“We’ll get a double order then,” Bolin decided. He went up to the counter and ordered their food. When he returned, he leaned his elbows onto the table. “So, what should I call you?”

“You mean besides the girl you just rescued? (Y/N) will do.”

“(Y/N),” Bolin repeated. He liked how it felt in his mouth. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N). I’m Bolin.”

---

“Bolin.” The boy snapped out of his thoughts, looking up at his older brother. They had returned home only a few hours ago and the sun was starting to come up. He could feel its warm rays cascading through his windows and onto his skin. “You need to go to bed,” Mako ordered.

“How can I possibly go to bed?” Bolin groaned, flopping sideways onto the couch. Pabu hopped up and curled himself into Bolin’s side.

“Easy,” Mako said. “You close your eyes and then you’re asleep.”

“Every time I try to close my eyes, I think of how (Y/N’s) on Air Temple Island and she has no idea who she is or who we are.”

“Try not to care about it, alright?” Mako poured himself a cup of tea. He had work in just a few hours. His under eyes were dark with exhaustion but as long as Bolin was awake, he’d remain awake. “We’ll figure it out and get her memories back and then she’ll go back to whatever she was doing when she left Republic City.”

Bolin chewed on his bottom lip. He had a feeling there was more to the story. The cogs in his head were turning tirelessly. He sat up, disturbing Pabu, and turned to Mako. “What if-“

“No, Bolin, you’re not gonna do that.”

“Do what?”

“Try to make excuses for everything that happened because she has amnesia.”

“But what if there’s something bigger?” Bolin asked. “She’s been gone for months and says she woke up a week ago without her memory. What happened in that time?”

“We’ll find out soon enough. They’re gonna have her do some meditating tomorrow to try to bring some of her memories back.” Mako sat beside Bolin on the couch.

“I should go back,” Bolin started to stand up. “I need to talk to her.”

“Bolin, no.” His brother pulled him back down. “You heard Kya. She can’t find out too much or she risks losing everything. While she’s focusing on getting her memories back, you need to focus on what you know: she broke your heart, little bro. She definitely didn’t have amnesia then.”

Bolin’s eager appearance deflated completely. He knew his brother was right but there was still a part of him that wanted to go see her. Maybe if Bolin told her about her past, then it would be okay. They’d had the strongest connection out of all of them.

---

That morning, (Y/N) sat between Korra and Tenzin in a gazebo. Her legs were crossed, her arms were loose in her lap, and she inhaled deep breaths to try to connect to any of her lost memories. All that she got was a whole lot of nothing. She peeked her eye open to look at Korra, who was blatantly staring at her.

“Keep your eyes closed!” Korra snapped.

“Your eyes were open!” (Y/N) argued.

“No one’s eyes should be open!” Tenzin grumbled decisively. The two girls sighed and returned to their previous states. (Y/N) inhaled another deep breath and tried to do what Tenzin had told her. She recounted the first memory she had: waking up and gasping for air, the night sky high above her. She could feel the grass that surrounded her. Once she had gained her bearings, she took in her surroundings. A small fishing village sat at the bottom of the mountain she had laid on. She got to her feet, legs wobbling, and looked at herself. Her coat was covered in spots of dirt. She reached into its pockets and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. The writing on it was scribbled and quick, written with haste, and was obviously an address.

(Y/N’s) eyes popped back open. She didn’t notice anything different this time around. There hadn’t been anyone at her side. The first people she had interacted with had been the people in the village. They had asked her name and (Y/N) had started panicking when she couldn’t remember it. She didn’t want to delve too deep into that memory. She could still feel the pain and anxiety in it.

She buried her face in her hands. “I can’t remember anything! I’ve been trying for the past two hours and all I can see is the same memory I’ve been going over for the past week.” She felt the stinging behind her ears again, but took a breath to halt it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get so frustrated. I just don’t know anything and I know you guys do and trust me, I understand why you don’t want to tell me, but it stinks not knowing anything other than my name and that I’m a bad person.”

Korra frowned sadly at the girl. She knew what it was like, to be judged before she got the chance to redeem herself. While she had heard some pretty bad stories about (Y/N) from Mako, she also recognized that he was biased. Especially when it came to Bolin.

“How about we go into the city and get some lunch?” Korra asked. (Y/N) looked up at her gratefully.

“I don’t know if that’s the wisest idea,” Tenzin’s deep voice rumbled.

“Relax, Tenzin. We won’t talk about her life. She needs something normal right now.” Reluctantly, the man conceded.

Korra helped (Y/N) to her feet and whistled for Naga. The polar bear dog bounded toward them, her tail wagging excitedly. “(Y/N),” Korra said. “Meet Naga.”

The polar bear dog gave (Y/N) a huge lick on the side of her face. She giggled, rubbing behind Naga’s ears. “It’s so nice to meet you!” (Y/N) squealed. “I wish I had a pet just like you!”

“She’s kind of the best,” Korra admitted as she hopped onto Naga’s back. She pulled (Y/N) up to sit behind her.

“I don’t doubt it!” With a whip of her reigns, they burst into a run toward Republic City. (Y/N) couldn’t contain her laughter as they sped toward the water. She didn’t realize that they’d be traveling by sea until Naga dove headfirst into the icy water. (Y/N) closed her eyes tightly, gripping onto Korra’s back. The Avatar laughed.

“You can open your eyes now,” She called back to her. Slowly, (Y/N) relaxed and looked around. They traveled under the water in a giant bubble. Korra’s arms moved in flowing movements in front of her.

“You’re waterbending!” (Y/N) exclaimed.

“The Avatar is the master of the four elements,” Korra explained. “I’ve been training my whole life.”

“All four?” (Y/N) let out a gasp. “That’s so cool! I wonder if I was ever a bender.” Korra looked back at (Y/N) for a moment.

“You weren’t,” She said, her eyes kind as she stared at (Y/N). Although a little disappointed that she couldn’t bend, (Y/N) was grateful for Korra’s honesty.

“Thank you,” She said, a soft smile on her lips.

---

Tag List!

@beifongsss , @realimbo , @lavendercrystals , @tomshollandz , @zukosvice , @itsivyberry , @awesomelupe , @musicalkeys , @aroyaldarknessblr , @ilovespideyyy , @zukostan221 , @nataliahaslosthershit , @dailytrashypanda , @marvel-ing-at-it-all , @astralsaf , @ryleyrooroo , @yuhaino , @hotgirlazula , @thefandomimagines ,

#lok #legend of korra #korra x reader #asami x reader #mako x reader #bolin x reader #bolin #korra #mako #asami #writing #fanfiction

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todourouki · 4 years ago

Text

Misery Business | K. Bakugou

a one shot

✰ SUMMARY the one where you didn’t mean to take the hothead away from his girlfriend, but you did anyway. It was nothing personal, you just knew that Bakugou Katsuki deserved way better than what he was settling for.

PAIRING Taken/Pro-Hero!Bakugou & Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT 4.6K

WARNINGS explicit language, mentions of cheating, cheating lol, suggestive language, angst, and some fluff at the end bc I cannot end my fics in a bad way I am weak sorry!

You were not a home wrecker.

At least, you wouldn’t say that to your own face.

You knew that the crush you had on Bakugou was wrong. You know that no matter how it is that you put it, or however strong your feelings are, or even however long you’ve even had feelings— liking a guy in a relationship was a huge no-no.

You weren’t the kind of girl to go around liking a girl’s boyfriend, though. It’s not like your feelings magically appeared out of thin air and now you’re stuck falling inlove with a guy that finds solitude in someone else— no, you aren’t like that.

Your feelings for Bakugou are much more complex, to say the least.

It all started in high school, when just the mere thought of the boy brought butterflies to your stomach with how strong and courageous he was. From his attractive face, to his blunt and explosive personality, you always found yourself admiring him when given the chance.

All of that went to shit when he decided to finally give one of the girls that were always fawning over him a chance during the beginning of your third year attending Yuuei Academy.

It was like you had gotten punched in the face, and now it feels like you’re just purposely getting stabbing in the heart every time you did as much as look at them.

That definitely explains why you’re sulking at your table during a school dance with a scowl on your face so you don’t have to see the happy couple waltz around the cafeteria floor.

All the top Pro-Heroes were assigned to attend the dance as academy alumni in order to ensure the safety of the students (as well as make sure students even decided to show up). You, being one of the top five heroes, were ordered to show up with no complaints.

The song currently playing finally changed from a low-tempo song to a much higher one, and with that, you decided to make that your imaginary queue to take a walk around the school’s building before returning to the large decorated area.

Your heel-clad feet dragged you all the way across the gymnasium, sending kids smiles if they were in your way and simply telling them that you were “getting some fresh air before the real fun starts.”

The doors slammed shut, and the solitude of the hallways engulfed in dark hues reflected against your strained eyes in a way that made you have to physically restrain your hand from harshly rubbing at it in order to make sure your make up stood intact.

The halls reminded you of a younger you (and by younger, you mean two years. you’re only 20 and already have the mind of some old hag) that used to run through these halls with a mini little green skirt and an imagination you wish you could still understand.

They also reminded you of the blond boy inside. Especially the room you stood in front of right now.

Almost as if it was second nature, your body made its way to Class 1-A: the place where it all began, the place where you met your closest friends, and the place where you fell inlove.

Opening the door, the lights turned on to reveal a classroom almost identical to the one you walked into every day four years ago. The desks were positioned the same, the posters remained in the same spot, and even the words on the chalkboard seemed oddly familiar.

The room reeked of new paint and textbook papers, and the only thing you really wanted to smell was the designer perfume clinging helplessly to your body so the odors of a high school class don’t even think twice about sticking to you.

Your body walked towards your old desk, Seat 12, the dress you wore clinging to your body as you pulled the chair out and nostalgically sat down. You were a first year all over again, and the thought made you laugh.

You looked embarrassing your first year— as embarrassing as someone who looks like you now can get. From the hideously overheated hair, to the emo phase you still seemed to sort of be stuck in, the world seemed too easy no matter what bullshit was going on the minute you sat down at that desk.

That explained how you felt now— no matter how much your heart yearned to be in the hands of Bakugou, the minute the cold sturdiness of the chair touched your warm body, all of that disappeared. For once, nothing in the world mattered. More precisely, Bakugou didn’t matter.

“Tch, I knew you’d be in here.” Annnddd there goes that.

Your eyes widened, now staring at a smirking blond wearing a black and white tux instead of the chalkboard you once zoned out on.

His arms were crossed against his muscular chest, and the muscles outlined the button up shirt in a way that should just be downright illegal. His face was gleaming with mischief, slowly walking his way over to the empty desk directly next to yours, taking a seat, and positioning his body in a lazy manner with his legs propped up against the table. Just like before.

“You know, this brings back a lot of shitty memories.” He grunted, stretching his arms behind his head and lolling his head to face you.

You nodded in response, glancing your head up to look at the lights in a way to move the gears in your brain to say something. Literally the same thing you used to do during Midnight’s long, tedious classes.

“Yea, a bunch of ones I’d much rather forget.” You said, looking over at him and watching as his eyes stared directly at the window you always found him staring out of when he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone in class.

“Always hearing your annoying ass mumble and suck your teeth used to really piss me off.” His words were masked with seriousness, trying to hide the playful smirk on his lips you identified much too quickly. With that, a scoff left your lips and you crossed your arms.

“Nobody said anything about the pencil you insisted on tapping for hours straight.” Your jab back made him chuckle, looking back at you with vermillion eyes that made you lose all sense of feelings.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you always forgot what it was like to look at anything before you looked into his eyes. That’s how scary it was— how intimidating it was to be under his presence. His eyes captured you, holding you hostage and probably never letting you go.

“At least we didn’t sit next to each other during our third year,” he began, placing a hand loosely around his tie as he continued to look at you in your eyes, “I don’t think I would have ever focused with the humming you did to the same damn song every day.”

“Yeah, instead of me though, you ended up sitting with your future wife.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID.

It was like word vomit, the snarky tone slipping through your lips as if it was trying its hardest to come off in a jokingly manner, only ending up appearing as sarcastic as possible. It was like the words fell from your tongue quicker than you could punch your own esophagus.

Bakugou stood quiet for a moment, staring at you and knitting his eyebrows together as if deep in thought. Your eyes ended up leading you back to the words Relief Fund written messily against the green chalkboard to save your embarrassment.

You didn’t see the frown itching across Bakugou’s lips.

“We aren’t married, ya know. I don’t know why people decided to start that rumor.” He said, a sigh passing by his lips to quiet his tone as if he was scared his girlfriend was around to hear it.

“Might as well marry her. You’re not really the kind of guy that dates just to date.” Your words struck hesitantly in the room in a timid yet informative voice, and Bakugou watched the board as well so that you were both avoiding each other’s gaze.

“Yeah well I’m not sure, marriage is a big deal.” Bakugou was muttering, and the tone of his voice made you crane your neck over to where he was seated as you stood quiet.

What were you, someone who was basically inlove with him, supposed to say that?

You both stood in silence for a few seconds, the words in your throat itching to escape as the remnants of memories you both had both in class and just together in general filled your vision.

“I always hated this seat because I knew it meant that I would always be the person you would argue with.” You began, closing your eyes and releasing a strained scoff from your glossed lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing, or what you were talking about, but as the moon danced across the pale boy’s face and the music in the cafeteria continued to gently ring through the halls, the only thing you were thinking about doing was speaking more than you ever have.

“Morning after morning, I grew used to your loud voice and extremely hostile—” “HAH? I was NOT—”

You sent him a glare, immediately cutting him off and proceeding your weird speech that just couldn’t let anything go.

“Anyways, morning after morning, I ended up looking forward to the words you decided to call me and yell at me about for the day. It’s like, if it didn’t happen,” your arms moved in an animated way, catching Katsuki’s full attention as he looked on to your rant, “I felt like my day wasn’t really an actual day, ya know?

The one thing you loved appreciated most about Bakugou was his ability to listen. And when you say listen, you mean just listen. His ears were perked up in your direction, shoes turned towards you and eyes watching your movements like a hawk.

“And then—” you gulped, pausing for a second in order to think your words though. It was always now or never to you, the drama giving you a sense of hope against a man like that.

It’s either I bring it up now, or I never get to speak my peace, and I refuse to be one of those people showing up to the wedding yelling ‘I oppose.’

“And then it was here that I realized I was the biggest idiot alive by feeling the way I felt about this one person.” You said, eyes glaring at the wall in front of you blankly as you cowered behind the whisps of your lashes.

Bakugou said nothing, but from the corner of you eye, you could see him staring at the side of your face with an expression you had never really see on him.

“I spent years pining after some dumbass that didn’t even see the genuine interest I had in him.” Your words were like alcohol, and Bakugou was too busy drinking them all in to fully acknowledge what you were talking about.

“I watched him give in to this one girl though,” a lightbulb when off in the boy’s head and for once, he felt like the idiot in the room, “a girl that doesn’t even care for him.”

“Y/N..” Bakugou growled, almost as if he was threatening you and warning you to tread on light waters.

If there was one thing he ever respected about you though, it was that you were never scared of him.

Your eyes snapped towards him, a scowl on your face as you began to feel anger bubbling up in your stomach from the way he tried to shut you up. You were finally speaking your peace and he’s too much of a coward to let you finish?

“You know, I thought the first red flag of her trying to change his attitude was enough. I thought that maybe, just maybe, after her telling him that being number one hero wasn’t really tangible, he’d have some common fucking sense and see what everyone else sees.” Your words were like venom, your eyes not leaving his as you huffed in your seat.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Bakugou’s voice was low and angry, laced with anger as he stared at you just as intensely as you stared at him. Your expression never faltered, and instead, you turned your entire body around in the chair to fully face him with arms across your chest.

“I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about,” you taunted, your anger only rising in value, “and so the fuck do you, Bakugou.”

“You know she doesn’t give a fuck about you and you know very fucking well she’s only with you because you’re Bakugou Katsuki!”

His name slipping off your tongue brought shivers to his spine as he sat up in his seat and glared at you with the tip of his ears painting themselves a light red hue.

He was angry— not necessarily at you, but at the fact that he was getting called out for something like this. He was getting called out for finally being with a girl and was getting shit for it from someone he saw as a best friend.

“You don’t know shit— you don’t even fucking know her.” His voice began to get louder, the bass in his voice causing your heart to vibrate as you shocked both you and him by slamming a hand against the desk in frustration.

“For God’s sake, Katsuki open your fucking eyes!” You only used his first name when your emotions were high, and that made the man’s hands shake in anger as he watched your outburst.

“She forgot your anniversary! She doesn’t make you your favorite food— fuck she doesn’t even kiss you unless there’s a shitty camera around!” You stood up, stomping your feet and watching as he stood up quickly after you and scowled over at your angry face.

“She doesn’t care enough to remember shit that you don’t like which is why you always end up at stupid shit like this and she doesn’t even care to meet your friends!” Your voice was now loud, the music of the cafeteria being long forgotten as you huffed over at him and slammed a finger into his chest at every syllable you spoke.

“You want to know what I think about her, Bakugou? Bestfriend to bestfriend?” The words bestfriend seethed through your lips like venom as your finger dug itself into the middle of his pecks. He said nothing, waiting for you to continue as his hands balled into fists along his sides.

“I think that you’re such a fucking pussy, you can’t fathom being with someone who doesn’t worship the ground you walk on the way she does.” You growled, narrowing your eyes at his angry expression as you took a step closer to him threateningly.

“I think you hate the fact that I’m right�� the fact that she blatantly uses you and doesn’t give a fuck about you, and you hate the fact that I know you so well enough to know that—”

Before the last few letters of the words could slip through your lips, a warm hand slammed against your fingers and snatched it into his grasp as he began to huff in anger. The caramel smell only increased, and you could sense his quirk begin to flare the abnormal heat in his hands up every second.

“You don’t know shit,” he growled, his voice raising as he began to yell at you in your face, “you don’t know shit about me!”

“Are you shitting me?!” You exclaimed, grabbing at the hand that grasped yours with a grip so tight Bakugou had to glance at it quickly before reverting his eyes back to yours.

“I’ve known every little fucking thing about you since we were fifteen!” You yelled, tears threatening to spill down your eyes as the anger inside you finally erupted in a way you couldn’t control.

“Nobody asked you to be so invested in my fucking life anyway!” He retaliated, his voice booming through the room as you stared at him incredulously.

“I was so fucking invested in you because I’m fucking inlove with you, you idiot!”

Your voice silenced the room, the grip he had on your hand tightening as he stared at you with shocked eyes yet the same familiar scowl you were used to. Your expression never faltered the way his eyes did when he heard you, though. You stood your ground.

“It’s so annoying seeing the guy you are inlove with be so unhappy in a relationship because he feels as if he has no one else.” Your voice began to quiet down, a tear slipping down your eye as Bakugou watched you with a slightly softened face.

The hand gripping yours loosened a bit, still gripping it to his chest as he wrapped all his fingers around your bracelet covered wrist.

“It’s so annoying watching you try to force someone else to fall inlove with you, when I’ve been inlove with you for free for years. It hurts watching you try to force yourself to be inlove with a girl you know you don’t want to be with. It just fucking hurts Bakugou, so fucking bad.”

There was a crack in your voice that Bakugou knew all too well from the restless nights you’d spend together, and it didn’t take much for him to engulf your frame into a tight hug as he rested his head against yours. You dived into his chest, the familiar warmth wrapping around you in a way that made a few more tears slip from your eyes. You didn’t make a noise, but he knew that you were hurting.

Neither of you said anything, only holding each other until you removed yourself from him and wiped the tears off your face before he could see the evident streams marking your cheeks. He stared at you silently, as if he was contemplating something.

With timid eyes, he watched you fix the straps of your dress to find something to play with under his gaze. The silence was deafening, and was an unusual characteristic for the boy who always had something to say.

“You know she hates me, that’s why you never bring her around me.” You said, a tone of blankness carrying your voice through the room as your tears dried up and was replaced by the anger haunting your heart once again.

“No she doesn’t, she just feels like we’re too close.” Bakugou retorted, sighing and taking a seat on the chair he once occupied. You followed suit, leaning against the back of your own seat as you faced his body.

“Back in high school, I never told you this, but her and I argued in the bathroom once.” You informed, dryly chuckling as you watched his face contort with confusion.

“I told her that her pretty little face and fucked up manipulation wasn’t going to keep you around in the long run.” You stood quiet after letting him know, gulping some saliva down as you averted your gaze from his body to your painted nails. “Guess I was wrong.”

Bakugou didn’t know what to do. There were many things the man was capable of: he could destroy any villain in his way, was braver than any other fucking half assed hero out there, was smart as fuck, and could manage a relationship as well as being a top pro-hero because that’s just who he was.

What he couldn’t do, though, was fully digest the situation in front of him.

He bit his lip, running a hand across his face in frustration and staring meekly at your face. You couldn’t help but admire his frame as you did before. He was strong, well-built, smelled good, had great posture— there was nothing wrong with him. It was almost surreal.

“We’ve been dating for like two years.” Bakugou’s low voice broke the silence as he stared deep into your now glazed over eyes. You didn’t break the contact, hands rested against each side of the seat as you watched him speak.

“I’ve been dating her for two years and yet...” His words were lost, almost sounding as if he was hesitating the very same way you were earlier. You said nothing though, knowing he would stop expressing himself if you had opened your mouth.

“And yet I can’t help but imagine she was someone else.”

It was like every word he said was the last glass of water, and you drank it up against your skin in a way that brought goosebumps to his. You furrowed your eyebrows, silently signaling for him to continue.

“I never told you this,” he mocked your voice, his scowl still resting against his soft face, “but there was a time where I thought about what it would be like if we were a shitty thing.”

Everyone always assumed Bakugou and you would end up together. Whether it be from watching you both pin are each other relentlessly, to watching you fawn over him, and from just watching your interactions with one another— it almost seemed destined for you two to work out. Keyword: almost.

“Shitty Hair and Dunce-Face tell me all the fucking time that I’m an idiot for choosing this girl over you.” He scoffed, and you couldn’t help but feel your stomach tingle at the use of the name ‘this girl’ for his own girlfriend. “It’s not like I wanted to, you were always my first option.”

You stood quiet. The last sentence was lower than the others and sounded way more vulnerable. You couldn’t help but gape at him, repeating it in your brain as if they was the last words you’d ever hear again. You were always my first option.

Maybe it was the buzz you felt from the energy within the room, maybe you were drunk on adrenaline, or maybe you were just being a fucking dumbass, but the way your feet moved you from your seat to the desk he was sitting at was something you just couldn’t stop in time.

Bakugou hasn’t said anything beyond what he just finished as he watched you gently push his body away and hop up onto the desk. Your body was now inches away from his as you watched him shyly. You were always so obnoxiously close to him, so why is it that his stomach was throwing fireballs at his insides now?

“You deserve better, Katsu..” You lowly began, fiddling with the rings on your fingers as you glanced over at his body through your dark eyelashes. “Does she take care of you?”

Your words hit him in the chest and he couldn’t find it within himself to look away from you. He wasn’t sure what it was, or how you were doing it, but he was entranced by your every word and it was scaring the shit out of him. He found himself shaking his head, eyes never leaving yours as the scowl in his face began to soften.

“You’re a strong man, Katsu,” the way his nickname slipped from your lips nearly made him melt, the unfamiliar feelings he was so used to suppressing caused his head to jumble around and process your words, “you need someone who takes care of you the right way.”

You watched him, a hand lifting towards his head and running itself through his soft yet spikey hair. Bakugou always claimed he hated it when you played with his hair since that was something he thought no one was close enough to be able to touch, but he always seemed to lean into you unknowingly.

His chair scooted closer to the table, your legs now in between his lazily opened ones and his body aching to go closer into your touch.

“What are you suggesting?” His dark voice questioned, eyes staring at you as the once softened expression transformed into another of a slowly rising mischievous smirk. You were sure you were breathing earlier, but now? Not so much.

“Are you suggesting that I need someone else to take care of me?” His words hit you hard, your body facing whiplash from all the sudden changes of emotion.

You looked down shyly, trying to find the confidence you once had that was now lost in the gush of your flustered moment, yet Bakugou’s calloused, warm hand then reached up to your chin to perk it up to face his now standing body.

“Are you saying that you should be the one taking care of me?” He asked, staring at your eyes with more intensity than you were fully even prepared for. Your eyes dug into his as the feeling of his hands on your chin caused your brain to short circuit for a moment.

“You said it yourself, I’m a strong man.” You could feel the confidence drip from his words as you bit your left cheek to keep from whimpering at the intensity laced within the empty classroom. “I need someone to take care of me the right way, and I don’t think this girl is doing it Y/N.”

The use of your name caused you to tug your bottom lip between your teeth and blush behind his words. You didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly zipped from your eyes to your mouth, and back to your eyes once again. His body was now towering over your seated one, looking down at you as if you were the only person in the world at this moment.

Bakugou was out of it, to say the least. Usually he felt as if he had control over situations like this, but even with towering over your frame and his hand gripping your chin, he felt as if you were in complete control of the situation. He knew that his current girlfriend was probably coming to look for him, and he knew that everything was inevitable and he was simply just prolonging it.

That didn’t stop him from sliding his hand across your neck to grip the back of it and pull your face in towards him.

A kiss was the last thing you were expecting, and you would have gasped if his lips weren’t putting you in such a trance. It was like everything had stopped, time stopped, the dance stopped, everything was just on a hiatus.

His tongue danced against yours in a way that made you whimper lowly into his touch. His hands explored your body, rubbing against you in exasperated motions as you reciprocated by rubbing your hands across his chest, shoulders, and waist. It was like you were both doing the last thing you’d do before the world came to an end.

His lips moved feverishly across your own as tilted your head upwards to get a more comfortable position. A warm yet equally rough hand snaked it’s way back onto your neck and gripped your throat with such possession, you felt a tingle reach your lower half.

The intensity of the make out was one that put every other sound to shame as the room was filled with nothing but the small whimpers coming from either of you and the sound of your lips smacking against his. It was like a dream, and Bakugou couldn’t control himself any longer as he groaned into your touch.

It wasn’t until a gasp broke the seductive silence within the room, as well as pushed the two of you apart only to see his girlfriend staring at the two of you with wide eyes and a fizzy drink in both of her hands., that you realized something.

Shit just got really fucking complicated.

—

back to masterlist

I wanna have an angsty kiss moment with bakugou

>:( damnit anyways yeah like, reblog, comment, follow! thanks for reading! don’t forget to send some requests in <3

- heilly

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years ago

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Nine: Friday

a/n: happy friday lovies!! I am soooo excited for y’all to read this one bc it was my favvv chapter to write and I still get emo over it :’) also I think I should maybe let you all know that we only have two more chapters left in this series, and I can not thank you enough for all of the love and support you have shown it. It has been such a blast hearing your thoughts and sharing Halani with all of you lovely people, and I can’t believe the fun is almost over :( BUT we still have some time before we have to think about that soooo without further ado here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive humor

Word Count: 9.5k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight

Monday

Harry takes a deep breath and raises his arms above his head, feeling every vertebrae stretch as he lies flat against the surfboard. The beaming sunlight warms him down to the bone and it threatens to lull him to sleep, but his attention is too occupied with the various sounds coming from each direction. Out of his right ear, he hears the waves lapping against the shore and the faint sound of children’s laughter. From his left, Mitch and Tom engage in a serious conversation about sharks. He lets one foot slide off the edge of the board and wade into the water below, all the while resisting the paranoia that he will be the next victim of Jaws thanks to his friends’ discussion.

“I’m gonna go switch out the camera.” Paul says beside him, already swimming back to the shore.

Harry gives a thumbs up in acknowledgement and lets the back of his hand rest against his forehead. He floats for a moment longer before swinging his other leg into the water and sitting up. His feet gently tread below the surface and he studies the area for any fish sightings, but his shoulders slump in disappointment when he doesn’t find any.

“I just think,” Mitch defends, legs crossed on his own surfboard. “That I would survive way longer than you,”

“It’s not a fuckin’ zombie apocalypse, survival rate depends on how severe the attack is,” Tom shoots back.

“Not if you’re smart,”

“Right, good thinking, mate. Just yell the Pythagorean theorem and swim away while the bloody thing tries to solve it,”

“You just don’t get it.”

“Stop bein’ a coward, then, and put your feet in the water.”

Harry shakes his head in amusement and continues scanning the scene for something else to occupy his attention. His eyes momentarily land on a couple in the distance, the pair facing each other on their shared surfboard and laughing. He smiles softly and glances back to the shore where his group has set up camp for the afternoon. Squinting, he tries to determine the time of day using the sun’s position overhead, but quickly gives up and swims back to the beach. The sand clings to his wet toes as he jogs over to his bag and digs inside for his phone. The time reads 2:37–Alani’s shift will be over soon.

She stifles another yawn and punches in her customer’s order, re-typing it when she realizes that it’s littered with errors. Her mind had been in a permanent fog since she woke up at 6:45 this morning. Harry had already slipped out by the time she reached over for him, but he left a note on his pillow this time.

GOOD MORNING SWEETS!

SORRY I HAD TO JET SO EARLY :( I’LL SEE YOU AFTER WORK.

H ☼

P.S. ALREADY MISSING YOUR LITTLE SNORES ♡

As if on cue, Alani’s phone vibrates in her back pocket and she slips it out to read the new text.

Harry: Meet me at Honoli’i after your shift?

She really wants to, but she’s also in desperate need of sleep.

Alani: Gonna take a power nap first, but I’ll be there

Harry: Can’t wait xx

********

In the distance, Harry hears The Cure blasting from a car in the parking lot. He hums along and picks at his bowl of fruit, saving the kiwis for Alani who once said they were her favorite. Jeff and Paul laugh about something between the two of them before the director catches Harry’s attention.

“How long you planning on staying here?” he asks.

Harry checks his phone again and the time reads 4:35. He wasn’t entirely sure how long Alani’s nap was supposed to last, but just as he’s about to answer, a text comes through.

Alani: Heading over. See you soon, sunshine💗

He smiles softly and shuts his phone off. “I actually have a surfing lesson at five. But I’ll meet you guys at the house after.”

Paul, the two Jeffs, Mitch, and Tom bid Harry farewell and decide to take a drive along the coast before heading to dinner. They mention the name of the restaurant they plan to go to, but Harry knows he’ll probably skip it and take Alani somewhere else. He sits back on his elbows, watching the palm trees sway in the breeze, when suddenly his vision goes dark when he feels hands over his eyes.

“Guess who,”

“The Queen of England?”

“Yes and I’m here to colonize your land and steal your jewels,” Alani jokes in a posh British accent. She leans over his head so they partake in an upside down kiss before settling into the sand beside him.

“You’ve already had my family jewels,” he teases with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.

Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You are so insufferable sometimes, I swear to God,”

Harry lies back and rests his head in her lap with a shit-eating-grin plastered to his face. The damp locks along his hairline are curled and Alani twirls the pieces between her fingers.

“Saved y’some kiwis,” he informs her, nodding in the direction of his tote bag.

“Aw thanks, baby,”

“How was your day?”

Alani removes the lid and pops a slice of kiwi into her mouth. “Long, boring, tiring. A lot better now,”

“Feel the same way,”

“How’s your project going?” she questions, curious about his recent, mysterious whereabouts.

He shrugs. “S’fine, yeah,”

“What exactly is it, again?”

“It’s a,” Harry starts slowly. “Video thing… kind of,”

Alani narrows her eyes and lifts another piece of fruit to her lips. “Meaning?”

“It’s like—following uh.. the album ‘n stuff,”

“Ah the elusive album,” Alani nods. “Will I ever get to hear any of it?”

“Yeah,”

“When?”

“Dunno,” he blinks. “When’re you gonna let me read that article of yours?”

She smirks and taps her fork against her lower lip. “When it’s ready,”

“Then I’m withholding my thing ‘til it’s ready too,”

“That’s not fair,” she objects. “My article is contingent on your music,”

“One song,” Harry bargains, holding up his index finger. “In exchange for one paragraph. Seems fair to me,”

“Deal,”

He sits up suddenly and opens his mouth as an unspoken request for a kiwi. Alani tosses it in his direction and to her surprise, he catches it effortlessly.

“You really are a freak of nature,” she marvels. “What can’t you do?”

“Stay away from you, apparently,”

“Ditto,”

“D’you wanna head to the water for a bit?” Harry asks, his eyes landing on the board cast to the side.

Alani nods. “Sure thing,”

She strips down to the pink two piece underneath her clothes and accepts his outstretched hand. They shuffle through the sand, joint hands swinging, but Harry stops and scans her face when they reach the edge.

“What?” Alani asks, already dipping her toes in the water.

He runs his thumb over hers and starts hesitantly. “I know the water is kind of…”

“Oh,” she finishes when he trails off. “Yeah. I mean, for the most part I’m okay with it. Last time was just—I wasn’t expecting it,”

“I’m really sorry for that.” Harry apologizes with a somber look in his eye.

Alani reaches her free hand out to his cheek and offers a comforting smile. “No, it’s okay. I actually used to be pretty good at surfing,”

“Oh?”

“Haven’t really done it in years, though. I’m probably really rusty now,”

“Well maybe it’s time to get back on the horse,” Harry urges, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of her palm before leading them further into the waves. Alani gets up on the board first and it's clear that she’s a natural despite the lack of practice. Her muscles fall into a mesmerizing rhythm as they repeat the very motions she had done thousands of times before her accident. Harry’s eyes carefully study the precision of her determined arms slicing through the water and the way her feet gracefully meet the board once she’s found a strong enough wave. She glides back to the beach and revels in the familiar feeling of the ocean breeze against her skin. Harry whistles from the distance as she reaches the shore, turning back to him with a wide grin and two thumbs up.

“Your turn,” she calls, paddling towards him on her stomach.

Harry replaces her on the board and winces. “Maybe I should’ve gone first,”

“You’re gonna do great,” Alani insists. “Tighten your core muscles. Oh! And bend your knees, not your back. Just trust your instincts and follow through,”

He follows her advice and to his surprise, does well, though not nearly as graceful as she had. Despite this, Alani cheers from the side as he glides back to the beach. Harry takes a bow once his feet have safely met the sand below.

“I knew you could do it,” she beams when he swims back to her.

“Couldn’t have done it without my amazing coach,” he shoots back, leaning down to press a salty kiss to her lips.

With Harry’s help, she swings her leg over the board and sits so that they face each other. Their legs paddle gently below the surface and his hand finds the top of her knee, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

“You were incredible out there,” he muses. “Can’t even tell that you’re out of practice,”

She wrings her hair out and fastens it into a low bun at the base of her neck. “Guess it’s like riding a bike—the muscle memory and all that,”

“You’re a great coach, you know. Cause I usually just wipe out,”

“That’s normal,” Alani nods. “You have to get used to falling. And wait for the right wave,”

Harry admires the way the afternoon sun sets her aglow, skin shimmering and golden under the rays. “How d’you know when it’s the right one?”

“You just feel it I guess. It’s like a gut instinct that you have to follow. And no second guessing yourself, either, cause that’s when you mess up,”

“What if you do go for it and you still wipe out?” He questions, something besides surfing in the back of his mind.

Alani sighs. “Then you wipe out,”

“You just have to trust?”

“You just have to trust,”

Harry hums as he considers this. Three burning syllables bounce around in his skull, but he suppresses them for the time being. Carefully, he lifts himself to his feet and motions for Alani to do the same. It takes them a second to find their balance on the board, but eventually they do and Harry brings her closer with a protective hand on the middle of her back.

“D’you trust me?” he murmurs.

Alani studies the different shades of green in his irises and feels a flutter deep in the pit of her belly, so she decides to take her own advice and presses a soft kiss to his warm lips before responding.

“Yes.”

Carefully, Harry takes a step back and twirls Alani before pulling her flush to his chest and swaying to the music stuck in his brain. As best they can, the pair dances on the surface of the board but Harry’s foot gets caught in a slick spot and he tumbles backwards, bringing Alani with him. When they emerge, his heart races in worry, but the knot in his chest eases when he hears her laughter.

“Y’okay?” he checks.

“Yeah,” she assures him, her legs snaking around his torso under the water. “I’m alright.”

The sky turns pink as they continue to wade peacefully in the water, and the entire time Harry finds himself fixated on the weight of the three little words nagging at the back of his brain.

********

Tuesday

“Say it again,”

“No,”

“Please?”

Harry shoots Alani an unamused look through the corner of his eye. “Dunno what’s so funny about it,”

“Just say it one more time,” she pleads with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Tuesday,”

“Chews day,” Alani mimics and Harry rolls his eyes.

“You’re so clever,” he huffs. “Really, a true comedian,”

She giggles and leans over in her seat to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s cute!”

“Yeah, whatever,”

“Okay, just one more—”

“Alani,” Harry chuckles, more endeared than irritated. “Don’t make me turn this car around,”

She pouts playfully and returns to watching the trees and passing cars. “At least I’m not asking you where we’re going,”

“You are so stubborn,” he shakes his head. “I told you we’re almost there,”

“I just don’t understand what it is with you and keeping secrets,”

“It’s about the mystery, darlin’, it’s romantic! Just trust me, okay? Have I ever steered you wrong?”

Alani nibbles at the skin on her lower lip and folds her arms. “No,”

“Okay, then,” Harry says finally. “Now change the song. I let you have fun with one Taylor, but it’s getting old,”

“Hater,” she grumbles, shuffling through the rest of her playlists before settling on Madonna.

Harry’s finger taps along to the beat against her thigh and his lips turn up when he hears Alani singing along. Her eyes are focused on the road ahead of them as she pretends to be in a music video of her own, creating hand gestures and choreography to accompany the lyrics. The chorus builds and she belts out the words as if her life depends on it.

“I’m crazy for you!” She performs, squishing Harry’s cheeks between her hands. “Touch me once and you’ll know it’s true. I never wanted anyone like this, it’s all brand new. You’ll feel it in my kiss,”

Alani presses a slobbery smooch to the side of his face and he groans, laughing when she continues melodramatically. The song goes on for another minute and Alani sings passionately out of tune, but it makes Harry’s heart swell. He briefly considers joining her, but decides to let her have her moment, too amused by the way she’s caught up in the emotion. When it’s finally over, she slumps down in her seat with a dazed look in her eye.

“Gotta love the 80s,”

“Maybe I should let you join the band,” Harry suggests.

“Really?

“No,”

Alani gasps in mock offense, her eyes wide. “Hey!”

“Yeah,” he smirks. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she dismisses offhandedly. “I’m a sweetie,”

“A sweet pain in my arse,”

“Arse? Did you really just say arse?”

“I take it back, you’re just a regular pain.”

The two of them drive for another forty-five minutes taking playful jabs at each other and watching the lush greenery whizz by. Harry had been characteristically cryptic in his instructions the night before, an idea suddenly popping into his mind when Alani reminded him of her day off. He had told her to wear something comfortable and practical, nothing that could flow easily in the wind. Furthermore, he revealed that he would pick her up at exactly 7:00 a.m. which made her eyebrows shoot up.

“Seven?”

“It’ll be worth it, promise,”

“Can we at least get McDonald’s hash browns for the road?” Alani had bargained.

Harry chuckled to himself, too excited to deny her. “Sure thing, sweets.”

Welcome to Waikōloa Beach, the sign read and Alani wondered what could possibly have possessed Harry to drag her out of bed and across the island at the crack of dawn. Her question was quickly answered when they turned onto Keana Place where a lot full of helicopters were lined up and waiting.

“‘Big Island Tours’,” she reads aloud. “Wait a minute, we’re not—”

“Surprise!” Harry beams, reaching behind her seat for a bag.

Alani scoffs, her mind still trying to process. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Come on,” he pleads. “Been dying to do it since I got here,”

“So bring Mitch! Or Jeff, or Tom or literally anyone else,”

Harry gives her a pout and bats his lashes. “But I’d rather be with you. Please?”

“Harry,” she sighs, taking another glance at the helicopters before her. They did seem secure enough, enclosed on all sides, and he had driven an hour and a half just to surprise her with something fun and totally outside of her comfort zone.

“Trust me?” he asks after a minute, kissing her knuckles gently.

Alani takes a deep breath and nods. “Fine.”

They exit the SUV and Harry takes her hand, slinging his bag over his shoulder. There’s a short, stocky man with dark sunglasses standing in front of one of the helicopters with a clipboard. He checks his watch when he sees the two of them approaching and reaches out a hand.

“Mr. Styles?”

“Harry,”

“Nice to meet you Harry, I’m Matt,” the pilot says with a firm handshake. “Is this your guest?”

“Alani,” she greets. “Is this…”

“It’s very safe,” Matt assures her with a warm smile.

Harry squeezes her hand gently and looks over their mode of transportation. “How long’ve you been doin’ this?”

“Almost ten years,” the pilot explains. “I was a commercial pilot for twenty-five and then started this when I retired,”

“I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of nervous fliers, then,” Alani speaks up, attempting humor to mask her jitters.

Matt nods with a knowing smile. “Oh yeah. Plenty of anxious girlfriends who kick their boyfriends for dragging them into it, but they always enjoy themselves in the end,”

Alani’s cheeks warm at his assumption of their relationship status, but neither her nor Harry address it. Instead, Harry clears his throat and asks his next question.

“So when can we go up?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Matt offers.

Once the three of them have settled into the aircraft, he hands Harry and Alani each a headset and goes over the basic safety rules. Her heart races and stomach turns, but she takes a deep breath and wills herself to give it a chance. Beside her, Harry is enthusiastically chatting up Matt and being his usual charming self; his confidence is reassuring and she finds herself sinking deeper into his side for comfort. He drapes an arm over her shoulders protectively, sensing her nerves, and presses a firm kiss to her temple. After a few minutes of discussion with the air base over the radio, Matt gives them a thumbs up and signals that they’re ready to go. Another deep breath and they’re off, the ground growing smaller and smaller below. They skim over Waikōloa Village and head west to Waiulua Bay where the water is so clear and blue, Harry has a hard time believing it’s real. Alani peers down at the tiny people all along the coast and in the water and her throat goes dry. She feels Harry nudge her shoulder lightly and looks over to where his finger is pointed.

“Down there you can swim with dolphins,” he says. “Looked it up last night,”

“And we’re not doing that because...?”

Harry flashes a dimpled grin and laughs softly to himself. “How are you not enjoying this?”

“I am,” Alani insists, which is steadily becoming true. She watches in amazement as they hover over the expanse of the lush, green landscape along the coast.

Over the headset, Matt points out some key landmarks and answers more of Harry’s questions. They pass over an active volcano and Alani momentarily feels a rush of terror, but her curiosity takes over as she snaps a photo of the molten lava below. She captures another one of Harry looking out his window before flipping the camera to selfie mode and making a peace sign. He turns to tell her something, but flashes a cheesy grin and presses a kiss to her cheek when he notices the camera. Alani writes a mental note to make it her lock screen later.

After half an hour in the air, Matt points to the cliff on their right hand side and says they’ll be landing there for a bit as part of the tour. A 200 foot waterfall feeds into a small pool and he lands them on a ledge across the way. The three of them exit the helicopter, but Matt says that he needs to check in with the base and lets them explore the site alone for a few minutes.

“This is incredible,” Alani marvels, looking over the edge.

“Knew you’d like it,”

She turns to him and snakes her arms around his shoulders, leaving a small peck to his lips. “Thank you,”

While she had been almost one-hundred percent sure that she would never enjoy a helicopter ride, Alani is glad that she was wrong. She is even more grateful that Harry had encouraged, but hadn’t pushed, her to try it. If Alani had been absolutely against the idea, she knows that he wouldn’t have pressed it any further and would have taken her to do something more her speed, hence the dolphin back up plan. It sometimes felt like they were from entirely different worlds, Harry being more sure of himself and adventurous while Alani was careful and preferred to have things planned. But he made her feel brave and spontaneous without pressuring her to change anything about herself. Harry had seen something special in her and wanted the whole world to see it, too. So he encouraged her to break out of her comfort zone and let her true self shine, but only at her own discretion. Over the course of the past few weeks, Alani had noticed herself opening up to new experiences and loving every minute of it, but this transformative feeling was far from one sided; because of their relationship, Harry learned the value of trusting his own instincts. For so much of his life, he felt like a member of an overcrowded democracy allowing himself to go with the majority rule even if it didn’t particularly please him. From their earliest moments spent together, Harry was inspired by Alani’s determination and self-confidence. He had always cared deeply about other people’s opinion of him and felt that it was his greatest weakness, but she seemed so unapologetically herself at all times. And though Harry sometimes worried that he was simply playing a part for the rest of the world, he never had to question who he was with Alani. She understood him, she grounded him, and amidst all of the unfamiliarity in his new life, she felt familiar and safe.

“You deserve it,” Harry says gently. “To see beautiful things.”

Alani presses their foreheads together and studies his emerald eyes like they’re the rarest gems she’s ever seen. “Well I’m looking at the best damn view right now,”

“Although, I wish you would’ve told me we were going to Jurassic Park, I would’ve prepared my Laura Dern outfit.”

Harry laughs softly and slots his lips between hers, those three, pesky little words nagging at him again. Not yet, he thinks, but almost there.

********

Wednesday

Alani takes an extended lunch and heads over to the recording studio with food for Harry and his friends. He had warned her beforehand that there would be filming, so they agreed to pretend, just for the afternoon, that she was his assistant. However, their true relationship was as much of a mystery to the both of them as it was to everyone else. Alani had considered, on many occasions, asking him to officially be her boyfriend. She didn’t know how else to refer to him when her mom had started inquiring about the Range Rover mysteriously parked across the street every morning. Each time Alani had gotten up the nerve to ask, however, she secretly worried that it was too soon, or worse, that he would say no. Much to her oblivion Harry had also wrestled with this question, and many others, but also feared her response. What they shared was undeniably strong and completely foreign, so they had independently decided not to put too much weight on the situation in fear of bursting the bubble too soon. Neither of them were prepared to deal with the fallout if it all came crumbling down.

“Lunch is here!” Jeff calls from the doorway as he escorts Alani inside.

He motions her over to the table in one corner of the room and helps her lay out the food, thanking her warmly when she declines payment.

“It’s on the house,” she reassures him.

The crew all take turns grabbing their lunch, Mitch ruffling Alani’s hair in a display of gratitude while he swipes his burger, and settle into various chairs and comfortable spots around the studio. Harry is the last one to claim his food and he lingers around the table as he does so.

“Thank you, Ms. Hale,” he offers politely, itching to give her an appreciative kiss.

She nods and returns the professionalism. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Styles,”

“How’s the weather?”

By now, Alani has come to recognize this as his go-to inquiry when he’s really asking for her attention or affection.

“Full of sunshine,”

“Glad to hear it.” he smiles softly. The casual slip of his nickname isn’t lost on him.

“Hey Harry,” the director calls. “Show Jason that Bob Dylan thing you were doing—watch, you’ll love this.”

Harry musters up a pleasant smile and quickly glances at Alani, wanting nothing more than to escape with her for the precious few moments she has left to spare.

“Occupational hazard.” she shrugs as her cue of permission. His fond look turns apologetic before he saunters over to the rest of the group.

Alani watches, amused, as he lifts a guitar and starts strumming a tune that she hadn’t heard before with a Dylan-esque lilt in his voice. The crew all laugh and encourage his impression, but she still wonders what the song is and reminds herself to ask later. After a few moments with the rest of the group, Harry’s eyes wander to Alani munching on a french fry and scrolling on her phone. Jeff notices this too and decides to help his friend out.

“Hey Alani,” he calls. “Come sit with us,”

She looks over to Harry and he grins eagerly, making room on the couch between him and Mitch.

“Alani makes the best smoothies in the world.” Jeff comments to the film crew.

“It’s true,” Mitch adds. “Harry loves ‘em.”

A subtle glare radiates from the singer, but Mitch simply winks in response.

“Well, you guys are my favorite customers,” Alani offers. “But don’t tell the others,”

The whole team makes Alani feel welcome and she’s endlessly thankful for it, making an effort to engage every crew member in some sort of small talk as evidence of her gratitude. Harry enjoys her presence among his friends and how easily she fits in. It serves as further proof of what his gut already knew: she was a missing puzzle piece in the image of his ideal life slowly coming together before his eyes. Alani checks the time an hour later and starts bidding farewell to the group, much to their disappointment. As she slips out the door and over to the Bronco, a familiar accented voice calls from behind. Before she has time to respond, a pair of warm lips meet hers and she hums.

“They’re all goin’ out for dinner at 5,” Harry explains gently. “Come back to the studio then, I have somethin’ I wanna show you.”

********

It’s 5:10 when Alani makes her way back to Napua. Harry had texted her beforehand to say that the door would be open, so she lets herself in and scans the quiet room. She hears the soft keys of a piano, but the room is dim and she has to get closer to see that it’s Harry seated there. Candles are perched around the room and Alani watches her step, reaching a hand to Harry’s shoulder when she reaches him. He stops playing and flashes a soft smile, inviting her to join him on the bench.

“Digging the ambience,” Alani remarks lightly, not entirely reading his mood.

He shrugs. “Just felt right,”

Harry’s fingers return to the keys and he starts with a somber chord that makes Alani’s breath hitch. His vocals are raw and gritty, but stronger than she had ever heard him sing and it nearly moves her to tears. She hangs on every word and burns them into her mind for safe keeping, though she doubts that she could ever forget this moment even if she tried. Harry picks up into the chorus and leaves nothing behind, diving straight into the wave without fear of wiping out. Alani tries, but she can’t contain the tears that spill over her cheek. It’s as if every ounce of apprehension and anxiety, every doubt and moment of insecurity is cleansed from her soul right in this very moment. When the song comes to an end, she immediately wishes to relive it and tries to find the right words in response.

“That was incredible,” Alani clears her throat. “What’s it called?”

“Sign of the Times,” he responds. “Not really sure about it,”

She furrows her brows in confusion, but quickly realizes that he’s being honest and not fishing for compliments.

“Why?”

“It’s… different,”

“Than?”

He thinks for a moment and chooses his next words carefully. “Anything I‘ve ever done before,”

“And why’s that bad?” Alani questions with a comforting hand weaving its way into his hair.

“Dunno,” Harry sighs, leaning into her touch. “I just don’t wanna get it wrong,”

At this moment, “it” isn’t just the song. Everything about his new solo career, and his life in general, is a toss up, and one that he isn’t sure will land in his favor. Alani has no doubts, though, not when it comes to her faith in Harry’s abilities.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

He looks over to her and thinks that he couldn’t possibly be more content. “Yeah,”

“Then you’re already succeeding. If you’re happy with what you’re doing, then no one can tell you that you’re not successful,”

Harry feels his own wave of emotions pooling at the bottom of his lash line and he’s grateful that the low lighting conceals it. He closes the gap between their lips, palm secure against the side of Alani’s face as he keeps her close.

“There’s somethin’ else I wanted to talk to you about,” Harry says gently and Alani feels her heartbeat pick up.

“Okay,”

He isn’t sure how to approach the subject, despite the fact that it’s been the only thing on his mind for days, so he decides to trust his gut and speak from the heart.

“These past few weeks with you,” he starts slowly. “Have been the best of my entire life. When I’m with you, it’s like nothing else in the entire world matters, and nothing bad could ever happen to me because there’s you,”

Another tear rolls down Alani’s face and Harry wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

“All I asked for was a chance,” he continues. “And it feels like you’ve given me the entire world. Do you remember the day when we saw that rainbow?”

“Yes,” Alani nods, voice small.

“You told me to wish for something, and I did. I wished for a home. I didn’t know why, but that word wouldn’t leave me alone after you said it. But I think I understand it now, because I’m in a place I’ve never been before, physically and in my life generally, but you make it feel like home. You bring me home,”

Alani feels as if all of the air inside her lungs has been sucked out, and her grip on Harry’s wrist tightens because she worries that if he lets go, she’ll float away like a helium balloon.

“I know I’m not perfect,” Harry continues, voice wavering. “But this thing we have feels like it could set the world on fire, and I’d gladly walk in the flames for you. So would you please say you’ll be mine and let me prove it?”

“Yes,” Alani breathes, tears of relief and joy still streaming down her face. “But I need a moment to compose an appropriate girlfriend acceptance speech,”

Harry grins and presses their lips together as if she’s the only source of air.

“Seriously,” Alani chuckles when they pull apart. “Cause how the fuck could I top that?”

“Y’don’t need to. Saying yes was all I needed,”

She unclasps her fingers from his, draping her arms around his shoulders instead, and takes a deep breath. “You’re everything, you know that? You’re the sun and the whole universe revolves around you.”

“And you’re the most heavenly moon,” Harry responds thinking back to the meaning of her name. “Mahealani.”

********

Thursday

When Alani’s father had asked for her help setting up a wedding that was taking place at the resort this weekend, she jumped at the chance. It wasn’t often that she got to be involved in the events at Honu, but she adored the luxurious five star hotel and all of its amenities. She had helped her dad cater numerous events over the years and weddings were her absolute favorite, especially because of the beautiful gowns and all of the blissfully happy couples. It felt like a privilege to glimpse into the most special moments in the lives of strangers she would probably never see again. Alani had been tasked with meeting the bride and collecting any last minute meal cards or notes of dietary restrictions from guests. The wedding was to take place the following night, but all the food prep would begin that afternoon in order to adequately prepare.

“I think that’s all. There were just a few last minute adjustments,” the bride, Mila, says pulling out an envelope from her bag.

“No offense,” Alani starts. “But shouldn’t you be resting? I mean isn’t the maid of honor supposed to do all this? Or a wedding planner?”

Mila sighs, an embarrassed smile spreading across her rosy lips. “I know, I’m just a bit of a control freak. I like things done a certain way,”

“Totally understandable,”

“Like the music thing,” Mila rolls her eyes. “It was my fiancé’s idea. He said that DJs were boring and wanted to let the guests choose their own songs, instead. So that was my compromise. I’m trying,”

Alani offers a chuckle and shuffles the last of the cards into her stack. “Sounds like you’re already mastering this whole marriage thing,”

“Are you married?” the bride asks, curiously.

“Oh, no I’m not,”

“Got a boyfriend?”

Alani’s cheeks warm and her lips curl. “Yes,”

“Knew it,” Mila comments with a knowing smirk. “You’re too pretty to be single. And you’ve got the look,”

“What look?” Alani questions.

Mila flutters her lashes and sighs. “The ‘I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it’ look. Like a Disney princess,”

Alani laughs shyly and focuses her attention back to the envelopes in front of her.

“What’s his name?” the bride pries.

“Harry,”

“That’s a good one,” Mila considers tapping her lower lip. “Like the Prince of England. Maybe you will be a princess, after all,”

Alani is amused by the irony of her statement, but she chooses not to disclose the fact that her boyfriend actually is British, albeit, not a Royal. Instead, she chooses to deflect the attention back onto the bride.

“And what’s your lucky guy’s name?”

“Chad,”

“Like the country,”

“Yeah,” Mila giggles. “Like the country,”

“And what’s he like?”

Mila rests her chin in her hand and a dreamy look settles into her hazel eyes. “Funny. He wanted to be a comedian, but he became a lawyer, instead. That’s how we met— law school,”

“What kind of law do you practice?”

“Ironic enough,” Mila chuckles. “Family and divorce law. I never thought I’d get married, I mean I literally hear about people falling out of love every day. But the thing about love is that it’s effort, and a lot of people aren’t willing to put in the work. It doesn’t feel like work when it’s the right person, though. Just feels like ‘how can I be the best possible partner to this human that I love so much?’”

Alani considers this, her mind immediately wandering to Harry and all of his thoughtful gestures. “Makes sense,”

“Chad is a patent lawyer,” Mila continues. “He’s the more creative, outgoing one, I guess. He makes things light when it gets too heavy, you know? It’s good to have someone like that,”

“Yeah, definitely,”

“What’s your guy like? What does he do?” Mila asks with a flirty grin.

“He’s, uh,” Alani thinks for a second trying to be as vague as possible. “A musician,”

Mila gives an approving nod. “Dreamy. Bet he writes lots of songs about you,”

“Maybe,”

“Don’t be shy,” Mila urges. “Come on, it’s just us girls. Spill,”

Alani thinks for a moment and imagines that the same dream cloud must be present over her own features.

“Well he’s kind, thoughtful, romantic, and wise. Really funny, too. I don’t know he just—he makes me wanna be a better person, really,”

“Wow,” the bride marvels. “Sounds like a hell of a guy,”

“He is,”

Mila leans in conspiratorially and Alani does the same. “Speaking as an expert, I think it’s gonna last forever,”

“You think?” Alani asks.

“Oh yeah,” Mila assures her. “When you’re so used to studying fake love, you get really good at recognizing the real deal,”

Alani offers her an appreciative smile and nods. “Thank you,”

Mila’s eyes light up suddenly and she grabs Alani by both hands. “Hey you should bring him! Yeah, you two should come, I insist,”

“Oh, I—”

“Please, say you will! Maybe he can throw in some good music recommendations to offset the terrible ones,”

Alani chuckles and she knows immediately that Harry would leap at the chance to do so. “Okay, sure.”

“Yay!” Mila cheers, reaching into her planner and jotting a note down. “Harry and Alani at the lovebird’s table.”

********

“Hey, sweets,” Harry beams, pulling up to the front of the hotel in the Cadillac. “Waiting on your boyfriend or are you just in the habit of standing on sidewalks lookin’ cute?”

“The former,” Alani responds coyly. “He’ll be here any minute,”

“And he’s got a pretty girl like you waiting outside like this? You should dump him,”

She shrugs and turns on her heel for a stroll while Harry gently eases off the breaks to follow. “I don’t know, I’m kinda fond of him,”

“S’that so?” he continues with a smirk.

“Yup,” she sighs. “He’s kind of a dork, but I like that about him,”

“Heyyy—”

“And he’s a good kisser. The best at cuddling, too,”

“Sounds like a catch,”

“He is. You two should meet sometime,”

The car comes to a halt and Alani slips inside, scooting all the way down the bench seat next to Harry.

“Funny, you should be a comedian,” he quips.

Alani’s brow furrows and she shoots him a doe-eyed look. “What’s the joke?”

Harry laughs dryly, ignoring the pang of irrational jealousy that strikes him in the chest. “You’re a little too good at this bit, it’s starting to feel like we're not talkin’ about me anymore,”

“Oh, were we supposed to be talking about you?”

His head whips over to Alani who clutches her stomach with laughter. “I’m kidding, baby, of course I’m talking about you,”

“No, who is he?” Harry demands playfully with a deep furrow between his brows. “Tell me, I’ll hurt him,”

Alani slots their lips together and his pout eases into a grin.

“Hey what are you doing tomorrow night?” she asks, feeling the ocean breeze through her hair.

Harry flashes a dimple in her direction. “Anything you want, s’long as we’re together,”

“Will you be my plus one?”

“To?”

“A wedding,” Alani explains. “The one my dad’s catering at Honu,”

His eyebrows raise and he smiles wide. “Are we crashing it?”

“No,” she laughs. “We were invited. I was hanging out with the bride today and she added us to the list,”

“‘Kay, but I’m still gonna pretend we crashed it,”

Alani drapes her arms around his shoulders and leans her head against his. “Where are we going?”

“Damn, I thought I had you distracted,”

“Boyfriend rule #1: You have to tell me where we’re going always,”

Harry narrows his eyes. “That’s not a real rule because surprises are romantic,”

“Too bad,” Alani shrugs.

“But don’t you enjoy my surprises?”

“Usually,”

“Then I’m adding a new rule,” Harry bargains. “The girlfriend can not ask the boyfriend to disclose the location of a date if they’re already in the car,”

“That’s not fair, I was already in the car when the rule was made!”

“Too bad.”

Alani pinches his cheek and slinks back into her own seat. She tells him about the bride and the groom, what she knows, at least, and about the decision to have their guests RSVP with a song of their choice to play at the reception.

“D’you know what you’re gonna pick?” Harry asks.

“Yeah,” Alani nods. “I Wanna Dance with Somebody by Whitney Houston, obviously,”

“Obviously,” he agrees.

“You?”

“Dunno, yet. Have to narrow it down,”

Alani admires the heart-shaped glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Well you better make it good, cause Mila knows that you’re a musician and she’s expecting you to balance out her friends’ shitty music taste,”

“You were talkin’ about me?” he teases.

“Well, yeah, how else do you think you got invited?”

“You have such a crush on me, s’cute,”

Alani playfully pokes his cheek. “We’re literally dating, dummy,”

“Don’t get defensive,” Harry jokes. “Cause I’ve got a crush on you too.”

“God, we’re so annoying.”

Harry grins and presses a kiss to her temple. They pull into the Port of Hilo and he magically produces a picnic basket from the backseat, a bottle of Moët et Chandon rosé peeking out. Alani slips her fingers between his and follows as he leads them to a sizable speed boat anchored and waiting for them.

“The Carolina,” Alani reads, admiring the golden cursive on the side.

“Like someone else I know,” Harry winks.

He escorts her onto the vessel and she waits to see when the captain will join them, but confusion washes over her when she sees Harry poking around with the equipment.

“What are you doing?”

“As much fun as it would be to eat at the dock,” he begins. “I think it would be more fun to take ole Carolina for a spin,”

“You mean you’re gonna drive this thing?” Alani questions, though she doesn’t know why she’s surprised by him anymore.

“Pilot,” Harry corrects. “But yes,”

Alani blinks and tries to wrap her head around the idea of Harry piloting a boat. “And you’re allowed to do that?”

“Sure.”

“Wow,” she marvels to herself with an incredulous laugh. “I’m dating a sailor.”

Harry flashes Alani a wink over his shoulder and before she knows it, they’re heading away from the dock. She carefully stands from the lounging area at the back and sneaks over to Harry, arms wrapping around his torso with her chin propped on his shoulder. He steers with one hand and extends the other, recreating the iconic Titanic boat scene.

“I’m flying, Jack!” he calls over his shoulder and Alani giggles, responding with her best improvised rendition of My Heart Will Go On.

They sail out for a bit longer before Harry stops the boat and turns to her. “Ta da!”

“By jove, he’s done it!” Alani praises.

Harry takes a bow and reaches over for the picnic basket, pulling out the rosé and two champagne flutes. He hands them to Alani and spreads their meal on the lounging area at the back: vegetable stir fry and noodles with chocolate covered strawberries for desert.

“You did all this?” Alani muses.

He takes each flute from her hand and fills them halfway. “It’s a special occasion,”

“I feel like an asshole for not knowing what it is,”

“Don’t,” Harry chuckles, handing her the wine. “I mean it’s not really like—I just realized it,”

“What is it?”

Harry raises his glass and clears his throat. “Exactly three months ago, I got off a plane and I stumbled into a little café where the most beautiful and funny and smart waitress served me about twenty glasses of water until I nearly pissed my pants in front of her,”

Alani giggles at the memory, disbelief settling in when she considers how fast the time had flown.

“And despite all of the embarrassing and idiotic things I’ve done since,” he continues. “She agreed to be my girlfriend, for reasons I have yet to understand. So today I celebrate her, and us, and all of lucky stars that brought our paths together,”

They clink their glasses together and Alani presses a cool kiss to his lips. “Cheers, baby,”

“There’s one more thing,” Harry says, holding a finger up.

Alani scoffs. “It’s like fucking Pandora’s box in there!”

He pulls out a velvet box and her heart stops.

“Wait, what are you—”

“It’s not what you think,” he explains quickly. “Sorry, maybe should’ve thought this through better,”

Harry opens the lid and lifts a gold chain with a crescent moon pendant and a smaller sun in the center.

“Saw it in a shop this morning,” he says softly. “Seemed like fate, so I got it,”

“Harry,” Alani breathes, eyes already glossy.

“D’you like it?”

“I love it! It’s beautiful,” she says, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “Thank you so much.”

He fastens the necklace for her and she admires it with gentle fingers. The sun and the moon, a piece of them cast in gold and resting against her beating heart forever.

********

Friday

“Wow,” Harry gawks, his eyes raking in Alani’s appearance. A baby pink tulle dress falls just above her knee with puffy sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, all cinched at the waist with a small bow. Tiny velvet hearts are speckled all over the dress, in true Alani fashion, and a pair of sparkling, pink heels accentuate her toned calves.

“Wow yourself,” she counters, drinking in the peek of exposed skin behind his cream colored blazer. The blue dress shirt underneath is unbuttoned just above the butterfly on his stomach and a cross is nestled in the valley between his pecs. He holds out a bouquet of sunflowers between his ringed fingers and Alani accepts them gratefully, moving to the side so he can step into the house.

“These are gorgeous, thank you,” she says, lifting them to her nose.

“Welcome,” he smiles softly, swiping the pad of his thumb against her chin. “You are gorgeous,”

Alani presses her rose tinted lips to his carefully and pulls back to admire him again. “And you are so good looking it actually makes me mad.”

Harry laughs and pulls her closer for another sweet kiss before he hears the clearing of another person’s throat.

“Have her back by midnight,” Pua teases with her arms crossed. “Or I’ll hunt you down.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry salutes before bending down to address Freddie.

Alani passes the sunflowers to her sister with a kiss to her cheek before hooking an arm under Harry’s and heading out. They hop into the convertible and the sun catches the golden pendant around her neck, bringing a soft smile to his face.

“Hope those are your dancin’ shoes,” Harry remarks. “Cause we’re goin’ full Dirty Dancing tonight,”

“Lift and all?”

“Lift and all,”

She runs her fingers over the silver rose on his ring finger. “You know, I think we’re finally gonna nail it this time.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry agrees. “They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

When they arrive at Honu, the other guests are shuffling from the parking lot and onto the private beach where the reception will take place. Alani plucks a card from her bag to drop into the box at the entrance while Harry pulls a medium sized box from behind his seat.

“You got a real gift?” Alani questions, a light laugh erupting. “We don’t even know these people,”

Harry tucks the gift under his arm and shrugs. “I put your name on it too, don’t worry,”

“Well now they’ll have a giftcard to Ikea and whatever’s in your mystery box.”

“It’s also a giftcard to Ikea, but wrapped in a big box.”

Alani nudges his shoulder playfully and scans the groups mingling and flocking to the mini bar. She waves to a member of her dad’s kitchen staff attending to the hors d’oeuvres before they are greeted by the manager of the guest list.

“Alani and Harry,” she says to the tall woman behind the podium.

“Ah yes,” the woman responds. “The Lovebirds table, number 9.”

“Guess Mila wasn’t joking about that.” Alani chuckles lightly, taking both of their name cards.

Harry locates their table and to his surprise, no one else is present yet, but he pulls Alani’s chair out for her and pushes it back in once she’s seated.

“Champagne?” he asks, nodding to the bar.

“Oui, s'il vous plaît."

He plants a kiss to the top of her head and makes his way to collect their drinks. Alani’s eyes follow the stringed lights overhead and she quickly realizes that they lead to a disco ball hanging above the center of the dance floor. Well done, Mila. She thinks to herself with an approving nod. The colors, she gathers, are lilac and periwinkle, incorporated into all of the floral arrangements and cloth details. They match the color of the sky above and Alani knows that the bride must be ecstatic over this detail. Harry returns with their drinks and sets them down gently onto the white tablecloth.

“None of our fellow lovebirds have arrived yet, huh?” he muses, taking a sip of his champagne.

Alani shakes her head and brings the glass to her lips. “Must be too busy making out in the parking lot,”

“You told me we didn’t have time for that.”

“I’m not gonna ruin my lipstick before we’ve even arrived.”

Harry shakes his fist to the sky and Alani giggles. They both admire the view and the children in the wedding party who are testing how close they can get to the water before an adult drags them away. The sky turns to a shade of cotton candy above them and someone announces that the bride and groom are arriving. Harry and Alani stand and welcome the newly weds with applause and whistles. Mila and Chad share a sweet kiss and the crowd goes wild. One man, most likely a friend of the groom, shouts “I love you Chad!” and laughter erupts. They take their seats and the rest of the wedding party follows suit, which means that the rest of the guests are free to return to their chatting and socializing.

“I’m beginning to think we were put in the time out table.” Harry jokes when they are still not joined by any other guests.

A light laugh escapes Alani’s lips and she looks around. “Yeah I guess so.”

The servers arrive with their meal and the pair eat happily, exchanging witty banter and observations of the scene around them. Harry sucks a piece of linguine between his lips and turns to Alani with a mischievous smirk.

“No,” Alani says, already knowing what he’s up to.

“Don’t leave me hangin’,”

“Eat your food.”

“Alaniii,”

She shakes her head gently and rolls her eyes, but decides to indulge him anyway. Their lips meet in the middle of the shared noodle and Harry smiles.

“Always wanted to try that.”

A few moments later, he notices a card in the middle of the table and lifts it.

“‘Trivia,’” he reads. “‘Test your knowledge of the bride and groom and win a prize.’ Let’s play, shall we?”

“What’s the first question?” Alani asks, peering over to read the small font.

“‘What year did Mila and Chad meet?”

Alani hums, thinking back to her previous conversation with the bride. “They met in law school, that’s all I know,”

“2009,” Harry guesses. “Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

“Definitely Chad,” she replies firmly. “Mila didn’t think she’d ever get married,”

“I thought you said you didn’t know these people,”

“I guess I was wrong,”

Harry squints at the next one. “What are their zodiac signs?”

“I wanna say Virgo for Mila,” Alani suggests. “Maybe… Aquarius for Chad?”

“That’s my sign,” Harry comments, writing down her guesses.

Alani’s brows raise. “No kidding. Makes a lot of sense,”

“What’s yours?”

“Taurus,”

“I don’t know anythin’ about astrology. Are we compatible?”

“Probably not,” Alani teases.

Harry shoots her a disapproving look and reads the next question. “Where did they go on their first date?”

“The movies,” she predicts. “Safe bet,”

“‘Akaka Falls,” Harry writes. “That was ours,”

Alani’s head tilts. “We weren’t even dating then,”

“Yeah but I was tryin’ to win you over, so it counts,”

“Sneaky.”

“Who is the bride’s celebrity crush?” Harry continues. “Hopefully not James Marsden or this guy’s fucked.”

Alani laughs and she pulls him in for a playful kiss to his cheek. The pink sunset dims into a deep navy and the stringed lights twinkle above, setting the whole scene in a romantic, golden glow. Guests walk past their table holding strips of photo booth pictures and Harry’s neck cranes to search for the source. His eyes land on a small line at the other end of the beach and he stands quickly.

“Let’s go,”

“Where?”

“Photo booth!”

To Alani’s surprise it’s an actual booth, curtains and all, and not just some poor sucker tasked with operating a polaroid camera the whole night. They stand in line eagerly behind two groomsmen and brainstorm poses. Once they’re inside, Alani settles onto Harry’s knee and watches as he operates the machine. The screen counts down from ten and they decide to flash a proper smile for the first one. After it’s snapped, Harry sticks his tongue out and Alani widens her eyes in mock surprise. The third one is a candid, slightly blurry one of them laughing after she accidentally poked him in the eye. A lipstick kiss is stamped to Harry’s cheek in the fourth one, but the pair innocently look away in opposite directions. The fifth and final image captures their affection mid kiss. They swipe the two sets of photos and Alani awes, admiring the black and white film strip. Before they make it back to their table, Alani feels a hand on her arm.

“Alani!” Mila beams.

“Hi!” Alani greets, pulling the bride into a hug. “You look gorgeous,”

“I’m so glad you came! I love your dress,”

Mila turns her attention towards Harry and gives him a warm embrace, too. “You must be Harry! So nice to meet you,”

“Thank you for having us!” he says over the music.

“I see you guys put the photo booth to good use,” Mila comments. “Now go dance! There’s an ipad next to the stage, just queue up your songs.”

Alani and Harry bid the bride farewell, but before they leave, Mila leans into Alani’s ear and whispers “he’s a hottie!” with a wink. They set their photos down inside Alani’s purse and Harry leads her towards the dance floor. She punches in her request and he secretly types the song that’s been stuck in his head all week. Fantasy by Mariah Carey is already playing when they reach the floor, so they join in excitedly. Alani’s hips sway and Harry’s head bobs, both of them mouthing the lyrics. The song fades and Alani’s pick begins, which makes the crowd roar.

“The people have spoken and they love Whitney!” she cheers.

Harry twirls her and shuffles his feet. Alani shimmies and sings along, the lyrics falling from her lips like a prayer.

I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the heat with somebody

Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody

With somebody who loves me

The dance floor is flooded with bodies jumping and swaying, and the disco ball shimmers above the euphoric scene. Alani and Harry spin, making their way through the crowd and letting the music sweep over them like a magical spell. Beads of sweat form at the back of her neck and she lifts her wavy locks to let the ocean breeze cool her down, but her feet don’t stop moving. Eventually, her song peters out and a familiar guitar fills its place.

“I love this song!” Alani cries, immediately recognizing The Cure.

Harry pulls her closer, despite the warmth radiating from both of their bodies, and presses a passionate kiss to her lips. They are surrounded on every side, but in this very moment under the full moon and shimmering disco ball, Harry and Alani feel like the only two people alive. Their foreheads meet and they sway gently, his hands secure at her waist while her fingers toy with the hair at the base of his neck.

It’s Friday, I’m in love.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #ybmh #ALSO i would just like it to be known that I wrote this before *those* photos so harry get your own romantic gestures >:(#kidding bae <3

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seventeensarmy · 4 years ago

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(4) Stuck With You (Hybrid AU)

Pairing: OT7xReader, Jungkook x Reader, soon Jimin x Reader x Jungkook; rest will come in the course of the story

Warnings: mentions of smut, domestic living and fluff, also don’t know how you wanna call Jimins behaviour, also not eating and like bad self image (bc reader and Jimin don’t eat and wanna lose weight)

Words: 3.560

Summary: You decide to show Jimin your dance studio, while Jungkook leaves the two of you to go to a job inerview for the famous underground photographer ‘Vante’.

A/N: I’m sorry for not uploading in a while, but school was like, “let’s give her three exams per week, one week pause and then start again for as long as we stay open”. I’ll try to write more, but I can’t promise anything :/

Previous / Next

Chapter four

"You didn't tell me that y/n makes such a mean Carbonara, Jungkook-ah.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @imezz @anxietylovesme @holaaaf @ot7purple @calling-dips-on-j-hope @greezenini @givebuckysomelove @leejongsukly433 @sweeneyblue1 @kookiebbyxx

One year ago (Reader 20/ JK 20/ JM 22) You groaned as the light hit your face and turned around. "Baby. Wake up" you heard Jungkook mumbling next you, but then proceeded to pull you closer. You didn't know anyone who took longer to get up in the morning than your boyfriend. You were now facing Jungkooks bare chest, your fingers were tracing his muscles and you looked up to him only to see him already looking at you. "Seeing something you like?" he asked, looking amused as your cheeks started to heat up, "Yes" you whisper with a small grin. A hand came around your waist and pulled you even closer and before you could actually react Jungkook was already leaning over you, one hand next to your head to hold him up. You looked up to him with big eyes. "You wanna be my good girl? Letting me have you before making breakfast? So I can have my breakfast first?" He started to nibble on your throat, leaving big bruises that you knew were going to be so hard to cover up. "Yes, please" you whimper throwing your head back to give Jungkook more space, your hand gripping his hair. You moaned when you felt his hands cupping your breast, pinching you nipple. "Good girl" Jungkook praised. You didn't know, that Jungkooks main goal was to let Jimin know, that you were his. He had noticed how Jimin had that big dominant aura, it had intimidated him, but Jungkook couldn't let the new guy see, that his dominance had effects on him, when he wasn't even trying to. If it had already bothered him so much, how would you react? You, who is so easily manipulated? After you and Jungkook started your day, you quickly feel into your usual routine. Jungkook went for a quick morning jog while you started preparing the breakfast he insisted you'd have together. You stood at the stove preparing three dishes, because you vaguely remember Jungkook bringing someone home? The realisation that you are now alone with a stranger at home, hit you as you heard light footsteps approaching. "You are a dancer, aren't you?" came a soft voice from the doorway. You looked over and saw a blond man leaning against the frame, his tail softly swishing from side to side. You didn't know enough about cats to point out his mood, so you chose to just keep it cool. "How did you know?" you asked a bit surprised. The cat chuckled and pointed at your feet, "You're making breakfast in fourth position." You looked down at your feet and saw that you were indeed standing in a typical ballet position; you looked up to the man a bit embarrassed. The cat stepped a bit closer and him holding his eye contact with you was making you nervous. You looked down again, breaking the contact and missing the smirk that creeped on his face. "Do you dance as well? I've been living with Jungkook for years and he never mentioned it?" The cat scoffed, "I've been dancing since I was little. My previous owner owned his own studio here in town." You smiled at his words, Happy, that you were finally talking to a dancer again, its been too long. "Then if you want, you can come train with me later, after breakfast. Jungkook wants to together, so we gotta wait. Are you eating? Oh I don't know if I introduced myself yesterday, I'm Y/N" The hybrid slowly nodded at the information you were giving him. "I'm Jimin", he said in a smooth voice, "Are you eating before practice? I won't be eating lunch though." You grinned at the revelation that Jimin also wasn't eating lunch. "Yeah, Jungkook wants me to eat before I start the day, but I'm not eating lunch either. I'm mostly practicing at that time" You were stirring the porridge you were making and Jimin hummed in acknowledgement. "You're on a dancer diet too?" he asked and it was as if you understood each other without saying something. A little voice in both of your heads told you, that the 'diet' the two of you were on, wasn't good or healthy, but you felt connected through the knowledge of doing the same thing. You nodded, "And he doesn't like it?” Jimin asked again and you nodded again, remembering the arguments you would have about your eating habits. Jimin smiled, his eyes scrunched together, "That's okay, he just doesn't understand, but don't worry, I do." You started to fill the food in bowls, giving yourself and Jimin smaller portions than Jungkook and Jimin started to set the table. The timing was perfect; Jungkook came through the door just as you put the last bowl down. He spotted you and Jimin and smiled at the both of you. "Morning Jimin-ah", he grinned and Jimin scowled, you all had sat down and started eating. "I'm older than you, you brat" Jungkook grinned cheekily, "Morning Hyung" and you chocked in your first spoon of porridge. "You're older than Jungkook?" Jungkook grinned and sat himself down teasing you, "Were you hoping you'd be a Noona, Baby?" Jimin raised his eyebrows, "You are younger than your hybrid?" It wasn't common for people to adopt hybrids that were older than one, because humans liked that age gave them a superior feeling. You pouted, "Age has nothing to do with behaviour. I'm still the owner." Jungkook snorted, "Yeah, only on paper though" Jimin choked on a laugh, while you just grabbed your empty bowl, head red. Before you left you smacked the back of Jungkooks head making him turn around with a face that said 'try that again and see where it brings you'. You stood in the kitchen scrubbing the bowls clean when Jungkook entered, holding his and Jimins bowl in his hand. "You didn't have to say that", you whisper shouted and him, hitting him with a wet rag. "Try that again. I dare you. Also, he already knew that you are mine. You smell like me, especially after this morning" you could hear the smugness in his voice and felt the blood rushing to your cheeks. "You are unbelievable" you groaned, making him snicker. "You know what? You can do the dishes then. I'm gonna go change" "Aw don’t be like that, little dancer", was the last thing you heard before closing the door to your shared bedroom. You quickly changed into your sports Wear and also grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from Jungkook to give to Jimin, who was sitting at the kitchen counter watching Jungkook do the dishes. "Here, I thought maybe you'd like to dance in something a bit more comfortable" you said, giving the cat the clothes. Jimin quickly thanked you and disappeared in the guest room he was staying in. "So you gonna practice together then?” Jungkook asked, putting away the rest of the dishes into the cabinets. "Yes, it’s been so long since I practiced with someone who also danced for a long time" and you really were excited. Since your parents death you hadn't been taking any more dance lessons from your private teacher. You always wanted to be taught again, but there was so much going on in your life, you didn't feel like dance lessons should be taking over so much time. Instead you practiced what you already knew, sometimes you learned from YouTube videos, but it was hard trying to learn new stuff, when you boyfriend isn't a fan of you overworking yourself. You tried to explain to him, that new moves were hard to learn and that you were used to staying up late to perfect them, but he wasn't having it. Jungkook felt bad about limiting your practice time, but he knew it wasn't healthy to stay in the dance studio for the whole day, practicing the same move on repeat. He tried to tell you, that maybe you should take it slower, leaving new things would take time, but overworking yourself wouldn't to you any good, especially since you still had school work to do. "That’s great, I'm sure you'll be making good progress then" Jungkook said with a bright smile, relieved that someone who knew what they were doing was with you. Jimin would probably say something if he saw, that you were going too hard. Jimin appeared gently, but Jungkook was sure he would be strict and make sure you would take care of yourself. "I actually have something I'd need to do today, meaning I wouldn't be at home till late", Jungkook started making you look up to him confused. "Huh? Where are you going?" "Do you remember that 'Vante' flyer we saw a while back? Remember that I called there and they said they would get back to me? Well they did, just while you were changing, they would like to meet today" A huge smile broke out on your face, and you jumped into Jungkooks arms, who caught you with ease "That’s amazing Kookie. I'm sure they will hire you." A while back, while you went on a walk with Jungkook, you came by a flyer, offering a job as an assistant to 'Vante'. The offer was only for hybrids and when Jungkook read who he could be potentially working for he couldn't stop himself from calling. Vante was apparently a huge underground photographer, who is famous for his pictures capturing social unjust against hybrids or other minorities. You didn't know there was someone who expressed their feelings for the hybrid situation through art and Jungkook explained to you, that he also just heard of him, after hearing other hybrids talk about him. Vante was apparently a big deal in the hybrid community, but no one has ever seen him. This is why it was an even bigger shock that he was looking so openly for an assistant. Most humans don't know about Vante or what goes on in the hybrid community in general and Jungkook explained to you, that you didn't have to feel bad for not knowing him. Since you and Jungkook only really spent time with each other and only leave the house when you have to, you didn't really have any other friends. This was also the reason why Jungkook was so out the loop with everything concerning the hybrid community, he's been with you since you were children and never really met with other hybrids. You often felt bad and told him he should go to the park and try to meet people and that you'd be fine, but he never wanted to. He claimed that you were all the company he needed and while you didn't necessarily believed that, you couldn't bring him to change his mind. But he too was the only company you needed. Still, now that you found out he had the chance to go meet people you were happy for him, especially because you knew, that Jungkook would love to have something to do and not sit around the house the whole day. "You guys gonna be fine without me here?" Jungkook asked, looking at you and then at Jimin who had just stepped out of his room. Both of you rolled your eyes and you were glad wasn't looking at you. "Don't worry Jungkook-ah, we'll survive" said Jimin with a cheeky smile. It wasn't that Jungkook wasn't concerned about leaving you with a stranger in your own home, he was. But something about Jimin made him feel at ease. Yes, Jungkook kinda felt threatened in his position as 'alpha' of the pack, especially because he, a rabbit, let a cat come into his territory. But Jimin didn't appear like he wanted to take you away or destroy the dynamic, it was more like, he wanted to belong. And Jungkook understood that, he too wanted to belong, and it wasn't like you didn't have the space for one more person. It was just the power dynamic that was still undecided between the both of them, but then again, Jimin hadn't even been staying with you for a whole day. Power dynamics still had to wait; maybe Jimin didn't even plan on staying, though Jungkook didn't believe that. Also you and Jimin seemed to get along well, so he trusted his gut on this one. "I should be back around 10pm from what I understood" Jungkook called out to you and Jimin. You quickly rushed to him hugging him tight. You played with the silver chain around his neck that had all the information about him. If hybrids had to go out with a collar, it could at least look good. "Be safe, and text me when you arrive and leave and stuff. I'll prepare dinner for you and if you don't like it you can just come back home yeah? Don't feel like you have to get a job. We don't need the -" Your rambling got interrupted by a set of lips on yours. Jungkook looked at you with soft eyes, a bit amused how much you worried about him, but he knew you meant well. "I'll be just fine, Baby, don't worry okay?” he asked as gently cupped your cheek. "I'll text you, I even have my tracking on, so don't worry. But I have to leave now or I'll be late. Don't forget to eat. Jimin, watch her. See you guys, love you", Jungkook listed to calm you, looking at Jimin while telling him to watch you and then at you, telling you he loved you. You quickly tell him the same before the door falls shut. "He said it like I'm some kid to watch", you playfully pouted, looking at the cat that had watched that whole interaction with an amused smile. "We'll see at the end of the day how much of a pain you are", Jimin said with a laugh. The both of you were in your studio warming up and you enjoyed the fact that Jimin seemed to know what he was doing. Training with Jungkook was always playful, because you explained to him what each stretch was doing and he would whine about his thighs burning, but Jimin wasn't like that. He could match pace and take the stretch as deep as you could. A bit clueless as to how to start you decided both if you would just dance for the other, so you'd know what you could work on together. You explained that you were trained in classical ballet, always had strict teachers and never really learned it another way. Jimin listened and remarked that he'd love to learn a bit more about classical ballet, you then told him, that you started to teach yourself a more contemporary style, but haven't been taught it, which is why you'd probably needed some help there. The hybrids eyes smiled as bright as his mouth when he told you, that he had learned contemporary since he was a child, so he wouldn't have a problem teaching you. You beamed at him, happy that you found a way to dance that made both of you happy. "I'm warning you, I've never taught anyone before", you said while getting ready to start teaching Jimin. The cat looked at you, "What, the bunny doesn't like dancing?" You shake your head, "Jungkook likes dancing, but not the kind I'm able to teach him. He said if he'd dance it had to be modern and I don’t know, he called it street style" Jimin snorted, "Well, I didn't take him as a classical dancer anyway. Should we start?" Teaching Jimin was easier than expected, he easily caught onto what you were trying to say, when you didn't know how to say it. Both of you lost track of time, lost in your own world that was dance. You quickly got reminded of time when your phone started ringing, Jungkook. Taking a few deep breathes you answered, you looked at yourself in the mirror, your top clinging onto you, drenched in sweat, and you haven't trained this hard in quite some time. Your gaze wandered to Jimin who looked as sweaty as you, his hair sticking to his forehead, so he ran a hand through it, exposing his forehead. "Hey Kookie. How is it going?" you asked as you answered, you looked at the time, it was 4pm, Jungkook wouldn't be home in while and you and Jimin have already been dancing for five hours. "I'm on break right now. They are showing me what kind of pictures I would have to take and stuff. It’s really interesting, they also told me I could make videos of I'm more comfortable with that, it just has to have a message", you could feel Jungkooks excitement through the phone and a huge smile took over your features. Your bunny was still so cute when he got excited, even Jimin, who heard the whole conversation, no doubt, was smiling to himself at Jungkooks rambling. "I'm happy you're having fun. What are you doing after your break?", you asked and absently started stretching, bending over while still holding your phone. "Oh they're gonna teach me Photoshop and video editing and how to upload pictures, so they aren't traceable by the police." That line worried you a bit; you looked up and locked eyes with Jimin behind you, who was already looking at you, through the mirror. He was also frowning at Jungkooks words. You knew that that Vante guy was publishing critical pictures to raise awareness, but was it so bad, that the police would get involved? "Don't worry; it's just so they won't know who published it. The police could think that you are part of a radical group and stuff. It's easier to stay anonymous", Jungkook explained, probably feeling your worry and confusion. "Anyways, did you guys eat already? You probably ate an hour ago or so. I can hear your heavy breathing are you still training?" The blood in your veined ran cold. You hadn't eaten, you weren't even planning to before Jungkook called, and you haven't made a break. Jimin seemed to see your panic and quickly jumped in. "Hey let me talk to that punk that didn't use the proper honorifics today." He then grabbed your phone and put it on speaker. You could hear Jungkooks giggles coming through. "Oh I'm sorry Hyung" came Jungkooks reply and Jimin took over before Jungkook could say more. "You didn't tell me that y/n makes such a mean Carbonara, Jungkook-ah. We almost didn't left anything for you", the lies came out so easily, that you would've believed Jimin if you hadn't known better. "Oh really?” Jungkook asked and you could tell he was pleased, thinking you listened and actually ate. There was a sharp pain in your heart and you felt incredibly guilty for lying, because even though you weren't the one speaking, you also weren't interrupting Jimin. "Yes, but don't worry, we left something for you", Jimin send you a cheeky wink, easing your worry a bit. "Alright I'm glad.." there were some background noises, before Jungkooks voice came back. "I just got called to come back, so I'll gotta leave. Maybe I'll meet Vante. Though I probably won't. Maybe if I really start working for him, you know he never shows his face. Anyways. Bye love you. Have fun you guys. Bye Hyung." And with that the line went dead. Jimin mustered you. "Shouldn't I have lied?” he asked, afraid he overstepped. Jimin was here for one day, but he was already so at ease with you, he maybe interpreted too much into your shared love for dance. "No it's not that.. I just hate lying to him." Jimin watched you, "Okay. But.. Did you want to eat?” he asked and you shook your head, eating while practicing didn't help, especially if you wanted to lose weight while you were at it. "See that's okay. Do you want to eat now?” his voice was soft and lulled you in bubble were you felt comfortable. He was asking if you wanted to eat, not telling you that you should. You shook your head again, even though the thought of Jungkook let you feel guilty, you still didn't want to eat. Jimin smiled, "That's okay and completely normal. I also don't want to eat. How about we eat something later this evening?" "Yeah, that sounds good", you said quietly, Jimins voice was so soft and gently, you didn't want to burst that comfort bubble. Also he told you that it was okay, and he also didn't eat, so how bad was it really? "Then let's eat later. Jungkook doesn't need to know. Let's practice till 8pm, then we can shower and I'll help you make some mean Cabonara. How does that sound?” Jimin smiled at you and you smiled back. "Sounds good." "Okay, and then let me start teaching you, but watch out. I'm a strict teacher." Jimin warned, but that only gave you more motivation. "That's good, I won't learn if you aren't", you answered, not knowing how someone couldn't be strict while teaching. And Jimin was true to his word, pointing out every mistake and making you repeat the move till you perfected it. But you wouldn't want it any other way.

(Leave me your thoughts)

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xiyao-feels · 4 years ago

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@hqfeels

Oh man, as someone who loves 3zun, and thinks the mess of intertwining relationships is what makes it interesting, I really should not have read this post - while I think you make some interesting points for a different interpretation of the Nielan relationship, I would also caution against basing your interpretation so closely to the words of what is a translation

e.g. when you discuss LXC not framing things in terms of the sworn brother relationship, you point to the use of “one of his sworn brothers” vs “my” or “our” - chinese doesn’t always use pronouns, so it could very well be the translator having to fill in

I make note of this, not as a nitpick, but bc I think it goes to the heart of the framing of the relationship. Because I think Xiyao is fundamentally framed within the 3zun context - after all, what does JGY call LXC to show they’re close? Er-ge. “2”, not just Ge. NMJ, as Da-ge eternally haunts their relationship. The point of rejection from LXC? You don’t have to call me Er-ge anymore.

So, hey! I appreciate that you said you shouldn't have read my post, but I thought your points were worth addressing, and since you left comments in the notes I figured it was reasonable to respond. If you don't want to read this post, I completely understand, and I've left a bunch of empty lines after this paragraph so you don't have to read it if you don't want to.

The point about relying too heavily on exact shades of meaning is definitely a good one. Reading over my post, however, I think there are only three places where I do that; the point identified, later for one point in my discussion of QHJ's teacher, and actually later in the temple when I talk about the "sob" of Liebing as some evidence for LXC's grief for NMJ.

I think it's worth asking: how much does any one of these points contribute to the argument? They're definitely not irrelevant, or I wouldn't have pointed them out, but even so there's only so much wiggle room. No matter what pronouns he uses, for example, LXC only spends one clause of that speech directly on JGY killing NMJ, and it's in the context of, well, a general lack of reaction of personal grief. If—not even if he actually said 'our sworn brother' or 'my sworn brother,' I do think that would be some evidence of personal betrayal, even if it has to be considered in light of the rest of his reactions and non-reactions. But if, in the original text, the Chinese simply didn't specify the pronouns such that "his" is the translator's best guess—I just don't see that as a serious blow to the argument, given the consistency of the pattern as a whole, and I think it's kind of cherry-picking to suggest that it is.

Second, I don't think the pronoun there is ambiguous as is suggested. Consider the phrasing; it's not just "his sworn brother," it's "one of his sworn brothers." Supposing that "his" wasn't present in the original text. "One of my sworn brothers"? "One of our sworn brothers"? Neither really makes sense. Of course, perhaps they might make more sense in Chinese; but that's a little further than "what if the translator had to pick a pronoun."

Now, I think the above points are worth considering on their own merits, which is why I brought them up first. However, I have to say: I did, actually, check the Chinese, for the "one of his sworn brothers" and indeed in multiple places. I didn't mention it in the post for the same reason I usually try not to rely on it in my posts: because I feel like I'd end up setting myself up as some kind of authority when I'm very much not, and because I'm frequently fairly confused XP I have, what, one term of Mandarin, some amount of self-study, and Pleco installed on my phone. But I do often look at the original text and try to work things out, and sometimes I learn stuff that's been lost in translation, and often I can go well, my best guess aligns with the translation. If you want to confirm for yourself, and I encourage you to do so!!, then you can look at the text here: https://www.kunnu.com/modaozushi/. It's in chapter 64.

This is the clause about JGY killing one of his sworn brothers: 他设计杀害了自己的一位义�� ("that he planned to kill one of his sworn brothers"). The pronoun before "one of his sworn brothers" is 自己, which is a pronoun referring to the subject of the sentence—in this case 他, he, JGY. Now, could I be wrong? Of course! Should anyone rely on uncited statements from a total stranger? No! I strongly encourage people to check this out for themselves, and if someone who actually does speak Chinese wants to offer some guidance I'd be very grateful. But given that it matched the translation from people who do actually speak both Chinese and English, it seemed enough to allow me to rely on the translation.

On that note, actually, I'll admit I missed a trick. "我父亲的一位恩师", one of my father's teachers—"teacher" there is 恩师, which Pleco gives me as "mentor; one's kind and respected master (or teacher)." So it does have more of an emotional edge, and I'll edit the post to acknowledge this. Even so, I think it's worth remembering both that it's one word, he's not adding lots of adjectives about the teacher, and most importantly that the teacher simply isn't lingered on. The effects of his mother killing the teacher, yes, and the contrast between his memories of his mother and the fact that she did kill his father's teacher...but the teacher himself is just not dwelled on.

(For completion's sake, the "sob" of Liebing in ch 107 is "呜咽", which Pleco gives as 1) sob, whimper 2) (of water, wind, stringed instrument, etc) weep; wail; lament; mourn.)

But again, quibbling over phrasing is to some extent a distraction. The important thing is not so much any one incident as the pattern they form, considered together; this is why my original post was so long, because I was trying to consider the overall pattern, and I think the comment about framing is pointing at the same thing. So it's worth asking: are xi//yao framed in terms of the 3//zun relationship?

In fact, I think this divides into two questions. First: does the text frame xi//yao in terms of the 3//zun relationship? And second: do xi//yao understand their relationship fundamentally in terms of the 3//zun relationship? I think you could make more of an argument on the first one, or at least, xi//yao and NMJ are part of their own narrative in the text and often show up together. But in terms of the actual relationship, it's the second question I'm interested in here, and I think the answer is very much no.

First of all, a note on timelines. In MDZS, LXC and JGY knew each other for about seventeen years; they were sworn brothers with NMJ for about four. To put this another way, they were sworn brothers with NMJ for less than a quarter of their overall time together. Moreover, they had significant time without NMJ before they all became sworn brothers, as well as after his death. Now, much of their relationship is revealed to us through Empathy, which necessarily limits us to when NMJ was alive, and moreover shows us only those of their moments together that he happens to see, so it's understandable that these years dominate our view, but I do think it's important to remember.

Okay, now let's consider what we see of their relationship. Given how much of it we see through NMJ's eyes, it's in fact remarkable how much it isn't about him. In the first conversation we see them have together, LXC is proposing that MY stop being NMJ's deputy and go serve his father in Langya (though only after confirming that's still what MY wants, note—and which he knows MY had wanted because MY literally told him!). When MY says he does want it but he owes NMJ, LXC says he thinks NMJ will understand but volunteers to talk with NMJ himself if he doesn't. Neither of them have told NMJ they know each other; after NMJ comes in, when he seeks to find out how they do, asking LXC and then ordering MY to speak after LXC refuses, they don't tell him. I'm not saying either of them are unhappy with NMJ here—quite the contrary!—but there's no sign they see the other, or their relationship with each other, fundamentally in terms of him. (For a close reading of the scene, as ever, I recommend confusion-and-more's post here.)

Furthermore, in MDZS, after MY flees from NMJ in Langya and becomes a spy, he starts sending LXC letters with information, and LXC works out who it is. As with pretty much everything we see about them, this suggests a quite astonishing intimacy—that MY was able to trust that LXC would work it out, and that LXC did. Not only did NMJ not know who the spy was, in MDZS he didn't know there was a spy at all—LXC concealed it from him entirely. Now, this is obviously very solid practice for spies, but again—you have xiyao together, and NMJ apart. (I'll also note that in MDZS LXC is exchanging blows with NMJ sword to saber until the very end of the post-Sun Palace confrontation, even after MY steps forward; he definitely does not seem to think that NMJ has any sort of right, here.)

At the Phoenix Mountain Hunt, we see them together but, again, not with NMJ, and there's no suggestion that LXC had socialized with him particularly—JGY is aware of how much prey he's taken, but of course JGY is running the hunt. Then when they both go off at the end of the scene to expand the hunting grounds, LXC asks LWJ if he'd like to help, but there's zero suggestion that they're going to seek out NMJ, even though he's part of the reason JGY needs to expand the hunting grounds.

In chapter 73, LXC and JGY are talking after the conference. Then NMJ comes over and comments disapprovingly about JGY. Again, LXC doesn't actually speak a single word after NMJ joins them. This... really does not suggest perceiving him and JGY as fundamentally part of that triad, imho.

The guqin scene: LXC and JGY are very much focused on each other. Only LXC talks with NMJ at all, and only once, briefly, answering his objection. NMJ is described as looking up before his objection, which suggests to me that he/wasn't/ looking up before. Meanwhile LXC and JGY are complimenting each other's playing, LXC is offering to teach him exclusive teachings, and JGY is telling LXC about his mother. You could reasonably say LXC teaching JGY the Song of Clarity is or is partly about NMJ—his desire again for them to reconcile—but in their interactions they are focused on each other to an almost absurd extent, and not NMJ.

The discussion conference mentioned in chapter 30? We're told NMJ wasn't originally planning to go; it seems likely that we would have been told if the same was true of LXC, given that LWJ is the one telling us about it. So, again, we have JGY and LXC together, and NMJ only coming in for outside reasons.

At the beginning of the stairs conflict, when NMJ comes in and calls JGY out, we see that JGY and LXC are discussing something, with "notes of all colours" on the desk before them. WWX is later going to realize they're discussing the watchtowers, which even now, well before he's Jin-zongzhu, JGY is trying to convince his father to build; there's no sign, on the other hand, that NMJ even knows what they're working on.

Their last interaction before NMJ's death /is/ about NMJ, with JGY very upset and LXC defending the idea that NMJ hasn't rejected JGY completely. But again this doesn't suggest that they view their relationship fundamentally in terms of their relationship with NMJ, and as we've seen it's not what they're usually talking about.

I talk here about two patterns of 3//zun interaction in the Empathy chapters: broadly, MY/JGY and LXC talking privately and NMJ coming and interrupting them, and NMJ attacking MY/JGY, and LXC intervening.

Looking over their interactions, the text does not, to me, suggest that LXC and JGYview their relationship fundamentally in terms of NMJ or of 3//zun.

And again—LXC doesn't bring up NMJ in the temple, and he only reacts to NMJ-as-NMJ three brief times.

Now, it is of course true that JGY calls LXC er-ge as a sign of closeness, and that he's 'er-ge' because NMJ is the first brother. However, a few points.

First, I would argue that it's a recurring theme in MDZS (and /especially/ for JGY) that the form of a relationship doesn't necessarily match what the relationship actually is; the form, therefore, might be an interesting point to consider, but it must be considered in light of the evidence we have about their actual relationship.

Second, JGY calls LXC er-ge a full thirteen times in the temple chapters. Once in chapter 99, when he's responding to LXC about JL; twice in chapter 100, discussing NHS; in chapter 105, three times leading up to his explanation of the letter; six full times when answering LXC's questions in chapter 106; and then once in chapter 108 when he is literally asking LXC for protection from NMJ's fierce corpse.

Once and only once, on the last er-ge in chapter 105, does LXC respond to being called er-ge, though we're told he did so earlier off-page. And—well, look at the paragraph:

His tone was more than earnest. Ever since he captured Lan XiChen, he’d indeed been treating him with respect. At this point, Lan XiChen wasn’t able to turn against him yet. He could only sigh, “Sect Leader Jin, I have already said, when you went your own way to scheme such havoc at Burial Mound, that there was no longer the need to call me ‘Brother.’”

This is not only not framed as an essential rejection, it's framed as explicitly /not/ that: "Lan XiChen wasn't able to turn against him yet." And again, as I pointed out in my post, we're explicitly given a reason for it that has absolutely nothing to do with NMJ! 'Don't call me er-ge because you killed da-ge' would be very natural; the fact that it's explicitly not about that suggests strongly to me that they simply don't think of 'er-ge' in terms of its relation to NMJ, despite the form.

#ship negativity cw #that damn bingo post #a gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs #profound philosophical differences #we can't change places #anger burned in his heart #the best of men #more than one tag could contain #long meta

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combat-wombatus · 4 years ago

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Anti-Asian Racism (Pt. 2)

so if you haven’t read my (long) post about historical anti-asian racism, you can find it here. i tried my best to put things in chronological order, so you might want to read that before you read this one!

i got really tired writing that one bc it was super long and i only covered up to like...the 1920s?? and so here’s a second part bc i couldn’t fit it all into one post oopsies

WARNING: this contains some graphic descriptions of violence. i don’t want to accidentally trigger anyone, so please read at your own discretion. however, i do feel that it is important to be educated on the parts of history that schools often overlook, so if you can handle this, please read it.

the watsonville riots—january 1930

as US nationals, filipinos had the legal right to work in the US, and employers exploited these workers relentlessly as they assumed the filipinos were unfamiliar with their rights. they were paid the lowest wages among all ethnic laborers. the immigration acts of 1917 and 1924 allowed filipinos to answer the growing demand for labor in the US, and many young filipino men migrated to the US. due to gender bias in immigration & hiring, filipino men courted women outside of their own ethnic community, contributing to mounting racial tensions. white men decried the takeover of jobs and women by filipinos and resorted to vigilantism to deal with the “third Asiatic invasion”, and filipino laborers in public risked being attacked by white men who felt threatened by them. eventually, on january 19, this culminated in 500 white men gathering outside of a filipino dance club—owned by a filipino man—with clubs and weapons intending to take the white women who lived there out and burn the place down. they were turned away by security guards and the armed owners, but returned later to beat dozens of filipino farmworkers. they dragged filipinos from their homes and beat them, threw them off the pajaro river bridge, attacked them at ranches—and at a labor camp, twenty-two filipinos were dragged out and almost beaten to death. the mob fired shots into filipino homes, killing 22-year-old fermin tobera: no one was ever charged for his murder. in stockton, a filipino club was blown up—the blast was blamed on the filipinos themselves.

many filipinos fled the country. filipino immigration plummeted. anti-filipino violence continued in california in the months after the violence ended.

japanese internment camps—1942–1945

established during ww2 by FDR through executive order 9066. shortly after the bombing of pearl harbor, FDR signed the executive order, supposedly to prevent espionage. military zones were created in california, washington, and oregon—states with a large population of japanese americans—and the executive order commanded the relocation of americans of japanese ancestry. it affected the lives of around 117,000 people—the majority of whom were american citizens. canada soon followed, relocating 21,000 of its japanese residents from its west coast. mexico did the same, and eventually 2,264 more people of japanese descent were removed from peru, brazil, and argentina to the camps in the united states.

even before the camps, discrimination ran rampant. just hours after pearl harbor, the FBI rounded up 1,291 japanese community & religious leaders, arresting them without evidence and freezing their assets. a month later, they were transferred to facilities in montana, new mexico, and north dakota, many of them unable to inform their families. most remained incarcerated for the duration of the war. the FBI searched the private homes of thousands of japanese residents, seizing “contraband” (looting).

1/3 of hawaii’s population was of japanese descent. some politicians called for their mass incarceration. 1,500 people were removed from hawaii and sent to camps on the US mainland. japanese-owned fishing boats were impounded.

lieutenant general john dewitt prepared a report filled with proven lies—such as examples of “sabotage” (cattle knocking down power lines)—and suggested the creation of military zones and japanese internment camps. his original plan included italians and germans (because we were at war with them too!) but the idea of rounding-up americans of EUROPEAN descent was not as popular.

california’s state attorney general and governor declared that all japanese should be removed at congressional hearings in february 1942. general francis biddle pleaded with the president that mass evacuation of citizens was not required, pushing for smaller, more targeted security measures. FDR didn’t listen, and signed the order anyways.

around 15,000 japanese americans willingly moved out of prohibited areas. inland states were not keen for new japanese residents, and they were met with racist resistance. ten state governors voiced opposition, fearing the japanese would “never leave”, and demanded they be incarcerated if the states were forced to accept them. eventually, a civilian organization called the “war relocation authority” was set up to administer the plan, but milton eisenhower (from the department of agriculture) resigned his leadership in protest over what he characterized as incarcerating innocent civilians.

no one really cared back then, but we appreciate the sentiment. however, this led to a stricter, military-led incentive to incarcerate the japanese civilians, so you didn’t really win, mr. eisenhower.

army-directed evacuations followed, and people had six days notice to dispose of their belongings other than what they could carry. anyone who was at least 1/16th japanese was interned, including 17,000 children under 10, as well as several thousand elderly and handicapped.

these camps were located in remote areas, the buildings not meant for human habitation—they were reconfigured horse stalls or cow sheds. food shortages and poor sanitation conditions were common. each center was its own town, with schools, post offices, work facilities, and farms—all surrounded by barbed wire and guard towers.

in new mexico, internees were delivered by trains and marched two miles, at night, to reach the camp. anyone who tried to escape was promptly shot and killed, no matter their age.

when riots broke out over the insufficient rations and overcrowding, the police tear-gassed crowds and even killed a japanese-american citizen. three people were shot and killed for “going too close to the perimeter”.

in 1942, fred korematsu was arrested for refusing to relocate to an internment camp. his case made it all the way to the supreme court, where he argued that the executive order violated the fifth amendment. the supreme court ruled against him.

the camps were finally closed in 1945, after mitsuye endo fought her way to the supreme court once again. the government initially offered to free her, but endo refused—she wanted her case to address all of the internment camps. she was successful; the court eventually ruled that the the war relocation authority “has no authority to subject citizens who are concededly loyal to its leave procedure.”

the my lai massacre—march 16, 1968

during the vietnam war, US army soldiers entered a vietnamese hamlet on a search-and-destroy mission. they didn’t encounter any enemy troops; they did, however, proceed to set huts on fire, gang-rape the women, and murder around 500 unarmed civilians—including approximately 50 children under the age of four. army leadership had conspired to sweep this massacre under the carpet—the my lai massacre triggered a cover-up by the army that served to keep the atrocities committed a secret from the american public for 20 months during an election year.

american soldiers stabbed, clubbed, and carved “C [for Charlie] Company” into the chests of their victims (alive); herded them into ditches and blew them to bits with grenades. they cut off victims’ heads and slashed their throats.

this was more than spontaneous barbarism; for years, the army had dehumanized the vietnamese people as “gooks” and depicted women and children as potentially lethal combatants.

army officers who heard eyewitness reports of a massacre were quick to discount them. they issued a press release that informed news coverage—with lies. they claimed that their troops had killed 128 viet cong forces, even though they had been met with no resistance and suffered only one self-inflicted wound.

after word of the massacre reached the general public, more than a dozen military servicemen were eventually charged with crimes, but lieutenant william calley (the leader of the charlie company who was the main perpetrator in the massacre) was the only one who was ever convicted. pres. richard nixon reduced calley’s sentence to a light punishment—three years of house arrest.

three years of house arrest, and for only one person. for slaughtering 500 unarmed civilians. you do the math.

deportations

in 1975, more than 1.2 million refugees from southeast asia fled war and were resettled in the US—the largest resettlement for a refugee group in US history. in 1996, the illegal immigration reform and immigrant responsibility act (IIRIRA) expanded the definition of what types of crimes could result in detention & deportation—this broader definition could be applied retroactively, resulting in more than 16,000 southeast asian americans receiving orders of removal—78% of which were based on old criminal records.

islamophobia (article 2 preview) (article 3)

after the 9/11 attacks, islamophobia was especially prevalent in the western world, although it was also prevalent in other places without large muslim populations. from a small percentage of violence, an “efficient system of government prosecution and media coverage brings muslim-american terrorism suspects to national attention, creating the impression that muslim-american terrorism is more prevalent than it really is”, even though since 9/11, the muslim-american community helped security and law enforcement officials prevent nearly two of every five al qaeda terrorist plots threatening the united states. globally, many muslims report feeling not respected by those in the west, including over half of those who live in the US. in late 2009, the largest party in the swiss parliament put to referendum a ban on minaret (a tower typically built into or adjacent to mosques) construction, and nearly 60% of swiss voters and 22 out of 26 voting districts voted in favor of the ban—even though most swiss say that religious freedom is important for swiss identity. a network of misinformation experts actively promotes islamophobia in america. muslims are more likely than americans of any other major religious groups to have personally experienced racial or religious discrimination in the past year—48%, compared to 31% of mormons, 25% of atheist/agnostics, 21% of jews, 20% of catholics, and 18% of protestants. 1/3 (36%) of americans say that they have an unfavorable opinion about islam (gallup polls).

in the aftermath of 9/11, the US government has increasingly implemented special programs with hopes of “curbing and countering terrorism” and “enemy combatants.” these policies—such as the USA Patriot Act and the National Security Entry-Exit Registration System—have been targeted towards and disproportionately affects arabs, south asians, and muslims in america.

of course, the most lethal terrorist groups active in america are white supremacist groups, but people tend to overlook that because it’s always easier to blame something you have zero understanding of.

the non-profit advocacy organization South Asian Americans Leading Together (SAALT) cataloged 207 incidents of hate violence and xenophobic political rhetoric directed towards south asian, muslim, middle eastern, hindu, sikh, and arab communities between nov. 15, 2015, and nov. 16, 2016. approximately 95% of those instances were animated by anti-muslim sentiment. also, “approximately 1 in 5 of the documented xenophobic statements came from president-elect donald trump.”

that’s who america hired to run our country in 2016. this was way before his misdeeds in office, yet it took us so long—and such a hard fight—to oust him. did it really take that long for everyone to catch on?

police brutality—(christian hall) (angelo quinto) (tommy le)

“CHRISTIAN HALL was a 19-year-old chinese american teen who experienced a mental health emergency on december 30, 2020. pennsylvania state police were called and requested to help de-escalate the crisis. rather than providing aid or assistance, the troopers shot and killed christian. his hands were up in the air as he stood on the SR-33 southbound overpass to I-80, posing no threat to the armed officers.”

they shot him seven times, with his arms up in the air.

“I miss my son so much. I love him so much but if his death is the catalyst for change, then so be it. Let his name be remembered. His name is Christian Hall.” —Fe Hall, Christian’s mother.

a video, shot by his mother, shows ANGELO QUINTO, a 30-year-old Filipino immigrant, unresponsive on the floor after officers subdued him with a knee to the back of his neck. the video shows him bleeding form the mouth after police knelt on his neck when he was experiencing a mental health crisis in his family home. he died three days later in the hospital without waking up. the antioch police had no body camera footage, nor has the department named the officers involved.

“I was just hoping they could de-escalate the situation,” his sister said in an interview. she called 911 when her brother had been experiencing mental health problems and paranoia. she says that she remains conflicted about calling the police that night: “I don’t know if I will not feel bad. If it was the right thing to do they would not have killed my brother.”

“TOMMY LE, a 20-year-old Vietnamese-American student, died hours before he was scheduled to attend his high-school graduation in June 2017. He was shot multiple times by sheriff’s Deputy Cesar Molina after responding to reports of a man armed with a knife. Deputies discovered after the shooting that he was carrying an ink pen, not a knife.

The office reported that Le had lunged at the sheriff’s deputies with a knife and had been threatening residents, shouting he was “the creator.” An autopsy showed that two of the three bullets that struck Le were in his back, and a witness said that Le was shouting he was “Tommy the renter.”

despite the challenges our communities face, AAPI communities receive less than one percent of philanthropic funding.

covid-19

i’ll try to keep this brief. there have been so many instances of violence perpetrated against the asian community during covid-19—not to mention the casual snipes at our culture, the microaggressions we face every day, the verbal and sexual harassment we encounter, sometimes even on the way to the grocery store for a supply run.

VICHA RATANAPAKDEE: a thai-american, he became known as “grandpa” throughout his neighborhood, where he’d made it a ritual to go on morning walks each day. it was during one of those walks on january 28, 2021, when the 84-year-old was forcibly knocked onto the ground. he was transported to the hospital, where he died two days later.

“He never wake up again. He [was] bleeding on his brain,” his daughter said in an interview. “I called him, ‘Dad, wake up.’ I want him to stay alive and wake up and come and see me again, but he never wake up.”

between march and december last year, the organization Stop Asian American and Pacific Islander Hate recorded nearly 3,000 reports of anti-Asian hate incidents nationwide. the new york city police department also reported a 1,900% increase in anti-Asian hate crimes last year.

i think senator tammy duckworth put it very aptly.

“Most people, I don’t think, think of Asians as being the subject of racist attacks, but we have been. And we’re the one community that’s often always seen as the ‘other’. I—to this day—still get asked, ‘So where are you from really?’“

i don’t think i’ve ever related so much to something a senator said.

actor and activist daniel dae kim talked about an encounter he had with a pollster who said asian americans are “statistically insignificant” in polling models in a congressional hearing:

“Statistically insignificant. Now all of you listening to me here, by virtue of your own elections, are more familiar with the intricacies of polling than I am, so undoubtedly, you already know what this means—statistically insignificant literally means that we don’t matter.”

do we matter? are we really “statistically insignificant”? blips in the machine, to be used and then thrown away once we become too “fussy” or demanding?

testimonies from victims showcase the array of xenophobic and racist insults they’ve encountered. i’ll put an (x) next to the ones i’ve personally heard.

“Go back to Wuhan and take the virus with you.” (x)

“You are the reason for the coronavirus.” (x)

“Damn, another Asian riding with me. Hope you don’t have covid.”

*fake coughing* “Chinese b—” *more fake coughing* (x)

now for some really “creative” ones that i’ve personally encountered:

“Cock up my dad’s botton, Chinease cunt”

“You don’t got the kung-flu, do ya?”

“Ever ate a dog?”

Along the same vein, “ever had any bats? Heard they’re delicious.”

“Wouldn’t want ya to pet my dog. Ya might steal it and cook it for dinner!” *hyena laugh*

a little personal anecdote

i debated whether or not to wear a mask to school in early march. my aunt lives in china, and she’s a first-responder (trained paramedic & contact tracer) and we knew how bad the virus was going to be in late february when we facetimed her, quarantined in her apartment. her toddler was staying with her husband at her parents’ house because she was afraid of infecting them. she didn’t see them in person for four months, working 14-hour shifts in the back of an ambulance decked out in a hazmat suit.

my mom cried when she facetimed us the second week of her grueling shift. i couldn’t stop thinking about her when i went to school that day. my mom sent me another picture during art class, and i just couldn’t control myself. i started crying during class.

i asked my mom whether or not i should wear a mask to school, and she said that if i did, i would be singling myself out. i wouldn’t be protecting myself—far from it. if i wore a mask to school, people would think that i had the virus, not that i was trying to protect myself from it.

gossip spreads like wildfire, and the next day, everyone knew i had relatives in china. most of my friends were sympathetic, but they were wholly removed from the situation. it was early march, and they never believed that the coronavirus would spread here. they were firmly rooted in their opinion that it was an easy situation, grossly mishandled by the chinese government, and that we’d do much better if it ever washed up on our shores.

i do hate the chinese government, and back then, i didn’t think too much of their antagonism. yes, the situation was mishandled. it was like a repeat of the SARS outbreak in 2003—first a cover-up by the local government, then a cover-up by the national government, and finally, a realization that no, in fact, they could not handle it in secret. yes, the media had to get involved. no, dead bodies were not piling up in the hallways while they waited for doctors to triage care. yes, we have capacity! look at these documentary mini-videos, forcing doctors and patients to leave a wing of the hospital empty and operate below maximum capacity so they could shoot propaganda videos for the lunar new year, boasting about how well they’re handling it!

i won’t argue that in the beginning, this was mishandled. i will argue, however, against the idea that asian countries are incompetent. that western approaches are oh-so-much-better.

in wuhan, they built a makeshift hospital spanning three soccer fields in the span of a week, with properly-functioning utilities, hospital beds, decontamination, and security. people rallied together and donated everything from money and supplies to food and ventilators, from all across the country. doctors and medical staff shaved their heads so they could better wear masks and volunteered to go to wuhan, where the situation was much more dire than in other areas. thousands of medical students from shanghai were transported to wuhan to fill the personnel shortages.

china reopened in june.

what did we do?

we didn’t ask the asian countries for experience. china, japan, and korea had handled the 2003 SARS outbreak and knew what kinds of things needed to be done. from the beginning, they wore masks. they halted travel, they did routine testing, performed contact tracing, set up programs for bringing food to the immunocompromised, elderly, and disabled, and worked as a cohesive community.

on the other hand, we resorted to childish infighting, political games, shunning masks and blaming it on asians, when we could’ve learned from them instead. we didn’t do contact-tracing. our testing systems were sorely inadequate. borders were closed with china, yes, but the majority of the cases in the US arrived from italy and other european countries who had already been infected. banning travel between the US and china was nothing more than a political gimmick.

states fought each other for basic medical supplies. there was no national unity. we were fractured in two, and COVID became more fuel for the fire dividing the two parties, when it could’ve been something that unified us.

and instead of blaming china, we would’ve been better off recognizing our own failures.

you can say that the virus caught china by surprise.

it shouldn’t have done the same to us.

we knew it was coming. but we still botched it.

blaming the virus on asian communities is a sign of immaturity and a lack of accountability. own up to your failures.

anyways, my mom was right. whenever we wore a mask in public, people really did think that we were “dirty, foreign chinese.” we stocked up on groceries so we wouldn’t have to go out, because every time my mom did, people would look at her weirdly. they didn’t wear masks.

one time, she was accosted by a blonde woman when we were at a supermarket. i’d gone with her that time because it was right after practice, and i was in the car anyways. the lady came up to us (without a mask: this was in may) and said, “excuse me, you don’t have the virus, do you?” with a pointed look at my mom (who was masked up).

my mom, being the polite person she is, simply responded “no, i don’t.”

the woman didn’t let us go after that. she pushed even more. “well, you see, i was just making sure...with this chinese virus going around, it’s scary, you know?”

i wanted to ask her why she wasn’t wearing a mask if it was “so scary”, but i couldn’t get a word in before she asked another question.

“by the way, y’all aren’t chinese, right?”

yes i am. yes we are. why does it fucking matter. we’re wearing masks, you’re not, get the hell out of my face.

honestly, i don’t know how my mom does it. she has the patience of a saint. she said “mhm”, grabbed a gallon of milk, and walked to the self-checkout area. the lady looked at me and raised her eyebrow, and i said “so what if we are?”

she looked like she’d been slapped in the face. i turned and followed my mom, but she said “now hold on young lady!” i ignored her and kept walking.

i don’t owe her anything. why do people think it’s okay to talk to others like that? we’re human beings too. we’re allowed our basic dignity. basic respect. we’re not something for you to joke at, to laugh at, to fetishize or bully into submission. i don’t understand why it’s so hard for people to realize that. i don’t understand why it’s so hard for people to treat others like human beings.

to people like that lady in kroger:

why do you feel the need to do it? is your opinion of yourself really that high to think that you’re superior to others who are different from you? are you really that conceited to think that you’re the perfect image of a perfect human, and anyone not like you is unworthy, considered lesser? or is your opinion of yourself really that low, to think that whatever you say, it doesn’t really matter anyways? why do you find derogatory jokes and demeaning comments funny? why do you think it’s okay to harass a stranger just going about their day? is your life really that boring, and you have nothing else to do with your time? why? would it be okay if i came up to you and asked if you ate rotten shark meat, then laughed it off and said “oh, i thought you were from iceland”? is that okay? can i ask if you eat cockroaches? how would you respond if i asked “where are you from?”? you would say america, right? and if i asked again? europe? where in europe? oh, you don’t know? are you illegal? was your mother a prostitute? are you a communist? why are your eyes so big? do you speak europeanese? crut iveroij aeish poient. oh, those aren’t words? well i think they sound like european words. what’s your name? je-re-mi-ah? like jeeryyy-miiiaaaccchh? oh, that’s not right? sorry, my tongue just won’t bend that way. your names are so weird! why would your parents name you that? oh, it means something? well, i don’t know the language, so don’t expect me to say it right. have you ever eaten haggis? oh, that’s scottish? oh, you’re not scottish? sorry, you all look the same to me. scots and italians are just so similar, you know? what’s your name? your last name is anderson? i know an anderson! she lived in texas. are you related to her? oh, you don’t know her? sorry, i thought you were all related. yeah, like i said before, you all just look so much alike, you know? are you lazy? oh, nothing, i just heard from my dad that all french people are lazy. oh, you’re not french? well, you still look lazy. are you good at english? oh, nothing, i just assumed that all white people were english. i know you like to assume that we’re good at math. oh, you got an A in english? isn’t that normal? i can’t help it, you’re just smarter. you probably don’t even study. oh, you do? well, you’re smart anyways, so it doesn’t matter. you’re so good at math for an american! oh no, nothing, i just assumed that all americans were bad at math. *starts playing with her hair* oh, that’s making you uncomfortable? but your hair’s so silky, and it’s so smooth. what kind of hair products do you use? i want to learn how to make my hair look exotic like that. oh, you’re not exotic? but you’re foreign. of course you’re exotic. you know, *leans in and whispers* men like you this way, yeah? they just looveeee exotic ladies. *winks*

can you see how this is demeaning? can you see how this diminishes our culture, our hard work, our accomplishments?

racism isn’t funny. it’s not cool, it’s not a joke, and it’s hurtful. it makes us question our capabilities, forces us to have unrealistic expectations of ourselves, makes us feel unworthy and “other”. just stop? stop making hurtful comments. stop stepping on other people to feel better about yourselves.

#racism #anti-asian hate #anti-asian racism #asian #asian racism #politics #covid #covid-19 #i'm so sick of it

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