#could be art fighting with that time! but these literally took ten minutes i am not even joking it was five minutes each. lol. lmao even | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

preciousthingsareprecious · 4 years ago

Text

That Time Tim Totally Terminated Ra's Al Ghuls Entire Empire Part 1

So. I wrote something very silly. The title says it all, except it doesn't because this bad boy spiraled out to being over 10k and deserving of 2 chapters. Anyway, here is the first chapter featuring all the times Ra's kidnapped Tim because he wanted to recruit him.

Summary:

"Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.” Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

AO3 Link

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. No really. One moment he’d been in Gotham, crouched behind an old BMW that had been in the same spot for a month, waiting on Batman’s signal, the next he’d woken up in some lavishly decorated room. Was that silk? Or maybe velvet? He had no idea what was hanging around the bed he was laying in, but Tim really didn’t care.

What he was concerned about was his own personal state. He raised his arms --that alone was a good sign-- and confirmed that his mask was in place. He pushed himself up on the ridiculously plush bed, -which was unreasonably plush by the standards of a kid who'd grown up rich, and then gone to live with a guy who had both more money and even better beds.

The point was, the bed was so soft Tim actually had a bit of trouble sitting up.

When he did manage to right himself, he finished taking stock of his own situation and his surroundings. His Robin uniform was intact aside from his belt, but he saw that set on a trunk that looked at least as old as Bruce, a few feet away. The room was, as he already determined, lavishly decorated.

Tim pushed himself out of the bed and onto a carpet so thick he kind of wanted to pull off his shoes and curl his toes in it, but seeing as he still had no idea where he was, who took him, or why, he figured that was probably out of the question. He did make a mental note to ask Bruce for some better carpet when he got home. As a kind of gift for surviving a very weird kidnapping.

Instead, he moved to walk carefully around the room. He found no obvious traps, no cameras or speakers or microphones that were either hidden or out in the open, and both doors were unlocked.

The first he opened revealed a bathroom. The second he cracked open to peer out of. His eyes locked on that of an honest to goodness ninja standing guard outside the door. The man locked eyes with him and Tim snapped the door shut with a click.

Welp, that answered the who and maybe even the where of Tim’s abduction. Ra’s Al Ghul. He was pretty sure if he gave the ninja ten minutes to go find Mr. al Ghul himself, he’d have the why too.

While he waited, Tim snapped his belt back around his waist, comfortable to have its weight back, even if being in a League stronghold meant all the tricks in his pockets were basically useless on his own. Still, it was nice to feel fully like Robin again.

After that it was a matter of waiting.

Tim paced an actual trench into the thick carpet as he waited. Batman was of course looking for him. That was a given, he just had to wait for the man to find him. Or for Ra’s to send him home? He really wasn’t sure why the Eco-terrorist would have taken him in the first place beyond a really weird obsession with Batman's various sidekicks.

How come all of Bruce’s baddies seemed to have a strange fixation on Robins? It was weird how many went out of their way to kidnap and attempt to recruit him, Dick, and if the stories were to be believed, Jason too.

Just as Tim was starting to turn that particular thought over in his head, the door to his room opened and Ra’s himself strolled in.

“Timothy.” the man drawled.

“Ra’s.” Tim replied, suddenly totally and completely unsure what to do with his hands, voice, feet, and general self. This wasn’t a fight after all.

He settled for crossing his arms and being terribly glad his domino hid his eyes.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here.” Ra’s said.

Tim shrugged, “It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to guess that.”

The man frowned at him, and Tim started to wonder if maybe he should be watching his words a bit. He wasn’t in Gotham with Batman at his back after all. But then again, Ra’s must need something from him right? So a little sass was okay, what was Robin without a smart mouth after all?

“I mean--” Tim started, unable to stop himself now that he was thinking about it, “I can probably start to guess. You didn’t kill me and I’m not in a dungeon so you’ve got to want something from me right? I bet this is some blend of trying to win me over and also hold me above Batman because you--” he paused for a moment trying to remember if Bruce had been on Ra’s’ trail at all lately.

He dropped his arms and clapped, remembering, “You’ve been trying to break into energy and you want Wayne Enterprise to back you and legitimize your business. So you’re holding Tim over Bruce, but you probably want Robin because you and like half of Batman’s rogues have this weird obsession with teen heroes for some reason."

At some point he’d stopped looking at Ra’s and actually started pacing again. When he stopped talking his feet stilled and he looked back up at Ra's and grinned, ""So, am I hot or freezing cold?”

He expected Ra's to looked angry or irritated, instead he looked amused.

“You are quite warm. Though I would contend the assertion that I have a weird obsession with teen heroes. I am only interested in the exceptional, and you Timothy, are exceptional indeed.”

Tim gulped, “I mean--not really? But thanks.”

Ra’s waved him off, “We will speak more later. You are correct, I do intend to use you as a bargaining chip against your guardian--”

“Dad.” Tim interjected.

The man raised an eyebrow but continued, “However you are not a prisoner in the traditional sense. You may wander the compound with one of my men by your side to ensure you do not get into trouble. If all goes well you will be returned to Batman within a reasonable amount of time. Unless, of course, you do decide you would like to stay and learn from me.”

“I don’t really see that happening.” Tim said, “But I'll be sure and let you know if I make a sudden turn towards world domination.”

Again, Tim expected some kind of retaliation, but he was thankfully ignored. Ra’s left him with a warning not to cause undue trouble and soon Tim was alone in the room again.

He spent the next couple days wandering the compound somewhat aimlessly. He had a phone call with Bruce where he promised his dad that he was totally fine if a little bored, and spent the rest of his time trying to avoid Ra’s. The man was kind of relentless in his attempts at winning Tim over to his side and sought him out at meals, when Tim was trying to train a bit at one of the many gyms, and even once while Tim was wandering a rather fantastic garden. Each time, Tim did his best to wiggle out of the man's suggestions and just get back to wiling away the time between then and getting home.

Thankfully, it was all over in four days when Batman came crashing in with Nightwing and Batwoman to rescue him, and soon Tim was home and settling back into normal life.

He’d actually almost forgotten about the whole Ra’s kidnapping him until it happened again. Once had been a surprise, two times was starting to look deliberate.

This one lasted a week with Ra’s claiming it was because he still really wanted that energy deal and he just couldn’t understand why Bruce wasn’t willing to trade that for his ward (son Tim had ground out in irritation).

Tim almost believed him, until he woke one morning to find a pamphlet had been slipped under his door, it was literally a flyer promoting hiring in the League. Tim looked over it and had to laugh out loud. The text was done in a mix of papyrus and other fonts and whoever made it had used clip art. It looked like someone had typed it up in Microsoft word in like half an hour.

He spent the rest of his time there re-designing the flyer, with a ninja hanging over his shoulder as he used one of the League computers. The new one wasn’t the best flyer in the world, but Tim was pretty proud of it, and it was much better than the first draft.

When he was done, he pocketed the original, then pinned a note to the new one that said: Ha! Not until you get better designers.

Batman rescued him again, and Tim pushed the double kidnapping and Ra’s’ weird obsession to the back of his mind until the next time he was with Steph.

They were in the manor watching a Chopped marathon and Tim was telling her about both kidnappings.

“So he’s super into energy? How come he didn’t nab Dick? We all know he’s Bruce’s favorite.” Steph teased, popping a chip into her mouth.

“Setting aside that obvious lie, that’s the thing,” Tim continued, digging out the flyer he’d kept, “It has nothing to do with energy or Dick. I’m pretty sure Ra’s is trying to recruit me.”

He showed her the paper and Steph snorted, spraying chips out as she laughed, “No. Freaking. Way. I have to tell Cass. Let me show her this, please I’m begging you.”

Tim groaned, “Yeah, sure, but don’t you think it’s weird?”

She shrugged, taking the flyer to look it over, “Of course, but the B-man attracts weird like ice cream dropped on the ground attracts ants. Give him six months, and Ra’s will move onto a different way of trying to piss off Batman.”

“I hope so.” Tim said.

The third time Tim woke up in the elaborate room he was getting really sick of the decor and the headache that came with being knocked out and dragged halfway across the world.

“You know.” Tim started, the moment Ra's walked into his room (and it was actually Tim’s room he’d learned from one of the ninja guards), “You could have waited a month this time, to at least pretend this wasn’t all about your super weird plan to try and convince me into letting you adopt me.”

Ra’s opened his mouth to respond, but Tim wasn’t done.

“Which, by the way, I’m taken already. B did the whole adopting thing, so you missed that window. Though, I guess that probably doesn't really matter to you in the grand scheme of things since you keep kidnapping me. You are aware that kidnapping isn’t the best way to convince someone that your way is the right one, right?”

“Also, would it kill you to pick up some --I don’t know-- books on recruitment or something? I don’t understand how you’ve managed to get so many guys on your side it’s--” Tim started, but Ra’s had caught on to Tim’s mood at this point, conceded temporary defeat, and made a hasty retreat.

Tim didn't see him the whole rest of the day, and by the next morning Batman showed up, swinging in for another rescue and all was fine and good and normal for a while.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

It was the fourth kidnapping that really set Tim off.

He woke up back in that stupid room with it’s stupid decor and those stupid posters ready to burn the place to the ground. But something stopped him, a premonition. Like if he was patient for just a little longer he’d find a good and proper form of revenge to take on Ra’s for his total inability to take a hint.

At some point two ninja came by to take Tim to meet with Ra’s. As they walked Tim couldn’t help but notice the posters literally lining the hallways they walked through.

They were of two wildly different styles, but both struck a thought of familiarity in his mind. One was obviously a play on the classic “I want you in the army” poster. The other ripped off old “pin up” recruitment posters. Both made him laugh, and Tim pulled a couple of each down to save to show the Titans. He had a feeling Bart and Kon would lose their minds over these.

He had just folded them up and shoved them in his back pocket when they reached an office. Inside, Ra’s sat in a chair and motioned Tim to sit in one across from him.

“Thank you for joining me, Timothy.”

Tim sat and shrugged, “Not like I had much of a choice.”

Ra’s waved him off. As he did, a different ninja from either of the ones who’d escorted Tim to the office came in with a tray of tea. He handed Ra’s a cup, then gave one to Tim, and left the set on a table between them.

The whole vibe was kind of awkward and strange. Tim felt very much like he had one time a year ago when he’d realized halfway through a date that things were not going to work out. He hadn’t been able to end the date then and there, and had spent another two hours awkwardly making small talk and trying to avoid promising a second date.

“Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.”

Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

Tim took a sip of his tea in an attempt at avoiding having his mouth drop open in shock. Ra’s sounded like something out of a “Executive success seminar” that was just a veiled multilevel marketing scheme.

“To put it plainly, Timothy, I want you to become my apprentice. I know you and assume you might be hesitant to accept this lifestyle so I’ve prepared for you something of a presentation on what that might entail.”

Tim couldn’t stop a laugh from bursting out of him, but he did manage to turn it into a kind of cough.

“Wait--wait.” he said, almost choking on his tea, “Are you about to show me a powerpoint?”

Ra’s looked a bit put out at that suggestion, almost like he wanted to sigh, “Of course not, it’s more interactive than that.”

Tim held up his free hand, incredulous, “Is this--a job interview Ra’s? I thought you were pitching this to me.”

“No, no. It’s an interactive presentation designed to show you just what you have to gain from joining me.” Ra’s explained, as he did so Tim took another sip of his tea.

He lifted his cup and waved it lightly, “Oh yeah, so I’m just in one of those fairy tales then where you make me do three impossible tasks and at the end I get the happily ever after dip in the lazarus pit?”

“It’s only one trial--”

“So it is a task!” Tim declared, almost standing.

“Timothy.” Ra’s snapped, sounding a bit like Bruce whenever Tim and Steph’s antics pushed him a bit too far.

Tim crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Irritating the man was a bad idea, Tim knew that, but this was just ridiculous. He wasn’t going to be sent on a wild quest that might end up with him dunked in a Lazarus Pit or whatever else Ra’s had in mind that would supposedly prove how great it would be to work for him.

“If you are not going to take this seriously, then there are other ways of showing you why joining me is a good idea that are not nearly as pleasant.” Ra’s growled.

Tim held up his free hand, “I’d rather not find out, give me your pitch or send me off with your best ninja or whatever you were planning.”

He figured playing along would work for now. He could put off giving Ra’s an answer until Bruce came in for a third rescue. When he was home, they were going to have a serious conversation about ninja proofing the manor. Ra’s could not keep kidnapping him like this, they had to have some kind of security measures in place.

“Wonderful. I’m sure after your tour you’ll have a better understanding of what I have to offer you.”

Tim ended up following someone Ra’s called his “best general” around the compound for an hour. The guy showed Tim the training rooms, the medical suite, sparring rings, a variety of ninja’s actually practicing, and at one point they even ended up in the library. The general had been given instructions to pause anywhere Tim wanted him to, and so they lingered in the library for a bit.

He had to admit, Ra’s had a fantastic library.

The general didn’t seem worried about Tim getting lost, or escaping, and waited by the door while he wandered the massive room.

And boy was it huge. It was bigger than the main floor of the cave, with stacks and stacks of books on two floors. Some of the volumes looked ancient, and there were even scrolls shelved on the second floor.

He gingerly pulled one out to examine.

“That is worth more than you could ever imagine.” a sharp, young voice, declared, behind him.

Startled, Tim dropped it back onto the shelf and spun. Before him stood a kid, probably 8 years old, with tousled dark hair, dark skin, and a face that almost echoed some of Bruce’s school photos. It was startling.

“Hi.” Tim said, dumbly, “I know, it’s Ancient Sumarian right?”

“Tt.” the boy crossed his arms, “You are not an idiot then.”

Tim shook his head, “Nah, apparently I’m smart enough to be selected for recruitment.”

The kid nodded, “So you are Grandfather’s young detective. He speaks highly of you.”

Grandfather? Tim’s brain spun. This kid was Ra’s al Ghul’s grandkid? He ran the numbers, the kid’s mom was either Talia or Nyssa. If he had to put money on it, Tim figured the boy before him looked more like Talia than her sister. And his other features--like Bruce’s?

No.

No. Freaking. Way.

“That is hardly language to use here.” The boy said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Tim hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, but apparently his surprise had been so great he had. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I just never expected Ra’s to have a grandkid.”

“It is not surprising to me, I am his heir. Born to inherit the League and rule the world one day.”

Okay, that was a lot to unpack. Just a totally wild amount, but Tim wasn’t super focused on the world domination thing just yet (maybe later when he had a chance to process all of--well, all of it), “Sorry to keep pressing but, doesn’t having an heir kind of--I don’t know, put his whole Eternal Ruler of the League thing in jeopardy?”

“Tt. It is not my place to question my Grandfather’s plans. I simply know what I have been told, that I will inherit the League one day in his stead.”

“Well,” Tim rocked back on his heels casually and grinned, “That might be a long loooong time.”

The kid’s brows furrowed as if he had not really considered that idea before. He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to decide against it, dropping his arms to his sides to shrug, “If that is his wish then so be it.”

“True.” Tim said, not really knowing what to say. Instead he settled on changing the subject, “You know, if your grandfather gets his way I’ll be spending more time here, so I guess introductions are in order. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne, but most people just call me Tim.”

He held his hand out to the kid, smiling at him. If he really was Bruce’s then they’d be getting to know each other for sure. Just not here. Tim had zero intentions on letting Bruce’s child stay with the League. Did B he even know he had a kid? Tim thought he’d better figure that out first before kidnapping his little brother.

Little brother. Just that idea made something flutter in Tim’s chest. He’d always wanted a little brother.

The boy scowled at his hand, and did not take it, “You may be correct, even if I do not see what Grandfather seems to. I am Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Tim bit back a grin at just how serious this kid was. He sounded like a little prince, all imperious and haughty. Damian, even his name fit him. He wondered how Damian would do around Dick? Or Stephanie. They’d figure out how to bring a smile out of him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Damian.” Tim said, “I know we’ve really only just met, but I’m sure you’ll see what Ra’s does in time.”

Damian looked him over again, then gave a sharp nod, “I am interested in seeing what you have to offer.”

“Damian, I found it, where’d you go?” A voice sounded from deeper within the stacks.

Tim started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Knew it from nights spent chasing shadows, from recording’s Bruce had watched a hundred times when he didn’t think Tim was watching. From Tim’s own desire to know and learn more about his predecessor. It was Jason Todd’s voice.

But that couldn’t be. Jason was dead.

“I am coming.” Damian returned, his tone more childlike than Tim had heard in their whole conversation. He turned back to Tim, “Do not ruin that scroll, I will see you later.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Tim stepped forward, reaching out for the kid, “Wai--”

“Master Tim, we really must be going.” Tim’s guide was back, stepping into his view as if from nowhere, and stopping Tim’s chase as short as it had been.

“Can we wait just one more second?” he asked, “I wanted to ask Damian something else.”

The man’s mouth turned down in a frown, “I do not have clearance to let you speak with Master Damian. Come, we have more to see.”

Frustration bubbled up in Tim, but unless he wanted to start a fight he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Damian right then. The kid had promised to see him later, so maybe he’d seek Tim out. If not, Tim would find a way.

As he followed the man out of the library, he kept searching the stacks of books for a sign of the others. It wasn’t until they’d left the room that Tim caught sight of Damian again, his small form waving animated at a taller, broader one. One that, while older, was unmistakably Jason.

Before Tim could say screw everything, the two turned around a corner, and someone else was clearing their throat. His guide seemed eager to move on, and so they did.

Tim tuned out most of the rest of the tour, and eventually found himself back in the office from before, once again seated across from Ra’s.

“Timothy, I hear you have met my grandson on your tour.” Ra’s started.

“I did.” Tim said, a bit hesitant to go into detail, his guide had seemed like talking to Damian was a pretty serious thing, and suddenly Tim was afraid he’d gotten the kid in trouble.

Ra’s smiled, “He is magnificent is he not? Already he is a skilled warrior, and well trained in his studies.”

“He said he was your heir?” Tim ventured.

The man waved a hand dismissively, “Of course he is, he is my grandson, but that does not mean he will inherit. The boy is valuable to me, for many reasons. He is an excellent tool to wield against my enemies already, and will only become more so as he grows.”

Anger bubbled up in Tim. There was something in Ra’s’ tone that made Tim sick, to call a kid a tool. To plan to just use him his whole life?

“And what, do you want to do that with me too? You said you wanted me to be your apprentice, but if your Heir is just a tool then--”

“No, as I said I want you to take over a branch of the League. You have talents and skills Damian will not. The boy is--” Ra’s shrugged, “Let us call him a vessel. A shell for me to wield in one way or another.”

Well, that just made Tim even more angry. Damian was his grandkid. What Tim wouldn't have given to still have his grandparents, and for Ra’s to just--If Tim wasn’t already dead set on getting Damian home, he would be after this conversation.

“You know what, Ra’s. Let me think on it a while. I’ll get back to you on my answer. I kind of want to see Damian in action a bit, learn what this training looks like in someone closer to my age.”

The man considered this for a moment before nodding, “I will let you watch his sparring session tomorrow. For now, I think we’re done. Have a good evening, Timothy.”

Tim nodded, and left. His mind was racing, he wanted another look at Jason. Wanted to tell Damian about his dad. Wanted to make sure both his brothers were okay.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed the black and blue clad arm that reached out from behind a curtain and yanked him back. Nightwing put a hand over Tim’s mouth to quiet him, and then pulled him out the window the curtain had been hiding. They dropped, into nothing--except it was solid?

Tim found himself inside the invisible jet. Inside, and flying away from his newly discovered siblings before he could even argue they needed to be rescued too.

One flight with Wonder Woman and Nightwing later, and Tim was home again, being told in stern tones by both Batman and Nightwing that he really needed to stop allowing himself to be kidnapped by ninjas (like he didn’t know that).

Then he was in his room, in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind whirring. He had learned two things on this trip. Two impossible things. Two things he was going to leverage as soon as he could.

It was late, and he should be sleeping, but instead he texted Steph and Cass in their little group chat.

Tim: Want to cause some chaos?

Immediately he received a response:

Steph: Always

Cass: Who are we going after?

Tim smiled, his fingers dancing over his phone:

Tim: Ra’s.

Cass: Time to teach him a lesson?

Steph: I've been waiting for this, I’ll get the kerosene

Tim: There’s more.

Cass: Tell.

The light flashed on out in the hallway, Tim could see it flicker to life under his door.

Tim: Tomorrow, lunch at that place with the sweet potato fries. Come ready to plan a kidnapping or two.

The next day Tim found both Steph and Cass waiting eagerly for him at the restaurant, a heaping plate of sweet potato fries between them.

“Spill, Bird Brain.” Stephanie said, as he sat down, pushing some fries towards him, “I want to hear everything about this crusade against Ra’s.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and snagged a fry, dipping it in one of the sauces they’d gotten to accompany it.

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I had another visit to the League compound yesterday.” Tim started, “It was more of a day trip this time, but Ra’s did his very best to sell me on signing up.”

“More posters?” Cass guessed, then shook her head seeing Tim’s expression, “What did he do?”

Tim snagged another fry, “Yes more posters, but more than that he gave me a speech right out of a How to Recruit for Dummies book, then sent me on a tour of the building.”

Steph snorted, “Please tell me you recorded it.”

“I did not, but you will never believe what I found on my tour, or to be precise who.”

Both girls paused their snacking, waiting on him to continue.

Tim dropped the first bomb, “Jason Todd, alive and breathing.”

“What, no way.” Steph said, “How’d he even get there? I thought He was buried here?”

He shrugged, “I don’t have any of the details, but they’ve got a Lazarus pit, and Ra’s is weirdly obsessed with recruiting Robin’s, so I’d say his resurrection tracks.”

“Who else was there?” Cass asked, brow furrowed.

Now this he knew neither of them would be expecting. Tim hadn’t expected it. He still couldn’t believe it.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, Damian.” Tim said, watched both girls look even more confused, then added, “The son of Bruce and Talia. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s their kid.”

The fry Stephanie was holding dropped out of her hand.

Tim watched Cass processing the information, saw her realization that there was another child being raised in the League, then saw the determination cross her face at her own personal decision.

“We are taking them both, correct?” Cass asked.

“We’re taking them both, and burning the place down.” Tim confirmed, “That should properly pay him back for all the time’s he’s kidnapped me this year.”

Steph’s lips turned up into a sharp grin, “The law of equivalent exchange.”

Tim laughed, “You’ve been watching too much tv.”

“It’s prepped me for this very moment.” she shot back, voice falsely grave.

“Batman prepared you for this very moment.” Cass elbowed her.

“No.” Tim said, “I’m going to prep you. And then we’re going to put everything in action.”

They talked, and planned, and debated the pros and cons of letting Tim get nabbed again over just going himself, and eventually after many many sweet potato fries and sodas they were ready.

It was to be infiltration first, fire and kerosene second. Obviously the place was going to go up, but only after they set the stage for rebellion and convinced Damian and Jason to go home with them. Tim didn’t think it’d be a hard sell for Jason, but the kid was another matter altogether. If Tim couldn’t convince him to come along, they may actually end up having to kidnap Damian.

A key to the plan was that only Tim, Steph, and Cass were in on it. There was no way Bruce was giving the green light for such a thing. Besides, Tim wanted to see his face when they presented him with not one, but two, rescued sons from the League.

Over the next week Tim made himself the most kidnappable he’d ever been. He wandered outside, kept to himself, and tried to look as wide eyed as possible. He lingered in parking lots, and took shortcuts down empty alleyways. Basically, he did everything he could to signal he was alone and vulnerable besides hanging a sign around his neck that said “Take me to your (ninja) leader”.

At one point he even stopped, dead center in the middle of an alley and declared, “Wow this sure is a dangerous place to be! I hope I don’t get attacked and kidnapped by ninjas!”

The only response he got that time was from an older woman who stopped at the edge of the alley and very seriously called out, “Careful, young man. Don’t you know there are killer clowns out? You best be on your way before you get hurt.”

Then, at long last, Tim caught sight of one of the League members ducking behind a shadow. He paused his walk, and leaned over as if fascinated by something on the sidewalk in front of him. By the time he’d stood, the ninja was in front of him.

Tim held up his hands in surrender, doing his best not to actually look excited. Then, he was successfully kidnapped for the fifth --and if Tim’s plan worked successfully-- final time.

#Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain #Batfamily #fanfiction #crack #crack treated seriously #multimedia fic #humor #kidnapping attempts #revenge plots #Ra's tries to recruit tim #Spoilers it backfires #what is canon #precious posts #long post #chapter 1

88 notes · View notes

alexchild60 · 4 years ago

Text

Nothin’ On You- Kung Lao x Reader

I wrote this after listening to the song Nothin’ On You by B.o.B. This is very loosely based on the song (meaning I heard the song and this is what I came up with, even if it doesn’t line up). I hope you enjoy it :)

I sat on the sidelines of the fight pit as I watched Kung Lao prepare to fight Cole to help him find his arcana. Kung Lao ran his hand along his hat, something he typically does before he makes his initial strike. He quickly removed his hat and began maneuvering it as a weapon against Cole. Cole dodged the hat before kicking it and switching to offense. He kicked at Kung Lao, which he blocked each time with his hat. After the third kick to his hat, Kung Lao jumped in the air and kicked Cole in the chest. He quickly threw his hat, which caused Cole to fly in the air before hitting the ground. Kung Lao caught his hat midair and immediately placed it back on his head. He made eye contact with me and gave me a wink before coming to sit beside me on the steps.

Cole walked to the side grimacing while looking at his arm. “You okay, Cole?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replied. I nodded before looking at Kung Lao while Liu Kang and Kano were sparring.

I’ve been at Raiden’s temple for about a year and a half. I know what these new champions are going through to find their arcana because I had the same struggle not too long ago. I came in without any martial arts training, so Kung Lao and Liu Kang literally started from scratch with me. The past year, I had really developed a strong friendship with the two of them while we constantly trained. Liu Kang and I were basically inseparable, but my relationship with Kung Lao was different. Obviously we were friends, but I had stronger feelings for him. When I was working on finding my arcana, Kung Lao pushed me constantly and really helped me find my arcana.

“What?” Kung Lao asked when he finally saw me looking at him. My face warmed up and his classic smirk appeared on his face in response.

“Nothing. I just hope they find their arcanas quickly.”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to his side. “Amongst the three of us, they’ll be ready before the tournament.”

“I’d much rather fight that beauty over there,” Kano said confidently as he looked at me.

Kung Lao tightened his hold on me. “You don’t have to fight him, (Y/N),” he whispered so only I could hear.

“If it helps him find his arcana, then I might as well,” I replied as I stood.

I walked to where Liu Kang stood. “Good luck, (Y/N),” he said as he walked to the steps.

“I’ll make sure to go easy on you, babe,” Kano teased.

I got into my fighting stance as I prepared for Kano to come at me. He walked up to me and went to grab me. I easily dodged it by stepping to the side. With him out of place, I went to hit him in the back. He turned quickly, like he knew I would, and elbowed me in the stomach. I saw Kung Lao quickly stand. I put a hand up to stop him from doing anything.

Kano chuckled. “Sorry, I prefer to play rough, babe.”

I rolled my eyes before returning to my starting stance. Kano moved closer to me and went to punch me. I dodged his fist and responded with my own to his nose.

“Really, cheap shots?” I shrugged my shoulders and prepared to strike.

I ran at him and jumped on his back. He tried to knock me off his back using his elbows. He began backing towards the wall of the pit. I summoned my arcana as he neared the wall. A vine poked through the dirt and wrapped around Kano’s leg.

“Are you fucking serious?” He growled. I took advantage of his surprise and knocked him to the ground. I summoned more vines to hold down his other leg, his arms, and his neck. He struggled against them before giving up.

“Surrender?” I asked.

“More turned on than anything,” Kano said with a smirk. “Is this what you, hat boy, and Magic Mike do in your free time?” I scoffed in disgust and walked away from him.

I walked into the infirmary to check on Cole. Liu Kang was treating his wound with acupuncture needles.

“How’s your arm doing?” I asked as I looked over Liu Kang’s shoulder.

“It still hurts, but Liu Kang’s helping quite a bit.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one Kung Lao refused to go easy on.” I rolled up my shorts a little bit to show him the scar on my thigh. “He cut me on my second day of sparring. Liu Kang helped treat the wound.”

“How long after that did it take for you to develop your arcana after that?”

“Nearly a year after.”

Cole let out a sigh. “If the tournament is in a month, then I won’t develop my arcana in time.”

“Cole, it will come. (Y/N), Kung Lao, and I will help you get your arcana in time,” Liu Kang encouraged.

I placed my hand on his good shoulder. “Not everyone’s arcana comes at the same time. It’s more complicated than that,” I explained.

Kung Lao entered the room. I saw his eyes look at my hand on Cole’s shoulder.

He coughed awkwardly. “Liu, Raiden wants to speak with us.”

“Give me just a moment. I am almost done tending to Cole’s wound,” Liu Kang responded.

Kung Lao nodded. His gaze fell on my hand again which caused me to quickly take it off Cole’s shoulder.

“Finished,” Liu Kang announced.

“Cole, (Y/N), we will see you tomorrow for training,” Kung Lao said as the two of them went to leave the room.

I turned to Cole. “Don’t let not having your arcana prevent you from discovering it, Cole. Kung Lao and Liu Kang know what they’re doing. I am proof of that. It will come. Trust the process.”

“Thanks, (Y/N). I’ll try.” He stood up and left the room.

I let out a sigh before following suit and leaving myself. I decided I would go relax in the hot springs before I went to bed.

The hot springs were empty when I arrived. I chose a spring and dropped my towel at the edge. I slipped into the water and instantly felt my muscles relax. I closed my eyes as my head fell back and a moan left my lips as I sunk in deeper.

“Ohhh, I didn’t realize I needed this so bad,” I said to myself.

“Is there room for one more?” A familiar voice asked.

“Of course, Kung Lao,” I replied without opening my eyes. I heard him sink into the water. I waited a minute before opening my eyes. I saw Kung Lao looking at me with a smile on his face. A blush crept on my face. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just enjoying the hot springs.”

Kung Lao was about two feet away from me. I decided to move closer to him. I laid my head on his shoulder once I was beside him. I looked out into the array of hot springs, and Kung Lao wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

“What did Raiden want to speak to you and Liu Kang about?”

“He’s afraid the new champions will not be ready in time.”

“I think they will. Raiden knows just as well as you and I that this is a process.”

“You’re right. It took you a year to get yours,” he teased.

I chuckled. “It only took ten months.”

“Yeah, only.”

I playfully hit him. “Well at least mine is cooler than a lame hat.”

“If I remember correctly, that lame hat is what helped you get your lame vines.”

“The vines aren’t lame.” Kung Lao smiled and chuckled. “Kano seemed to be impressed by them.”

The smile on his face quickly left and his jaw tightened. “I didn’t think you’d be the type who wanted to impress him.”

Without completely thinking it through, I decided to keep teasing him. “You know? I’m actually a sucker for an Australian accent.”

“And what about his awful personality?”

“Besides the accent, he’s not really my type.”

His face changed. A smirk crossed his face instead. “And what exactly is your type?”

I sat back and thought for a second. “There is this guy who helped train me that I’ve really got my eye on. It’s hard to even think about anybody else because he is just that great.”

I looked up at him. He looked back at me for a minute or two before glancing at my lips. I decided to close the space between us. Our lips connected and there felt like a small burst of electricity. Our lips moved in perfect, synchronized movements. I pulled away to catch my breath.

“Kung Lao, I really like you.”

“I really like you, too, (Y/N).”

“I want to see where this goes because I feel a real connection with you. It’s different from the ones I have with Liu Kang, Cole, and any other guy I’ve met. ” I could feel myself beginning to ramble. Kung Lao silenced my rambling by kissing me again.

“Let’s just see where this goes and we’ll move from there. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat reader insert #kung lao #kung lao x reader #kung lao/you #kano #cole young #liu kang #mortal kombat 2021

83 notes · View notes

pinkhairedlily · 4 years ago

Text

Blue Fire Tree

Prompt: Everlasting (last day omgggg) | Gift for @tinaillustrations ! Hope you like this fluffy piece! I enjoyed writing this one. 🤗| Happy HitsuHina Week! @hitsuhina-week 💛💙

“Fire trees should be blue not red,” Ichika mumbles while filling in the traced pattern of the tree on the canvass as Hinamori gathers her unruly red mane into a semblance of a bun. Her charge was a Shinigami apprentice and had the hodgepodge attitude of both of her parents. She was sarcastic, blunt, inquisitive, passionate, and kind.

Renji thought she was the best person to teach his daughter common spells to start off her training. Not that Hinamori disliked being the resident kido expert. She particularly loved the monicker, but there were times she felt she didn’t deserve the title. Like today when, for some other reason, Ichika and her was blindsided by arts and crafts.

“Wouldn’t you like the flowers to resemble your hair?” Hinamori clips the last of the strands and looks over the child’s shoulder. The colors spill out of the lines and the scenery seems to change from summer to winter.

“But blue is the hottest color. Imagine trees blooming with the brightest flames, the most intense warmth, and the most lasting flowers.” Ichika finishes the piece with a last dash of blue paint. The apprentice turns to her and asks, “Does it look so desolate?”

“No, not really. To me, winter has always been warm.“

Someone coughs behind them to get their attention. Hitsugaya Toushiro, captain of the 10th Division, stands awkwardly at the entrance of the dojo with a tray of tea and pot of biscuits. It doesn’t escape her notice that he used the tea set she gave last Christmas, and this observation makes her feel giddy inside.

Maybe I’m just appreciative of people who use my gifts, Hinamori justifies to herself.

“Hello, Captain Hitsugaya. Is that for us or for Vice-Captain Momo?” Ichika greets him as she takes the tray off his hands.

The blush creeps on the captain’s face just as quickly as his brows furrow in annoyance. He quickly glares at the mischievous remark of Ichika and redirects his gaze to his equally flustered childhood best friend. “This was not of my own good will. I was threatened by Byakuya to take good care of his precious niece, and it just so happens that this space is under my jurisdiction.”

Hinamori tilts her head in a slight apology. “I hope we don’t bother you too much. Would you like to join us for some art session? Ichika loves to paint today.”

He almost says something, but he stops himself. His stance goes from alert to rigid, and tension fills the air. “Maybe some other time.” Ichika glances from her current teacher to the captain and back to her teacher again.

“Oh, sorry for taking up your time.” Hinamori slightly bows, unsure of what transpired just now, and Hitsugaya nods in return. Before he is completely out of her sight, she calls out to him again.

“Shiro-chan?” He glances back at the sound of his nickname. “Thanks for the tea.”

He smiles in mild annoyance before he flash-steps out of their sight. “It’s Captain Hitsugaya to you.”

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

“Something’s bothering you,” Rangiku says to Hinamori as she slides beside her in the ramen booth. “Your treat in exchange for my wisdom.” She proceeds to order her usual ramen and sake combo.

“How was your trip to the Land of the Living?” Hinamori asks, obviously skirting the issue she wishes to raise.

“Kazui is subdued and gentle like his mother, but somehow, he manages to get into fights with bullies on the street. It’s his Ichigo genes.” The combo meal arrives along with two shot glasses. “How are you doing with the chaotic devil spawn Ichika?”

“She’s progressing really fast with the kido, but she gets so distracted easily. It’s cute though that Renji and Rukia are not pressuring her. Great parents. How nice it must be.”

Rangiku side-eyes her while slurping the thick noodles. “How nice what now – “

Hinamori plays with her empty bowl and fidgets with her chopsticks. “To not be alone.”

She chokes on her noodles and quickly downs half of the sake bottle. “Oh, this is great news! I have someone on my mind who would like to be in your company forever.”

Hinamori gives no response and instead continues fiddling with her bowl. “How nice it is to be also like Shiro-chan, content and busy enough to be single. How do I become like your captain, Rangiku?”

The smile fades from the woman’s face and is replaced by a bustling vein near her temple. “I’m sorry what did that short man do or say to you?”

“I asked him if he would like to do some art with us, you know, help me with babysitting for a few minutes, but he literally stiffened like a stick. Seems like he doesn’t want to waste time with kids or do any family-related activities. Or maybe he’s just too busy, captain duties and all.”

And yet he took the time to bring you tea, a voice screams inside her mind.

“That’s….rude,” an exasperated Rangiku remarks. She pours a glass for Hinamori and decides on a plan. “Unless you’re seeing him as….?”

“Huh? Oh no no no.” Hinamori downs the liquid in one gulp, suddenly embarrassed by her friend’s insinuation. “We’re just friends, childhood friends. I…don’t see Shiro-chan that way.”

“Sure, whatever you say Momo. Do you want me to introduce you to some people?”

Hinamori looks up at her, doe-eyed.

“I guess that’s a yes.”

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

Hinamori actually forgot about her request to Rangiku as she and her student started to settle in a rather serious kido training. The plan apparently was set to happen after a week when she came across a bulletin announcing her quest for a perfect match through a one-day interview application. This was the first time Hinamori wanted to be swallowed by the void and never return to Seiretei.

She finds herself visiting Division 10 HQ every afternoon but to no avail since coincidentally, Rangiku has some errands to do in Karakura, and won’t be back until the date of the interview. Or maybe it has also something to do with Hinamori avoiding Hitsugaya and having to do all the explaining. And so she had no choice but to wait for the inevitable day.

“Uhhh Vice-Captain Matsumoto, you said introduce, not organize a whole dating screening process!” Hinamori’s voice goes a pitch higher for each word, but Rangiku is too busy arranging the people lining up to notice her.

Her current captain, Shinji Hirako, chuckles beside the blondie, amused by the growing line of eligible Shinigami singles in their HQ. “You are quite the eye candy in our division, huh. Didn’t expect you’d have this many suitors.” He squeezes his vice-captain’s shoulder as form of reassurance. “You should have told me, Hinamori. I could have set you up in an arranged marriage.”

“Captain, that’s atrocious!” Hinamori protests. She walks over to Rangiku to disperse the line, but Yumichika and Ikkaku move to her side and grabs her midway through her litany of objections. They lead her to a makeshift container with two chairs facing each other and a table in between.

“This is ridiculous,” Hinamori mumbles her breath, her energy already defeated by the two dumbasses in front of her.

“Well to be fair, Hinamori, this is a long time coming,” Yumichika says.

“And the result necessitates this kind of method so stop mumbling and screen your admirers, babe,” Ikkaku supplies. Irritated, Hinamori chases them off with two fireballs.

The first ten Shinigami ‘applicants’ were too insufferable as they were clearly aiming for the prestige of her position.

“If dating a vice-captain would give me a higher seat in Gotei 13 then why am I still single?” she bats the question to the 11th person who sat across her. When they didn’t give her an answer, she sighs, “Next please.”

“Would you know what’s my favorite brand of tea?”

“Uhh, Robusta.”

“I believe that’s coffee. Next please.”

“Hello, vice-captain Hinamori, I brought you peaches. They’re my favorite.”

“I’m allergic to them. I’m sorry. Next please?”

“What are your strengths?”

“Well, I can do shunpo.”

“That’s basic Shinigami skills.”

“…………..”

“I’ll see myself out. Thank you for your time, vice-captain.”

“I know you’re traumatized by Aizen-“

The container collapses as Hinamori summons Tobiume.

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

“I think I will be forever alone.” Hinamori looks on as her fellow vice-captains clean up the mess she incurred over the unfinished statement earlier.

“I’m really sorry if I did the whole thing over the top,” Rangiku tells her sincerely. She hugs the raven-haired girl and waits in silent for the commotion to die down. “Though the last one was really foul, and you were valid to be angry.”

“I was afraid I’d burn down Captain Shinji’s quarters.”

“You can, just to piss him off. The whole process is so draining, huh?” Hinamori nods at the observation. Rangiku continues, seemingly voicing her own thoughts, “It’s hard to put yourself out there especially when they don’t know batshit about you. Would be easier if you have common interests or when they’re already your friend.”

The last phrase is said so pointedly that Hinamori’s mind automatically pictures Hitsugaya. She runs along with her imagination. How easy it would be indeed to spend the rest of her life with him. And as if her mind conjured him, the 10th Division Captain comes into view alongside Ichika. It looks like her student dragged him to the unfortunate event.

There’s an angry glint in his eyes that Hinamori noticed. It was the torn expression he wore when she wounded her knees back when they were kids, the same frown when she told him she would kill for the traitor, the same worried eyes when she almost died. But his eyes refuse to meet hers.

“You missed all the fun, Captain.” Rangiku stretches out her arms as she stands up. She gestures for the rest of their friends to come nearer so they could re-group and go home. “It was a bad plan, and I owe Hinamori one. So we’re kinda ready for your scolding.”

Hitsugaya stays silent throughout the shuffling of his fellow Shinigami, in fact he remains frozen for too long that Ichika elbows him to get a response out of him. “Come on, you ruminated one week for this, and I had to physically stop you from harassing the interested applicants.”

“Shut up, Ichika,” the silver-haired captain mutters.

“I’ll tell on you to Uncle Byakuya!” the redhead sticks out her tongue and runs over to the side of Rangiku.

More annoyed than ever, Hitsugaya grunts and storms off towards Hinamori. “I’m not here to scold anyone. I’m here for the….dating application,” he gulps amid the collective gasps that ran through the group and the muffled laughter of Rangiku who clearly foresaw this.

“Well, what can I say, but fucking finally!” The blonde swigs a new bottle of wine from inside her robes and goes to do a little crowd control.

Hinamori’s eyes get a little bit bigger, and she stares at him with mouth agape, but she lets him grab her hand, in a gentle manner that he usually does, and brings her to the farthest fire tree in the area.

“Shiro-chan, what did you mean……” She continues to stare at his hand who somehow refuses to let go of her yet.

Ironically, he is also staring at the same hand, unsure whether to let go right now before he can actually say something. “I don’t know why you had to go through all of that.”

“I’m..I’m still confused, to be honest. It was just a passing feeling of loneliness, and I rambled to Rangiku which she took seriously….” Hinamori knows she is starting to word vomit out of nervousness, but she halts when he finally lets her go. Maybe she has misunderstood his presence again.

Hitsugaya raises his palm to her. “Would you let me…uhhh…word vomit this time?”

She slowly nods, rather shocked at his insistence, and even more so when he chooses to ramble.

“Momo, I have a cold reiatsu. My touch is never warm. But I know you like green tea, steeped in warm water for exactly 10 minutes, and that you don’t put sugar. You are afraid of storms, and you need a blanket around you to calm down. You like watermelon, but I think it’s because I subjected you to multiple summers of conditioning. You’re my childhood best friend. You’re hardworking. You are a kido expert. You earned your right to be a vice-captain, and you’ll do greater things.

And I know it’s not enough to say that I know you, I’ve always known you, but will it be enough for you to allow me to stay beside you?”

Hinamori leans against the trunk of the fire tree, breathless from his train of words. “Oh my god, this is too overwhelming. I thought you hated being not single.”

“What?” Hitsugaya looks at her with a puzzled expression.

“You don’t like Ichika. Or doing art…with kids.”

“Well, Ichika is a brat to me, but she’s a good student and will be a good Shinigami like her parents.” He nurses his temples for the growing headache. “Momo, listen to me.” He steps closer to her and makes sure she’s only looking at him. “I panicked because I visualized you and me….and you know. It wasn’t right when I haven’t even told you anything yet.”

“Oh.” The moment of realization dawns on her. “Oh, that’s great.”

“So we can finally go back to how we were.” Hitsugaya lets out a shaky breath as he sits on the grass and watches as the red petals of the fire tree shower them lightly.

A blushing Hinamori crouches down to his level. “Well, not quite. You should know, Shiro-chan, your reiatsu has always been warm and comforting to me.” She reaches out to take his hand and intertwines their fingers.

Hitsugaya smiles as he silently thanks himself that he outgrew her by two inches so he could easily slip a kiss on her forehead. “It’s Captain Hitsugaya.”

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

Ichika tries to see beyond the wall of spectators but Rangiku is not letting anyone through. She huffs indignantly, wanting to know whether her incessant prodding and pestering of the oblivious Hitsugaya bore some fruit. She has no choice but to juice out all the details later on from her uncle.

On second thought, maybe she won’t have to. Blue petals swayed with the light breeze of the wind, and on the far edge of the Fifth Division’s HQ is a lone blue fire tree.

#hitsuhina week #hitsuhina day 14 #hitsuhina #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #hitsugaya #hinamori #bleach couples #anime fanfiction #this is my first time participating in a gift exchange im so happy

25 notes · View notes

ask-spider-man-61610 · 3 years ago

Text

The Infiltration: Part Three of Three

"Congratulations," said Spider-Man drily. "You're a real detective, Scrier."

There were maybe fifteen feet between Spider-Man and the spooky asshole in the elevator. Spider-Man closed that distance in a twelfth of a second, his fist already swinging for Scrier's mask, and it was only thanks to Scrier's own superhuman reflexes that the taller man managed to dodge to the side. As Spider-Man punched the back of the elevator hard enough to dent the metal, Scrier twisted, his cloak swirled behind him, and he aimed a left hook at the vigilante's chest. move, urged the tingling in the back of Spider-Man's head, and without looking he jerked away from the punch to press himself against the wall behind him like his namesake would.

The dodge rattled the vials webbed into a bundle on his back. He winced, hesitating for a fortieth of a second as he considered how best to keep those glass tubes safe. They weren't just specimens; the Klyntar trapped inside the vials had been prisoners and slaves for at least two years, and if he wanted to rescue them he had to be careful in this fight. More lives than just his own were on the line, with every move he made.

In that minute fraction of a second, Scrier had began advancing towards him; but Spider-Man's reflexes were unrivaled by anyone short of an outright speedster, and so the cloaked spook had barely moved when Spider-Man's leg lunged out and kicked him in the chest. There was a deafening BANG as Scrier's back hit the opposite wall of the elevator. He slumped a bit, wheezing, but as he heard a thwip he moved to the side to dodge Spider-Man's webline. The web hit the dented elevator wall, and Spider-Man yanked himself forward to try again to punch him. But Scrier had longer arms than he did, and though spider-sense blurted move in the back of his head again, Scrier's fist caught him in the stomach and killed his momentum.

His feet hit the ground and he staggered for a second. Scrier tried to press the advantage, but that high, sharp tingle of move pulsed through Spider-Man's skull and he twisted to avoid Scrier's next two punches without looking. One foot came up and kicked Scrier in the side of the leg, sending him down onto one knee, and as he turned back towards the cloaked man the back of his fist smashed against the cheek of that white silicone mask.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" Spider-Man demanded, grabbing Scrier by the front of the cloak as the man attempted to recover. The left side of Scrier's mask was now deformed and torn; it wouldn't move with the the wearer's face, and the expression it was frozen into would've made Peter laugh if he wasn't so furious. "I knew you people were monstrous, but you're enslaving sentient creatures?! Is there even a point to being this evil?! Is it even cost-effective?"

move

He had to release Scrier as the man's arm came up to attack him. Scrier attempted a side kick; without much room to dodge to one side, Spider-Man leaped backwards, out of the elevator and back into the basement. He landed on his hands and bounced, backflipping to land on a guardrail, and fired two weblines Scrier's way.

But Scrier produced a long, curved knife from under his cloak and sliced the webbing out of the air before it reached him. "It's funny that you think what we do is all about money," he said, heading towards Spider-Man with the blade in his hand. "There's so much more to power than what's in our wallets. You of all people should know."

"Yeah, silly me," snarked Spider-Man, but he was far more focused on his enemy's body language, and that constant tingle in the back of his mind. He assessed, his eyes narrow beneath the mask. Every move Scrier made, every heartbeat and tensing muscle, provoked a tiny change to the buzzing of spider-sense; they sent ripples through the air that told of a super strength to rival Peter's own. He'd already seen the man's reflexes in action. His spider-sense traced the curve of that blade, every inch of metal whispering danger in the back of his mind, but he could sense other weapons beneath Scrier's cloak too. A handgun on his right hip, a canister of what he guessed was probably tear gas; gauntlets on each arm that, judging by the buzz of electricity through wires, could probably electrify his gloves. The way Scrier moved told him of martial arts knowledge, extensive combat training. It was nothing he hadn't beaten before. But it did deepen the mystery of who the fuck this spooky bastard really was, where he had come from, and why...

...why he struck Peter as so familiar.

move

Scrier flipped the knife into a reverse grip and launched it at Spider-Man's face. Without much effort Spider-Man caught the knife by the handle, then nonchalantly threw it upwards and into the light. As the florescent tube shattered, shards of glass rained down on Scrier, and both men were plunged into relative darkness as the number of light sources in the room dropped from three to two. Spider-Man sighed in relief--with reflexes as fast as his, florescent lights seemed to just flicker constantly--but Scrier growled and lunged forward at the vigilante as the glass scattered across his cloak.

Spider-Man jumped for the ceiling, turning half a flip and sticking there with his feet. He aimed a punch at the charging Scrier, but the villain dodged it and grabbed one of the guardrails. There was a high, unpleasant ripping sound as he tore it away from where it was anchored; with a snarl partially obscured by his ruined mask, he swung the metal at Spider-Man. Peter winced under the mask as he blocked the swing with one arm; he grabbed and stuck to the guardrail, trying to yank it out of Scrier's grip, but Scrier planted one foot on a rack of Phantom chasses and pulled harder. After a moment's tug-of-war, the bit of ceiling that Spider-Man stood on cracked and broke. He yelled as he was pulled down and slammed into the catwalk, foot fulls of concrete and all.

"You never understood," Scrier snarled at him as Spider-Man rolled to avoid a kick. "If you did, you would've accepted my offer the first time we met. But nooooo. You just had to sabotage everything I tried to build. You just had to get involved like the meddling--"

He was interrupted by a kick to the face. Spider-Man, as he'd rolled to the side, had placed one arm under himself like a springboard, and as Scrier had been distracted by his rant Spider-Man had used that arm to launch himself upwards at him foot-first. "I'm glad I made such an impression on you," he said as he caught himself atop one of the Phantom chasses they were surrounded by. The vials on his back rattled, and he reached a hand back to steady them. "I was a rambunctious kid, wasn't I? But literally anyone I've ever fought would yell the same shit at me. Be specific, bitch."

Scrier's white mask was, by now, utterly demolished. It barely resembled a face anymore; it looked more like badly sculpted silicone with two glaring white eyes. He looked up at Spider-Man and the latter felt his spider-sense jump in pitch, and then Scrier seized the rack of Phantom chasses and, with a roar of effort, ripped them out of place. Spider-Man yelped as he and what he was sticking to was yanked violently to one side.

"You know me," Scrier growled, as Spider-Man leaped off of his perch and onto the ceiling again. "But not as well as I know you. I've been waiting for our reunion for ten fucking years, Peter."

Spider-Man froze. His fingertips tensed hard enough to crack the ceiling he stuck to.

He thought about playing dumb. It might've been feasible to pretend he had no idea what Scrier was talking about; but of all the names the man could've said, Peter was far too specific. He would never have said it if he hadn't been dead certain. Spider-Man's fear crested in his chest, and as he dodged Scrier's next attack without paying attention he took a deep breath and tried to turn that terror into rage.

His feet detached from the ceiling and he kicked Scrier in the chest as hard as he could. "You've been holding onto this!" he snapped, detaching from the ceiling and dropping to the ground as Scrier stumbled back. "I've seen my CCA file. My name isn't in it, you haven't told your friends who I am." He fired two web-shots at Scrier's face, only for the tall man to dodge. "You could ruin me with a slip of the tongue. Why're you keeping it a secret?"

Scrier's voice, even digitally altered as it was, absolutely dripped malice. "Because you're mine," he said, taking a decisive step forward. His hands were in fists. "Because only I get to destroy you like you destroyed me. I've thought about this a long time, Parker; when I rip your life apart, I'm doing it slowly, with my own two hands. There will be no proxies or agents sent after you. I am going to be as personal in destroying you as you were destroying me! Because your life--" he took a deep, rasping breath "--your life is forfeit, and when I collect, I am doing it myself."

Something cold had settled in his stomach. Crouching on the catwalk, scarcely ten feet from Scrier, Spider-Man stared at him with a kind of nauseous half-recognition. He could only think of a few people who had thought like this, a few people he had so utterly annihilated as a teenager; but the only one who really, really fit Scrier's description was dead. He'd seen the man die with his own eyes.

Spider-Man lunged forward and tackled Scrier at the waist. Taken by surprise, Scrier grunted as he landed on his back, and though he tried to recover Spider-Man savagely clawed his way up to his face. As the smaller man reached his head he threw a punch at Spider-Man's face; one of Peter's shiny grey eyepieces shattered, but the glaring brown eye it revealed was undaunted as he clawed at the silicone. His fingers adhered on contact; the white rubber stretched and tore as Spider-Man pulled back; Scrier's foot came up and kicked him in the chest hard enough to catapult him across the room, but he took that pallid visage with him.

He was so consumed by hatred and terror that he almost forgot not to land on his back. As he turned partway and landed instead on his shoulder, he tossed the mask of Scrier away and rolled back up into a crouch. On the other side of the catwalk now, as the man in the cloak got to his own feet, Peter found himself looking into a pair of cold blue eyes whose owner had been dead for ten years now.

Norman Osborn chuckled to see the look in Peter's visible eye. "Now he understands," he said, beginning to walk towards the vigilante with a menacing gait.

Slowly, trembling, Spider-Man pulled himself into a standing position. He stumbled backwards, unable to believe what he saw. Norman Osborn was dead and buried; the blades of his own glider had impaled him through the gut. Peter himself had taken the time to hide the evidence that would have linked him to the Green Goblin--anything to protect Harry, anything to save the boy who had eventually destroyed himself when the truth came out. If Norman had survived somehow--if, after all this time, he was alive and well and advancing towards Peter now--then what he had done had been for nothing; if Norman was alive, Harry had died for no reason at all.

This had to be a ploy from Mysterio. A bit of CCA propaganda. The Chameleon falling back on a Plan B. Anything would have been better than what he saw in front of him.

Spider-sense buzzed out a high, sharp note of move in the back of his head. Norman, all too real, seized Spider-Man by the shirt, just as he had done after dropping a cable car full of people to their deaths. The electricity sparking at the fingers of his other hand snapped Peter out of his stupor, and with an incoherent shriek of hatred Spider-Man's fist collided with Norman's face at two hundred miles per hour.

Gone, for the moment, was the 24-year-old with almost a decade of experience under his belt. Gone was the responsible superhero and the seasoned detective who put men like this in prison on a regular basis. Peter was sixteen again, and the murderous, devouring rage that had possessed him after Gwen's death possessed him once more. He shrieked again, punching Norman in the stomach hard enough to send him all the way back across the room, but the spiderlike whirlwind of hated launched itself after him.

Norman rolled to the side to dodge Spider-Man's attack, but the savage animal that Peter had become moved too quickly to fully avoid. He rounded on Norman where he landed and seized a handful of the black cloak that had been part of the Scrier costume. Norman drew a gun and Spider-Man knocked it out of his hand before it had even been really pointed at him; it skidded across the catwalk and fell into the machinery below. Those blue eyes watched it fall, but Norman returned his attention to Spider-Man just in time to block the younger man's wild punch.

"After all this time," he snarled, shoving Spider-Man off of him and aiming a kick his way. The vigilante backflipped away and stuck to the wall out of melee range. "After all that's happened since last we met. All you have to do is see my face and you're just a scared little boy again. I can't believe I thought you were my rival once, Parker! You're pathetic!"

"WHO WAS TALKING ALL THAT SHIT ABOUT REVENGE FIVE SECONDS AGO?!" Spider-Man screamed back. He fired a webline over Norman's shoulder and pulled; the rack of Phantom chasses that had been behind him suddenly crashed into his back. "WHO'S SPENT GOD KNOWS HOW LONG HIDING UNDER A STUPID CAPE PLOTTING TO KILL ME WITH HIS OWN HANDS?!" With Norman momentarily staggered, he leaped from the wall to a guardrail and used the metal as a springboard to lunge at his foe. His fingers closed around Norman's throat. "WHO LET HIS SON THINK HE WAS DEAD AND KILL HIMSELF TO KEEP UP THE FARCE, YOU FUCKING ELF? WHO DROPPED AN INNOCENT GIRL OFF A SKYSCRAPER JUST TO BE PETTY? WHO JOINED A FASCIST PONZI SCHEME AND ENSLAVED A WHOLE SPECIES TO MAKE HIMSELF FEEL BIG? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! WHAT KIND OF SOULLESS SHTUNK CAN IMAGINE ANYTHING YOU'VE DONE TO BE WORTH ANYTHING?!"

move

The fingertips of Norman's glove made contact with Peter's chest. Lances of electricity crackled through his body, stinging and numbing; it exploded from his ankles in arcs and sank into the catwalk beneath him. Gasping, he jerked backwards, just out of Norman's range, releasing the gaunt man in the process. He staggered back a few more steps, trying to get his bearings, and Norman tried to seize the advantage. Though Peter wasn't quite coherent, his spider-sense warned him of every tensing muscle in Norman's body; ducking under the swing of his electrified arm, Spider-Man kicked one foot out and caught Norman in the chest.

The guardrail behind Norman finally gave way as he hit it; with an undignified squawk of surprise, he tumbled off the catwalk entirely.

Spider-Man rested his hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths. He'd screamed himself hoarse; his throat was sore now, and with Norman no longer directly in front of him he had a minute to wrestle himself into some semblance of self-control. Norman wasn't out of the picture, not remotely; he'd landed on machinery some ten feet below the catwalk, and even now Peter could feel him getting to his feet. Straightening up, Spider-Man began to step towards the edge of the catwalk where only broken metal stood where a rail had once, and as he peered into the poorly-lit space below he had to adjust one of the weblines holding the bundle onto his back.

The bundle full of tortured, brainwashed Klyntar slaves that he was in the process of saving. The gesture stopped him short.

This wasn't about Norman. How the man was alive, how he had wormed his way into the Cape Code Authority, and how much Peter wanted to kill him didn't matter right now; not with a whole species on his back and depending on him. More than anything, Peter wanted to follow the devil off this catwalk and finish what he'd started almost a decade ago. He wanted to feel Norman's blood soak into his gloves, and to give Harry, Gwen, and countless others the vengeance they deserved. But tonight couldn't be about that. Tonight--right now--he had to go.

One of Norman's hands grabbed the catwalk, beginning to pull him back up. Nonchalantly firing a web-shot downwards, Spider-Man glued that hand where it was and turned away. He began to sprint for the elevator.

As he reached the dented lift, leaped upwards, and shot through the emergency hatch and into the elevator shaft, he felt the earpieces in his mask crackle to life. He'd hacked into the CCA's communications channels years ago; now, his phone automatically intercepted the call from the man he was leaving behind. "Attention all agents," said Norman's voice in his ear, and his skin crawled as he climbed the concrete walls as fast as he could. "If you're still in the building, converge on the front lobby. Stop Spider-Man. Do not let him escape."

Fuck. Of course it wasn't gonna be that easy. Spider-Man fired twin weblines upwards pulled as hard as he could, and slingshotted up to the lobby's doors.

A few seconds of rearranged wiring and there was a ding as the doors opened. As Spider-Man climbed up and pulled himself through them, his spider-sense snapped his attention towards hurried footsteps, racing heart rates. On the other side of the lobby, between him and the exit, a veritable tidal wave of sand surged through a doorway and formed a wall harder than cement. "Outta the way, Flint," he snapped, beginning to cross the room.

"Ya couldn't leave well enough alone, could ya?!" the wall demanded, in Flint's permanently rough and garbled tone. "This is an honest job, Spider-Man! Every time I try to go straight, there you are ruinin' it anyway!"

"Uh-huh, like SHIELD? Remind me. What happened to them? Oh right, they turned out to be a front for--"

move

The wall of sand suddenly swelled and shifted into the shape of a towering giant. Fifteen feet tall, with elephantine legs and arms thicker than Spider-Man's entire body, it formed one enormous fist into a wrecking ball and swung it overhead at the advancing vigilante. Spider-Man, more annoyed than anything, dove to the side, and as Flint's attack shattered the marble floor he fired a webline across the room and past the Sandman's shoulders.

"Look what they've had you do!" Spider-Man snarled, slingshotting across the room and obliterating Flint's sculpted head with a kick. "Detaining protestors? Attacking unregistered heroes, acting like a fucking cop?! You're an idiot if you think this is actually honest!" He caught himself where the wall met the ceiling and, as he flipped around to face Flint again, a door slammed open closer to the elevators. Spider-Man had sensed it coming, and now he watched Reed Richards step into the room with an unimpressed glare. "And you're as stupid as Reed thinks you are if you think he's honest about making you a body."

"Spider-Man," said Reed, a warning in his voice. He began to stretch taller, his fingers lengthening as he started a cautious advance towards the battle. Flint, who'd been busy growing a new head out of loose sand to replace the one Spider-Man had destroyed, seemed to look in Reed's direction as he started to stretch his arms towards the vigilante. "Come quietly, we don't have to--"

But Peter had already launched himself off the wall. He pirouetted through the air, tucking into a ball and dodging past Reed's first arm, stretching out again to limbo beneath the second. As he uncurled, his foot hit Reed in the face, making the man's head stretch almost five feet backwards from momentum alone.

"I've seen your ideas, Mister Fantastic," Spider-Man spat at the rubber band of a man who now lay prone. "You're half-assing it." He looked up at Flint, who seemed to hesitate. "They're using you, William! Just like Hydra did, just like Techtronics did. You're attacking people who are just as poor and just as desperate as you used to be. And you're doing it because of a promise they're never going to keep."

The Sandman's goliath sculpture lost definition gradually, sand sloughing off like layers of skin and the size gradually receding. He was silent for several seconds, and in those seconds Spider-Man turned this way and that as he focused on the constant rise of danger. Reed and Flint weren't the only ones here this late; he could feel the sprinting footsteps of other agents on the way. His spider-sense shifted and squirmed frantically, tracking all of them, and Peter felt his panic starting to rise. Frantically, he began firing web-shots left and right, gluing shut every door he could see.

"Why're you tellin' me this?" Flint asked, his voice somber.

Spider-Man turned back to him. There was no face to read, but spider-sense was no longer quite so focused on him--no longer seeing Flint as quite so much of a threat. "What else am I supposed to do?" he said bluntly. "I've got a web-sack full of aliens that need to be rescued. Everyone in this building is coming to kill me. The most evil man I've ever known is downstairs right this second, and you're right in front of me, blocking my way." He shrugged, gesturing vaguely at the mound of sand in front of him. "You think I like fighting you? You think I don't want to cross your name off my list of enemies? You think I don't wish, every bit as much as you do, that you weren't the Sandman anymore? Will, the longer you stand between me and that door, the less chance I have to help anyone. You. These." He jabbed a thumb at the web-sack. "Everyone who this fucking place works to subjugate." Spider-sense spiked as he felt someone hit a nearby door, trying to break it down. "...Get out of my way, William. That's the only way anything ever changes."

There was another, harder impact against that door. It was designed to resist the strength of even the clumsiest superhumans, but rarely were they meant to take such a deliberate beating as this. The agent on the other side of it charged the door again shoulder-first, and this time the graphene and vibranium alloys flexed and cracked. Nighthawk groaned and rubbed his shoulder, gritting his teeth. Then he raised one foot and, as hard as his powers would let him this early in the evening, kicked the door just beneath the knob.

The doorframe cracked, the hinges and latch broke, and the door collapsed outwards. It dangled against the wall by only a few strands of webbing, and Nighthawk charged through to find an unconscious Reed Richards, a defeated-looking Sandman, and no one else.

"What happened?"

"He got away," Flint said simply, but he was far more focused on Reed Richards beneath him. A sandy hand nudged that rubber face. "Doc. Richards. Wake up, man."

Slowly, in spurts, Reed blinked his eyes open. He couldn't quite focus on Flint above him, not with the concussion he'd just received, but with a groan he turned his head and said vaguely, "Marko?"

"Yeah, the guy's really good at kicking." Even without much of a face, Flint's wince was audible as he remembered all the kicks that Spider-Man had aimed at him over the years. "You gonna be okay, Doc? You've still got a footprint in y--"

"What." The growl came from the ruined elevator doors. "Happened."

Flint didn't technically have eyes; there was no single part of his body mass that was meant for seeing anymore. So he didn't need to physically look up and watch a tall, cloaked man clamber up out of the elevator shaft. He did anyway, because the face he saw when that hood was thrown back prompted a human response from one who hadn't been human in years.

"Osborn?" he said dumbly. "Norman Osborn? You're Scrier? I thought you died, like, a decade ago or something." The tall, gaunt man crossed the room in a half-dozen strides, his fists clenched, as Flint continued to sputter. "Has it been you under that dumb mask the whole time? Why the hell were you bothering with that if --"

Norman's gloved fingertips sank into the mound of sand and a pulse of electricity shot through it. The grains of sand that were Flint's nerves were momentarily overloaded; much like a normal person would collapse if tased, the Sandman collapsed with a yelp and his mass scattered across the floor. Kicking sand off of his boots, Norman glared at the font doors of the lobby: the front doors which now hung off their hinges, dented into oblivion by Spider-Man's escape.

---

The window had been left unlocked for him. His fingertips stuck to the glass and slid it just open enough to enter, and it was in total silence that Spider-Man slipped into the dark apartment. As he turned around to close the window again, light from outside shone off of his eyepieces, and he hesitated there for a moment as he realized that he would probably never use this particular window again.

"Emjay," he called out quietly as he closed and locked the window.

The bedroom door was closed, but he could feel the girl on the other side sitting up in bed, could feel the occasional turn of a page as she read. As he approached the door he saw lamp light shining through beneath it, and as he set his hand on the doorknob he called out again, "Emjay," just to keep his appearance from startling her.

The amber-skinned, dark-haired woman looked up from her book as Spider-Man pushed the door open. Mary Jane's dimples deepened when she smiled at him; he felt his heart swelling to look at her, but as he pushed his mask up her smile vanished to see the pale and scared expression that greeted her. Her book snapped shut, she set it on her nightstand as she swung her legs out of bed, and as Peter began to cross the room she met him halfway. "What happened?" she asked, her hands on his shoulders, and he could barely keep himself from crying.

Saying it would make it real. Peter hesitated for a good long moment before he whispered, "Norman Osborn's alive."

You could have heard a pin drop in the seconds that followed this. Emjay stared at Peter, her deep brown eyes wide with horror, and her mouth opened in a few aborted attempts to say something. At last, as Peter pulled out of her embrace and sat on the bed, she managed to breathe, "W-what?"

In halting, broken words, Peter recounted all that he'd seen and learned that night. He slid to one side to let Emjay sit next to him, and she listened in silence as he explained what the Phantoms really were. He told her about Reed's part in this, about what he'd overheard in his janitor disguise throughout the day, and about his confrontation with Scrier in the bowels of the CCA complex. He'd told her about many such nights over the years, and so she knew what pauses for breath and rushed half-explanations to listen for; she knew him better than he knew himself, and learned as much from what he didn't say as from what he did. By the time he managed to stutter his way to the end, she had one hand clasped over her own mouth, and she stared at the floor to process it all.

"We have to move," she said at last. "He definitely knows where we live. Fuck, he probably has people on their way right now. If he's not coming himself."

Not daring to look at her, Peter nodded. But what he said was, "No. We have to do a lot more than move." He rubbed at one of the scars that streaked his face, thinking out loud. "There's no way other CCA executives don't know that he's Scrier. He's so, so entrenched into the CCA, he must--he must have spread his roots all over the institution. Maybe he's got stooges in the government. He's definitely working with Alchemax. And maybe every other company that the CCA partners with."

"So what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking--I don't know what I'm thinking." He looked up at her face at last. "I'm thinking this is about more than just kicking them out of New York. Maybe it always was. I need to...I need to go seeking them out, I guess. Find every CCA office in the country, expose what they really are, tear down every corporation that put their fingers in the pie. Maybe leak federal documents? Maybe find people willing to rat them out from the inside? I need--I just need to go, Emjay. I need to go everywhere."

...This was something that Mary Jane Watson had been afraid of for a long time. She had always known, on some level or another, that eventually Peter would see a need to do more for the world than he already did. Eventually Spider-Man would require far more of his life than the overwhelming majority it already dominated, and he would heed that call because he saw no other choice. There was a part of her, a loud part, that was furious. How dare they, it said; how dare they demand so much of him. How dare they take so much of him from her.

These were fears she had voiced to him before. He knew them by heart, and she knew that he wouldn't realize them like this if he could avoid it. So, for a moment, she blinked back her tears and nodded to the bag of webbing and vials that Peter had laid upon the bed. "What about them?"

Peter, too, glanced their way. "...I don't know. I have no idea how to help them. I don't think I can. I'll...I'll figure it out on the road, I guess."

"You mean we'll figure it out." Emjay got to her feet. "I'll get dressed and pack a bag. Can you grab my laptop when you get yours?"

He blinked. He could process information at forty times the speed of any human, and yet he spent a second in dead silence as her words sank in. "What? No," he stammered, sliding off of the bed himself. "You shouldn't come. You've got so much that you need to do in New York. You've got your career and--"

"--and it's dangerous?" Emjay interrupted dryly. She set a hand on Peter's chest, and the spider emblazoned on it. "Peter, you know you won't make it a week without me. If you're about to start playing secret agent full-time, you're gonna need a mission control. Besides," she smirked, "I have a car and a licence. You have neither. What, were you planning to run the whole way across the country?"

His mouth agape for a second, Peter tried to think of a rebuttal to this. "You can't...you can't just uproot yourself like this," he said. "After all you've done. If you go with me, you'll never get your acting back on track, you'll probably never make Broadway...you'll probably die."

Emjay glared at him. "And if I don't, we'll both die," she said. "If Norman can throw Gwen off a skyscraper, he'd be happy to throw me. And you need me out there." She stepped closer to him and interlaced her fingers behind Peter's neck, her fingertips nestling amidst his dark brown hair. "We're a team, Peter. Always were. I'd follow you anywhere, and you don't get to decide I can't." Her face, dead-set and serious, gained the ghost of a smile as she said, "We're getting 'em together, Tiger."

Peter would've liked to kiss her. He would have liked to sweep Emjay off her feet and press his lips to hers, spending hours or days in her embrace. He would've liked to kiss every square inch of her, from her cleft chin to her magnificent shoulders to her knobby ankles and everywhere in between. He would've liked to drop to one knee and propose right there, or pray to her like a priestess, or do anything to get across even a semblance of how much she meant to him. But they didn't have the time; already he could feel a nebulous, ominous buzz on the edge of his spider-sense. Instead he just whispered, "I love you, Mary Jane."

The freckles across her face seemed to sparkle in the dim light as she smiled back. "I love you too, Spider-Man. Let's get to packing."

#Spider-Man #Spider-Man AU #Earth-61610 #mary jane watson #Norman Osborn #reed richards #flint marko #peter parker #odyssey prelude #story

8 notes · View notes

ihatetaxes99 · 3 years ago

Text

A Brief Retrospective Look At MVA (In The Anime)

Well. Here we are. Every end of the time is another begun. After what has felt like years of anticipation (mostly because it actually has been years), My Villain Academia has been fully animated. Well, "fully" may be the wrong word here, but that's something I'll get into later.

To honour the end of the arc, I decided to do two things: One, I re-read the entirety of the arc in the manga all in one sitting; Two, I rewatched all five episodes of the anime's adaptation back to back once again. My life is pain and I know not of sleep. Anyway, the reason I did this is because of a little project I proposed to myself back just before the first episode aired; Once MVA was done and dusted, I would go back and give my own retrospective on the whole thing. Because why the hell not, sounds like fun. This will also hopefully be less emotional than my thoughts I shared as the episodes were still airing, but who knows?

So, let's begin. And I wish to start by stating that My Villain Academia is my absolute favourite arc in the manga. It did a lot of things right. It focused entirely on my favourite faction, the villains. It offers a glimpse into their lives and goes a long way in humanising them, particularly Spinner and Shigaraki. It sets up key points for others too, such as Mr. Compress' habit of thinking more about the bigger picture than the others, which would factor into his major reveal during the Paranormal Liberation War and of course the formation of the Front itself. It introduced us to Rikiya Yotsubashi, one of my favourite characters in the manga, even if he honestly peaked in this arc and was never as good again. And it gave us a large-scale, grueling fight for supremacy in which I found myself actively rooting for the League. It is, in my mind, the very best of BNHA, the only arc I would want them to do well in the anime. They could screw up literally everything else and I would be happy if MVA was even just as good as the manga, it didn't even need to be better. I would have been delighted to have an excuse to experience the arc all over again, seeing my favourite moments with the sublime soundtrack and voice acting.

Yeah…

But before I get to that, let us take a little trip of sorts down memory lane to see the road to MVA, what led to it. So, 2021 rolls around. What a fun year. It's just 2020 without the excitement of everything being so uncertain, and frankly it's been really fucking boring as a year. However, BNHA Season Five was announced. In February, we get the first trailer for the upcoming season. It's... It's fine. Obviously, it focuses heavily on the Joint Training Arc (in fact, that is all it shows) and although I despise that arc with a passion, it's not too bad. I had not watched the anime since Overhaul ended, so my plan was I just wouldn't watch JTA and would wait until the big attraction, MVA. And so, Joint Training starts. And it goes on. And on. And on. I checked back almost two months later to discover it still wasn't over yet. Now I found this odd. Joint Training Arc was horrible for many reasons, but the big one was that it dragged on for so long as a result of Horikoshi's health complications, which is by no means his fault. But, surely the anime, which would consistently release on a weekly basis, wouldn't have the issues associated with this. Episodes of BNHA have always encompassed around three to five chapters, and Joint Training's were shorter than usual, so why was it taking more than ten episodes to adapt it?

Very strange, but I didn't question it much. Then, the key visuals released, confirming that MVA was at the very least happening. Great, wonderful. I love it. We've got the whole gang there, seeming like they're in Deika, looks pretty good.

Wait, did I say whole gang? Yeah, my bad, there was someone missing. Spinner. Now, I am not the biggest Spinner fan so I wasn't prepared to riot over his exclusion like I would have been if Compress wasn't in it. But this was starting to get strange. Spinner was the main narrator of MVA. Even if his importance was not on the level of Shigaraki, Twice and Toga, it was certainly more than Dabi and Compress, who did both appear in the art. Why was he excluded? Obviously, I bet you're all having a good old chuckle to yourselves right now because in retrospect, this makes perfect sense now.

Alright, then. I heard from a friend around June time that Joint Training was finally over. Awesome, great, time for the good stuff- why is there a Christmas episode here?

Yes, this was probably what really started to get the alarm bells in my mind going. The Christmas episode- in June. Very, very strange. Also, absolutely no mention of Rikiya, which even if they were reshuffling things, I would have expected him to appear in the episode of Bakugo and Todoroki getting their licenses, since it directly ties in. Concern levels rising, I shrugged it off and waited for next week.

Bam. Major reshuffling. Now, Endeavour Agency comes first, fuck you if you want context for who the hell the PLF are or the significance of Destro's memoirs. This was really starting to worry me now. I told myself that the key visual meant that MVA had to be happening, but it was starting to seem like the villains were being shafted. A fact not helped by the new OP.

Look, I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain or whine, but season five's second OP is just bad. The music is fine, I have no problem there. But the visuals are just awful. Not only is there an extended focus on that stupid bloody trio of Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki, not only is there more screentime given to characters who don't appear in MVA or EA than the main cast of the former, but the animation itself is just so stiff and lacking. It had potential, but the visuals are the worst out of any recent anime opening I've seen in a good few years and this was what got me really panicking.

Boom, a beach episode smack in the middle of Endeavour Agency to promote the upcoming movie. Boom, adapting two chapters per episode during EA. Boom, the Shirakumo episode, which I always thought was part of the War Arc and not EA. But finally, mercifully, the title leaks came and it was revealed that episode 20 of season five would be the start of MVA.

20. Out of 25. And it was pretty obvious that they weren't going to end the season with MVA, so really, up to 24. Ohhh no…

But hey, I'm an optimist sometimes. I was excited to just finally be clear of all this nonsense and get to the real good stuff. Hell, in preparation, I watched the entirety of the season up to that point. I finally realised why JTA took so long and it's one of the most depressing things I've ever learned, in a bad way. Were all those flashbacks really necessary? EA was okay, as someone who as a manga reader, already had the necessary context for the PLF stuff. The beach episode, I watched half of, got too bored and skipped the rest of. And you know what, I liked the Shirakumo chapters. They weren't as good in the anime, but it was nice to see.

And then, finally, in comes episode one of My Villain Academia, on a cold, dark August morning. I even bought Crunchyroll Premium to watch it as soon as possible, I was excited. All the messing around, all the crap, it was finally over and the time had come to enjoy what this season was really all about.

I can now safely say why Bones kept pushing back MVA, because if I was them, I would be embarrassed to show this.

No, that's not fair. I promised I wouldn't get too snarky, so let's reek things back in. As a whole, MVA has been… fine. Just fine. Not good enough to justify the bullshit, but not horrendous (mostly.) In fact, right now, I'll give a ranking of the episodes, my worst to best:

5) Episode One

4) Episode Two

3) Episode Three

2) Episode Five

1) Episode Four

Yeah. So, there's a clear pattern here, that things more or less got better as time went on. From just straight up bad, to still not great, to alright, to the final two episodes being what I would comfortably call good. This is not a good look. I'm sorry, but Episode One, an episode that I just called bad, is still one of the season's best in spite of that. That spells out awful things for this season as a whole. But what exactly made this such a disaster?

Well, cut content is the big thing. MVA in the anime cuts out:

The League's battle with the CRC

Their struggle with poverty

The sushi joke setup

All of Spinner's character

All of Rikiya's character, including most mentions of Detnerat and Miyashita

Fairly integral pieces of Skeptic's character

Most of Giran's integrity and bravery

This doesn't look too bad at first. It could be far worse. We got basically everything else from the arc, so what? Well, I would already be annoyed about all of these cuts, but the issue is that they cause a knock on effect. Without the establishment of the League's poverty, the payoff of Toga's duffle coat now makes no sense. Without the setup of Spinner's characterisation, his battle with Hanabata now feels hollow. Rikiya's surrender to the League now makes even less sense, as his love of human life and desire to cause no more death is completely non-existent. The first time Rikiya being a CEO is mentioned is in the closing minutes of the arc. The sushi scene is hamfisted into a two second flashback just so that the payoff makes some sort of sense, but again, it is hollow without it being at the start (this is also the first mention of the League's poverty and it literally happens just as they are freed from it.) Can you see how these little seemingly unimportant cuts spiral into bigger problems? I would have been pissed even if they hadn't caused some tremendous cascades, but the fact that they did just makes this from a subjective issue to an objective one.

Yes. They did some things well. Toga's backstory is mostly intact, SMP is just as satisfying as the manga, Tenko's backstory is one of the best things the anime has ever done, the awakening is very well done, I adore the PLF formation as much as I did in the manga. Everything important is intact, but as I keep saying, you cannot just keep the bare minimum and expect it to work. How about in the next arc, they decide to cut everything involving Bakugo out, and only keep him jumping in front of Midoriya because it's the only absolutely necessary thing he does in the arc? People would be pissed, and it's the same thing that's happening here. It's a problem, it's not just a bad adaptation, it leads to bad storytelling in general.

The animation. Now, I do not believe this is a be all, end all. BNHA's anime is never going to look as gorgeous as Horikoshi's art, that is a fact and I do not begrudge them for that. They have a week to draw hundreds upon hundreds of frames, it's not a process that lends itself well to good looks and the animators and artists do their best with what they have. This does not change the fact that it is extremely hit or miss. Some things, Tenko's backstory in particular, look fantastic. Other things, mostly every action scene, make me laugh at how bad they can look and some things, particularly Twice and Re-Destro's hideous designs in the anime, make me cringe. The lighting is also an issue. Garaki's lab looked fantastic, but every other scene is just boring mid-afternoon with dull, basic lighting. I don't expect huge detail, but sometimes, it fails to achieve competency and as an extremely popular show, I don't think that's okay. I don't blame the animators, I blame the higher ups. And while I wouldn't mind the poor animation and art in an MVA that at least has all the story content, this does not have that and so I am even harsher than I would have been.

MVA was rushed. That's not up for debate. It took forever to get to it and once it came, things moved so quickly that they gave me whiplash, with no time to think or lament. Now, this could be attributed to the story structure of the arc, which is essentially a series of big fights, and it just isn't as bad in the manga because I can stop at any time to catch my breath. But I think it's worth noting that the anime at least highlights these issues. Curious dies in the same episode where she first appears, really driving home how pointless she was in the end. Episode Two alone tries to cover everything from the journey to Deika up until Jin finding Toga's body. That's a lot of content to fit in one twenty minute period and it was bound to feel messy in the end. I will say that, much like everything aside from the animation, this did get better as time went on, with episodes three, four and five adapting more reasonable amounts of content, compared to one giving us almost nothing and two giving us too much.

At the end of the day, that was it. The show's over. MVA has been closed in the anime. It will never be given a chance to improve, to go from just fine to anything even close to the manga. Why did this happen? I don't think we'll ever truly know. Some blame the new movie, others the studio's lack of faith in the villains, and there are those who say that it's just how fate turned out. I personally think it's a combination of all of these things. Without the movie, that beach episode wouldn't exist, giving more time to MVA, without the studio's hesitation, we'd perhaps get stuff like an actual good OP and perhaps some more general hype for it (I mean, MVA didn't even get a trailer.) Whatever the reason is, we got what we got. My verdict is something that's very overplayed as of late, but seriously, just read the manga with the fantastic soundtrack playing in the background. The anime's adaptation of MVA is not worth the time investment, when you could read the manga in roughly the same length of time and get more content, a more coherent plot and beautiful artwork.

So, what may come next for Season Six? I don't know. Season Five has definitely been one of the most unpopular seasons in the anime, with a lot of people speaking out against it, but this mostly seems to come from the Western fanbase, so it's up in the air if Bones will learn from their mistakes. Since they'll have a full season to do presumably the War and Rouge Deku arcs, then I feel like they'll put on a better show. But we just don't know. Spinner had his spotlight stolen this time around, will Compress suffer the same fate in Season Six? Dabi and Toga will probably be handled well, since they have inexplicably high amounts of popularity, but with his own lack of recognition rivalling Spinner's, I can see Sako ending up much the same way. Time will tell, I suppose.

#my villain academia #mva #league of villains #Meta Liberation Army #studio bones #bnha season 5

19 notes · View notes

7wanderingpaws · 5 years ago

Text

Simply, yours (8) (M)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: family AU, hapkido teacher AU, PhD AU

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: cursing, mature content, angst

A/N: This one was so easy and fun to write frankly! Thank you so much for letting me know your opinions for the last chap, it motivates me like 1000x more! If you could tell me what you thought about this one as well, it would be nice! Thank you 🎉 And sorry I edited this one, but Im sure there will be typos and sentences that made sense in my head while I edited but they actually dont, apologies!

Tags: @milky-baek @itsbaekhyunsbutt @luvhtears @ shesdreaminginoverdose (if you want to be tagged/untagged let me know! Im always open^^)

MASTERLIST

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8

Once again, you entered your apartment in silence, except the few times Baekhyun let out a tired, exasperated sigh. Your phone was blowing up with messages from your boss; honestly, you didn't understand why was he even trying to contact you after everything that happened. By now you knew you wouldn't be able to save your work spot. Not after what Baekhyun did. And here you were, worrying about not telling your darn boss about your pregnancy.

In the safety of your apartment full of love, you were able to feel. The hotness of emotions was coming back to your bloodstream, the numbness from throwing up and the adrenaline of the fight -it was all palpable in fading touches.

This time, it was you who let out a tired sigh, but you felt the burn behind your eyes yet again as you made your way to the bedroom to collect some clean clothes before making a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring Baekhyun's angry expression as you passed by him.

Before you could close the door, he murmured your name in a warning.

“What.”

“You know we need to talk, right?” he snapped, turning to you. He spotted your bloodshot eyes, full of unshed tears and he assumed you weren't seeing him properly. He was right.

You saw him blurry like a modern art painting. Pretty, yet so… unreadable, almost worrying at how you couldn't see to the depths of it. “I know.”

At your terse answer, he clenched his jaw and you blinked, letting the tears roll down your cheeks just to see the tick in his jaw, the set of his chin almost scary. “Go,” he sighed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his dress trousers. “We will talk once you're out of there.”

Without waiting for your response, he turned abruptly but to your surprise, he reached for the front door, swinging it open. You closed your eyes just in time for it to slam shut. And he was gone.

Quietly, you took a long shower, thinking he wouldn't be back until… well, until he deemed good to be back. Which could be whenever.

Honestly speaking, you never had such a big, troubling fight before. Never. Yes, you did fight, but he never left you. Not at that hour, anyway. And you were also never pregnant. So this was one of a kind problem you found yourself in, and as you tried not to sob through your entire shower, your mind instead stormed through options you had with what happened.

Except, you had none.

You were out of job.

Your boyfriend, a hapkido master, used violence on your boss.

Your boyfriend could be reported.

You lied to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend… was mad at you. Livid.

Was this the end of your relationship?

No.

He wouldn't let go of you that easily, and the realisation of that made you sob right then and there. The relationship you two shared was stronger than any of your doubts that were scaring you; it was stronger than any bad word, any bad action, because you two were more than that and your connection was stronger than that. As much as it hurt you that he left without telling you, you knew him well enough to know he would be coming back to you. You knew he would forgive you and he wouldn't break up with you. Not when you were carrying his children. Baekhyun was much, much more than an angry emotion and a protective action.

And you were pregnant with him.

Three kids. Three.

“Fuck,” you sighed as you closed your eyes under the hot water, wanting it to drown out all of your intruding thoughts.

If there was an issue you two genuinely had to worry about, it was how you would feed them and yourselves. Would you even survive bearing three children till the end? Would you survive giving birth? You were way past the first trimester which meant you were over the dangerous period, but you knew better than that. Bearing one child was a constant risk. Three? Definitely playing with fire.

Not wanting to create a huge water bill, you reluctantly turned off the shower even though your body screamed for more. Tired and aching, you dried yourself up, not bothering to put on a lotion; smells had been playing with your stomach too much and you literally despised and hated the constant throwing up game.

It was just ten minutes after your shower; you were lying in the bed, tucked in and ready to call it a day, when Baekhyun came back. His timing was perfect and it meant he didn't wander off in the dark streets to let his frustrations out. He probably went for a short walk.

Some shuffling later, he appeared in the doorway, the small lamp next to the mattress you were lying on gently illuminating your tired self. You didn't dare to look at your boyfriend, but you knew you had to do it. He was expecting you to. He was not in the place to beg for forgiveness now. If it was anyone, it was you.

Sighing, you pressed your lips together as you sat up slowly, looking him dead in the eyes; those dark eyes that had still some leftover heavy showers in them.

“Baekhyun,” you started and he kept your gaze daringly, leaning against the doorframe. When he didn't speak, you pursed your lips. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have told you.”

Silence.

“I will need more than that.” Was his cold answer.

“Don't you want to sit down?”

He was quiet for a moment, but then he crossed his arms. You knew better than to test him. When it came to irrational stuff you did, he was using the “I'm older” type of power against you, and you couldn't argue with that. “What did he make you sign?”

Once again, it was quiet. He was burning you with his scorching gaze, and you felt your cheeks heat up in complete embarrassment and self-loathing. But you needed to be honest. “I-I'm not sure if it was in the contract,” you started, trying not to stutter, “but he made me… Ehm, I was not supposed to fall pregnant. In exchange of him promoting me at work.”

As expected, Baekhyun let nothing to be read from his face. “Did you sign the contract and not read what it said?”

Please, make this stop. “Yes. But I really didn't think that-t-that-”

He spoke your name, cold and harsh, obviously upset. “You didn't think what?! Just how irresponsible it is not to read the conditions of a piece of fucking paper that can be used against you, huh?!”

Slowly, you tried to breathe. This was necessary. He had to let it out.

“You could have signed him owning you for all I know! Fucking hell,” he sighed, now running his hand through his hair wildly, turning away from you for a moment before sharply turning back, startling you. “And you just wanted to do it because what- you wanted more money? Is it all about money for you?! Since when did you become so fucking materialistic that you would stand in your own damn dreams!!!”

Tears, tears, tears, and he was completely right. Opening your mouth, he snapped.

“No, don't speak! I don't want to hear it right now! Fuck,” he murmured, and paced in front of you, his jaw set strong. “You weren't even pregnant when it all happened, why would you want to get to more money so badly?!”

“I wanted to provide for us as well!” you shouted back now, but your voice was so shaky you felt like you sounded pathetic. He had to know, though. “We are coming from a low-class background, Baekhyun! Why is it so bad for me to want to do more when I am perfectly able to do so?”

“Because you would have ruined your own dreams while chasing something so artificial!” he shouted back, stepping closer to where you were sitting, but you didn't budge from the sudden movement. “Money was, and money will be! But us creating a family together won't be a forever opportunity! And you were willing to just hang it up for, what, 300.000 won more? Don't be ridiculous! Plus! He is a fucking arsehole! If he isn't touching you up, he is treating you like complete shit; you deserve better than any of this! And if I could have, I would have beaten him up long ago.”

You averted his gaze. His words were driven by his love for you, you knew that much. So as much as you wanted to be offended and hurt, he was hundred percent right. Everything he just threw into your face was correct and you couldn't defend yourself, because he would come at you right away.

“Is this really everything our relationship means to you?” he asked, a bit more quietly, but his tired tone was scarring your heart. You dared to look back at him, to see him staring on the ground, one hand on his hip.

“No,” you said and you cried again, “it isn't and you know it, too.”

“Do you think I am incapable of taking care of us? Of the kids?” he looked at you, huge puppy eyes on full display as he slowly let his guard down. “Because all of this just proves you don't trust me as the breadwinner of this household.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your arguments, but ended up going against it. “Baekhyun, we aren't in a situation where I need to stay home, clean and do nothing while you get to earn money as if it was some easy thing to do. I am, and I will continue to work,” you replied resolutely despised tears rolling down your cheeks, “and it isn't you as a breadwinner, but us.”

The society surely was patriarchal, so if you dared to talk to your father in this manner, he would have slapped you. There was no such thing as a woman who got to go against her husband or brother.

Baekhyun, however, wasn't your father or your brother. He wasn't even your husband, and when you saw his troubled look, he finally let himself sink down on the mattress. He was your kind, loving boyfriend. “I already said this,” he started, “but I am not, and I won't keep you inside the house, locked up, while waiting for me to return to you after work. I won't tell you what to do, you know I never did,” he said in a more friendly manner, but it still beared authority. “I respect you as a woman,” he said, speaking your name softly, “and you are my everything.” His hand reached out to caress your cheek that was still wet from your tears. “I need to see you only smiling, happily, but I cannot accept you lying to me like this again. I thought we had been together long enough for us to earn each other's trust, and you going like that behind my back and signing bullshit was nothing but stupid and irresponsible. Especially because your pregnancy was jeopardized like that. You can't be under stress like that, sweetie.”

Hearing him calling you a pet name, you knew the war was over and he finally was on the positive side. His authoritative voice still kept you on edge, so you didn't throw yourself at him just yet.

“If he kicked you out, which I'm pretty much convinced he did, I wouldn't be against you not working until you give birth.”

“Baekhy-”

“Shh, let me speak, honey,” he said quietly and shuffled himself closer, sitting right opposite you cross-legged as he took your hands in his. “Listen. I know you know it, but having three babies under your heart is a dangerous situation,” he whispered loudly, bringing your intertwined hands to his lips. “It's dangerous especially for you. You are very tired after work, and you come home late and don't get enough rest. Sukyeong even told me you don't always keep up with your meals, and I don't like it one bit.” The way his lips moved against the skin of your hand was soothing you. “Accept that he threw you out, before I file a lawsuit against him for harassing you and making you sign nonsense contracts, and stay home. Find a part-time job instead, but you need to rest, darling.”

“Baekhyun,” you finally spoke and he hummed, as he let your hands fall to his lap. His eyes were now so gentle and full of worry. “I am so sorry. For everything. I shouldn't have done any of that, but please know I did it with good intentions.”

Baekhyun went silent for a bit, analysing your face, your tired features and pale skin, which only reminded him you had been throwing up today and dealing with the situation in the restaurant. Suddenly, he felt so guilty for making you go through all of it in just one evening, (although you were responsible for it, too). Let alone he just shouted at you for good ten minutes. He couldn't even imagine what other things you must have been feeling the past weeks, given how your body was changing day by day. “It's alright, babe, it's alright. I understand. C'mere,” he whispered, opening his arms and you threw yourself at him, making him almost fall back on his back. You snuggled your face into his neck, and he let out a satisfied breath, caressing your back gently. “I'm sorry for shouting at you. But I'm not sorry for punching that idiot. He deserved it.”

You were looking at the skin on his neck and how it disappeared under his shirt that had the first two buttons undone. “Thank you for standing up for me, honey.”

“My baby,” he murmured lovingly into your hair before he gave it a kiss. “My only baby.”

You woke up to slow, gentle caresses on your small belly as your shirt was ridden up just a tiny bit, Baekhyun not wanting to wake you just yet. He was behind you, wanting to spoon you as soon as he washed up and fell in bed next to you last night. It didn't take long for both of you to fall asleep, as surprising as that was. The events tired you out, and he wanted you to sleep as much as you could.

He kissed your clothed shoulder before he nosed your neck and buried his face in your hair, while his caresses didn't stop. Letting his eyes close for a moment, he brought his front just a little closer to you, his leg wrapping around yours that were politely connected. His hand absentmindedly wandered further up before going dangerously low, sending shots of pleasure down your core without even paying attention. You knew he would soon realize his effect on you, because you definitely felt like squirming in his hold.

His hand lazily dragged upwards almost touching the underside of your breast when you couldn't keep it in anymore, breathing in sharply just for his hand to stop right under the-

“Oh, I finally have you awake,” he murmured, his husky voice sending another set of chills down your spine.

You couldn't help but smile, happy you woke up to this. The fluid down there was saying something else, though.

“Slept well?” he murmured into your ear, as he continued dragging his hand up. You groaned softly when he groped your breast as he pushed himself even more into you, and you felt it. He was so ready for you.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, enjoying the massage as he proceeded to nibble on your ear from behind, your eyes closed in pleasure. “You?”

“I realised we didn't keep our promise, babygirl.”

Your breath hitched in your throat when your realised what he was implying.

“So, is my beautiful lady still horny enough to go the remaining two rounds?” His voice was so deep, you felt yourself scrunching your eyes shut, the adrenaline quickly making its way into your bloodstream. “We will take it,” he murmured and this time his hand was going down, down, down, the panties the only barrier from his wandering hand as he lifted the hem of them teasingly, testing just how ready you were for him, “very slowly, my dear.”

His fingers played with you just for few seconds before he pushed his middle finger inside, your mouth opening in a silent moan as you leaned back into him.

“It's so early, but you are already like this,” he continued while your head was swimming, his ministrations nothing short of slow, yet so pleasurable, “all for me.”

Your insides were squeezing painfully, and he wasn't moving faster, nor did he have the intentions. “Baekhyun,” you said, trying not to pant too loudly, “I just want you.”

“Hmm? Speak louder, I'm still sleepy.”

“You're such a tease,” you whispered in disbelief before surprising him by reaching behind you to touch him exactly where he needed you. He hissed, his eyes looking at your profile to see the smirk you had on your face.

“I wanted it to be slow, romantic and all of that,” he mumbled before pushing your hand away while he sat up, causing you to fall on your back. As soon as his hand was out of your panties, you felt a pang of frustration before he covered your body with his, his face close to yours as you tried to calm down from him fingering you so sensually.

“I want none of that,” you replied as you grabbed his face for a heated kiss, “I want you inside me, just about now.”

“Needy, naughty…” he muttered with a flirty smirk as he teased you at your opening, causing both of you to groan. “Are you ready, sweetie?” And he still made sure you were okay with him.

“I'm always ready for you,” you whispered, spreading your legs even more for him, as he pushed himself in, your eyes instantly closing in wonderful pleasure only he was able to give you.

He stayed inside, buried and panting into your hot mouth as he rested his forehead on yours. “Sweetheart, open your eyes for me, hm? I love you, you know that?”

“I know that. And I love you, do you know that?” you reciprocated, smiling up at him only to be rewarded with his smiley eyes as he pushed back before diving right in few more times, where he hit your sweet spot. Moaning loudly, he dragged his face to suck on your neck before he took one of your hands, intertwining them with his as he pushed it up above your head.

“I know that. You are my angel,” he said, finishing it with a guttural groan as he felt you pulsing around him, knowing you were about to cross the edge and he was not far behind you. “Come for me. We have another round,” he breathed before kissing you passionately, messily, moanily.

You mentioned you wanted none of slow. And in the second round, he gave you just that. Baekhyun became ruthless, just before whispering: “Are you riding?” And he was fast to change positions. He helped you straddle him although you definitely had the energy to move and climb by yourself, given your crazy hormonal drive.

“That was just a warm-up session.” He warned, not waiting for you. Your screams, his groans, the heat, it was all so fucking amazing you were left in a complete bliss. You were fast to catch up to him, moving your hips while he was watching from beneath you, eyes dark, glazed over and completely smitten by you.

“You're the best,” you breathed out as you dragged your hands to you breasts, but Baekhyun wanted none of that. He swiftly sat up, his chest almost pressed to yours while you continuously rode him, up and down, your hands being pushed aside just to be switched with his as he added his sinful lips to the swell of your breasts.

“You're a goddess, mummy,” he muttered, leaving a wet trail on your chest while his hands squeezed and massaged your mounds.

“Baekhyun!” you scolded, and despite the sweat and the delightful pull in your belly approaching yet again, you blushed; the blush definitely caused by his choice of words.

He looked into your eyes, his ones proud and lustful. “It's true,” he muttered, groaning as you sank down exceptionally hard, almost falling onto his sturdy chest. His hands were now squeezing your sides, helping you out, unable to keep the needy touches to himself when you looked so gorgeous like that. He squeezed your arching body to his sweaty chest.

A quick glance at your swollen belly that he made sure you noticed, his hand came to touch against it and you were gone. He caressed you there gently while swallowing your moans as you grabbed his face, kissing him, your hair falling, creating an intimate curtain just around where your mouths were connected. You still had an unearthly energy to help your boyfriend out to his orgasm, not wanting to be in the ecstasy alone, and as much as Baekhyun needed the release, his hands slid across your sides, holding your hips to stop their movement.

“Enough, baby girl,” he whispered into your mouth, leaning back ever so slightly to see your flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead. “I don't want you to hurt yourself.” He was still panting and you swore to god he looked so handsome with his hair glued to his forehead, puffy cheeks. You might have gotten horny again.

“Come with me,” you insisted, attempting to to move again but he bit his lip, a cheeky glint in his eyes, and he held your back tenderly, moving you to lie on your back, while slipping out of you. Hissing, he stood up quickly.

“I'll be right back.”

Trying to calm your breath, you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling in your aching body. A knowing smile played on your lips; Baekhyun would rather get a cold shower then another orgasm from you, just because he was worried about you. If that wasn't some darn good self-control, you didn't know what it could be.

Just as he promised, he was back soon, a towel in his hands to help you clean up. Once done, he lied back down next to you and you immediately curled up by his chest. “That was amazing.”

“Hmm, you are amazing,” he said. After a little pause, he asked: “You feeling alright?”

“Perfect. But I could go again, you know? You don't have to be so careful with me.”

He snorted as he played with the ends of your hair. “Jeez, you already have my baby! Actually three of them! Slow down, woman.”

You both laughed heartily, and he loved the sound.

“But I want to have youuu, my love,” you whined.

“You have me. You always have me. I'm yours. I'm just simply yours.”

A/N: just to clarify, this isnt the end, we still have quite some things to get through actually - more drama ㅠㅠ! Just didnt want to leave you on a cliffhanger. Hope you liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Any feedback is very much appreciated 🥺 🥺

#baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun fic #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun imagine #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo fluff #exo au #baekhyun au #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #kpop au #my writings

214 notes · View notes

technobladetimestamps · 4 years ago

Text

Nov 16 Stream Timestamps

Timestamps from Technoblade’s “THE REVOLUTION (dream SMP)”

Link to my youtube comment with all of the timestamps x

Timestamps with hyperlinks below

02:13 “This is a surprise tool which will help us later” / thumbnail isn’t foreshadowing / video thumbnails have to be big / stream thumbnails can be detailed 05:17 “The traitor is actually Jschlatt” / firework crafting 09:50 “The ratio is impeccable” 13:23 “Dream’s in the game! My audience retention rate” / vc with Tubbo & Quackity / traitor Jschlatt theory / “Are you high?” “A little” 14:47 “You’re a bit of a wildcard” “I am the most consistent character on the entire server” / “What’s this about getting into power” / “We’ll burn this bridge when we get to it” 15:54 “You really are such an English major” / “You’re an idiom” / malaphor / “I’m actually speaking twice as much English as you guys” 18:07 “I think Thunder is overcompensating in the chat” / “Where can you see me” “In my heart” (Karl & Quackity) / Karl not leaving vc 20:33 vc with Niki / “Did Tubbo just leave me? I spaced out for 2 seconds” / “You can’t call everyone the traitor” “I can & will” 22:45 “You know it’s an event when Skeppy’s here” / “You know it’s a big deal when Georgenotfound wakes up” / “Everyone leaves me” 23:31 explaining the traitor thing to Niki / “Maybe I’m a sleeper agent” / had to kill Tubbo 25:03 nothing happened with that creeper / Fundy interrogating Niki / “Why did I train her for MCC” 25:54 “Even YOU’RE leaving me” / sad music / “I’m sitting here with 203k viewers & it’s not enough for any of these streamers to bear talking to me for more than 60 seconds” / Skeppy joins vc to immediately leave 28:50 Karl has a gift for Techno / Karl is just here for the animatic 32:21 “At least the chat won’t leave me” / pays for his music 35:01 “I’m going to destroy the government so bad” / “I hate all of the farming updates on skyblock” 37:45 joining a vc / “I just got stood up in like 4...conversations in rapid succession” / “My new years resolution was to make friends & it’s november & I’ve made zero headway” / Eret switches sides 41:53 Ender chest setup / worried about hotbar management / potions > shields 43:13 vc with allies / “Karl you are literally the biggest third wheel I have ever seen” 45:03 angering the dogs / trident combo 47:13 “D!ck with one ball” (Tubbo) 50:25 “Let’s hope Wil overslept like [George]” 53:09 recruiting Eret / “If you fight on our side we’ll make you the King of Burger King” / “He’ll be an executive citizen” / “I’m surrounded by idiots” 54:58 putting Schlatt on the allies list / “Schlatt is an alcoholic high on protein power” (Fundy) 56:47 can’t trust Eret / “I hate it when you’re right” (Tubbo) / Wilbur joins vc 59:50 having a moment with Hubert / “Not even the mobs like me” / sad music / “I just gained 8k subscribers the sadness is gone” / cow pit exp farm 1:02:57 vc with Niki / “I’m going to join the other vc AHHHHH” 1:05:02 “Once everyone meets up...I have something prepared” / “Technoblade when are you not ready?” “When I joined the server” 1:09:38 “Who do you take me for? Of course I’ve read the Art of War. It’s written by Mozart” / battle planning 1:12:18 “This is the betrayal...happening very slowly” 1:13:35 Pan1 / “This revolution is so doomed” 1:15:29 Dream attack / Quackity dies 1:18:07 “Agree Retweet” / “Violence is the only universal language” / “i have a supply” / “Why do you talk in upwards inflections constantly?” 1:19:57 Techno not getting to talk / “He took it all by force didn’t he” / “Fear into Ear” 1:23:50 Techno telling everyone he has a stash twice / distributing blue / mushroom the fox 1:26:49 Tommy talking over Techno again / “Stop going off on your tangents” “We have food at home” 1:29:30 vault reveal / Tubbo stealing emeralds / secret chest 1:32:40 “Shut up bro you are green as shit” (Tommy) / “Everyone give me back my stuff you don’t deserve it” 1:34:41 no netherite swords / “Who’s the traitor” “Promise we won’t be mad” 1:36:31 battle / Technoblade trident maneuvering / giving rocket launchers to Tubbo & Tommy 1:40:27 killing Karl / Dream bringing out the end crystals / fighting invis Dream / purpled switches sides 1:43:57 Dream wants to talk / 309k / group photos 1:46:08 vc with Dream / “But only if my enemy insists” / in the van with Schlatt / “What are you doing in my drug van? It better not be drugs” / Tommy preparing to shoot Schlatt 1:54:42 “We won” / “We killed an old man with heart problems! It only took 20 of us!” / President Innit / subscribe to Technoblade sign 1:55:57 Dream & Techno talk in chat / Tommy speech / “It was meant to be” / “I don’t think anyone is bowing to Tommyinnit” / “Karl don’t be weird” / Skeppy has a disc 1:59:06 Techno being apprehensive on mute / Tommy makes Wilbur President / “I’ll be the president” “I’m gonna veto that” / “Techno...you’ve taught me that government is not the way to go” / Wilbur makes Tubbo president 2:03:20 “I’m not sure I like where this is going x2” / “I’m not sure this is a good ending” / “Team chaos” “Perhaps” 2:06:20 Techno shoots Tubbo / Philza joins / “You think Schlatt was the cause of your problems? No. It was government” / speech gets interrupted / “The government ends here, I’ll kill it myself!” 2:09:23 Phil kills Wilbur / techno yelling for silence / “Tommy you just did a coup...& instilled yourself as president” 2:12:11 “If you want to be a hero THAN DIE LIKE ONE” / wither spawning / killing his former allies 2:15:09 post fight talks / “There will be no new government today. It will be over my dead body” / “Techno was not the traitor” 2:18:50 “I need to increase the crater that is L’Manberg so that no country can rise in its place” / “Mom says it’s my turn on the flame bow” 2:23:51 “What I’m doing right now is small scale. This is the work of an individual. This is nothing compared to the cruelty governments all around the world [inflict]...systematically” / “Llamas are the primary victims of war” / “I just wanna be apart of the explosion” (George) 2:27:06 Techno joins vc / connor joins the server / “I hope you’re proud of yourself Techno” “I kinda am” / Jack Manifold (Thunder) being broke / netherite armor 2:32:30 “Beach episode” / Techno accidentally joins the L’Manberg vc 2:35:16 the base is compromised / “There’s no way Technoblade would put a clock there if it didn’t mean anything” / got robbed 2:37:37 “If you’re going to ask me how I got all these emerald & arrows that’s a story for another day” / explaining the bedrock / “I can give everyone stuff & it’ll be such a flex” 2:40:24 Greek mythology 2:41:45 The Golden Apple / “They didn’t use discord back then they used skype, so can’t invite Eris” / “Zeus the god of feminism” 2:46:02 Eret recruiting Techno to kill George / joining vc / “Let’s stop him before he gets land” / Awesamdude proposing a fight 2:49:08 “No one can kill me I’m invincible” (logs out) / Dream literally names the turtle potions Sam thinks he hasn’t heard of / “I’m at soup” / “It’s not smack talk he just has that many items” 2:53:06 “Stab him Dream, I’ll shout encouraging words” / Techno fighting Bad & Ant 2:56:23 Dream wins / “I think there was this Dream guy attacking you with some sort of weapon” 3:00:11 turtle potions / Dream hyping up Techno about fighting BBH / Badlands negotiating with George 3:04:34 vc with Philza 3:07:00 spider farm afk’ing / lagging Quackity’s computer 3:09:06 smp earth / Phil only logged on to back Techno up 3:10:32 killing George / “I’m gonna drop his armor off don’t jump me” / not fighting Dream 3:13:00 vc with Karl & Phil / Karl definitely not starting a government / “Chat that was the boring part, don’t leave” / 320k / “Why do we keep scheduling these on Monday?” 3:16:18 “I don’t even want to think about how famous Tommy will be in the future” / “I get a tad bitter” / covid is good for youtubers but obviously bad / “I’m so good at socially distancing” 3:19:51 “Aren’t you tired of being nice Philza? Don’t you just wanna go crazy” / “You should be wary of the old in a profession where people die young” / vc with Eret 3:21:47 “What if you built a slightly larger throne next to it?” / “How are they paranoid of a mole but the guy with a track record of being a traitor gets no questions asked” 3:25:47 “I’m gonna place a block at the bottom & kill you instantly” / reverse mlg / emerald rich even with Tubbo’s theft 3:27:57 “I’ll allow it” / upstairs chests robbed / Eret disconnects with the book 3:32:04 armor sabotage bc he thought it’d be 1v5 / crystals are mutually assured destruction / Wilbur afraid of tnt getting blown up early 3:34:11 the diary was actually Eret’s / “He’s gonna tell everyone who I have a crush on. Nooo” / reading the 100 page book / “Can I not win here?” “No” 3:40:14 “This stream has released more serotonin in my brain than the last 6 months combined” / revolution was overcrowded / could improve the crater 2:43:09 “Awkward ten minute period where I’m just sitting there watching them set up a new government but I can’t kill them yet” / Carl is missing 3:44:34 “The one time Technoblade is gonna roleplay & they talk over him” / “CARL” / “As long as Sapnap isn’t the one that took him there’ll still be hope” 3:46:10 “Once you start using end crystals it’s the only pvp that matters & end crystal pvp is so lame” / Webtoons 3:49:10 “What’s going to happen to you & WIlbur now?” “I don’t know, I think I’m chill with Wilbur” / “The only thing that changed is my voice. Zero personal growth” / lines from the first speech that got interrupted / “King George is trending booo” 3:52:00 1 million twitter followers / “O god it’s been four hours...I am not built for this” / did a 13 hour stream once / sub growth goals 3:56:30 “What the heck is Phil watching”

#technoblade #technoblade timestamps #THE REVOLUTION (dream SMP)#dream smp

25 notes · View notes

ardentprose · 5 years ago

Text

College Boyfriend: Jungkook

Warnings: language, suggestive/sexual themes, boyfriend jungkook

Dating college-aged Jungkook...

Would be annoying as hell

he’s the type to piss you off whenever he’s bored

which happens alot because this boy. does. NOT. study.

which is stressful for you because at exactly 1 am every night he comes to you with his dumb shit-eating grin and his mint textbook because he never uses it

and begs you with not even a morsel of regret because he knows you’ll help him

otherwise how will you two graduate on time to move to the city together?? that rent will not be paid on one income

“baaaabe. what’s on the exam tomorrow?”

“Wow, i’m shocked you even knew there was an exam this time.”

“TaeTae just quit our game so he could go study and now i’m bored”

if you simply rolled your eyes and kept typing away at your paper he would drop his textbook loudly on the edge of your desk or if you’re in bed on your legs without hesitation

earning your death glare that does not phase him

he snakes his rock-hard arms around your tummy and nuzzles his face into your neck, his hair tickling your cheek and blinding you in your right eye

“pleasssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”

“ALRIGHT BUT THIS IS THE LAST TIME!”

alas

it was not the last time

bored jungkook would show up at your dormitory on the daily and you’d know because either

all the girls get real giggly out of nowhere

or he’s brought his entire squad and even the RAs are swooning over the seven boys clearly breaking the rules by being present in a girls’ dorm

he would never knock but just shout until you heard him through the door and your headphones

but of course your neighbors didn’t care

sometimes they’d even answer their doors first and by the time you let jungkook in he was already waist-deep in ranting about a battle gone wrong on league of legends and the regret in the girl’s eyes caused you to take pity rather than get jealous

he was Never allowed to bring all the boys in your pathetically small room so they would either scatter and explore this sacred paradise or line up obediently in the hallway, winking at the girls as they passed

bored jungkook lays his stinky feet on your thighs after working in the gym

he shakes the sweat from his hair onto you and will offer you his shirt and as soon as you turn your head, sometimes accepting the shirt blindly, he’s cackling as you hurtle the dead-cat smelling shirt across your room

bored jungkook will make up names inspired by his twitter feed and call you each one until you laugh or smack his closest body part

“babe. baby girl. bae. my boo. main chick. girl with the good hair who’s not becky because i only love you. mamacita. miss thicc. my skinny legend. sweetheart. brat (that’s YOU, jungkook). my ult bia AND my bias wrecker. my all-kill. yummy yumm- (NO!)

but sometimes bored jungkook was really sweet

there were times he was exhausted of his testosterone flooded environment and texted you in the most polite millennial format you had ever seen

“can we netflix and chill but like really just chill?”

baby boi jungkook is activated as soon as you reply ‘yes’

he shows up with a blanket and a hoodie he’s wearing but its for you because he would rather be shirtless and snuggling you under the blanket’s heat

and of course he brings exclusive “Y/N and Me snacks” from his many shelves of Jungkook Snacks

no lie he punched jin in the face because jin ate your favorite oreos and jungkook had saved up to buy those

okay so he accidentally hit jin while wrestling them out of his grip

you greet him with a kiss on each cheek and his eyes become adoring stars as he literally follows you around your room. he stands at the bathroom entrance and watches you get ready for bed. he waits patiently by the bed as you clear it of your study materials

you set everything up he strips his hoodie off and hands it to you

his arms again around your waist and this time he keeps his hair in a bun so it doesn’t tickle your nose and make you sneeze even tho your sneezes make him giggle

he kisses your lips at least four times while you surf netflix not offering suggestions because he only wants to watch anime or whatever you wanna watch

his love for romantic korean dramas started with you which is funny seeing as he’s had an entire lifetime to watch these with taehyung repeatedly recommending them

tae is not happy that it took a girl to convince jk to sit down and watch Boys Over Flowers

or even Strong Woman Do Bong Soon which was made for jungkook like c’mon-

and if a couple breaks up on screen, fighting and screaming he instinctively grips you tighter and presses his lips against the pulse in your neck for comfort and assurance

his wide doe eyes are glassy as they fight but they absolutely flood when the couple makes up

jk will whip his head into the hood behind your head and hide his tears while you stroke his forearm and interlace your fingers with his

most nights jungkook falls asleep on your shoulder before the first episode ends

some nights the first ten minutes have barely passed before you realize soft boi jungkook was a ruse and his hands are up his sweatshirt on your torso, cupping your boobs and mouthing at your neck and

dang nabbit you’ve been bamboozled AGAIN

but fuck is it hot the way his teeth pull the skin on your neck, going back in to suck on it and repeat the process until red blooms like an abstract necklace

and if you’re too lost in the feeling of his fingers circling your skin leaving traces of fire he’ll remove one hand and cup your cheek turning your jaw to interlock with his

thus a makeout session ensues

at some point you’re pulling the hair tie from his head and weaving your fingers through the wavy thick strands, moaning at that sensation alone

but your roommate usually comes in before you get very far

or annoying jungkook returns and he pulls away breathless but a smirk flashing on his lips as he glances over your shoulder

“its curfew...gotta go”

jungkook is actually very smart and very talented

like the best in his film production class AND his art studies class AND best athlete on the football team

he would be best dancer but hoseok claimed that title and jungkook has made it his personal mission to surpass the dancing legend before either of them graduate

he always holds your hand while walking to class

runs up and snatches your hand, kissing your cheek in greeting

uses your interlocked hands to pull your arm around his shoulder, cup your waist and kiss you for good luck before your test

always leaves his friends to come say hi

uses his extra college-given bucks to buy you a coffee or a meal in the cafeteria if you forgot your money

lets you use him as a chair if all the seats in the library are taken or even if they’re not and plays with your hair with one hand, phone in the other while you study for the both of you

everyone on campus knows jungkook is top of the line but everyone on campus thinks you’re top tier for wooing the man

that annoying student who guesses the answer and gets it right

if namjoon can hate another human being it’s jungkook in philosophy spouting off A-class bullshit and getting praise from the teacher

then having the audacity to ask for namjoon’s notes

college boyfriend jungkook may be your typical jock in physique but his heart is kind and protective and he knows how to balance time with his friends and time with you

well no thats a lie

he spends 99% of his time loving you

#jungkook x reader #jk x reader #jk x you #jk x y/n #college boyfriend jk #boyfriend jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook cute scenarios #jungkook cute #jungkook fluff

320 notes · View notes

cxmetery-gates · 4 years ago

Text

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER TWO: FOR THE FIRST TIME

SUMMARY: Lynn meets the attractive English teacher, Mr. Tom Hiddleston. WORD COUNT: 3.1k NOTE: it’s 3:00 am but I don’t have a sleep schedule. Enjoy! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

INSIDE IS HAVOC.

For some idiotic reason, most students somehow forget what classes they signed up for three months ago or lost their schedules (I still wonder how that happens) and thus, the front office is a mess of students asking for theirs, the lines bleeding out into the hall. Given this, getting around to head to the commons will be a mission in and of itself. I'm not hating on all of them. As a freshman I was in the same place, my shaky hands and nervously stuttering voice mirroring the kids that smell brand new. Hopefully, to avoid this debacle again, they'll write the classes down. I guarantee the already exhausted looking receptionists would agree.

I almost want to tell the small, thin girl who wrings her hands 'good luck' but I guarantee she'd faint by the time I open my mouth. Instead, Ellie and I keep walking past the crowd. Poor souls.

It takes a minute or so to reach the commons, the booming echoes of chatting teenagers on their first day back is a sound like no other. The voices create a paved path any newcomer could easily follow. It dawns on me now that this will be the last time I'll hear this sound. I solemnly smile.

"I'm telling you, Dunmer is the better race."

"Only an idiot would spew such ignorant bullshit! Everyone knows Khajiit are the superior race!"

"Says the guy who could pass as a furry."

My eyebrows raise once the familiar voices are heard. Of course, they sit alone and look as normal as ever. My heart dips into my stomach when one of the two glances up and bashfully raises a hand to wave. In his awkward state, his hand barely moves.

Ellie is the first to speak. "What are you guys fighting about now?"

The boy with the long black hair speaks first. "Dumbass over here thinks Dark Elves are the best characters in Skyrim." Gabriel Ahoka is one of the oldest friends I have and if there's anything I've learned from him, it's that he's right the majority of the time. Oh, and he has beautiful hair.

"Because I'm right!" I take a seat next to the self-proclaimed judge. His name is River Adams, and I think I've been in love with him since he told me I reminded him of Hermione Granger back in the fourth grade. I smile in his direction then tuck some hair behind my ear. A nervous twitch that doesn't get past Ellie's ever watchful eyes. I refuse to acknowledge her small smirk. Instead, we both join in on the two dorks' conversation.

Ellie rolls her big brown eyes at them. "I don't see what the fuss is about. You guys take your games too seriously."

Both River and Gabriel audibly gasp at her comment.

"Fine," Gabriel huffs looking in my direction. "What about you, Lynn-ykinz?"

I don't visibly react to his nickname. It's something I've been called for years now. Though I'd like to agree with River, it's something I can't do. "Dunmers—"

"Ha!"

"— are for pussies."

"Ha!" This laugh comes from the boy sitting across from me. Beside me, River makes a small "oh" and lowers his raised fists, his hooray coming to a short and final end. I chuckle at his reaction as I pass Gabriel a solid high five.

"What are your guys' schedules?" River asks a tiny bit of gloom and annoyance coating his words.

Fortunately, most of us are in similar classes and only have to be here for a little over half the day. Due to all of us sticking to the scheduling plan, we all were able to get almost all our required course and electives done. Instead of having seven classes in one day, we all have five. By the time lunch rolls around, we're free the rest of the afternoon, meaning much longer DND matches with the nerds and more gossip and jam times with the only other female in our group.

"So meet up at the library for lunch?" I confirm once more as the morning bell rings, signally to all the student and staff that the first day is about to begin. The three people around me reply in agreement, and we head out. For the first hour of the day as well as the last, we're in different places. I'm not sure where the others are going, but I begin my journey to the library, one of my all-time favorite places.

I walk through the doors and slide over the counter, careful not to be seen but not careful enough. I plop in my seat at the front desk as someone walks up behind me.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you to go through the gate. It's literally five feet away, Lynn!" I send a humored smile to the woman walking behind me, a rather large stack of books in her arms.

I stand up and begin taking ones off the top. "Five feet of unnecessary effort, in my opinion."

"And playing parkour in the library is?" Mrs. Gibbons says, deadpanning.

"To each their own."

She sighs but then laughs. "How was your summer, kid?"

"Pretty decent." I now have half the stack in my arms, and I follow behind her. "My mom and I went to Arizona for a few days and then Seattle for a week. We didn't have much time, but we drove through somewhere in Canada on the way back just because."

Mrs. Gibbons sets the books down on a cart where there are a couple of rows on the bottom already filled. Taking her lead, I lower my stack to the opposite side and begin placing them side by side. I presume these are outdated and to be sold or given away. "What's in Arizona and Seattle?"

A smile hits my face immediately. "There's a college in Flagstaff with a great writing program. I went on a day trip around the campus. And Seattle is just someplace we wanted to visit."

"That's so good to hear, hon! Are you considering?"

I lean back against the counter right behind me as my mentor continues to shelve books. "It's a little far."

Turning to face me, Mrs. Gibbons send me a confused stare. "I thought you wanted to get away from this god-forsaken state?"

She's right. All I've wanted since my father left was to get out of Missouri (or Misery, if anyone's asking). My mom and I left Maine a long time ago go escape unimaginable horrors, but I wasn't expecting those nightmares to follow me here. The move was negligent in getting us away from memories a selfish prick poisoned and to start new somewhere far away, where no one knows me as the girl with a deadbeat dad. In this small town, everyone knows everything. I'd like to escape, to be a complete stranger to everyone.

But Arizona is a couple of thousand miles away from the place I grew up in, my home. I feel incredibly guilty about considering a college so far away from the woman who has taken care of me on her own since I entered elementary school, who has taught me that voicing my opinion and being honest is valued more than timidity and who told me that no man should ever keep a thumb on me. The other influencers in my life are also staying around here. Ellie has been accepted in a very pretentious private school for the Fine Arts a couple of cities over while River and Gabe are thinking about community college before making the jump into university. While solitude and adventures are what I crave, everyone who keeps my sanity in control is here.

I sigh, crossing my arms. "I do, but... I'm just not sure what I really want. Like, I would kill to get out of here, but what if everywhere is worse?"

"Trust me; there's nowhere worse than southwest Missouri, hon."

Again, she has a point.

I hum in response. There a brief moment of silence as we shelve old, dusty books. "So how was your summer?"

Mrs. Gibbons smile kindly, fawning over memories I doubt. "Richie took two weeks off, and we went Fiji. It was so beautiful. The water is clear, the people are wonderful, and the food– oh my God, the food." I secretly have a small thing for Richard Gibbons, or, as his wife calls him, Richie. This "thing" isn't a crush or infatuation by any means, but when he walks into the library on random occasions, he has a natural gift to swoon anyone he encounters. I've unfortunately fallen victim to his charisma a few times. He's an image of the wealthy 1930's businessman with modern values and beliefs weaved in his fine suits. Mr. Gibbons might be my mother's age, or possibly older, but I have to say, Mrs. Gibbons is quite the lucky woman.

I chuckle at her. "I'm sometimes surprised you haven't filed for early retirement."

"Richie makes quite the cash, but how and I supposed to entertain myself when he's gone ten hours a day and then for weeks on end?" Mrs. Gibbons pauses and looks around her library, then back to me. The growing crows feet wrinkle into a smile. "And besides, I can't leave my favorite kids behind, now can I?"

"I guess you can't," I reply.

Ten minutes later, I'm back at my desk. Well, technically mine, Mrs. Gibbons, and the other kid who helps out during school hours. I've never met them, so I'm not sure who exactly they are. Anyway, the "desk" is a long bar that has a foot-high wall that stretches all the way down to the ends, creating a divider between my computer and a student or faculty member. The top of this divider is flat, forming a plane in which books or arms can be set on. Most of the time, books scatter the top, but since it's the first day, the library is not only spotlessly clean but deadly empty.

That is until someone catches my attention. Sitting at the far side of the desk, I'm able to see who is coming a mile before he steps through the open library doors. This time was no different.

With long, lean legs and a towering height walks in none other than Mr. Tom Hiddleston.

Easily being the hottest teacher of all time, I feel a blush beginning to creep up my cheeks just at the mere sight of him. Apart from his 6'2 figure, he sports tame yet still curly reddish-brown hair, divine enough for the gods, if he isn't one already. Mr. Hiddleston's cheekbones and jawline remind me of razors, which I would feel honored to be cut by. However, his eyes are a color I can't pick out. Because I've never been in close proximity, my guess, from my distance, is green, or maybe blue. The ambiguity makes him all the more interesting. I wonder if he has some long-distance vibe because as soon as I look up to see him, Mrs. Gibbons is right out front— and missing her cardigan. I raise my brows at her from the swivel chair, but her eyes are focused down and away from me. Elbowing her slightly, I nod once, doing a run over of her exposed arms and a little cleavage. Jokingly, she swats my arms and blushes scarlet. I begin to laugh, somehow holding most in when Mr. Hiddleston walks in.

"Hello, Ruby," he smiles softly. As if he wasn't attractive enough, the man has a damn British accent. It's almost as if he's trying to stick out among the hicks. "It's good to see you. How was your summer, darling?"

If her fingers weren't wrapped around the edge of the desk, I guarantee she would have fallen over. Honestly, I would have done the same. "Absolutely marvelous! Fiji is a beautiful place. I imagine you would like it there."

I make the snarky note that she left her husband out of the conversation. Thinking about it, I try to glance over at her left hand to check if anything is missing.

Zoning out the best I could, I file through the library's emails and begin writing down books teachers are requesting. Like usual, the freshmen English teachers ask for The Great Gatsby, and the sophomore teachers need 1984. Due to being taught-in-class books, I scoot back in my chair to make a beeline to the back room and take the note with me, the sticky top staying attached to my fingertips.

"Oh, Lynn?" I hear Mrs. Gibbons call out.

I just entered the back room, so I comically poked my head out. "You called?"

I seem to humor both parties, a smile etched on their face. "Could you get the copies of Of Mice and Men?" My vision glances over to the teacher behind the desk for a short moment. His tall frame leans on the counter, arms crossed on the platform, apparently indicating familiarity and comfort in the room. I catch his stare. I realize now his eyes are in fact blue.

Nodding, I duck back into the room, setting my sticky note to the side. During the time I have to gather the fifteen or so books, I allow my reddening cheeks to cool off by taking long breaths. "Don't be weird, Lynn," I whisper to myself, extending my arms out towards the collection of novels. "He's just a hot teacher. Calm yourself."

Finishing the stack, I wrap my arms around the tower, huffing as I do. I carefully whisk myself towards the open door, making a mental note to go back to my list.

Mrs. Gibbons and Mr. Hiddleston chat among themselves not too far from where I left. Now sitting in her swivel chair, typing away feverishly on her computer, and keeping a conversation going, the librarian doesn't notice my return, though the man across does. He nods in my direction. The simplest gesture is somehow insanely attractive. Mrs. Gibbons looks over her shoulder, sending me a smirk. "Oh, there you are! Thought I lost you."

I fake a small laugh. "I'm surprised I didn't; it's quite the mess back there," I tease, waddling over to the counter. "Where would you like 'em, boss?" I'm not sure who I would refer to, glancing once at Mr. Hiddleston, to Mrs. Gibbons, then back to the stack in my arms.

"Would you mind escorting me to my classroom? I tend to be clumsy at times." With a warm smile, Mr. Hiddleston glances down to Mrs. Gibbons, awaiting her approval.

At that moment, I'm not sure if I would love or hate to go. On the one hand, I get to spend time with Mr. Hiddleston, every horny teenager's dream. On the other, I'm alone with Mr. Hiddleston, someone I've never had a conversation with let alone a 'hello' until minutes ago. Knowing my luck, I will somehow embarrass myself in front of him. It wouldn't be the end of the world since I don't have any of his classes nor do I have classes near his, but God I would feel like a fool for the rest of my life.

But, hey, he's something pretty to look at.

"Yeah, I don't mind. Is that okay, Mrs. Gibbons? I promise I won't bail on you," I say.

The librarian nods her head, fixing her glasses. "Of course, go right ahead! There isn't much to do now anyway. Just make sure you're back before the bell rings."

"Don't worry, Ruby. I won't keep her long," Mr. Hiddleston reassures.

I wouldn't be opposed if you did, I think to myself. The comment makes me blush, even going to my ears. Some reasons how I could be kept late quickly flash by and I find myself wishing I had not taken Mr. Hiddleston's offer. With my skin still burning, I make my way around the front desk as he follows me on the other side. The gate is shut, and due to my arms being preoccupied, I realized I might have to swing it using my hip, nothing too abnormal. I helped out Mrs. Gibbons last year and would do the same thing when my arms were full. However, Mr. Hiddleston was not accustomed to my way of opening the gate. Just as I go to butt it, Mr. Hiddleston reaches out. In an awkward exchange, Mr. Hiddleston's hand, which was aiming to wrap around the gate, collides on my hip instead.

It's nothing terribly exciting but enough to get a gasp and a jealous exchange from Ellie, and damn right I'll take that.

He pauses barely a second before quickly retracting his arm to his side. A blush of the same shade of scarlet cover our cheeks, an awkward laugh bubbling out.

"I'm sorry," I shyly push out.

Shaking his head, now making sure his hand is on the gate, Mr. Hiddleston bashfully looks down and opens up the exit for me. "Don't be, love. It was my fault."

"If you want to be the culprit, be my guest," I reply sassily. I don't want to see if my comment amused him or caused a cringe, so I don't look up. Instead, I look around for something to make our trip easier. "Did you want me to get a cart instead of carrying them up? It's up to you."

Shrugging, Mr. Hiddleston begins taking books from the stack, leaving me with less than half. "I don't mind walking if you don't mind. I missed my morning jog, so I'm trying to compromise the best I can."

I nod and kindly smile, even though my insides and my weak muscles are upset I took on the mission. "Walking it is then. Lead the way!"

Mr. Hiddleston turns on his heel, passing a smile to Mrs. Gibbons. "Thank you for letting me steal your little helper."

"Just return her the way she's leaving," Mrs. Gibbons retorts.

"We'll see," he replies, sending me a smirk and a wink. If the man wanted to turn my knees into jelly, he already succeeded from the first introduction. Now he's just teasing my flustered heart. "Just this way, love," Mr. Hiddleston tells me. I'm too afraid to speak, so I nod, smile, and follow beside him up the staircase.

#obsessive teachings #dark!tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fanfiction #teacher!tom hiddleston #loki #high school #stalking #obsessed love #obsessive #dark!fic

13 notes · View notes

oldadastra · 5 years ago

Text

Letter to Lucasfilm

So, I’ve written a letter to Lucasfilm. It could be better, but this is what came out this afternoon. I hope others who are writing will share what they are putting into the mail. I was trying to be concise, but it still ran to several pages. Find it in its entirety below the cut:

***

Lucasfilm, Ltd. Attn: Fan Mail PO Box 29901 San Francisco, CA 94129-0901

December 30, 2019

Lucasfilm/Disney:

I am writing to express my anger, shock, disappointment and deep sadness with the final installment of the Star Wars saga, Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker.

I was ten in 1977 when the original film was released and have loved Star Wars ever since. I was thrilled by the reopening of the saga in The Force Awakens, and delighted by the excellent script, rich visual storytelling, nuanced character development, and thematic direction of Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi.

Disney took on a sacred trust when it acquired Lucasfilm. Star Wars is deeply important to many people, and if you couldn’t do justice to the characters and themes of the saga, I’d argue that you had no business being involved in these stories. There is so much Disney/Lucasfilm got wrong in Rise of Skywalker, I’m struggling to gather my thoughts or express them coherently, but here goes:

Ben Solo. You created the most compelling character in the new trilogy by destroying the happy ending of the original trilogy. I was willing to go along on the ride Abrams and Kasdan began in The Force Awakens, because the fate of Ben Solo felt like it mattered. The questions raised in the new films: the nature of good and evil, the degree to which one’s family legacy defines a person, whether a one can atone for past sins; all of it felt alive and urgent in the person of Ben, a character I loved like one of my own children from the moment we so traumatically met him in The Force Awakens. His story was the beating heart of the new trilogy. His story is the one that mattered. His life was the one to be saved.

Ben solo was never an exposition device, cool villain, or disposable baddie to me. He was Han and Leia’s only child; loved, targeted, broken, lost.

The Rise of Skywalker redeems Ben Solo in the final act of the film, only to destroy him. Was it always your plan to kill the last Skywalker in the final installment of this story, to render the overarching message of all nine films as tragedy? If so, I wish I’d known this was your intent; I would never have engaged with these stories and made an emotional investment in them. If tragedy was your goal, that was certainly your choice to make, but I’d argue that you owed it to the audience and the cast to do a better job of it.

For example: You give us evidence that Han and Leia’s child was targeted by evil old men from before his birth. It’s a disturbingly explicit allegory of grooming and child abuse.

You give Ben Solo a backstory which implies he is guilty of vile, Anakin-style crimes against other young people, coding him as a school shooter, and then chose to exonerate him of this crime in a comic book, where the general audience will never know he was innocent. It’s a form of character assassination.

You consigned Ben Solo to the darkness for almost the entirety of three films, then denied him his voice in the final acts of his own story. “Ow?” The only words the redeemed Ben Solo will ever speak. Apalling.

You brought back Palpatine for this film (arguably rendering the message of the first six films meaningless), identified the Emperor as Ben’s tormentor all along, then denied Ben the opportunity to fight his enemy in the final act of the film. Rise of Skywalker literally throws Ben Solo into a pit, and forces him to climb out alone and unaided while Rey is whispered to by “all the jedi,” offering her words of encouragement. It’s grotesque.

I’m getting lost in rage and sadness again here, so let me just say that even if you inexplicably didn’t care about the last Skywalker in the Skywalker saga, you have done a grave disservice to Adam Driver in your treatment of his character in this these films. Perhaps you’ve heard of Driver’s non-profit organization, Arts in the Armed Forces? He’s deeply committed to the importance of stories as a way to make meaning out of the inexpressible. Did he really sign on to this project thinking that the final message of his character would be to say that even if you are able to come back from the darkness, your final act must be to die? That imperfect children don’t deserve compassion, forgiveness, life? You owe Mr. Driver an apology, but you can never really atone for what you’ve done to him.

You ended a nine-film, forty-two year saga with all the Skywalkers dead, and a Palpatine the last one standing. You spent three films tormenting Han and Leia’s child, only to kill him in the final act. What you did to Ben Solo (and frankly to us, who loved him) feels more like a horror story than anything else. In my dreams, I walk right into your offices and flip over tables.

There’s a lot more I could accuse Rise of Skywalker of bungling, but I assume you are hearing this feedback from others besides me, so I will summarize:

Rey Palpatine. Was is all about the midiclorians after all? By making her Palpatine’s granddaughter, you deny Rey everything that made her special; you deny her agency, and you negate the beautiful message I thought you were trying to communicate in the first two films with Rey Nobody: that the force belongs to us all, and that anyone can be a hero

The erasure of Rose Tico. It’s difficult to interpret this as anything but a capitulation to a loud, racist, and misogynist element of the fandom. It’s a very bad look, Disney. Please pay attention to the message you are sending.

Character development in general and a truly horrible ending: Rey goes back into her child-like costume, Ben Solo spent much of the film forced back into his stupid mask. Ben disappears at the end with no one to mourn him. Rey ends the film alone in a desert wasteland.

Rise of Skywalker is the most bleak, hopeless, and depressing Star Wars film ever made. As days go by, it’s becoming clear that it was also poorly written and edited. These stories matter to us, and we pay close attention to them. Disrespect us at your peril.

I don’t expect anyone will ever read this missive, or care at all about what an old shepherd on a mountainside thought about the execution of your multi-billion dollar movies. This is a personal exercise in catharsis as much as anything.

But here are a few notes in a language you might understand. I made some quick calculations about how much money I’ve spent on Star Wars over the past four years, and I’m sharing that with you now.

Movie tickets: I’m one of those people who sees movies I love more than once (I saw Empire Strikes Back eighty-one times in the theater!). I saw The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi at least ten times each. I’m not counting the cost of tickets for my extended family, whom I brought along to a number of screenings, or tickets for birthday party guests we treated to these movies. My teenaged daughter came along for all the screenings I am including, so I calculate I spent about $360 on tickets. We also bought tickets to Rogue One and Solo, so it was actually more, but you get the idea.

Books, tie-ins, DVDs, merchandise: I invested in The Art of the Force Awakens and The Art of the Last Jedi books, as well as at least one SW Visual Dictionary. I bought DVDs of the films of course, and CDs of John Williams’ beautiful scores. I bought and read a number of books; Boodline and the Leia novel, The Force Awakens novelization and Junior novelization, Aftermath, and a couple others whose titles escape me. At least seven action figures. Toy light sabers for me and my daughter. Posters. T Shirts. I know I’m not remembering everything, but it adds up to an expenditure of at least $347 in books and other Star Wars merchandise.

Star Wars Celebration: I splurged on passes for my daughter and I to attend Star Wars Celebration in Chicago this past spring. It cost me about $400, and a last-minute family emergency meant we were unable to attend, but the tickets were non-refundable, so it was money I spent on Star Wars nonetheless.

Total: $1,107

A laughably small amount to you guys, I’m sure. Perhaps a contrast is useful:

Total amount I have spent (tickets for my daughter and I on opening night) on Rise of Skywalker: $22.

Total amount I plan to spend on Disney Lucasfilm merchandise in the future: $0

I invested quite a lot of my time in Star Wars over the past four years. I’ve written thousands of words in essays, appreciations and analyses (mostly on Tumblr), where I amassed a modest following of just over a thousand people. I’m sure I occasionally bored my friends and family by going on and on about Star Wars. This kind of ‘work’ has no dollar value of course. I will say that it was great fun while it lasted, though I feel foolish in retrospect, remembering all the times I came to your defense, arguing that the saga was in good hands, that you had a plan; that you were going to tell a good story.

Sadly, I don’t think you can fix the damage you’ve done to the Galaxy Far Far Away with The Rise of Skywalker. You made this film, made your choices, and put it out into the world. I have no control over where you go from here, but as a person who has loved Star Wars since I was a child, I beg you to take some time to reflect before making another Star Wars film.

You’ve broken so many hearts. Mine was one.

Andrea ____

...my full name and address, blah blah, I live in Vermont

#letters to lucasfilm #Lucasfilm #tros #reylo #ben solo #tros grief #hit them in the wallet #disney lucasfilm

278 notes · View notes

neriad13 · 4 years ago

Text

Favorite Media of 2020!

There was a large swathe of this year during which I was unable to concentrate on reading (as there probably was for a lot of other typically-frequent readers), so, as a result, I ended up listening to way more podcasts and watching way more TV shows. Not a bad thing, but boy did I read way less books than usual.

However, for the first time in a while, the amount of fiction I read was about equal with the amount of nonfiction I read. Last year’s reading resolution was to read more fiction, so...success??

I did read a lot of phenomenal fiction when I had the energy to do so this year.

Books - Fiction

The Martian - Andy Weir

This book is the hardest of the hard sci fi I think I’ve ever read. Every single aspect of it is minutely researched and calculated. The author literally wrote equations to write this book. The science is insanely impressive and yet...it never loses its sense of humor or humanity in the mix. In fact, they’re the thing that drives the entire story.

Warlock Holmes - G. S. Denning

Way early in the year I was strolling down the fantasy aisle at the library, when this cover caught my eye. I took one look at it, went “oh, this looks silly” and...proceeded to devour the entire series in a matter of weeks.

It is very silly. Especially when it’s pointing out something that was silly in the original. There’s something so satisfying about Watson immediately answering Holmes with the correct number of steps in their flat when he’s trying to make his point about how most people don’t pay attention to things like that.

World War Z - Max Brooks

Every single scenario in here could easily support an entire book. A park ranger whose job it is to contain the yearly zombie spring thaw? HECK YES. I’d read tens of thousands of words about that. A Chinese admiral who defaults, steals the government’s premier submarine, loads it up with the families of his underlings and takes to the sea for years to live in the maritime economy that has sprung up in a world where everyone is trying to escape the shore? That could be an entire movie on its own.

Every chapter was more creative than the last and as a huge worldbuilding fan, this book was so, so fun.

An Unkindness of Ghosts - Rivers Solomon

In which a queer, neurodivergent protagonist solves a mystery on a spaceship which is a microcosm of antebellum era politics! This had a beautiful, mysterious, wonder-inducing writing style and it was a joy to peer into the wildly differing minds of every single character.

Books - Nonfiction

Underland - Robert MacFarlane

In every chapter, the author visits a different hole. Basically.

It’s an exploration of caves, catacombs, mines, nuclear waste facilities and the hidden underbelly of every forest. It was fascinating. And fundamentally changed how I look at time.

Rejected Princesses - Jason Porath

After years of having enjoyed the web entries, I finally got my hands on the first book and was not disappointed.

There are the more entertaining entries, of course and the art is as charming as always, but what struck me the most were the more difficult stories. The deeper you go into this book, the more horrific it gets. The author does not hold back on the indignities suffered by the historical figures he writes about. It’s terrible...but also very, very illuminating.

The Gift of Fear - Gavin De Becker

This book - while maintaining all the essential information in it - could be pared down to one sentence in a sea of blank pages and that sentence would be: trust your instincts. End of story.

But in a world where instincts are either customarily suppressed or going haywire, it’s not quite that easy, which is why I’m glad there is more to the book.

I picked it up thinking “ha ha, betcha can’t help a person with anxiety who fears all the time already” and...what it actually ended up doing was giving me the tools to differentiate between real fear and unfounded fear. And did help with the anxiety quite a bit.

Fanfiction

Watch Over Me - cakeisatruth

A Bioshock fic from the point of view of a little sister who is learning how to trust and be an ordinary child again. Dark and sweet. An excellent combo.

All That is Visible - Ultima_Thule

An exploration of a minor character in a well researched historical context? That’s my jam! How did they know?? A Tron fic about what it’s like to be a female programmer in the 70s.

Graphic Novels

The Adventure Zone - McElroys + Carey Pietsch

Yesssssssss! It was a running-to-the-library type event whenever my library got a new volume in. The jokes are so good, the art is so lively and the ways in which they added the details that the podcast couldn’t necessarily get across is *mwah*

Trail of Blood - Shuuzou Oshimi

Hoooooooly shit, the art style of this one!! It’s beautifully detailed and expressive, sure, but the real draw for me was how it changes with the emotional state of the main character. There’s this sequence in which he’s consumed with anxiety at school and all of his classmates become blurry and unfocused, until they can’t be recognized as humans at all, that particularly sticks with me.

It’s a horror story about a kid who witnesses his loving mother push his cousin off a cliff for seemingly no reason and is then obligated by her to keep the secret, which is eating him from the inside out. It’s so good, guys, please read it.

Level Up - Gene Lien Yang/Thien Pham

A story about a kid who is haunted by his late father’s desire for him to become a gastroenterologist. It’s funny and touching and the ending gave me what I can only describe as a feeling of exhilaration. Y’know that feeling when something unexpected but not out of left field, perfectly in tune with the narrative arc and gut bustingly funny happens, all in the same panel? That one.

Film

Searching

This is a fairly standard thriller about a dad trying to find out what happened to his missing daughter. It’s also found footage...but not in the usual way, which was what made it so compelling to me. It’s told through the dad’s phone calls, google searches, social media interactions, news footage, security cameras and webcams. It was such a cool way to tell a story.

Train to Busan

There’s a lot that’s already been said about this movie and I don’t think there’s much more I can meaningfully add to that. Suffice to say that ya gotta take care of each other if you’re going to survive a zombie apocalypse!!

TV Series

My Brother’s Husband

As close to a perfect adaptation as a person can get (barring the entire conversation in English which was...oof). I was so happy when they took it a step further and showed Kana and Yaichi actually getting to meet Mike’s family.

Zumbo’s Just Desserts

I watched a lot of baking shows this year. Like...a lot. They were my much-needed comfort viewing for the year and this one was my favorite, even over The Great British Baking Show (which I LOVE). Why? Because the pastry chef for whom it’s named makes such bizarre and wonderful desserts and fosters an environment in which the competitors do the same. I’ve never seen anything like a lot of the desserts that make an appearance on this show. Every single episode was an awesome surprise and so help me, this show had better get a third season.

She-ra and the Princesses of Power

There’s also a lot that’s been said about this one, so I won’t say much more. Suffice to say: DAMN. That’s how you do an 80s toy tie-in cartoon remake.

Infinity Train

This show’s premise is probably the most unique I’ve seen in recent years. Its balance of comedy, horror and existential dread is also *mwah* I also love how much it trusts the viewer to figure things out on their own.

Primal

A late entry sliding in before the year ends! I finally got to watch the second half of the first season last weekend and it was EXCELLENT. The pacing, the brutal fight scenes, the adorable dinosaur antics, the animation, the quiet moments - *mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah*

The most emotional moment for me was the part in which the protagonists watch, with sorrow, as the rabid dinosaur who’s been trying to kill them all night dies an excruciating death.

Also it sets up a fascinating new plotline right before ending in a cliffhanger!! Another one for the ‘had better get a next season’ list.

Games

Night in the Woods

This is one that’s been on my to play list for a few years and I was so glad I finally got my hands on it. It’s like...The Millennial Experience (TM), the game. I felt so seen, playing it. The character writing was fantastic.

Prey

I don’t know why I put off finishing this for so long. I guess I wasn’t in the right alien killing headspace for a while?? Anyway, the setting is gorgeous, the alien biology is weird and cool, the ethics are delightfully murky and the interconnectedness of the station was really cool, especially in the OH SHIT moments at the end.

Podcasts

The Adventure Zone

I tried to narrow this down to one favorite arc, but found that I couldn’t do it. I love Balance for its comedy and creative energy. I love Amnesty for its drama and acting. I am loving Graduation for the depth of its world and the way in which the real story behind everything that’s happened is slowly unfurling. It’s a good podcast all around.

The Magnus Archives

Who obsessively listened to every single season while playing Minecraft in about a month? Surely not me, nooooo. Of course not.

There’s also been a lot said on this one, so I’ll keep it brief. I’ve seen things in here that I haven’t really seen elsewhere in horror. My particular favorites were the creepy psychiatric hospital in which the horror comes not from the patients, but from the denial of the doctor to believe them about their mental illnesses and every single thing related to the Anthropocene. The one with the Amazonian village made out of trash - CHILLS.

#tma #taz #prey 2017 #night in the woods #infinity train #warlock holmes #she-ra #zumbo's just desserts #a thought

10 notes · View notes

cheeky-kookie · 5 years ago

Text

Off Key | M.Y.G.

Yoongi/Reader | Angst, Fluff, Slice of Life | Pianist!Yoongi x Harpist!Reader

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary: Dedicated to your own work, you thought the idea of interacting with anyone was a waste of valuable time and, even more so, a distraction. Yet, after an unfortunate run in with a classmate you find yourself offering up your own time in hopes that his talent doesn’t go wasted.

A/N: I didn’t expect this one to be so long but here I am. It took me forever to write this one in-between working and fighting a major dip in my creativity but here it is. I’m very happy with it and I hope you all like it!

Breathe.

His fingers lingered against the keys as he tried to bring himself to touch down onto them. His heart rate was through the roof, causing him to sweat more than he would have liked to in front of so many people. He has been working up to this moment for months now, but it was much easier said than done.

He liked to say he was a confident man, at least confident in himself, but with all eyes on him he felt himself shrink into a nervous wreck. A lot was riding on this and it wasn’t just his pride, but his future. That idea in itself felt suffocating. He let out a shaky breath.

Well, it was too late to run.

The arts, you find, tend to be a very competitive field of work. The farther you went to further your education the less and less friendly your classmates became as they slowly focused more on themselves and less on how to be a genuine human being. Granted, there were exceptions to the theory you formed in your mind, but you stand by it for the most part.

When the people you thought were your friends heard you got accepted into the school you’d been driving to get into since your decision to pursue music, they suddenly decided that you, in fact, were not their friend. It didn’t matter though because where the school was, you had to completely relocate your life. Losing some of the weight of back home actually helped the move feel less detrimental.

The jealousy and competitiveness didn’t seem to disappear even in a whole new city and school. You had told yourself not to care and to not get attached to people. You’ve become accustomed to the cold shoulders and snobby looks of the industry that you weren’t even officially in it yet.

It wasn’t like you didn’t try to make friends. You made a few good acquaintances since you had been there, but they only were part of your life when you or they wanted to go out and do something in the city. It was not safe to venture alone in such a largely populated space, so having those select few you could rely on was comforting. Though, you didn’t see much of them otherwise.

But what good was there to truly get close to someone? The idea of others brought into account a whole list of distractions to take you away from your classes and everything you worked hard on achieving. You gave up a lot to be here; you weren’t about to give this up too.

You clicked your pen, causing the tip to retract back into its home. The class you were currently in was just one of the many different music theory classes this particular school had to offer and one of the many you had to take for your studies. You had finished the notes and all you had left to do was wait until the professor to dismiss the class.

Everyone seemed fixated on the board still except for one. The man who sat across from you in the semi-circle had never really paid attention to the class since you had started taking it a few months prior. He always sat slouched back, pencil in hand. His attention entirely focused on whatever paper he was noting on. Even when called upon by the professor, he would mumble some kind of half-assed answer before running his hand through his almost white blonde hair and staring back at the paper in front of him. He interested you, only because you were unsure why he even chose the class if he didn’t have any intention of participating.

Soon enough, the professor released the class. You, like many others in the room, closed your notebook and started shoving it into your bag. When you looked up, the man you had your thoughts on briefly before was gone. Your mind had started to drift into other thoughts when your shoulder got lightly bumped into. You looked up and stared at the source.

“What are your plans for this afternoon?” Kira, the source of the bump, spoke. She wore a mischievous grin on her face like she was up to no good, which was a likely case. She was one of the few girls you had come to know over time, though you never really felt comfortable around her.

“I was going to see if I could fit in some practice before I headed home.” You answer, knowing she wanted you to join her somewhere tonight in the many bars that graced the streets of the city. You weren’t feeling quite up for it, at least not at the moment.

“Bummer,” She pouted, “If you decide you want to do something, you have my number.”

With that, she disappeared somewhere in the mass of people maneuvering through the halls. Some people made a beeline for the on-campus cafeteria. Some found a couch and literally started taking a nap to pass the time. You on the other hand, had no other classes to wait for and none of that was where you were aiming to go.

You wandered the halls until you found the section of the school where things always seemed to be quieter. If you listened closely, you could hear the sounds of different instruments and voices echoing out. Each door holding a unique sound within. The practice rooms were everyone’s safe havens. It’s where one could be alone with themselves and their music.

You stop, leaning your head against a door that seemed quiet. Even though you heard no sound you wanted to make sure that there was no one in there playing. Not hearing a thing, you opened the door and wandered in. This was one of the only practice rooms that had enough room to hold the bigger instruments. You were afraid you had left your own at your place, so you were hoping to borrow one of the school’s.

You rounded the corner of the room to find the room to be occupied and your eyes widened at the sight. It always felt like an invasion of privacy to walk in on someone practicing, but there was no sound being played. His back was turned enough that the man sitting at the piano couldn’t see you, but you could tell exactly who it was. The mess of blond hair on his head and the grey hoodie gave him all away.

You watched as his hands hovered over the keys like they had his whole life. It was obvious he knew how to play even without him pressing a note down. You watched as he licked his lips and started to play. It was a simple start, but it sounded beautiful. You knew you should have started to leave but the sound had you frozen in place, completely enthralled with what he was playing.

Then suddenly, the room echoed with a note that was like nails on the chalkboard. You felt even worse for staying as you watched him bang both of his hands on the keys, causing an array of noises to follow the misplayed key. He then grabbed the paper that was sitting in front of him, frustration oozing out of him. He pushed himself off the seat cursing and headed right toward his bag, shoving the folders and papers he had sitting out inside.

That’s when he looked up and his eyes found yours. Your breath hitched because you knew you had somehow found yourself midst a very personal moment. His eyes held such a fiery rage in them you were afraid to do anything so the only thing you found yourself doing was running out of the room. You decided that you didn’t need to practice today and that drinks might sound at lot better than they did a half hour ago.

A week had passed since you had accidently walked in on that personal moment you tried so hard to forget. It was hard because you couldn’t help but replaying the melody he had played in your head. It was so simple but captivating. So, you were dreading heading into your music theory class hoping you wouldn’t be met with an icy glare.

The class went by antagonizing slow and for the first time since you started coming to this school you found yourself distracted in class. It was just hard to focus when you knew that the man across from you wasn’t paying attention to the sheet of paper he was writing on, but on you. It wasn’t a friendly gaze either, it was more of a dark glare. The kind of look that made you want to sink down into your seat and pretend you didn’t exist. You tried to busy yourself, but your eyes always wandered back in his direction.

For a minute, you let yourself wonder how such a beautiful, melodic sound came from a man with such an intimidating exterior but you had to remind yourself that just because someone doesn’t look or feel like the part doesn’t mean they aren’t it.

The hour and a half ticked by until there was around ten minutes left. The professor had left the projector on, letting the class finish taking notes. You had somehow focused yourself enough to be able to write everything down, considering. Just as you closed your notebook, the sound of your professor clearing his voice to get the classes attention filled the room. You looked up in his direction.

“I’ve been told to remind you all of the upcoming event that the school will be holding in the next few months,” His voice echoed through the room, “If you decide to do it, the concert will be an excellent way to get your name out into the field. Big names will be here. If I were you all, I’d attempt to try it out.”

As the professor dove into the little details of the concert event your eyes wandered away and landed on the man across from you. His whole attention had shifted from you, to the professor giving his speech. The contempt he had aimed in your direction washed away by what you could only describe as longing.

You weren’t sure why he wouldn’t take the opportunity. From what you remember of his piece he played in the practice room; it was beautiful. Longing shouldn’t be the look he should be giving the professor. Excitement should be coursing through his veins and electricity should be present in his eyes. But lo and behold the sadness that had set into his body. It confused you. It wasn’t necessarily your place to butt in and it would be against your nature to do so.

But even after the professor quit talking and class was dismissed, you found yourself preoccupied with your newfound curiosity. You looked up from shoving your notebooks back in your bag to see that he was still across from you doing the same thing. His icy demeanor changed into something more defeated.

You didn’t know why you were doing this to yourself but somehow, you found yourself out of your seat and standing in front of his. If he was aware of your presence, he didn’t make it known. He continued to shove his belongings into his bag. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. Your inner self was hating you at the moment.

“You should do it.” You said, breaking the silence.

He paused what he was doing briefly. You almost shied away at the wall you felt literally pushing you off, but you stood your ground. He sighed and mumbled something you couldn’t understand under his breath before continuing to zip his bag. Once his task was complete, he turned and looked up at you. The icy persona had covered him again like a mask. He raised an eyebrow.

“Should I?” He asked, not breaking eye contact with you. Sarcasm oozed from his voice and he obviously wasn’t asking it genuinely. Humor hung at the edge of his voice, like the idea you suggested it to him was hilarious. His glare not as intimidating as the other day now that you seen that he was in fact human.

“I know it’s not my place, but I know when someone is good at what they do. You are talented. It would be a pity to waste it.” You said, not breaking eye contact. You watched his eyes open slightly in shock, but it was quick. He didn’t let him slip for too long because a second later, his glare was back on his face.

You broke eye contact and adjusted your bag on your shoulder as you beelined towards the door to exit the lecture hall. You needed to wind down from whatever confrontation you had just experienced. You stormed into the direction of the practice rooms, determined to be able to get in one and borrow one of the school’s instruments.

Your eyes landed on the instrument of your choice. It was much larger than the one you owned. This was the iconic version everyone thinks of when they think of a harp; gigantic and golden. The instrument was graced with 46 strings which was a few more than the one you owned at home, but it was the same angelic sound you fell in love with when you first decided to pick up the instrument.

Sitting, you prepared yourself to play one of the few songs you knew from memory. You let your hands find the correct cords to pluck. You let yourself go, letting your hands move in the familiar pattern of the song. Just as you were about to play the part you loved; you heard the practice room door slam open.

Your attention was now focused on the direction of the door waiting for whoever entered to come into view. When the person who interrupted your practice came into view you really thought you would have been surprised, but you weren’t. If anything, more annoyed you were interrupted than anything else.

There standing in front of you, bag on shoulder and wearing a not too pleasant expression on his face was the messy haired blond from class.

“You do realize this room is taken right?” You asked, hands still about to pluck the strings in front of you.

“How about we just call it even for the last week.” He responded, dropping the bag that hung on his shoulder at his feet, kicking it toward one of the seats in the room.

Irritated, you slowly pushed the harp off of you, so it sat on the ground firmly once more. You then cocked your head to the side and eyed him down. You weren’t sure what he was doing here, and you weren’t sure if he was going to let you in on why he was. He did meet your stare though with his own. You weren’t sure what was lingering in his eyes, but it was different than any other time you locked eyes with one another.

“Look, I didn’t mean to walk in on you. I was going to leave but the song you were playing was so beautiful I kind of got distracted.” You admitted, coming to terms that your practice was fully interrupted, “Did you compose it?”

You seen him break eye contact before returning it, as if he was uncomfortable with the line of questioning. You didn’t blame him. It was a personal thing to ask but after seeing the meltdown he had after he played the wrong notes the other day, you decided that asking him personal questions didn’t necessarily bother you.

“Yeah,” He responded, his eyes breaking away from yours once again. At this point, it was hard to believe this was the same man who wouldn’t quit glaring at you in the classroom.

“For what its worth, I think it was a wonderful composition, well what I heard of it. For all I know, the ending could be bad or even worse, that note was actually in the piece.” You joked, hoping to ease whatever tension had formed around him.

You watched his reaction carefully knowing it was a risk to joke about someone’s work and, let alone, their failures. His eyes narrowed at you, and for a second you thought you had severely angered him. But a second look over you noticed the corner of his mouth had turned up ever so slightly into a tiny smirk.

“You’ll just have to keep wondering,” He replied, leaning down to pick up the bag he tossed on the floor moments earlier, “I just realized, I have somewhere to be.”

You raised an eyebrow at him as he began walking toward the door to exit the room. You weren’t expecting him to leave. You thought he had full intentions of driving you out of the room as revenge for the other day, but there he was leaving you there.

“Oh, and by the way,” He called back to you as he rounded the corner to the door, not once turning around to look back at you, “I respect talent and you have it.”

At that moment, you appreciated that he didn’t look before he left because you felt your face burn up at the complement. Shaking your head, you repositioned yourself with the harp and proceeded to go back to practicing in the quiet left behind.

The next week had kept you busy. For starters, your harp had a string that decided to break. It wasn’t like it was a hard thing to find. It was just an inconvenience to you. Honestly, playing your harp was sort of your escape from life. When you played you were able to just get lost in the music and think about nothing else.

Then you had about three essays due for a few of your classes. Again, not much of a hassle but time consuming. On top of that you also had Kira and the others begging you to come out every other night. You didn’t blame them because you hadn’t been out with them in a couple weeks, so you made time to go out with them once as well.

Sighing, you placed the paper due for your music theory class onto the professor’s desk. You hoped you did well enough. It wasn’t like you were failing the class, actually you had a high grade, but you didn’t want it to tank.

You felt another presence beside you and watched as another hand placed a stapled stack of papers on top of the ones you just set down. You looked up and met the eyes of the now sort of familiar man. The corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk at the sight of your widened eyes before heading to his usual spot. You peered down at his paper and found his name typed right where it should be.

Min Yoongi

You were closed off to the majority of people here and you only really concerned yourself with those who mattered. So, knowing the names of your classmates was not on the top of your to-do list but the circumstances of the past two weeks had you curious of him. Part of you cringed at the fact you went out of the way to learn his name, but what’s done was done.

You made your way back to your seat to await the arrival of your professor. He didn’t come in late often but today was one of those days. Just as your mind began to wander from what it should be focused on; the professor walked in and started the class.

Time seemed to tick by a bit longer than usual, which you chalked up to the already long week you had already. You found your eyes wondering to the man across from you. He had the weight of his head resting on his hand while he focused on whatever he was working on. Now that you knew he composed his own music, it made sense to you why he was always so absorbed with what was in front of him. He peered up meeting your eyes for a brief second before he looked back down at his work.

After a wait, class had ended, and you were packing up your things once again. You picked your bag off the ground and started shoving your notebook into it. Suddenly, you saw a piece of paper land on the table in front of you. On it was a music staff with notes scattered about it. You read it, noticing it was the piece you heard Min Yoongi play on the day when you walked in on him. You looked up, meeting his eyes.

“If you want me to do this, you’re playing the song for me.” He said.

You stood up, throwing your bag on one of your shoulders. Then you grabbed the music sheets from the table making sure to hold them lightly in your hands. You gave him a soft smile. His seemed completely composed but you could tell this was a lot for him to do.

“This is composed for a piano,” You said, starting to walk towards the door. He followed alongside you.

“I can tweak it,” He responded, like changing the whole entire thing wasn’t a lot of work.

You didn’t want to talk about this in front of everyone roaming the corridors. He seemed determined that he wanted you to perform his piece for everyone to see but you couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to perform his own. From what you could gather about his playing, he was a professional. Everything he did while he was at the piano screamed that he had done it for years. But when he messed up, his reaction afterwards wasn’t just frustration but pent up anger.

“I’m getting something to eat. Do you want to come?” You asked.

He agreed, so both of you went to the on-campus cafeteria. It was a large room filled with tables and people trying to buy some time before they needed to go to their next class or felt a surge of hunger within the day. You ordered a few things from the menu and he opted for a bag of chips and a bottle of water. You walked to a table tucked away from the main ruckus of the cafeteria so you knew the two of you wouldn’t be bothered.

He sat across from you, waiting for you to say something. You still had his composition in your hands, but you were in no way going to take it off his. This was his work and he should show it off. You took the sheets and placed them gently in front of him.

“This was made for a piano, as in, you need to play it.” You said, locking eyes with him.

“As I said, I can change it to be played by a harp.” He shrugged, ignoring the papers that were slid back in front of him. He opened the bottle of water he had sitting next to him and took a sip from it. He ignored the second attempt at your denial to play his work.

“I don’t understand why you don’t want to do this yourself. I barely know you. You barely know me. Hell, you don’t even know my name.” You said, popping a french fry into your mouth.

“I know your name,” He shrugged like knowing your name wasn’t a huge deal when neither of you had actually introduced yourselves to each other. He leaned back in his chair, “It’s Y/N, and do you really think I’d ask someone I don’t know at least the name of?”

You shook your head at him, “I’m not doing it. I’m sorry. You need to play your own work. I don’t feel right taking the performance credit on a song I didn’t write when the composer is talented enough to do it himself.”

His eyes searched yours and you wondered what he was looking for in them. You were being sincere. He was probably one of the most talented pianists you’ve met and that was saying a lot since you’ve been surrounded by musically proficient people since you decided this was where you wanted to go with your future.

“Min Yoongi,” His eyes widened at the mention of his name, “Why are you even here, in this school, if you aren’t going to do something with what you’re learning and accomplishing here? I’m only assuming you’re here because you like music and you’re good at it. To me it feels like you’re throwing your future away if you don’t do it yourself.”

You watched as he opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t look at you, but he focused his gaze on a wall somewhere to his right. Even with him avoiding your glance you could see he was going through something in his head because his eyes were muddied with emotion that his face wouldn’t register.

“You’re right,” He said, finally registering you again after a minute or two had passed by, “I just can’t seem to be able to play and I figured if you did it, it will still get out there.”

“You can play. I have seen you play,” you said, “I could help if you wanted but I’d understand if you don’t want my help.”

He sighed, “I feel like I’m beyond help at this point.”

“No one is beyond help, Yoongi.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, readjusting his crossed arms. He finally adverted his gaze away from the wall he was focused on and met your eyes. Emotion still hidden somewhere within them but you could tell he pushed it father back trying to lock it away.

He finally acknowledged the sheets in front of him. He recovered a folder from within his bag. You noticed that he had papers just shoved wherever they seemed to fit. Half of them crumpled and half of them bent where they shouldn’t be, but the music sheets went into the folder where he then shoved it back in his bag crumpling the stray papers even more. You found it endearing that they were the one thing he cared about within a bag full of disaster, but you weren’t going to say that.

“Meet me in the practice room tomorrow after classes are out. If we’re doing this, we have to get started as soon as possible because I’m going to be a lot of work.”

With that he was gone, leaving you to finish eating by yourself.

The next day seemed to drag on. The day wasn’t necessarily filled with classes you enjoyed, and you would gladly blame the boring classes rather than admit that you might have been slightly nervous to meet Min Yoongi after it was all done.

When your final class got dismissed, you packed your things up and left the room with slightly more haste than usual. When he had talked to you the day before he had never stated a time and you wondered whether his classes ran as late as yours or if he got out some time earlier and thought you might have ditched him.

It occurred to you though, once in the practice hall, he might not even show up. You slowed your pace at the realization that you rushing there might have been completely useless and a waste of time. You still proceeded to the room that you two seemed to keep running into each other which also was one of the only rooms that held a piano within its confines. You leaned against the door to listen in, to see if there was someone in there, but you heard nothing. Taking a deep breath, you entered the room.

Once around the corner of the practice room, you expected to see no one, but you were wrong. You were met with the back side of the man you were going to meet. He was positioned at the piano but in no way properly positioned. When he heard footsteps, he turned around on the stool. He gave a half assed smile and waved at you.

“How long have you been here?” You asked him. He shrugged before lifting his wrist and checking the watch that resided there.

“Maybe a half hour. I got let out of my class earlier than expected.”

You noted that he had no music sheets sitting in front of him and you wondered why exactly he had been sitting at the piano, but it wasn’t your business to ask. You moseyed your way over to the chairs positioned on the wall and set your bag down on it. You felt eyes on you, but you ignored it until you were done setting your things down. When you turned back around you met his eyes.

“I guess we should probably start with a song you’re comfortable with. Do you have one?” You asked, cocking your head to the side along with your question.

He leaned forward, placing his arms on his legs and interlocking his hands. He seemed to be deep in thought. You waited patiently for a response. When you did, it wasn’t vocalized. It was just a mere shrug of his shoulders and a distant stare focused somewhere other than you.

A sigh escaped your lips, “If you don’t work with me, you won’t get anywhere.”

Still you were met by a silence. When you offered your help, you weren’t aware that he was going to be this difficult. He hadn’t even touched the piano since you made your appearance into the room. Maybe you pushed him into something he didn’t want to do. You had to remind yourself he sought you out. You gave your opinion, but he did not need to reach out. He wanted this.

With another deep breath, you walked toward him and shoved his shoulder a bit causing his attention to return to you, “Will you move over? I’m trying to sit down.”

His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, but he moved over like you asked. When you settled into a spot next to him, he maneuvered his way back to facing the keys of the piano. He only did out of curiosity of what you were doing. You settled your hands against the keys.

“Do you know Heart and Soul?” You ask, starting to feel like you were talking to yourself. To your surprise, he answered you.

“Yeah,” He paused, “But it’s a duet. I used to play it when I was a child.”

You watched him tense up and look away focusing on the keys of the piano, but you chose to ignore it and continue with what you were talking about, “Okay, then let’s play it.”

“What did you say? You play piano?”

“I’ve dabbled in piano but in no way am I good at it,” You answered him and then turned your attention to him specifically, “Why did you think I made you move over?”

His response was a shrug, which you weren’t entirely surprised about. You only recently found out he communicates with words other than shrugging, glares and mumbles. So, him shutting down and not answering you didn’t necessarily bother you as much as you thought it might have.

In all honesty, you were amazed by him. When he prepared himself to play, it was like watching a whole different person take over. He straightened his back and placed his hands so delicately against the keys. His feet found the correct pedal he needed. You were so absorbed with his change in presentation you were thrown off guard when he turned his head and peered at you through his bangs that seemed to rest perfectly against his face.

“You ready?” He asked, you could hear the nerves in his voice.

“If I mess up, you can’t judge me.” You say to him.

He scoffed, “As long as you don’t judge me when I do.”

With that, the two of you began to play. He started with the lower end since he was seated on that side of the piano. You followed along, listening to how elegantly the notes seemed to flow from his end. Obviously, he knew a more advanced version than you ever dabbled in, but you figured the higher part would be pretty much the same. Just when you were about to play, a note was played that almost hurt to hear.

Yoongi slowly pulled his hands from the keys and you watched as he balled one of his own hands into a fist. He closed his eyes. You could tell he was calming himself down as well as beating himself up for the mistake. You wondered if he was restraining himself from a fit of rage, like the one you seen a few weeks ago.

“This is useless,” He said under his breath, letting his hand fall from a fit and his eyes open. You watched him shield away whatever vulnerability that was just shown.

“I’m sure you made mistake before, don’t beat yourself up over it. You said you learned it as a child, right? I’m sure you made mistakes then too. What would your mom had said to you?”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, tension settling back in his body, “Breathe, try again.”

“So, that’s what we do. We try again.”

A few weeks had gone by since you started trying to help Yoongi out of whatever funk he was in. The longer you spent time with him the more you realized that his inability to play wasn’t due to lack of practice or commitment, but something deeper. You still didn’t consider it your place to ask him, so you didn’t. Instead, you dealt with his mess ups and bullheadedness.

Whenever you tried to pry just a little bit, you got shut out. His attention would switch to anything else in the room besides you. So, you just decided not to try to dig into it anymore. There was progress made, for sure, but he still couldn’t get through a song. He seemed to get progressively more fed up with himself as he kept messing up songs he used to consider easy.

When he would get too mad at himself, sometimes you’d just leave him to cool off. He was good at controlling his anger for the most part. You would go find the harp and play until he was ready to play again. Part of you felt like listening to you play helped clear his head, or maybe you were imagining it. Either way, meeting up became a routine you both kept to.

Your interactions though barely existed outside the inside of the practice room. You two only shared one class and running into each other on the campus was rare to say the least. Even then, the two of you would just quietly acknowledge each other then continue on your way, not wanting to disrupt whatever the other was doing.

You were absorbed in your own thoughts while you waited in line at the cafeteria when a hand landed on your shoulder. You jumped, only to hear the familiar giggle of Kira next to you. You placed your hand on your beating heart and stared at her wide-eyed.

“You scared the crap out of me.” You told her, she continued to giggle.

“I didn’t mean to, swear,” She said, holding her hand up, “If you paid more attention to your surroundings you might have seen me coming. I waved to you like twice before I came over here.”

“Oh,” You said. You didn’t realize you were that into your own thoughts. You did have a ton going on in your life though, so you weren’t surprised.

“You haven’t been out with us in a while. What have you been up to?” She asked, stepping with you in line as you moved up slowly towards the counter.

You really couldn’t tell her that you had been avoiding her and the others because you were tucked away in the practice room with Min Yoongi. From what you gathered; he was a loner. You didn’t have many friends, but you weren’t even positive if he had any. He always seemed to be alone and you were positive that’s just how he liked things, which you understood. If you told Kira you were with him almost daily within the walls of the practice room, she would just assume the two of you were messing around. That was most definitely not what was happening, and you just knew he would hate it if that was spread around.

“Sorry, I’ve just been busy practicing per usual. I didn’t even realize it has been that long since we all went out together.” You lied, which stung, not because you lied to her but because you realized you hadn’t been practicing like you should have been.

“You deserve a night out. You have to come out the next time we decide to. I understand practicing as much as the next person, but you cannot let it consume you.” She said, reminding you that she too had an instrument she was dedicated to.

You nodded before turning to the lady working the counter and asking for your food. Then you proceeded to turn back around and look at Kira who had within that time ordered herself a drink and was sipping it through the straw.

“You’ll just have to let me know,” You said, sending her a small smile. She gave one back before deciding to disappear back within the crowd of the lunchroom.

Once you paid for your food, you proceeded to make your way away from the mass of people and to the other end of the building where the practice rooms were held. You found the usual room and for the first time in a few weeks, you heard the piano playing before opening the door. A smile graced your face as you rounded the corner.

Upon hearing the door swing open, Yoongi quit playing notes on the instrument in front of him and turned on the stool to see you walk in. He wondered why you held a smile on your face but he wasn’t going to ask. He did note that it was a nice change to see a smile than your usual focused expression.

“Took you long enough,” He joked, watching you walk to one of the chairs and set your bag down. You unzipped your bag and grabbed a bag of chips and a bottle of water and tossed it to blond positioned by the piano.

“Think fast,” You said as he indeed caught both the bag of chips and water in his hands, “And the line in the cafeteria was longer than I thought it would have been. Plus, Kira stopped me in line to talk to me.”

“Who?” He asked, a confused expression crossing his face.

You giggled, “I guess you wouldn’t know who she is. She’s someone I sometimes go out to the bars with.”

“So, some may call that a friend?” He said, a smirk playing on the corners of his mouth. He opened the bag of chips and ate one waiting for a response.

“I guess,” You shrugged, “But we barely ever talk outside of going out. Maybe an acquaintance is a better word for our relationship.”

“Maybe you should make some friends outside of me.” He said. His smirk didn’t weaver from his face as he watched your eyes widen and your mouth drop slightly at the sentence.

“Who even said I consider you a friend?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged, “I consider you one.”

You stopped and just looked at him. His smirk had dropped, and his eyes were focused on the lid of his water bottle that he kept unscrewing and screwing back. You felt guilt from cracking the joke you did at him and shook your head at yourself.

“I consider you one too,” You said, his eyes breaking away from his hands and looking at you. The corners of your mouth turned up as you decided to change the subject away from the current conversation, “Let’s get to practicing.”

Another week had passed and without much luck. The two of you had been spending about everyday after class trying to get him to play the song that he wrote without him messing it up.

With the competition closing in within the next couple months, you hoped to see some progress. And that you did. You were hearing parts of the song you never dreamed of hearing at the beginning, but something always seems to make him stumble. You could tell every time he did, he lost a little faith in being able to get the piece down.

You found yourself daydreaming in the middle of Music Theory, which wasn’t necessarily you. Being distracted wasn’t what you were known for being and you found yourself blaming the lack of sleep you had been getting from staying up late to play your own instrument. That was, all in all, your choice to do it and you couldn’t blame anyone else for your choice.

The professor, having somehow rushed through the class a lot quicker than usual, decided to dismiss everyone early. You began shoving your notebook into your bag when you felt a presence next to you. You finished your task at hand before looking up and meeting the eyes of Yoongi, who for the first time waited for you before jetting to the practice rooms. He seemed to be in a decent mood today which you thought would possibly play in both of your favors for practicing.

The two of you wandered into the lunch area and grabbed some snacks before making your way to the other side of the school. Well, not before Kira made a surprise appearance scaring both of you in the process. She had a knack for scaring you. She didn’t even seem to bat an eye that Yoongi was with you, as if it was an everyday occurrence. Well it was, but she wouldn’t have known that.

“I just don’t see why you deal with her to be honest.” Yoongi said, throwing his bag down on the ground by the piano. A hint of humor played on his words, but you knew it was partially a true statement by him. You have come to find that Min Yoongi doesn’t tolerate people who aren’t worth it and in his eyes, Kira wasn’t worth your time and effort.

“She isn’t all too horrible,” You say following his actions and tossing your bag on the chair, “Besides, who am I supposed to go out drinking with then? I don’t suppose you would want to?”

He shrugged sheepishly as he sat down on the stool in front of the piano, “I wouldn’t mind it.”

“I’ll take that into account the next time I want to go out. It’ll be nice to actually have a friend with me. Plus, it’ll keep the thirsty guys away.” You scrunched your nose in disgust only to hear him chuckle in response.

“I’ve heard those are the worst.” He said sarcastically, a smirk playing on his face as he looked in the other direction as if you were making a big deal out of nothing.

“Oh, they are,” You responded, throwing the bag of unopened chips you bought at him. He raised his arms in defense to block the incoming attack. The bag deflected and fell to his feet leaving him chuckling.

“Fine, I believe you.” He said waving his hands in front of him when he saw you had another bag aimed for him. You lowered your second bag, “But the real question is, when did you get all these bags of chips?”

“I have a stockpile. I like to snack.” You said, shrugging. He just shook his head at you before you sighed, “I guess we should get on practicing,”

Defeated, you watched the joy fade slightly from his face. Part of you wondered if the reason he hasn’t improved is because the practice time seemed to be getting shorter and shorter because the two of you kept finding things to talk about before actually beginning to practice. You weren’t mad, to be honest. You liked spending time with him. It just wasn’t the reason the two of you were cooped up in a practice room almost every day for the past month.

He did as you instructed and grabbed his sheet music that he wrote himself out of the folder he kept in his bag. He placed it on the piano and sat there staring at it. He had been playing his piece for a while now. After a few times of you butchering Heart and Soul, you decided it was best you stepped away from the piano and let him do his thing. If you were being honest with yourself, you were embarrassed to be so bad at an instrument he was phenomenal at. You were so bad in comparison; not like he would ever see that.

Per usual, he sounded like he had done it a hundred times over. The sound came out so relaxed and out together. Then, there it was, the stumble. An hour ticked by and you watched him progressively get more and more angry. You wished there was something you could do to help him, but you were at a loss. Only he could help himself. All you could ever really do, since the beginning, was support him through the process.

You heard the wrong key hit once again and you flinched at the ugly sound that was a complete contrast to the beautiful melody that was flowing from his fingertip’s seconds before. You watched his hands ball up and he got off the stool he was sitting in and walked off to the other side of the room. His breathing was ragged, and he ran his hand through his hair messing it up more than it already had been. When you seen his eyes, they were glossy. You wondered if they were that way from the anger or sadness. You knew for sure that he was trying not to lose his temper.

“Yoongi,” You said, he locked eyes with you and turned away as quickly as he looked, “Just come sit down and take a breath.”

“This is useless Y/N. I should just give up and quit making you sit through these shitty practices.” He said, still pacing and ignoring everything you tried to get him to do.

“First off, I chose to be here. I offered my help. You aren’t ‘making’ me do anything.” You said, standing up and making your point clear, “Second, this isn’t useless. You have gotten farther in your song than before. I just don’t understand why you keep having hiccups. You can do it. I can tell. Why are you so in your head about this? If you would just tell me why you-“

“It’s none of your business.”

His tone was cold and dry. It hurt but your stubbornness refused to acknowledge that you were actually hurt by his tone. His eyes served as daggers as they peered over in your direction. It was a complete contrast to how he was when you first arrived. Part of you wondered how he could hit the switch so easily and turn off his emotions. He had been so smiley but now; it just burned.

“Fine.” You said letting your irritation show. You went to grab your bag from where it laid. You walked towards the door and stopped in front of him, motioning between the two of you, “You’re right. I didn’t sign up for this. Let me know when you calm down and want to talk to me.”

With that, you left the practice room leaving him to mull over what you said.

A week passed and you found yourself out on the two with Kira and a few other girls. All of you first went to get some food at some restaurant that had become huge talk around town, though you didn’t really care about the hype. It did live up to its reputation at least. After that, they decided that everyone was to hit the bars, including you, but you didn’t mind. It was nice to get out after being so deep in your thoughts the whole week.

After the disagreement both you and Min Yoongi had, he hadn’t contacted you since. You were too stubborn to give in and message him. He asked you to help him. He wanted your help. But he wouldn’t give you the reason he truly couldn’t play. He was just as closed off as he was sitting with his head deep in sheet music in Music Theory. You refused to admit it bothered you.

But it did. You found that evident when you went to play the harp and it couldn’t even keep your mind off the tiff you both had. Practicing was hard when all you wanted was to help him play again. That in turn made you angry because this was the exact reason you had made no intentional friends when you moved to the city. You didn’t want to be distracted from your music and your goals. Look at where you were.

And yet, even having fun at a bar had you feeling down.

Kira had wandered off somewhere with a guy to go dance and you weren’t too sure where the other two girls had disappeared to. You sat at the bar, sipping your drink and listening to the music bump in the background.

“And what’s a girl like you doing sitting at a bar alone?” You heard a voice ask. You turned to look at the voice coming from your right.

It was a man, about mid-thirties or early forties. He looked well dressed and put together but the way he spoke gave away how long he had been truly drinking. Not only did he come off cocky, but he couldn’t say the sentence without slurring at least half the words. You wondered how any rational person would find that attractive, but you deduced that he probably wasn’t looking for someone with rational thinking.

Raising an eyebrow, you responded, “What’s a guy like you doing hitting on a girl who obviously hasn’t had enough drinks to even consider going home with a drunken man like you?”

The guy, not taking the insult well, scoffed and got out of the seat. You brought your drink back to your mouth and sipped the rest of it down, still feeling painfully sober. Then you slid it back to the other side of the bar, tipping the bartender.

You started walking towards the door. You met the eyes of Kira who was chatting up some guy by the jukebox. You motioned you were going outside. All you got was an understanding nod of her head as she dove back into whatever they were talking about.

The night air was crisp now that the season was getting colder, but the fresh air was what you really wanted. You closed your eyes and cursed to yourself quietly. As much as you should have been having fun, you just weren’t. The girls weren’t truly your friends, you knew, but the one person who was your friend hadn’t even tried talking to you. Sadly, it was the one person you wish you could be with.

You were scared. He hadn’t talked to you in a week and you were afraid that he had decided that you weren’t worth his time and his effort. You were afraid maybe he really didn’t value whatever friendship you two had created as much as you did. You were afraid he was done. And maybe you weren’t as sober as you initially thought because you wouldn’t be admitting this to yourself otherwise.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and searched through your contacts. Once the name you wanted was on your screen and dialing, you held it up to your ear.

It rang once.

It was late and he might not pick up.

Twice.

You didn’t even know if he would want to answer anyways.

Three-

“Y/N?” A voice answered, groggy by what you assumed to be sleep, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to call and say I’m sorry,” You said, finding a place against the wall and leaning against it, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

It was silent for a second with only the sound of rustling coming from the other end then he responded, “Why did you think I wouldn’t answer?”

“I don’t know. It’s late. You were mad. A number of reasons.” You answered. He hummed.

“Well I did. Why are you up?” He asked, concern in his voice. You felt your chest tighten but you blamed the little alcohol you had in your system for it.

“Kira dragged me out. I’m not really feeling it but she drove. I’m kind of hiding outside.”

He laughed, “And calling me?”

“Yeah that too.” You sighed, looking up at the night sky. It was different than back home. There were no stars to be seen. All consumed by city lights.

“Where are you at? I’ll come get you.” He said, bringing your thoughts back down to your conversation.

“Not necessary, I can wait until she’s ready.” You denied. You heard him sigh on the other end.

“You shouldn’t have to wait until she’s ready, and anyways, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. So where are you at?” He asked but it felt more so like a demand. You didn’t mind though because the more he offered the more you wanted to take him up on his offer to take you away from the bar.

“You know that bar on the corner of Main and Second?” You said, “I’m there.”

“Be there in a few.” Was the only response you got before the phone went dead on his end.

You put your phone away and hugged your jacket to your body. The cool air was starting to get to you. After about ten minutes you saw a grey car pull up in one of the free parking spots in front of the bar. The drivers side door opened and out popped Yoongi. He walked around the front of the car, leaving it on, and stood in front of you.

You could tell he had definitely just rolled out of bed and threw a hoodie on top of whatever he had on underneath. His hair a little messier than usual but you could tell he tried his best to smooth it out before leaving his house. His eyes looked tired, but there he was to pick you up in the middle of the night without complaint.

He didn’t say anything as he walked over to where you had leaned your weight against the wall and did the same, occupying the space next to you on the wall. You slowly turned your head to the right and met his brown ones. Now that he was closer, you could tell you had for sure interrupted whatever sleep he had been getting because his eyes were still puffy and glossy.

“You really didn’t need to come.” You mentioned out loud, your eyes wandering back to the headlights of his car and the air freshener hanging from his review mirror.

“Too late to try to talk me out of it,” He said, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets, “I’m already here and out of bed.”

Rolling your eyes, you bought your attention back to him. He held a small smirk on his lips, and you knew he was only trying to get under your skin. It was almost like the whole outburst a week prior didn’t happen and it was back to witty remarks and jokes. You were thankful it wasn’t tense.

“You know what I meant,” You said, and he chuckled lightly.

“I wanted to talk to you anyways. I just didn’t know how to reach out after I made such a fool of myself.” He announced, all signs of his lightheartedness disappeared. He cleared his throat and continued, “I just have been struggling with this problem for so long now its hard to think positive.”

“The problem isn’t with your skill Yoongi. You and I both know you can play with the best of them. It’s deeper. I know you don’t want to talk about it. I never wanted to push you into it. Honestly, at this point it just makes me worry for you. It’s eating you up.” You said even surprising yourself.

A silence fell between the two of you leaving the sounds of the city and the music coming from within the pub to fill in the absence of words. If you had come to know Yoongi, which you would like to think you had over the past month or so, he wasn’t leaving you in silence because he wanted to. He was probably pulled into whatever was tearing him apart. So instead of breaking it, you just pulled your arms closer to your chest in hopes of keeping the chill breeze from freezing you out.

“You’re right, at least, I think you are?” He questioned himself shaking his head, “I’ve been sitting on what you said for a week and it wasn’t like I didn’t want to get a hold of you. I did. I just knew when I did, I needed to give you the reason why and that’s just something I needed to work up to and to come to terms with myself. “

“You don’t have to Yoongi.” You protested, shaking your head at him. He ignored you.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine. You deserve to know.” He sighed, “When I was younger, my mother put me into piano lessons. I picked it up pretty fast, or at least that’s what she likes to say and brag about. I don’t really remember. I was too young. What I do remember is meeting this little girl at one of my concerts. She also loved piano. I don’t know what exactly caused us to be friends. Honestly, most of the early memories are fuzzy and run together. But we were friends for years. Best friends. She had this treehouse her dad built for her and we used to hide up there for hours playing board games and talking. Even as we got older and it got harder for both of us to fit up there, we still climbed up that tree.

“A few years into high school, she had gotten early acceptance into the school she wanted to go to. She was thriving. I wasn’t too far behind. My neighbor worked at the school here and said I had a talent for piano, so I wasn’t doing bad myself. Everything was going great until I just wasn’t.

“I got a call one day on my way home from a practice session from my mother. She was hysterical. I had never heard my mom sound so broken before. I somehow made out what she was saying between sobs. My friend’s mom had gotten into a crash with her in the car as well. Both in critical condition.”

You felt sick to your stomach because you had a horrible feeling you knew where this was going. You peered over at him. You would have thought he was fine if it weren’t for the streetlights highlighting the wet streaks going down his cheeks and his inability to look in your direction.

“When I got to the hospital with my mom, her dad was sitting in the waiting room. I guess the both of them got rushed to surgery and he was waiting for them to come out of it. We waited and waited. Her mom, she was critical, but she made it out of the operation room, as for her, she just was too unstable. She coded while on the table and they couldn’t revive her.”

“Yoongi, I am so sorry.” You whispered, afraid that anything you might have said would break him. He sniffled and wiped his eyes but made no other action to hide he had been crying.

“After that, I couldn’t seem to play correctly anymore. Every time I tried to play, it ended with a note being played wrong and me getting mad. I just feel like a giant embarrassment.” He sighed, finally looking at you for the first time since he had begun his story. For the first time, you could make a connection to the hidden emotion in his eyes because it was right in front of you now.

“Look, you aren’t an embarrassment. Just because you are struggling doesn’t make you any less of a person or an artist. It’s just something you have to work through.” You said softly, leaning your head to the right slightly so it landed on his shoulder, which normally you would have overthought. Maybe you were just tired from the long night, or possibly it was from the cold, or maybe you just really felt horrible for him and what he had been through, but you didn’t care what his reaction was going to be from you resting your head on his shoulder.

What you didn’t expect though was him wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer to him, “You should have bought something warmer to wear.”

You thanked him silently as his body heat warmed your own. You thought back to whether you made any indication that you were in fact cold, but coming up with nothing, you just decided that he had been overly observant. You weren’t sure why neither of you were smart enough to head to the running car that was most definitely warmer than the night air. You also weren’t sure why you felt your heart rate increase the moment he pulled you to him. What you were sure of was the fact Min Yoongi opened himself up to you at one-thirty-eight in the morning on the corner of Main and Second right outside a bar, which you find that you may never forget.

The realization that you almost lost Yoongi as a friend had really opened your eyes to your closed off ways. You decided that you weren’t going to let yourself get in your own way anymore. So, for the next few weeks you did just that.

The first thing you really tried to expand on was whatever you considered you and Kira’s friendship. You realized she might have valued the friendship way more than you did when she made her way out of the bar the two of you were at to find you. What she found was both you and Yoongi huddled next to each other on the wall just talking. You noticed how worried her expression was and then relief wash over it realizing you were fine.

So, you tried to spend time with her outside of the bars which she seemed inclined to do as well.

Another change you made was spending time with Yoongi outside the practice room, like normal humans might do. It led to not just countless hours in the practice room, which you saw major improvements in, but also many outside.

You hated the fact that the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to be around him. Normally, you would have gotten annoyed with his nonchalant disregard for the movies you watched but then after, he would discuss the plot with you for hours. He had so much knowledge of random restaurants that were scattered in the city, and he always seemed excited to show you a new one. It sort of became a new routine for the both of you. You’d force him to see a movie, whether he liked the idea of it or not, then he would drag you to a restaurant and the both of you would talk about the movie and eat.

It was just easy to talk to him, even if it wasn’t about movies and food.

“Fancy running into you here,” The voice of Yoongi echoed in the still somewhat empty class. The class itself didn’t start for another ten or so minutes. The rest of the people tended to trickle in slowly as the time ticked by. Seeing him here early was not the norm either.

“Wow, what are the odds I’d see you in the one class we share together?” You said, fake shock dripping from your voice.

“You could sound more excited to see me, you know.” He said, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

“Forgive me for not waving my Min Yoongi flag and jumping up and down,” You said. You saw him throw his bag down on the ground. He slid into the desk next to you instead of his usual seat across the room. You cracked a smile, “I’m saving that for when you perform on stage.”

“Oh man, please don’t do that.” He chuckled, shaking his head at you.

“Too late, you talked me into it.” You joked back.

The professor walked in at that moment and that’s when you realized more than enough people had trickled into the room for the lecture. Both of you quieted down when he clicked his presentation screen and started to speak to the crowd. Both you and Yoongi locked eyes and you watched as he stifled a laugh by biting his cheek and looking away. You couldn’t shake the thought that in this moment, he looked undeniably cute.

The lunch area was more crowded than normal which meant the longer it took to grab some snacks after your last class. You knew Yoongi would beat you to the practice room and give you crap for being late yet again to one of your sessions. But you were starving. You hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast.

After grabbing both of you something to eat, you rushed through the mass of people in the area as quickly as you could without running directly into someone. It took you a few moments to make your way around to the other side of the building. Once in the practice hall, you slowed your pace and listened to the mixture of music coming from the many rooms. You stopped outside the room Yoongi mentioned, and you heard music coming from within. You felt your heart swell with pride knowing he was doing so much better than when you guys started.

You opened the door as quietly as you could, and you walked around the corner. You saw him at the piano playing some song you never heard him play before, but it was just as beautiful as any other time he played. You felt just as mesmerized by him as the first time you saw him play, maybe even more now that you knew him.

He stopped playing and slowly turned in his seat to look at you, “I could feel you staring at me.”

“It’s hard not to. When you play you throw your whole self into it.” You said, walking into the room the rest of the way and finding your usual spot. You opened your bag and handed him the few thing you grabbed from the lunchroom for him.

“Yeah, if you say so.” He shrugged, grabbing the food from you. He busied himself with opening the bag of chips you gave him and just for a moment you thought you saw his cheeks turn a twinge pink.

After the two of you ate and caught up on your day you decided he should at least get some practicing done. The concert was a little more than a week away now and you still haven’t heard his composition played through completely. You weren’t sure why neither of you had actually pushed to play the piece. Maybe part of you was scared that once he did, your whole world would change again and just when you were getting used to this one.

He pulled out his work and placed it in front of him. He prepped himself the way he always did and began to play. The first part was like you remembered, you heard it many times over. This time, he played past where he continuously messed up. You closed your eyes, listening to every note you had been waiting to hear for months now. Before you knew it, he played the last note.

You opened your eyes and looked at him. He was staring at the keys of the piano, eyes wide. Your mouth dropped and eyes widened as it slowly sunk in. He preformed the whole piece with nothing being off key.

“Holy shit,” You said, standing up in excitement, “Yoongi, you did it.”

His shocked expression faded when your words hit him. You had seen him smile many times, but you can say you’ve never seen him in complete and utter happiness. This, was that. His smile lit up his whole face.

You knew this was something he had been wanting since the beginning. He wanted his music shared and he was more than willing to give you the shot to play it just so someone could hear it. It wouldn’t have felt right though, because this moment right here, you would have been denying him if you took his offer. This was more than worth it.

You watched as he stood up and walked over to you, pulling you into an unexpected hug. He stood there for a minute just holding you to him, you obviously hugging him back. Pulling away he said, “Thank you, I owe you.”

His hands still on you, you locked eyes with him. You weren’t sure what you felt but you knew your heart was racing having him so close that you could smell his cologne radiating off his shirt. He wet his lips and that’s when you realized you hadn’t been breathing.

“You don’t owe me anything,” You said, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen between the two of you. You smiled at him and looked at the clock on the wall. “We have to celebrate though! We have time to catch a movie and get some food?”

He cleared his throat, and for a split second you thought you saw hurt pass through his eyes. He let go of you and gave you a half smile and rolling his eyes, “Are you really going to make me sit through another one of those movies?”

“You can pick this time since you accomplished something you thought you never would.” You said sending a cheesy smile his way.

“Oh, what an honor.” He said sarcastically. You both chuckled and grabbed your things, heading out of the practice room and to the theater to watch something.

Breathe

It was the one thought you kept repeating in your head, hoping it would somehow transfer into his.

He sat there at the piano, though this time it was in front of everyone. You felt your heart beating fast and you could only imagine how fast his was. You were waiting, waiting for the beginning you knew by heart.

He was dressed to the nines, wearing a black suit and tie. His blonde hair had somehow been tamed and laid nicely instead of tousled like he usually wore it. It almost didn’t look like Yoongi, but it was hard to mistake the way he sat at the piano and the focus in his eyes.

You saw the shaky breath he let out, but then, music happened.

It was just like in the practice room, but even better with the concert hall acoustics. The music seemed to slowly seep through all the isles and layers until the whole hall was filled with Yoongi. You watched the way he demanded the stage just by sitting there and playing his arrangement. Even if you didn’t notice him somehow, you would have known it was him by the way he played.

Just as soon as he started, it came to an end. The audience clapped, along with yourself. He stood and bowed to everyone before making his way off stage.

A few more people had to go before intermission, where you escaped to find him. You maneuvered your way through other acts once you made it backstage. You found him, leaning against the wall in the far corner. You weren’t surprised. He wasn’t a one for people.

Seeing him, made your heart melt. The past week, you hadn’t been able to shake that moment the two of you had in the practice room. Something had shifted and at the time, you didn’t like it. You still weren’t a fan of it, but you realized it was fear.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You said, cracking his lame joke from before. He looked away from his phone and met your eyes. He smiled.

“At the concert we both knew I was attending? No way.” He responded, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He did pocket his phone though as you walked towards him.

“Did you see my Min Yoongi flag? I even tried jumping but the old couple next to me frowned upon it so I stopped,” You said, knowing damn well you didn’t do either of those things. He knew too.

“I must have missed it. I mean, if you want to show me now, I wouldn’t stop you.” He said, grinning. You shook your head.

“I actually already threw it away. Too late, you’ll just have to see if I make another for next time.” You announced, “But on a real note, you did amazing.”

He shrugged as if it was no big deal, “Thanks to you. If I hadn’t met you, I’d still be messing up Heart and Soul.”

“Probably,” You said, “I can’t take all the credit though, you were the one who played it. I just supported you from the sidelines.”

“But you were so good at doing that.” He chuckled.

You looked in his eyes, and you just felt comfort. It wouldn’t have been something you would have said a few months ago when he was sending daggers at you from across the room. But, he was soft and genuine behind whatever façade he liked to show to everyone else. He had proved that he was there for you, even when you thought he wasn’t.

You would be lying to yourself if you told yourself you hadn’t been imagining what would have happened if you hadn’t interrupted the silence between the two of you before. You were tired of lying to yourself, because being honest, you had been doing it for a while. You weren’t sure where it started, but it had been a lot longer than need be.

Just do it, you thought.

Not giving it a second to process what you were about to do, you closed the space between the two of you. Wrapping an arm around his neck and the other in his hair, you pulled his lips down onto your own. At first, he didn’t do anything but once he realized what had happened, he grabbed your waist and fed into the kiss. It wasn’t hungry, though if it continued you could see it going that way.

You pulled away, letting your hands fall to rest on his shoulders. He still held your waist as he looked at you in awe. You could tell he wasn’t expecting that, not that he seemed to care. His hair, slightly sticking up now that you had grabbed it. In an odd way making it seem more like him than before.

“Maybe I should have musical breakthroughs more often,” He joked, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you. He let his own arms drop from your waist as you took a step back.

You rolled your eyes, “Maybe I should go back to my seat. Intermission should be done soon and it’s not like you could leave yet. May as well enjoy the rest of the show.”

“Do something with me after?” He asked, an odd amount of vulnerability in his voice you weren’t used to hearing.

“Of course,” You said to him, “I don’t see why I would want to do anything else.”

79 notes · View notes