#oh. I guess the reverse opposite end would be ‘he can make me worse.’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wonjaekook · 3 years

Text

Residual Starshine

Pairing: Soccer player!Yuta x fem!reader

Description: You’ve experienced plenty of irritations in your life. For better or for worse, none of them are quite like Nakamoto Yuta.

Word Count: 19.3k

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers ; fluff, smut, touch of angst

Warnings: my first published full blown smut scene (only one towards the end, nothing crazy), sexual references?, swearing, mentions of alcohol

A/N: Mingyu appears as a somewhat bad character in this, but I absolutely don’t think of him that way. As always, this is entirely fictional. If you want one song to vibe to while reading this, I was listening to Everybody Talks by Neon Trees a lot :-) this is the longest fic I’ve ever written and the first one containing smut that I’ve ever published, so please let me know what you thought!

Taglist: @junglewoos @insomni-writing @neowritingsnet

This is my contribution to @/leesmrk’s sports collab, but she deactivated (Dee I miss you) so @lucas-wongs has compiled the masterlist in her stead! The link to the master post with all other submissions is in my masterlist.

You didn’t expect to be spending your first morning before classes with your face smashed into your pillow, pressing the cotton over your ears. Yesterday morning had been perfectly lovely - you slept a solid eight hours and you only awoke to the beautiful morning sunshine greeting you through your blinds. All things considered, it was a very natural wake-up. However, the loud J-rock blaring through the floor from the apartment below you is the exact opposite of natural. Perhaps the music isn’t as loud as you perceive it to be, but you happen to take things quite personally when you’re woken up an hour early.

Except, you don’t take it personally enough that you force your body out of bed. Instead, you allow yourself to let out a loud groan of annoyance before you pull your covers over your head. Thankfully, the music shuts off about five minutes later and you drift back off to sleep.

When you awaken again an hour later, the sunlight coming into your room doesn’t seem nearly as friendly as it did yesterday. Still, this time you do force yourself to get up. You go through your usual routine - bathroom, change into your running clothes, and stretch. You hear no sounds of any stirring from your roommates as you get ready. It’s somewhat of a relief to have the apartment to yourself in the morning. You put your headphones in and step out of the apartment, trying to get yourself in the zone with your workout playlist while also doing a quick look around to see if anyone is out. One set of stairs and you’re at the door leading out of the small complex - a building with four apartments, two on the first floor and two on the second floor. Outside on the step leading to the sidewalk and there’s still no one around. Without a second of hesitation more, you’re off at a light jog. Half of the apartments in this area of your campus are dedicated to student athletes and there’s nothing you dread more than running, quite literally, into someone who’s by far your superior at this activity and who would judge you. As you run, the thought of your lower neighbor comes to you. You wake up early to go run - but they woke up earlier. At that thought, a frown subconsciously makes its way to your face. Shooting a quick prayer to the heavens that you don’t run into anyone, you continue on.

Though you hadn’t started running until this summer, you know your campus well enough in the years you’ve been here to find a nice path. That also means that, when you see pairs of runners ahead of you, you can make unexpected turns to avoid passing them. At one point, you veer out of the way of a pack of people who you assume is the running club. About forty five minutes later, you’re sweaty and more physically exhausted than when you had left, but the energy thrumming in your veins leaves you with a deep sense of satisfaction. You had successfully avoided every person you had come across on your run and-

You nearly open the door of your complex into one of your neighbors. Acting on reflex, you step back and dip your head, avoiding looking at him. “Oh, sorry.”

“That’s alright.” His voice is a smooth rumble and you look up, briefly forgetting about your sweaty and near-unpresentable state. He looks freshly showered, his skin smooth and just slightly sunkissed. Based on his physique, you would have guessed that he’s a student athlete, but his hair seems a little too long to match the stereotype. It’s a bit of a mane, a dark mop sitting atop the throne of his handsome face, and you think it suits him. As your eyes drift from his hair to his eyes to his nose and finally to his mouth, which has been set into the crooked angle of a smirk, it dawns on you that you’re checking him out very openly. Your face, already warm from exercise, turns blazing hot. After all of the hard work you went through to avoid embarrassing yourself this morning… “You’re cute, too, don’t worry.”

Several very intrusive thoughts come to you at once. By his very specific phrasing, he thinks you’re attractive. He also knows he’s attractive. The warmth of the complement fades to indignation at his cockiness. You press your mouth into a thin line and lower your head again, not making eye contact with him as you slip past him through the door. You’re not sure if his gaze follows you as you march back up the stairs to your apartment.

“One of our neighbors is a total ass!”

One of your roommates, Sowon, is lounging on your sofa as you sit at the small table in your shared living room, grinding the pen in your hand into your planner in frustration. It’s well into the afternoon now, the sun casting lines of shadows through your blinds, and you’re still hung up on what happened earlier. Sowon is also perfectly aware that you’re exaggerating, but she encourages you to continue. “The soccer neighbors or the volleyball neighbors?”

“Of course it’s one of the soccer neighbors! The volleyball neighbors would never do this to me.” You huff, eying the nearly empty container of cookies on the table.

“You’re aware that Johnny just brought those over so he had an excuse to hit on Yein, right?” Sowon releases a strand of hair that she had just idly wrapped around a finger, watching it twirl in the air. Your second roommate only sighs at the mention of her name, but doesn’t deny it.

“And Doyoung was the one who actually made them. So, by association, I am entitled to an equal share of cookies.” You consider Doyoung a friend - you shared a chemistry class with him once and he seemed to tolerate your presence, even enjoy it at times. He even sends you the occasional text still. “That doesn’t mean Yein isn’t going to be the one to give the container back, though.”

Yein frowns and opens her mouth but Sowon raises a finger to stop her. “Y/N is correct.”

With a shake of her head, Yein turns her attention back to you. “You were talking about the soccer neighbor?”

After you explain the situation as truthfully and dramatically as possible to them, they look at each other once before looking back at you. Sowon speaks first. “He’s definitely flirting.”

“Or he’s just like that naturally.” Yein counters. “Who flirts at eight in the morning?”

“You’d be surprised.” After you say that, her words sink in. You ran into him at eight in the morning, when he was looking refreshed. He’s a member of the soccer team, meaning he probably exercises in the morning. He also has pretty stereotypical rocker hair. “Holy shit, he’s the asshole who was blasting J-rock through the floor this morning!”

“Okay, never mind. He is a jerk.” Sowon wrinkles her nose.

“Was it at least good J-rock?” Yein prods.

You shrug. “It was alright, I guess. But that’s besides the point!” You slam your planner closed. “I’m giving him a piece of my mind the next time I see him.”

For several days, as classes start, you still get in your morning run and, each day, without fail, you’re woken up by the boy’s J-rock about an hour early. You fail to catch him at any time of the day until, finally, you’re on your way out of the apartment one morning. As you pull open the door, you nearly ram into him once again, though the situation is reversed. He’s the one who’s sweaty and warm, headphones firmly in his ears. That changes as he smirks, popping them out at the sight of you in the door. “So, we meet again.”

“Uh-huh.” You take the position of a displeased mother about to lecture a child, your arms crossed over your chest as you block the door. “You know, I have words for you.”

“Wow, already? People usually don’t have words for me until at least the third time we’ve met. Well, at least not more than a few choice ones like-”

You cut him off before he can inflate his own ego more. “Stop playing music so loud at six in the morning.”

He tilts his head like he’s confused, but the way his lips are quirked up tells you that he knows exactly what you’re talking about. “Baseless accusations. Maybe you should take this up with Jaehyun or Kun. I would never do such a thing.”

“Come on. I know it’s you.” The look you give him is entirely unamused, so he relents slightly, the smile falling from his face.

“What are you gonna do, report me to housing?” Before you can reply that, yes, that’s exactly what you’ll do, he continues. “I’ll tell them about the parties you and your roommates have. I’m sure they’d love coming out here at 3 AM one day just to tell you to keep it down. Almost as much as they’d love to come to my door at 6 to do the same.”

He starts walking towards the door and you turn your body inward, allowing him passage while silently fuming. “You-”

“My name is Nakamoto Yuta. You can say that if you need something to scream.” He gifts you a sly wink as he unlocks his door and lets himself in, leaving you so bewildered that you can’t think of a response at all.

“Stop messing with the soccer boys.” Sowon immediately reprimands you after you recount what happened. “You know the school will punish us before they punish them.”

“Yeah, and if this is your way of flirting, you need to think of something better.” Yein adds from the connected kitchen, tossing the stir-fry in her pan. “I’m not risking getting kicked out because you decided to mess with the soccer team’s star player.”

“To be fair, I don’t think he was really upset about the interaction. He seemed amused by my reaction.” You slump down, your forehead resting on the table. “And I didn’t know who he was until he said his name.”

“Well, he doesn’t know who you are-”

“And I don’t want him to.” You cut off Sowon. “I’ll just… deal with it.”

You get one more peaceful morning of running alone before, two days after you had first talked to him, Nakamoto Yuta comes jogging up to you. You don’t hear him at first. Music blares in your earbuds, drowning out most of the background noise of the morning, and your heartbeat in your ears fills out the parts of your internal sound profile that your music doesn’t quite reach. He comes up behind you, nearly making you jump out of your skin when you see the figure of another person jogging in your peripherals. Your pace falters, but you immediately try to right yourself and regain momentum, praying he’ll just pass by you without saying anything. Except he doesn’t leave. With an internal sigh, you turn your head towards him. He offers you a grin and air-taps over his ear. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you pull out your headphones. “What?”

“Great morning, isn’t it?”

You contemplate shutting your eyes so that you can purposefully trip and eject yourself from this conversation. “I guess.”

“It’s soccer season. You know that, right?” You narrow your eyes at him, but nod. “Our first game is coming up soon.” You don’t like where this is going. “You should come.” “You must be hard-pressed for attendees to be randomly asking your neighbor to come to your game.” You reach for your earbuds again.

“Hold on, hold on.” You pause, then immediately wonder why you’re even giving him the time of day. Still, you relent for a moment. “If you come to the game this Saturday, I’ll stop playing music so loud when I wake up.”

“If you were a kind and courteous neighbor, you would just do that without having to threaten me to go to one of your games. And,” you state flatly, “I’ve already been to enough soccer games for the rest of my life, thank you very much.”

As you jog away, he doesn’t try to stop you again, but you could swear that he seems the slightest bit disappointed.

The next morning is more of the same as usual. The same loud J-rock that wakes you up an hour early, your same run, your same shower and breakfast and classes. You consider shifting your sleep schedule so that you wake up at the same time as Yuta, though you dismiss the idea because why should you change your lifestyle to adjust for his? You’d rather suffer the early wakeup.

Except, two days after he asks you to come to one of his games, the music stops. That first morning, you wake up at your usual time. You’re prepared to be upset at Yuta waking you early again, but when your foggy morning brain processes that you had woken up to your own alarm and not his music, you lie there confused. When you go out for your run not long after, you almost hope that you’ll run into him. There’s no way he’s just being nice is there? He has to be sick or something. To your disappointment, you don't run into him and you’re just stuck in your confusion. This goes on for three more days and each day you become more perplexed.

As you’re returning to your apartment after your classes that Friday, someone holds the door for you as you approach. “Thanks-” you start, then see who’s holding it for you. “-oh! Jaehyun!”

“Hey, uh, Y/N, right?” You smile at him, nodding firmly. You’re almost surprised that he remembers your name because you’d only chatted once before, back when you were moving in. He’s perfectly polite, almost shy-seeming, and completely different from his roommate. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I’m just getting back from classes.” Thinking of his roommate… “I was actually wondering, um…” He gives you a confused look, waiting for you to continue. “Is Yuta doing okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Why?” Jaehyun hadn’t been aware that you were at all acquainted with his roommate.

You appear equally as confused as he does. “Oh, I… never mind. If you don’t mind me asking, where’s your next game?”

He brightens up at that. “It’s a home game. Tomorrow at six, don’t miss it!”

You return his smile. “Great, thanks, Jaehyun! I’ll see you around?” He sends you off with a wave before you go your separate ways, entering your respective apartments.

Should you actually go to his game? You don’t owe him anything, you never agreed to his deal, but he did stop playing his music so loud. You’re not really doing anything on Saturday either… maybe you’ll bug Sowon and Yein so that they’ll come with you.

That evening, the apartment below yours is particularly busy. All of the soccer boys are home - Yuta, Jaehyun, Kun - and the volleyball and art boys are also over - Johnny, Doyoung, Jungwoo, Taeyong, Ten, and Sicheng. After all, as Johnny says, Friday nights are for the boys. Conversation flows from school to girls to boys to soccer, upon which Jaehyun shares a very interesting observation with his friends.

“By the way, it seems like you have another admirer, Yuta.” Jaehyun says as he takes a swig of his soju, recently acquired from the nearby Korean market and grossly overpriced.

“Sure,” Yuta responds, rolling his eyes, “who would that be?”

“You know that girl from upstairs? Y/N? She asked about you today and then asked me about our next game.”

“We haven’t even had our first game and you’re already collecting fangirls? Come on, Yuta,” Kun chimes in this time, breaking away from his conversation with Sicheng about their shared organic chemistry class.

“That can’t be right,” Yuta says, leaning back into the couch, “L/N Y/N? I’m pretty sure she hates my guts. I tried to make a deal with her to get her to come to the game and she just brushed me off.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes at his friend. “Y/N doesn’t just hate people for no reason. What did you do?”

Yuta raises his hands defensively and half-glares at him. “I didn’t do anything! I was just being myself and she decided to hate me.”

“The star-player, cocky version of yourself or the normal version of yourself?” Doyoung says, looking entirely unamused.

Yuta thinks back to all of the encounters he’s had with you and cringes slightly. “Listen, she was the one who was checking me out first-”

“Stupid.” Doyoung shakes his head before taking a sip of the water he’s drinking. “Some people take well to forwardness, but not her.”

“Are you sure? Because if she’s asked after me, I think that means she likes it.”

“I am going to spike a ball into your head, you-”

“Guys, calm down,” Sicheng says with a rather flat tone. Instantly, the two bickering boys stop, resorting to glaring at each other. Jaehyun gently shoves his roommate to get his attention and the room quickly returns to normal. Later, Doyoung passes Yuta a new bottle once his has run out, so he knows that the younger was never truly angry at him. The small party doesn’t go long into the night - tomorrow’s the first game of the season, after all - and, surprisingly, there isn’t much noise from their upstairs neighbor either.

That is mostly thanks to you. You had convinced your two party-addicted friends to attend someone else’s get together instead of hosting their own, so you ushered them out of the house at around ten in the evening. You know that they’ll come back fine in a few hours, rumpled and with their makeup half sweated off, buzzing with alcohol and the blaring music of whatever houseparty they were invited to, but you still tell them that your phone will be off of silent in case they need anything. Previous semesters, you might have gone with them, but, now, you just want to sleep so you can wake up early and go on your usual run.

The morning comes with your sleep uninterrupted by your roommates. After you awaken, instead of lying in bed and contemplating life for a while, you drag yourself up and to their rooms, where you find each of them peacefully asleep in their beds. Yein bothered to change out of her party clothes and into pajamas while Sowon didn’t, her dress half off of her shoulder and bunched up under her butt. Both of them are snoring away, hugging pillows and blankets.

The relief of seeing your roommates in good condition adds a spring to your step. A few minutes later, after you’ve stretched on the floor of your bedroom, you’re halfway out the outside door of the complex when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You know who it is even before you turn around.

“Y/N,” Yuta says, grinning much too brightly for how early it is. He doesn’t seem like he’s been out yet, which is strange. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” You lift an eyebrow.

“Perfectly!” As he talks, you begin to move farther out the door. Down one step. Down two steps. On the sidewalk. “Do you want to run together?”

“Shouldn’t you be just coming back from doing that?” You pull out your phone.

He quickly matches his stride to yours. “I decided to start running an hour later on the weekends. You know, sleep in a bit since I have the time.”

“I’m happy for you.” You select a song and put one ear of your headphones in.

“Are you coming tonight?”

“Didn’t I already answer that?” In all honesty, you feel like you should be more irritated with him than you actually are. He’s at least amusing to talk to. Plus, he stopped waking you up an hour early without you even promising to come to his game.

“Yeah, but then you asked Jaehyun about it.”

You stop moving, turning to look at him. He has another one of those infuriating smirks on his face and all of your previous enjoyment flies out the window. “Maybe I’m a huge fan of his.”

“What position does he play?”

“I don’t have to answer that!” Now, your face is already warming and you haven’t even begun your exercise. You turn away from him again and begin to slowly jog. “Bye, Yuta.”

“He’s a midfielder! And I’m a forward! You can see today at the game!” He calls after you as you get farther away, his voice getting more distant. Part of you feels bad for your neighbors - the windows aren’t exactly soundproof. You just wave a hand back at him in dismissal. A minute later, you look behind you. To your great relief, and mild surprise, he isn’t following you. He went the complete opposite direction.

“Will you guys please come with me? I promise some of the guys on the team are hot.” You tug on Sowon’s sleeve like a child does to their mother when they want something.

“I thought you hated college soccer because of your brother.” She flips a page in her textbook, scribbling down something in her notes.

“I don’t think this one will be so bad. Our team is supposed to be really good this year, right?” You look hopefully at her.

“How am I supposed to know? How is anyone supposed to know? Today is their first game.” She stops attempting to study, looking at you. “Also, I’m messing around. I’ll go with you.”

You look at your other roommate, who is in the middle of the very exhaustive task of sitting on your sofa and scrolling through her phone. She gives you a thumbs up. “As long as I can put on face paint!”

A couple hours later, you find yourselves in the bleachers surrounding the soccer field. It’s a modest stadium, not a stadium at all but just a normal soccer field with bleachers on either side and some decently sized flood lights for night usage. Not too far away is a moderately sized building that is a shared locker room space for all of the school’s athletic teams. Your school never invested much of its funds into soccer until recently, largely thanks to Yuta and some of the other members who are in their third or fourth year playing who made a name for your university in the sport. You also suspect that they probably talked the ear off of the provost so that he finally agreed to give them more funding, but that’s just a personal guess.

From your place on the home side of the bleachers, you have total vision of the field. Both teams are running warm-up drills and it’s easy enough to spot the people you know: someone from your physics class named Mingyu, someone you remember from a party named Baekho, and your lower neighbors, Jaehyun, Kun, and, of course, Yuta. His hair is pulled back from his face in a small ponytail at the back of his head and a small version of your university’s lion mascot stands out proudly on his red jersey.

You purposefully make a point to look for him last, only to find that he’s completely focused. Though it’s just shooting drills, he seems like he’s entirely in the zone, his eyes sharp and calculated. From what you can tell. The physical distance between you isn’t huge, but you can’t read his expressions that well from this angle.

The sharp scream of a whistle being blown indicates that there’s five minutes until the start of the game. The teams both do a bit of last minute stretching as they gather around the coach, a man you recognize as a biology professor. Finally, just as the clock hits six, they squeeze closer together, arms slung over each others’ shoulders in a tight circle, and do some sort of indistinct chant that ends in something like “Go Lions!”

After they break away, you can see the shift in atmosphere. Everyone is completely serious. It’s the first game of the season and they aren’t going to destroy the reputation they’ve built up for the last three years. You watch as Jaehyun moves to his position as a midfielder, Kun moves to his position as defense, and Yuta lines up in the position of forward center. A coin flip gives the kick-off to the away team, a school with a hawk mascot. Everyone shifts slightly on their feet and, for a moment, the world seems to be silent. The crowd leans forward in their seats.

Then, the whistle is blown.

The game gets to a roaring start. From how cautiously the other team is playing, they seem to know the reputation of the Lions - a team that shot up out of nowhere and suddenly has one of the best forwards in college soccer. You find yourself grinning as the ball barely makes it past your team’s defensive midfielder Mingyu before it’s in the Lions’ metaphorical hands. Your midfielders carefully juggle the ball between them, passing and passing and passing, before it reaches Jaehyun at center midfield. He does his job quickly and efficiently, making it almost look easy, and the ball meets the half-tip. From there, the ball is stolen by one of the Hawks’ defense at a failed pass to the second striker, Baekho. The ball shoots all the way to midfield.

For a few tense minutes, you watch the players run back and forth across the field, their eyes never leaving the target. The game pauses every so often when the ball gets kicked out of bounds, but it always resumes with just as much vigor. About a quarter of the way through the game, Yuta finally has his breakthrough. Jaehyun lands a kick directly in his direction, giving him the perfect opportunity. The strike is clean and so fast that you would have missed it if your eyes weren’t glued to the movements of the ball. All of the people on your side of the bleachers launch to their feet in roaring cheers as the ball sails past the opponent goalie’s right side and into the net. You’re standing alongside everyone else, your hands cupped around your mouth as you yell in excitement. It’s not often that you see such a well done shot from a college team.

The boil of the crowd’s blood dies down a bit as the game continues, but soars back up whenever something particularly exciting happens. In the third quarter, the Hawks manage to land a goal on your team, but Yuta comes in clutch a few minutes later and scores two easy goals almost one after the other. The final score is deeply satisfying at 3:1.

The opposing team try to be good sports about it, but they’re obviously sulking when they shake your team’s hands. After they break away, they’re all gloriously sweaty, which you’re sure Sowon is excited about. Some of the spectators immediately rush out of the stands and make their way down, friends and significant others of the players, you presume. Part of you wants to go down there and be a part of the excitement. Luckily enough, a distraction comes in the form of some of your other neighbors before you’re forced to make any decisions.

“Hey, Yein, Sowon, Y/N!”

When you turn, you see Johnny and Doyoung approaching. Yein stiffens slightly and you nearly start laughing at your friend’s embarrassed behavior. Sowon greets them first. “Hi, guys.”

“I didn’t know you guys were into soccer?” Johnny asks, his eyes shifting easily from Sowon to you to Yein, where they remain.

“Not really! But Y/N wanted to go today.” In her nervousness, Yein easily exposes you.

“I wasn’t the only one who wanted to go,” you huff, crossing your arms. Doyoung and Johnny exchange a look that makes you want to change the subject. “I guess you guys are here to support some friends?”

“Yup, Yuta, Kun, and Jaehyun,” Doyoung says, looking towards the field, where some of their other friends are already gathered around the star player. “They played really well. It’ll be a good season.”

“I hope so,” Sowon says, also watching.

“Well, we don’t want to keep you guys from them,” you say, wanting to eject yourself from the conversation before it turns in a different direction. To your displeasure, Johnny is a master of knowing exactly what you don’t want and then doing it anyways. You’ve never really talked to him before, but it seems that he’s similar to Yuta in that way.

“Why don’t we all go say hi?” The tall boy says, grinning. “You guys can tell me how those cookies were, too.”

There is no escape. Now, as you follow them down the bleachers, you reflect Yein in a way. She no longer looks quite as nervous, eagerly chatting with Johnny, while you grow increasingly more fidgety. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to Yuta. You just don’t want to give in to whatever game the two of you silently decided you were playing.

Then again, it is much more fun to play along than it is to outright reject him. Plus, today’s actual game was good. You’ll give him that.

Trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, you join the small crowd surrounding Yuta. If you thought he glowed normally, he absolutely shines now. There’s something about him being in his element at the very top of his game that makes you forget your irritation with him for a moment. In that instant, he’s a star. In that instant, he reminds you of your brother. Then, he spots you and opens his mouth.

“Y/N!” As he calls out to you, the girl he was talking to before you arrived seems perturbed, but he ignores her, pushing his way closer to you. “You actually came.”

You turn your nose up at him slightly. “No one ever said it was for you.”

“Of course not. You and I both know the truth, though.” The wink is nowhere near subtle or sly and you scoff at him. He seems unbothered. “This was your first Lions game, right? Did you enjoy it?”

You nod hesitantly. “I heard you guys were good, but I didn’t know how good. You played a near perfect game.”

The self-satisfied smile drops from his face. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“What do you mean?” Tilting your head, you match his somewhat grim face.

“There’s always better plays to make, better places to have been. You know.” He quickly tries to play it off like he’s uninterested rather than deeply bothered. You’re not sure you know what the truth is. You haven’t talked to him nearly enough to know. This is the first hint of something serious that he’s shown you. It almost makes you want to talk to him more to find out.

“Dude, shut up, you’re good.” From the side, Johnny butts in, elbowing his friend. You’re glad for the interruption, as you once again didn’t know what to say. The mood raises, with some of Yuta’s friends reenacting the best parts of the game, joking about his long hair, betting on what next week’s game will look like. A few minutes later, the Lions’ coach shouts for all of the team members to go shower and get changed, so the crowd slowly disperses.

After you’re alone with your roommates, Sowon and Yein can’t help but give you playful shoves as you walk home. Sowon is the first to verbalize her amusement. “I thought you hated him?”

You grumble under your breath, not saying anything in particular.

“You played a near perfect game.” Yein mimics, making your face burn.

“I do not sound like that! Also, I know a good game when I see one and I know when to admit it!” You kick your shoe against the pavement as they giggle at you.

From then on, it seems like you run into Yuta far too often for your own good. Every few days, you bump into him when you’re either about to go run or when you’re coming back from running. When you go with Yein to return Johnny’s cookie container, Yuta is in his apartment, lounging on the sofa and chatting with Jungwoo, your third volleyball neighbor. Once, when you’re studying at the school library because you need a change of scenery from your apartment, he runs into you. That time, you snap at him.

“Are you stalking me or something?”

He places a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended. “What do you mean? If anything you’re the one stalking me. I come here every Thursday after practice to study.” He huffs. “If you’re talking about when I was in Johnny’s apartment, I was already there before you even arrived. Unless you’re accusing me of being psychic, too.”

Your shoulders slowly lower at the guilt you feel. Cringing slightly, you raise your hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to imply…” You sigh. “Sorry. Can I buy you a coffee or something to apologize?”

Only after Yuta’s mock hurt shifts to a triumphant look do you realize the implications of your words. You’re really on a roll with implications today. He grins. “If you really want to.”

As you pack up your things, Yuta tells the few teammates he had come to study with that he’s going, and you walk out of the library side by side. Luckily, he actually makes for easy conversation and good company. You don’t know why he insists on the flirting and cockiness in your shorter interactions. As you walk to the campus coffee shop, you learn that he’s a studio art major. He learns that you’re a physical therapy major. You learn that he’s taking a statistics class that you had already previously taken - he put it off while you got it done in your first year - and, without thinking, you offer to help him if he needs it. After you order both of your coffees, finding out that he likes a lighter roast, you sit at a table in the shop with him. Silence comes and goes as both of you do some of the studying that you intended to do at the library. Every so often, he asks you a question. Usually, you answer him. You always return with a question of your own. You find out that his favorite of the bands that he used to blast through the floor is One Ok Rock.

“Sorry,” he finally says, appearing genuinely remorseful with the sheepish look on his face, “I didn’t have upstairs neighbors last year. I didn’t know you could hear it through the floor.”

“It’s fine. Sorry I snapped at you back then.”

It’s very strange to be on perfectly good terms with Nakamoto Yuta.

A few days later, when your brother sends you a ticket for the local professional soccer team, the Ravens, you almost feel like you should ask for a second so you can bring Yuta. Figuring it would be too much to ask, you plan to go by yourself, thankful that the game falls on a day the Lions aren’t playing. Plus, you can’t imagine what your roommates would say if you chose to go out of your way to take him with you.

You’ve taken to hanging out with the long-haired center forward, helping him with his math when he needs it and just… generally enjoying his company. That doesn’t mean you’re all sugar and smiles to him - it’s much more fun to mess around a little, make him think that you don’t like him quite as much as you actually do. The only thing you can think of that would personally offend him would be to say you’re going to one of his games and then failing to do so.

On the bus ride over to the stadium where the Ravens are playing, you’re thankful that you don’t recognize anyone from your school. You’re in the team’s colors, silver and forest green, and it would be clear to anyone where you’re going. Only after you get off of the bus do you realize just how many came to watch. The stadium is full, packed to almost capacity. That’s probably why your brother hadn’t gotten you tickets earlier - all of them were taken. He probably gave tickets to the earlier games to your parents. They would have thrown a fit if he had only invited you earlier, even if you are his favorite.

As you make your way to your seat, you remark on how strange it is to see your last name printed on the backs of the shirts of a bunch of strangers. The vibe of the crowd is completely different from that at your school’s field. While college students are excitable and energetic, these spectators are rabid. At any moment, there’s one hundred people yelling, someone trying to start a chant, someone screaming just for the sake of it. The air is buzzing with the anticipation of the crowd.

There’s a moment of sudden thick silence, like the moment before a dam is about to burst, where the crowd is silent. Then, both teams are stepping out onto the field and the stadium explodes. In the middle of the line of the eleven Ravens players, like he’s trying to blend in even though half of the crowd is chanting his name, is your brother. There’s a coin flip and it’s decided that the Ravens will start. He gets into his position, forward center, and the audience takes another breath.

You’re on the edge of your seat. Half of the game you’re standing. There’s a thrill about the experience that makes you so invigorated and proud beyond belief. If it had been strange seeing your last name on the backs of fans’ jerseys, it’s just as weird hearing the announcer say your brother’s name as he scores. If Yuta had been residual starshine, your brother is a shot of pure gold. He has long given up trying to make himself small where he glows the brightest, smiling as the whistle is blown for halftime. His teammates slap each other on the back when they go for water. Just as the game is about to resume, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket once. You figure that whoever is texting you can wait.

The other team makes a comeback in the second half, scoring on the Ravens and tying the score. You feel a bit bad for the goalie, a guy you know as Kim Yongsuk, who your brother had introduced you to in the past. He’s probably beating himself up over it. Still, the team doesn’t falter, doesn’t repeat their mistakes. It’s a hard game - from how close you are, you can almost see everyone breathing hard. Finally, with just a few minutes left to spare, the ball travels smoothly from the Ravens’ defensive line, to the midfielders, to the offense. Once it’s in your brother’s possession, it’s over. He shoots and he scores.

To be fair to the other team, they try to recover, but it’s just not enough. Time is called and it ends 2:1. The Ravens have won. You find yourself clapping and cheering with the other fans, shouting your elation to the huge stadium. As things begin to wind down and the teams shake hands, people begin to trickle out of the stadium. A satisfied hum is in the air, leaving a smile on your face, too. Perhaps soccer games are the reason you like parties, too. The warm, excited atmosphere, the noise, forgetting about the outside world to become absorbed in something else.

Finally, reality calls again after all of the players filter out to their respective locker rooms. You pull out your phone, about to send a text to your brother. However, when your phone comes to life, the first thing you see is a text from Yuta.

NaYu: Are you at the Ravens game??

An instant later, right on cue, you hear his voice. “Y/N!” Upon looking up, he’s bounding down the aisles towards you, also donning forest green and silver. Watching him weave through the rest of the people trying to leave, you wouldn’t be surprised if he would have slid down the railing if there weren’t other people there. Nonetheless, it doesn’t take long for him to reach you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Why not?” You tilt your head, smiling slightly. You’re in too good of a mood to outright lie to him.

He blinks. “I thought you hated watching soccer.”

You hold your hands behind your back, swaying playfully. For once, he’s the confused one. “I don’t know what gave you that impression. I really enjoy seeing the Ravens play.”

“But… you said…” He furrows his eyebrows. “Didn’t you say you’ve seen enough soccer games to last your whole life already, or something?” “I changed my mind.” Your phone buzzes in your hand.

B/N: You still in the stands? I’m coming up.

At that, you freeze. Yuta nudges you. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” You’ve kept the fact that your brother is the Ravens’ star striker away from everyone, besides your roommates, and you can’t even begin to imagine how Yuta would react if he found how. What would he think of you? “You can head out without me, Yuta. I’m waiting for someone.” The concerned expression doesn’t leave his face. “Are you sure? It’s kind of late-”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine, I’m-”

“Y/N!”

You turn just in time to see your brother jumping the gate blocking off the entrance to the field from the stands. Most of the stadium has cleared out by now, ushered out by staff, leaving very few people. Your brother has a hoodie on with his team’s colors, the hood up and partially blocking his face from distant onlookers nonetheless. You cringe internally as he jogs up to you, not seeming tired at all, and you greet him as he engulfs you in a warm hug. “Hi, B/N.”

“I’m glad you could make it. It’s not often that I get to play for my favorite sibling.” You’re looking at your brother, but you’re sure that Yuta has a shocked look on his face as he connects the dots. Now that your brother has directly stated who he is to you, there’s no avoiding it. He looks past you and realizes that you’re not alone. “Who’s this?”

“I…” Now that you’re actually looking at Yuta, you realize he’s entirely starstruck. He looks like he’s stuck in one place, his eyes wider than normal and full of awe.

You take over for him. “This is Yuta. He’s my friend from school and our team’s center forward.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m B/N! Since Y/N finally decided to show her face at her own team’s games, I heard you guys are doing well this year. Go Lions!” He raises a fist, giving Yuta a sunny smile.

Yuta blinks hard, looking almost like he might pass out. “Y-yeah. We’re doing alright, I guess. Thank you for your support.” He reflexively dips into a shallow bow, making your brother chuckle.

“You don’t have to be so formal. Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine.” He elbows you not-so-gently. “Y/N! Tell me next time you want to bring him. I’ll throw in a second ticket.”

Yuta unfreezes a bit and looks at you. “You don’t bring Yein or Sowon?”

You shrug. “I don’t like to bring only one of them. It feels unfair to the other.”

“Still, I’m glad to see that you’re not lying about having at least one friend.” Your brother gives you a wicked grin and heat fills your cheeks.

“I have friends!” You insist, clenching your fists at your side.

“Do you?” Yuta teases, making you press your lips together in a look of indignation.

Before you can counter him, your brother interjects. “I hate to part with the two of you, but I have to leave.” He steps back, waving a hand at the two of you. “See you!” “I hope you stub your toe on the way out!” You shout back at him as he retreats.

“Hey, this toe is worth a lot of money! Love you, too!”

There’s a period of silence as you watch your brother disappear. Yuta clears his throat. “Do you want to go back?”

“Yeah.” You follow him wordlessly for a while, making your way out of the stadium. He walks by your side, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t seem upset, just a bit shocked still. As you approach the bus stop, you finally speak up. “Did you come with anyone else?”

“Some of the guys from the team. I told them to go ahead without me so I could talk to you.” Of all the things he’s ever said, that makes your heart feel strange. A tiny flutter of a butterfly’s wings, if you will.

Then, as you make it to the bus shelter, you turn to him, grabbing onto the edge of his sleeve. “Yuta, promise you won’t be weird after this?”

He blinks, not fighting your grip. “Why would I be weird?”

“Just… I don’t really tell people about my brother. I don’t want you to think any differently about me because of it.” This level of vulnerability isn’t something you usually show and it feels foreign, unfamiliar. When you told Sowon and Yein about it, it didn’t feel this way. Yet, standing under the shelter with Yuta, his deep green sleeve in your hand, his eyes on yours, the light of the city falling faintly on your faces, you feel your heart pound even harder in your chest.

“I already liked you before I ever knew that.” He reaches up oh so slowly. You don’t know what he’s going to do. Touch your cheek, pat your head, kiss you? Before you can find out, the bus pulls up with a loud exhale, spewing exhaust. The doors open and the driver looks at you expectantly as you turn and get in. Yuta follows you, silent. Both of you pay your dues and sit down, side by side, his sleeve brushing yours.

You know exactly what it is about him that drives you insane. At the same time, you have no idea. While you don’t want things to be different with him after tonight, you also desperately wish for the opposite. You’re tempted to slap yourself in the face to try and wake yourself up from whatever strange dream you’re happening, but you don’t know how the boy next to you would react.

The ride passes excruciatingly slowly, as does the short walk back to your complex. Finally, as you’re standing in the stairwell, about to part ways with him, he speaks. “Do you want to study together tomorrow?”

At that, such a normal suggestion, you smile. “Sure.”

He reflects your expression. It’s a familiar look on him, which you’re grateful for. “I’ll text you. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next day is entirely ordinary. It’s like the previous night never happened. Yuta is perfectly normal, perfectly flirty, perfectly infuriating. In fact, the entire week after is normal. You go to the Lions game, cheer on your neighbors, and pretend to be difficult with Yuta after the game. He’s always so hard on himself after his games, remarking on what he believes are the many things he could have done differently to play a better game, despite scoring all of the team’s goals and securing wins every time. You hope that you talking to him afterwards raises his spirits just as much as you enjoy it.

Then, one Saturday, you’re out running when Yuta jogs up to you. Once again, he scares the shit out of you, making you nearly trip. “Hey, Y/N.”

You tear out your headphones, giving him a look. “Have you tried not jumpscaring me?”

The shrug he gives you looks strange, as he’s jogging slowly next to you when he attempts to emote. “It’s kind of funny.” You grumble under breath about showing him what’s funny, and he continues. “Do you want to run together on the weekends?”

“This again?” You say, frowning.

He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I know you’re lonely. Since you come out to my games, I thought I should do you some sort of favor in return.”

“I also help you with your statistics homework.”

“Anyways, you’re in luck because I also don’t have a running partner. It’s a lot easier to set a pace and keep moving if you have someone with you.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. When you’re running, you’re at your most vulnerable - sweaty, tired, out of your element. There’s plenty of reasons you shouldn’t want him to run with you. “You have to run so much faster than I do. I would just slow you down.”

“Not really,” he says, looking at your feet as you jog next to him, “see? We’re both doing fine right now.”

You realize that he’s right. You keep moving wordlessly for a minute, until you speak quietly. “Would you really not mind?”

You focus on his hair bouncing as he takes each step for a while before you look at his face. In the morning sunlight, he gives you a pure smile. “Not at all.”

On Saturdays and Sundays, he’s waiting for you just outside of the complex at seven in the morning with his hair tied up to keep it out of his eyes. He easily matches his pace to yours. He’s always much more awake at that hour than you are, but the quiet encouragement he whispers whenever you slow down help perk you up. It takes you a little while to realize that he’s doing something very similar for you to what you do for him after his games.

It’s a cloudy Sunday morning. Usually, you don’t talk a ton while you’re running together, but it seems that his curiosity has gotten the best of him. “What made you want to start running?”

“Hm?” You hum, snapped out of the world that was just your feet thudding against the ground and the sound of your breathing in your ears. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“People usually don’t just randomly start doing it. Maybe they want to get stronger or lose weight. Maybe they want to impress someone.”

“It’s not about impressing anyone. I’m doing this for me.” You say it firmly, confidently. His pace stutters and he watches you continue forward. There’s something in your voice that makes him incapable of moving, and all he can do is stare at you for a moment, his heart speeding up in his chest for reasons other than the running you’re doing. When you realize he isn’t following, you turn towards him, jogging in place. The way your face is illuminated by the sunlight being cast upon it makes him sure he’s never met someone as incredible as you before in his life. “Are you coming?”

You don’t know what’s up with him. His expression is something you’ve never seen but can’t quite place. He catches up in a few bounds and you resume your run.

The next Friday, you receive a strange text.

Unknown Number: Hey, is this Y/N?

You contemplate whether or not you should respond, but you get a second text.

Unknown Number: This is Mingyu from physics

Now, that’s strange. You start to type out a reply.

Y/N: Hi! What’s up?

Kim Mingyu: I was wondering if you could help me with the lab report from last Friday? I’m having some trouble

Y/N: Sure, do you want to meet in the library later?

Meeting up with someone who you’ve never really talked to before is strange. Mingyu tries to joke with you, but something about them falls flat. You try your best to laugh and help him anyways, figuring it’s just stiffness from interacting with someone new. Though it’s nice to finally have a physics buddy, you’re almost relieved when you go home.

As you approach your complex, you see a small group formed on the lawn outside. Sicheng and Ten are standing on one leg, holding the other leg up and trying to knock each other down. A small smile comes to your face when you realize that Yuta is in the group, cheering for his friends. Around the same time you see him, he sees you and his eyes light up. He’s quickly getting to his feet and bounding towards you. Taeyong calls after him with a frown. “Yuta, you’re next!”

Still, he sidles up next to you as you walk closer to the circle. “Y/N! Where are you coming from?”

“Just the library. Actually, I was meeting up with one of your teammates, Mingyu. We were working on physics.”

The smile he wears twitches downwards for a moment. “I didn’t know you had a class with him.”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning. I never talked to him before today.” You shrug, shifting the backpack on your shoulders. “What are you guys doing?”

“One-legged fight. You should join.” He suddenly has a sadistic gleam in his eye and you take a tiny step away from him.

“And give you an excuse to push me on the ground? No thanks.”

“Aw, Y/N, I’m hurt. You don’t think I would just push you if I really wanted to?” At his proclamation, you shake your head, trying to force down a smile but failing miserably. “I’m kidding, of course. I would never.”

It’s almost sunset and he looks glorious in the golden light, the sun reflecting off of his dark hair and making his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheekbones. If you were bolder, you might say something about it. Instead, you let out a snort of laughter, looking away from him. From the circle a few yards away, cheers erupt. Ten is curled on the ground, dramatically bemoaning his loss to Sicheng, who stands proudly over him. Taking that as his cue, Yuta gives you a small wave and rejoins his group.

When you enter your apartment with a small, content smile on your face, Yein looks up from her cooking. “Good day?”

“You could say that.”

The next morning, thankfully, is a Saturday. Yuta is waiting for you, looking just as fine in the morning sun as he did in the evening rays. He’s stretching as you approach him. “It looks like it’ll be good weather for the match today.”

“It better be.” He says it lightheartedly, but you can really imagine him threatening the weather. He’s told you that he hates the rain, partly because it makes it unpleasant to play but also just because it dampens his mood. The team is lucky they’ve gotten good weather for the season so far.

As you’re running, you remember what something you needed to ask Yuta about. “Hey, are you free on Wednesday night? My brother offered me two tickets for his game.”

His eyes light up. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, trying to keep your pace steady. “He said he would pull through, so he did. You made a good impression on him.”

“I am totally free. Completely. Did I tell you how free I am that day?” The child-like excitement in his voice makes you smile in return.

“Wow, with how not free you are, I guess I should invite someone else,” you tease and he lets out an uncharacteristic whine.

“Y/N, I know you’re messing with me, but if you take someone else after asking me, I will never forgive you.”

Now it’s your turn to pretend to be offended. “I see how much our friendship means to you, Mr. Nakamoto.”

He sighs dramatically, bringing a hand to his forehead as he acts like he’s going to faint. “You’re so serious.”

You stick out your tongue at him. “You’re such a fanboy.”

“I can’t help it. Your brother is just so cool. I don’t know how you don’t try to hang out with him literally all the time.”

That gives you pause. You feel your feet connect with the earth repeatedly for a minute, thinking about your brother and your complicated but not complicated relationship. You trust Yuta with so many things, so you may as well tell him. “A few weeks ago, when I said I was only doing this for me, I lied. Just a little.” You say, not looking at him. You’ve never really admitted it out loud before. “I want to get good enough to run with my brother. I almost never see him these days, but if I can start getting up to run with him sometimes… it’ll be like when we were kids. Or something. I don’t know.”

“He’s important enough to you that you want to change something about your life to spend more time with him,” Yuta says quietly, keeping pace with you. “I hope he knows how much you care about him.”

“You don’t always need to change to show you love someone. That’s why it was only partly a lie when I said I’m only doing this for myself.” You flash Yuta a smile, which he returns. Though your lungs burn and your legs ache, the air you breathe in is cool and fresh. “I’ll race you back.”

His eyes flash. “Challenge accepted.”

The next time you see Yuta is later that day, at his game. He’s serious, as usual, in the zone. As the season goes on, the bleachers fill up more and more with students eager to see the Lions throw sparks. The games continually get harder, but they manage to clutch this one out with a final score of 3:2.

Despite the win, Yuta still seems somewhat down. Afterwards, you’re about to go up to him to describe the glorious moment when he slid between two of the opponent defenders and scored, but you’re stopped by a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N.” To your surprise, Mingyu is the one approaching you. He doesn’t take his hand away.

“Oh! Mingyu, hi.” You try to smile at him, but your eyes wander over to Yuta briefly. “Good game today! You guys played solidly.”

“Ha, thanks. Could’ve been better on my part, I’m always looking to improve, you know.”

“I get it,” you respond, nodding.

“Are you possibly free on Wednesday night? We have a lab due on Friday and I just think it would be easier to do if we can work together, ya know?”

“Oh, um, I’m actually busy then.” You force yourself to not look at Yuta. “Does Thursday night work instead?”

“Sure, whatever. I’ll see you then.” The way he squeezes your shoulder once before stepping away to talk to some of his own friends makes your stomach turn. Why is he being so… weird?

Shaking your head, you turn back to who you had intended to greet in the first place, only to find that he had been looking at you already. What’s with the look in his eyes? Why is everyone being so weird? Ignoring the feeling, you join his circle. Yuta moves closer to your side, his arm looping around your waist as he does so, pulling you in slightly. The touch is brief but intimate, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. You swear that you can almost feel the heat of his skin through your clothes. Then, his arm is back at his side like nothing happened. You want to speak up, say what you were planning on saying before, get your mind back on a normal track, but you find that Johnny, Ten, and Jungwoo are already recreating the scene, making Yuta smile through the veil of whatever emotions he’s experiencing right now.

When the entire team heads over to the locker rooms to clean off the shine of sweat and dirt that had been accumulated through the game, you can’t help watching him. As he goes, you catch flashes of his smile while he congratulates his teammates. Something stirs in your heart.

That night, you dream of healing smiles dressed in a lion’s mane of black hair. That same visage is waiting for you the next morning when you go out to run but, here outside of your head, he’s solid, real, more than heated touches and soft caresses. At the same time, he is those things. Or, so you wish him to be.

When you study with him the next night, he is as he usually is, theoretically. Sometimes it feels like his eyes linger longer than usual, his hand rests a little closer, he smiles a little wider. It’s nothing you can confirm because, to any normal gaze, he seems entirely the same. Perhaps you’re confusing yourself into imagining things. Has his flirtatious nature finally tricked your brain into thinking he likes you?

Sometime that evening, you go to the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. You pat your face rather harshly to try and drive some sense back into your brain. You should tell him. This new boy who has become so close to you. Why are you afraid of it going wrong? You emerge from the bathroom with the same feelings that you entered it with and, there he is, looking up at your return.

The next day, Tuesday is a brief reprieve from the torture of trying to figure out his feelings through his actions. Then, your brother’s game comes. Your chatter fills the space between you on the bus ride to the stadium, him telling you about the anime he’s watching, you talking about the drama you’re watching in response. He jokes about culturing you by getting you to watch a show with him.

Watching your brother’s game with Yuta at your side is an entirely different experience. While you think you normally have pretty good commentary on your own, he provides an extra edge, excitedly explaining why some players choose to do some things or making observations about small moves that you ordinarily wouldn’t notice. Both of you absorb the atmosphere of the stadium, bursting into cheers whenever something incredible happens, screaming extra loud when your brother scores.

During halftime, when the roar of the audience is less deafening, you realize that you’ve never asked Yuta about his background with soccer before. You nudge him. “Hey, Yuta? How long have you been playing?”

He taps his chin, trying to think back. “Probably since I was five?”

“No wonder you know so much,” you say, “I’m talking to an expert right now.”

“You know too much for just a casual viewer,” he says back, snorting, “don’t tell me you don’t have some experience.”

“I only played a bit when I was younger, but I wasn’t any good. It was always more fun to watch B/N. I ended up just taking care of him whenever he pulled something or fell and scraped his arm… you know.” A wistful smile forms on your face. “It started off as just kissing bruises like my mom would, but then it turned into intense Googling whenever I couldn’t immediately figure out what was wrong with him.”

“Maybe you can kiss my boo-boos whenever I get hurt, too, then.” He’s smirking, the ever-familiar gleam of mischief in his gaze.

You force yourself to roll your eyes at him, ignoring the feeling of your heart jumping in your chest. “You’d better not get hurt, Nakamoto.”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

A few minutes later, the game resumes. This matchup is considerably more difficult than the game you had attended before. Each time the Ravens seem like they’re close to scoring, the opponent defense sends it back towards your end of the field or the goalie successfully blocks it. All the same, your defense and goalie do their jobs, too, leading to a brutal back and forth. By the time the game is over, the only goal that had been scored was the single one your brother got in the first half.

“Ah, that was tense. They almost took it back there for a second.” You stand, stretching your arms behind your back to loosen them up a bit. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure.” Yuta gets up as well, following you as you begin to climb the stairs. “Is your brother not coming to see you this time?”

“He told me he has some press deal after this.” Once you’re in a more open area, Yuta walks next to you instead of behind. You can now see that he’s frowning.

“Does he keep you a secret on purpose?”

“I asked him to.”

“I can’t imagine keeping someone like you hidden like that.” At that strange comment, you stop, looking at him. He seems to be taking the issue very personally.

“It’s easier this way. No one prying into my life, no one asking me for autographs from him all the time. People know who our parents are. What’s so important about an unknown sister?” Is there something else he wants you to say? The look on his face is something you’ve only seen maybe once or twice. He’s in a strange mood, that’s for sure.

“I get it, it’s just…” He sighs, looking at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Yuta.” He finally meets your eyes. “It’s important to me that what people think about me is what I show them first. I don’t want to be a reflection of my brother, no matter how much I love him.”

“Is he the reason you didn’t want to talk to me at first?” There’s amusement in Yuta’s voice again, that strange seriousness gone.

You start to walk again and he keeps pace. “No, that was just because you woke me up at six in the morning.”

“I guess both of us have experiences that precede our reputations then, huh?”

The bus comes not much later. The previous reminder of how you met has him offering you one side of his earbuds, saying that this would be a better introduction to J-rock than the one you had before. As you listen, you’re tempted to lean your head against his shoulder or take his hand, which is resting oh so close to yours. Instead, you just sit still and look out the window.

After you get off of the bus, the topic of shows you both like makes a return.

“I will take it upon myself to expose you to great art. Are you free tomorrow? We have to start immediately.” Yuta begins to pester you, practically bouncing as you walk.

“Actually, I’m busy tomorrow. I’m working on physics with Mingyu again.” He doesn’t initially not react to your first statement. However, when his teammate’s name comes out of your mouth, he frowns.

“Of anyone…” The sudden change in his attitude catches you off guard. “Why him?”

“I don’t choose who’s in my classes. What’s wrong with you? I thought you got along with your teammates.” You’re nearing your complex at this point. The lamp posts bordering the sidewalk cast long shadows on the ground as you walk.

“In a team context, they’re fine. Usually. Just, that guy…” He’s scowling now, making you frown deeply in return.

“What about him?”

“I don’t know, Y/N.” He pauses, but then his feet stop moving a moment later. “Fuck it, I do know. He’s not a good person. He’s a manipulator. He’s a good manipulator, but he’s bad at lying when you actually confront him-”

“Yuta, you’re being ridiculous. Even if he is, I’m strong enough to take care of myself.”

“Y/N, he was with me at that first game! The one where I found out about your brother? What if he saw? He’s the type to use information like that to get what he wants. What if he-”

“What if he what, Yuta?” You glare at him, anger muddled with some other hurt now filling you. “He hasn’t done anything. He isn’t going to do anything. Our ‘secret’ isn’t going to get out. I can take care of myself.”

With that, you brush past him, into the complex, into your apartment. Thankfully, your roommates aren’t in the common area, so you safely make it to your room. Once you’re there, you shove your face into your pillow. You consider screaming into it, but you know he’s probably in his own room, where he could hear you. Instead, you just heave breath after frustrated breath.

You don’t know why you snapped at him. Actually, you do. It’s the fear that he’s actually doing what he accused Mingyu of. After every word you’ve exchanged, every conversation, you should be confident that he’s not like that. But, you’ve never been in this situation before. What if he…

It’s a stupid notion and you know it. That’s just the surface. Another layer of your feelings peels away. You hate when people are too protective of you. You want to make your own decisions, to learn for yourself. You hate when your brother is too protective of you and you hate when Yuta is.

That’s not even all of it. Finally, you reach the root of your aggression. What right does Nakamoto Yuta have to try and be protective of you when you aren’t even together? Was that the concern of a friend or the concern of a jealous lover?

You curl in on yourself even more tightly, breathing through the pillow under your face. No one has ever flirted with you as much as he has. You’ve never been so ridiculously on and off with someone before. Still, neither of you are willing to answer the question. You’ve never actually fought like this with him before.

Perhaps he hates you now that you’ve thrown his warnings back in his face.

The next day, after your classes, you force yourself to go to the library to meet Mingyu, Yuta’s words heavy in your mind. As you work, you can tell he’s still trying desperately to get on your good side, even emanating Yuta in a strange, off-balance way. It’s not amusing when he does it.

Finally, the subject you’ve been dreading comes.

“Are you a fan of the Ravens? I think I saw you at one of their games once.”

You swallow back disappointment. Mingyu is the worst fear of your insecure self and you finally have to come face to face with it. “I guess you could say that.”

To your surprise, he doesn’t take it farther than that. If Yuta’s right about him, then it’s probably just one piece of a larger goal. Though you never cared much for Mingyu, it doesn’t feel good to see things begin to unfold.

Not seeing him for two days in a row brings your mood down more than you’d like to admit. At the same time, you’re not ready to apologize yet. You don’t know what exactly is happening on his end, you never know, so when you go outside to run at your normal time on Saturday, you half expect him to be there.

He isn’t. And you don’t run into him on your way back, either. The game it is, then.

As the day progresses, the sky gets increasingly cloudy. In the evening, when the Lions and their opponent team are out on the field running final drills, it’s easy enough to tell that a good number of people had looked at the forecast - the crowd in the bleachers is much thinner than usual. The sky could open up and pour its soul out onto all of you at any moment.

You don’t even bother pretending that you’re not watching Yuta. As he steps off the field for their usual pre-game pep talk and chant, you swear he makes eye contact with you. Normally, he wouldn’t even bother looking, because he’s usually confident that you’re there. You’re not sure what the look in his eyes is now.

The coin toss decides that the other team will start with the ball. That might have been the first omen about the game. Then again, maybe the other team is just… better. Their defense is at least tighter than yours. At halftime, they have a point up on the Lions, 0:1. Yuta seems to take this very, very personally. Within ten minutes of the game restarting, they tie the score back up.

At about three quarters of the way through, it begins to rain. The referee deems that they’ve played far to stop, so the match continues. Almost like they take the poor weather as a sign, the rival team scores nearly immediately after.

You pathetically huddle under a single umbrella with Sowon while Yein shares one with Johnny. The ball slips rather than flies around the field, back and forth, back and forth, until, finally, with barely any time to spare, it’s at Yuta’s feet. The world seems to move in slow motion, then. His right foot moves backwards. It swings forwards. He makes contact.

He misses.

You try not to gasp. Yuta himself seems to be in shock, with how he goes stiff for a moment. Then, he’s back in action, targeting where the goalie had thrown the ball. This time, it’s not enough. A minute later, after another brutal back and forth, the scream of the whistle soars above the sound of the rain. It’s over. The Lions have met their first loss of the season.

The two teams barely wait around to shake hands before they’re rushing off to the locker rooms, away from the rain. Yuta moves slower than the rest, seeming to drag his feet through the muddying grass. Ahead of him, all of his teammates are moving quickly, but moping nonetheless. From your position, you see Mingyu kick the shins of someone you recognize to be one of the younger players. You see Kun’s mouth move as he tells him off, but they’re far enough away and the rain is loud enough that you can’t hear. If you hadn’t been displeased already, you are now.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

“You guys can go back,” you say, taking a step out from under the umbrella after you’re out of the bleachers with your friends. When Sowon tries to shove her umbrella in your hands, you push it back. “I’ll be fine! It’s only a short distance.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Don’t worry.” With a sigh, she turns, reluctantly walking back behind Yein and Johnny.

You take off running, trying to outpace the raindrops pelting you. By the time you make it beneath the slight sheltered roof of the locker room building, you’re damp, but not entirely soaked. It’s enough to be an annoyance, your clothes sticking slightly to your skin.

You wait outside for a good few minutes. Small groups of players from either team leave, the opponent players giving you strange looks as you lean against the wall and shiver, Baekho and his group giving you an awkward acknowledgement, and, finally, Mingyu emerges.

“Y/N?” He seems confused, but somewhat excited. As if you’re there to meet him.

“Mingyu. Answer one question for me.” You say it wearily, expressing it like the chore it is.

“What are you acting so weird for?” The excitement you glimpsed before dies.

“Were you going to use me to get in good with my brother?”

The rain is the only sound you hear for a couple solid heartbeats. “Y/N, listen…”

“He was right…” You grumble to yourself. You glare up at him. “You can do your physics labs by yourself. Delete my number.”

He stands before you for a moment more before he realizes that you’re serious. He turns and walks away, into the haze of the downpour. A minute later, Jaehyun and Kun emerge from the building.

“Oh, Y/N,” Jaehyun says, seeming surprised. “Are you waiting for Yuta?”

“Is it that obvious?”

The two of them exchange looks and smile. Kun speaks next. “He’s probably not coming out for a while. He usually gets all depressed when we lose a game, but I’ve never seen it this bad. He’s been standing in the shower for like fifteen minutes.”

You glance at the door. Jaehyun nudges you. “He’s the only one left in there. I wouldn’t tell anyone if you, say, went in right now.”

“A bonafide cupid right here,” Kun says, swinging the bag he has slung over his shoulder around so he can dig through it. He produces something, offering it to you. “Here.”

“What is…” You trail off as you take it from him, your face warming as you realize exactly what it is. “Kun, what is this?!”

“I don’t want any miniature versions of him running around. I’m always prepared.” You stare at Kun incredulously a beat longer before you shove the condom in your damp pocket.

“Good luck!” Jaehyun calls back to you as they begin to walk off, leaving you standing under the overhang. Taking a deep breath, you push open the door and walk inside.

Unsurprisingly, the place has a somewhat sweaty smell to it. The rows of lockers are labeled with names and a little image depicting the sport the owner plays, as all of the school’s teams use the same locker room, and the occasional miscellaneous socks, gloves, and other things are scattered about. A row of sinks is against one wall and past the sinks is an entrance into the shower area. You make your way there.

As you get closer, the distinct sound of one shower running gets louder. The only curtain that’s closed is a middle stall, all of the others open and empty. Parallel to the shower stalls is a long wooden bench. “Yuta?” You call out. He doesn’t respond, so you try again. “Yuta?”

“Go away.” This time, the response is sharp and harsh. He certainly is in a mood.

“Yuta, it’s me.”

“Y/N?” His voice is significantly less negative now. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you.”

You can barely hear him sigh over the sound of the shower running. “You couldn’t wait until after I was done?”

“No.” When you say that, the water shuts off. A hand sneaks out to grab the towel hanging from a hook affixed to the partition between the stalls. You don’t see anything revealing, but you look away anyways. The scraping of the rings being drawn back tells you he has emerged from the stall.

“You can look at me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.” You look back, greeted with the sight of his gloriously wet hair and bare torso. He emerged quickly enough that he didn’t have time to dry much of the water dripping off of him. The only part of his body that’s covered is his waist and thighs, though the towel still reveals a tantalizing v-line. You forcibly swallow your thirst.

“Blatantly checking me out again? I get it, but would it kill you to be less obvious?” The comment throws you back to a simpler time, when you were just irritated with him for his cockiness and blasting music through the floor.

“Speak for yourself.” You cross your arms. It was obvious enough that he was enjoying the sight of you in a wet t-shirt and shorts.

“Why didn’t you wear something warmer?” He says, frowning. He steps closer, leaving little space between you.

“I didn’t think it would cool down this much.” You look away, not able to face his bare chest quite yet. The room still has a certain steam about it from the hot shower he was taking that makes it a little harder to breathe. Then again, maybe that’s just him being mostly naked in front of you. He reaches out, touching the hem of your shirt.

“You’re soaked,” he says, rubbing your shirt between his thumb and index finger.

“You’re just making me wetter.” Your face burns something fierce as you say it, contrasting the chill that had settled over your skin from standing outside. “You would think you’d dry yourself off more before getting out of the shower.”

“I was just eager to see you, I guess.” You finally have the courage to meet his eyes again.

“I missed you this morning.” You almost pout while saying it, feeling small under his gaze. It’s not an uncomfortable smallness, but one that makes you feel closer to him.

“I figured you didn’t want to see me.” He reaches out, brushing his fingers softly over the side of your face. His touch is blissfully warm. “Or, I think that you did want to see me, but you would only be angrier if I showed up.”

The thought almost makes you laugh. It would be one of the few times he’s been wrong about your feelings. But, if he always knows so much… “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I talked to Mingyu a few minutes ago and you were right. I should have trusted you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you handle it on your own.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “You’re strong enough to deal with assholes like him. You don’t need me.”

“I might not need you, but I do want to keep you around.” The small confession has your bottom lip quivering. “Did I mess up your game today?”

“It was mostly the rain.” He sounds so nonchalant, but you can tell he’s still bothered. “Not you. But, if you do feel bad about it, Miss Physical Therapy, there is something you can do for me.”

His eyes have shifted away from their darkness into a different sort of moodiness. You step closer. “What is it?”

He moves back, taking a heavy seat on the bench. “I’m quite tense. Give me a massage.” His eyes bore into yours. “If you so choose.”

You step behind him. The thrill of what you feel like he’s implying thrums in your veins. The muscles of his shoulders and back are hard under your fingers, showing years of training and toning. You’re almost surprised at how well built his upper body is for a soccer player. His skin is beyond perfect too, and the little droplets of water from his steamy shower that settle on his skin glisten temptingly in the low light of the locker room.

“Sorry my hands are cold,” you practically whisper.

“It’s fine. Feels nice.” He wasn’t lying when he said he was tense - you can feel the knots leaving his muscles as you press down on them, dissolving into smooth flesh that’s soft to the touch. As you work along his back, one particularly tough knot has your thumbs pressing harder into him, drawing a low groan and a curse from his throat. “Fuck.”

The sound turns you on more than you’d like to admit. As you finish his back, you become even more hyper aware of the little noises he’s letting out, the space between you becoming noticeably warmer. Slowly, reluctantly, your hands leave his skin and you circle back towards his front, not quite wanting to look him in the eye. “Is that better?”

“Much.” The air feels heavy. “But you’re not done, yet.” Ordinarily, he’d be smirking so hard you’d be able to hear it in his voice, but there’s only a low command to his tone now. He reaches out, guiding your dominant hand forward so that it’s resting on the front of his shoulder. There’s no hiding from his eyes now. You decide then - if you’re going to do this, you might as well go all out. Sliding onto his lap, your knees pressing into the wooden bench on either side of him, makes you feel both powerful and small at the same time. His face is only a breath away from your own. You swear you can see his eyes flicker to your lips. Trying to play innocent, despite the fact that you can basically feel his dick hardening under his thin towel, you shift slightly, putting your focus on his shoulder and pectoral muscles. Every so often, you readjust yourself, purposefully bouncing slightly on his lap, almost grinding down on him. He doesn’t crack, remaining still and keeping his expression flat. The only signs he gives of being aroused are the slight shiver to his breath and the prominent bulge you’re now certain you can feel. That, and the hands he has on your body, one on your hip and one on your thigh, fixing you in place.

The process is slow, arduous, but you eventually finish with his pectoral and shoulder muscles. You pull your hands away, placing them in your lap and then sitting back, unmoving on his lap, reveling in the way you’ve very clearly made him feel. “Is that all?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips again before boring into your own. “You missed one spot.” Wordlessly, he reaches up, tapping his own lips.

You could walk away right now. His hands aren’t so tight on your body that you couldn’t just get up and leave, go back to your apartment and forget this ever happened. But why would you want to? You’ve been dreaming of his lips for weeks. Finally, you’re about to get a taste. Still, there’s an edge of apprehension digging slightly in your gut.

You’ve sat in silence for long enough that he’s opening his mouth, an apology about to leave his lips, when you swoop forward, pressing your lips to his.

Where he had given you the choice to initiate, he’s the one who really leads. He almost instantly deepens the kiss, dragging you even farther up his lap, pressing you hard against his barely-shielded dick. You feel his fingertips against your skin, under the hem of your top.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes, but-” Where his hands had stilled under your shirt they begin to move again. “Yuta, wait.” He freezes once more, looking up at you. If you didn’t know better, you could swear you see a little bit of fear in his eyes. A shaky breath leaves your lips. “I won’t fuck you unless you tell me you actually have feelings for me. Did you mean what you said back then? After the games?”

“Is that a requirement for all the guys you sleep with or am I special?” You can feel his cock throbbing under you and your own insides ache in response. Of course, he’s delaying what both of you want by being coy. The frustration building up in your gut and in your heart makes you feel like you’re going insane.

“Yuta…” You mean it to sound admonishing, but your tone is more akin to a whine as you lightly drag your nails down his chest. His breath stutters slightly in his lungs at the motion, but in that moment, a sort of gentleness you’ve rarely seen takes over his facade.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” he breathes out, eyes locked with yours, “how could I not have feelings for you?”

You kiss him, sweetly, desperately. His hands begin to move once more, his fingertips digging ever so slightly into your skin. When his hands make it to the edge of your shirt, giving you a suggestion, you cover them with your own, guiding him to take it off. As soon as the garment is out of the way, his lips are on your neck, your collar, the soft skin of your chest. He can feel the hum of your voice through your breast as you speak. “I really like you, Yuta. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else.”

His fingers nimbly unclasp your bra and it falls to the ground somewhere. As his touch ghosts over your breasts, you arch into his hand, drawing a warm chuckle from him. “That’s good,” he says, thumbing slow circles over your nipples, “because I feel the same way about you.”

You pull him back to your mouth, pulling him as close as you possibly can, breathing him like he’s air, tasting him like he’s food. His tongue is slick against your bottom lip, against your own tongue. Almost unconsciously, you rock your hips against his bulge as you move. Impatiently, he tugs at your shorts, pulling you out of the kiss.

“These have to come off.”

“It would kill you to go slow for once,” you laugh, getting off of his lap on shaky legs.

“I go slow for you all the time,” he responds, shifting the towel at his waist, which you realize is barely holding onto him from all the grinding you were doing on his lap, “I’ve been going slow for months now. Isn’t it time to speed things up?”

You roll your eyes, but shimmy out of your shorts, leaving you in your panties and him in his towel. From this angle, he can truly appreciate you. Every curve, every beauty mark, every fold and crease on your body. He leans back, his hands bracing him against the bench. Then, he shifts forward abruptly, taking the opportunity to snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin.

“Yuta!” The cry is half an admonition, half a laugh. You move to push his shoulder gently and he catches you by the hand, pulling you on top of him and kissing you once again. Before you realize it, he has a sneaky hand slipping into your panties, touching you where you’re most sensitive, making you jolt against his hand.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs the words against your lips and you nod, trying to focus on kissing him through the pleasure of his fingers. It’s been far too long since anyone has touched you like this and you’re not used to it.

“Mm,” you moan back, “more than okay.”

He had said he wanted to go faster, but it seems like he’s just going so slow, making you fall apart on his hand, first with just a thumb on your clit, then two fingers pushed more deeply inside of you than you could ever reach yourself. At some point, you’re no longer kissing him and your cheek is pressed to his instead. You nip at his ear, which you now realize is pierced, and the damp spikeyness of his hair rests against your temple.

His free hand rests over your breast, rhythmically squeezing it as you ride his fingers. Oddly enough, you feel like he predicts your climax before even you do, working you carefully through the release of pleasure as you shudder against him and clench around his fingers. Before you can fully regain your senses, he’s kissing you again and removing his hand, wiping his sticky digits against the towel slipping from his waist. You figure you’ll finish the job, reaching down to untwist the cloth so that it falls open against the bench.

You continue kissing him as you take his dick in your hand, your thumb sliding over the precum beading at his tip. It’s his turn to shiver, his cock twitching in your hand. Giving it slow, purposeful jerks, you watch him become perfectly uncomposed under you and you grin, leaning closer to press a kiss to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He’s stiff, but remarkably soft to the touch, veiny and thick enough that your mouth waters. A couple minutes pass before he’s encasing your hand in his own, slowing your movement.

“I don’t want to come in your hand.” You stop, looking at him with faux-innocent eyes. He blinks desperately at you. “Please.”

“Can I suck you off later?” The words leave your mouth unexpectedly. You hadn’t even really been thinking about the later, but you figure you’re safe to assume that there will be one.

“Of course, pretty girl.” He strokes your hair and you can just think about him holding it back in the future as he-

Trying to distract yourself from the later and focus on the now, you slide off of his lap once again. He almost seems confused, made lonelier by the tiniest distance you put between the two of you. It’s almost a funny image, him half pouting at you while his dick is out, standing up against his abdomen and completely exposed. You let out the smallest exhale of a laugh. “You showed me yours, so I figured I would show you mine.” Your panties fall to the ground, where you kick them in the general direction of the rest of your clothes. The sight of your shorts reminds you of another important thing. “Oh! Also!”

You scramble over to them, reaching into the pocket and producing the little foil packet. Yuta stares at you. “You’re… prepared? I didn’t even think this far ahead and half the time my brain is controlled by my-”

“Kun gave it to me before I came in here,” you say, waltzing back over to him. He takes the packet from your hand, tearing it open. You… give him a hand as he rolls it on. “He’s awfully ready for a great many situations, isn’t he?”

“I think he was expecting this to happen a lot earlier than it actually did, honestly,” Yuta responds, pulling you back on top of him for the third time. Once again, your knees rest on the hard wood bench. “Can we not talk about my roommate, please?”

“I can agree to that.” You smile, kissing him. “Can we talk about how much I like you instead?”

“We can always talk about that,” he says, one hand on his dick, one on your hip, “are you ready?”

The mood dips, making your body shiver in anticipation again. “Yes.”

The way he positions his cock and begins to push into you makes both of you let out noises of relief, a groan from him and a sigh from you. You sink down onto him further until he’s fully sheathed inside of you, hard and pulsing and ungodly warm. He gives an experimental buck of his hips, pulling a moan from your lips and shaping his into a cocky smirk. “Already feel that good?”

“Shut up,” the complaint dies in your throat as you lift yourself up on your knees and sink back down again, bouncing on his lap slightly. You focus on the feeling of him inside of you, the sensation of him hitting your G-spot, the touch of his fingers on your clit again. His breath mingles with yours whenever he takes a break from kissing you. Your hands wander the smooth planes of his chest, your thumb briefly ghosting over his nipple, your palms getting sweatier as you hold onto him. It’s not long before you let your head fall back, your thighs tense as you hold onto his shoulders and move up and down on top of his cock.

His lips are hot as he mouths your neck. You’re not usually the type for marking, but, honestly, the thought of wearing his hickey on your skin sounds beyond appealing. He introduces the slightest bit of teeth, grazing them over your pulse as you ride him. The trail of tiny nips goes down past your collarbones to your breast. Your heart beats loudly in your ears and the desperation of chasing your orgasm makes the passage of time feel fuzzy, but in the sweet, bubbly way a soda does rather than the heavy, blurry way a cold would.

“Yuta,” you whine, the knocking of your legs against the bench growing painful, “can you…”

“I got you, baby.” With a grunt, he stands, lifting you by the thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. A breath later, your back is pressed to the wall and he’s pushing into you once again. The new angle is a change, and it’s a good change. Every one of his thrusts hits exactly right, pushing you further and further until-

“Yuta, you’re gonna make me...” you pant against his mouth, breathing the same air as him. At some point, after he had picked you up, you had reconnected your lips, and he swallows the little noises you let out hungrily. You clench and unclench your fists behind his back, as your arms are slung over his shoulders.

“Mm, good. That’s my girl.”

All you can think as he pounds into you is Yuta, Yuta, Yuta. You come undone with a final swipe of his thumb and a choked cry of his name. Once your own orgasm has stopped burning quite so bright, lowering to a comfortable simmer in your gut, his hips slow with each thrust until he pushes into you and stays there. You can feel him throb inside of you even through the condom.

Your skin feels like it’s glowing in the aftermath of his love, warm like coals after a fire has just ceased to burn. Warm with the promise of more flames in the future. You lean your face in the junction of his shoulder and neck, breathing love onto his skin. His deep, uneven breaths slow over time as he presses gentle kisses to the exposed flesh of your shoulder. The silence between you is only interrupted by the ambient sound of water flowing through pipes hidden in the concrete walls of the shower part of the locker room. That’s enough of a reminder for you to groan, clutching onto him tighter. “I can’t believe we just confessed and fucked in your sweaty locker room.”

“From my perspective, it’s more ‘wow, I can’t believe we finally confessed and fucked, even if it was in my sweaty locker room.’” That, at the very least, makes you smile. Slowly, he begins to pull out, separating from you with a sticky, wet sound. He backs up, turning so that he can place you gently on the towel still lying on the bench. He disposes of the used rubber quickly, throwing it in a trash can at one end of the room.

Now that he’s no longer touching you, it feels so much colder. “I feel bad for whoever has to clean this place. I hope they don’t find that.”

He shrugs. “I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He makes his way back to you, naked body still on full, glorious display for your eyes only. “Wanna shower while we’re here?”

You groan. “Yuta, I’m tired. No funny business.”

“Who said anything about any ‘funny business?’ I just suggested we clean off the sweat from all that physical exertion.” He’s smirking, not even pretending to be innocent.

“You’re insatiable.” Still you get up, joining him in the shower stall that he holds open for you. If any follow up activity happens while you’re in there, the only way anyone on the outside would be able to tell would be from the quiet sounds that are mostly drowned out by the noise of the shower.

As you finally redress, accepting the hoodie that Yuta had in his locker so that you don’t have to put your wet shirt back on, he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, like he’s afraid you’ll go away. The environment between you feels different, but the same. After you’re both fully dressed and start walking out the door, you reach out to take his hand. He accepts the action, interlocking his fingers with yours. Both of you stop under the overhang of the building. By now, the sun has set and a few street lights shine along the walkways of the campus through the haze of rain. “Yuta, are you my boyfriend?”

He blinks a couple times. “Wasn’t that implied?”

You turn away, suddenly shy. “I mean… I just… wanted to clarify…”

“You’re too good for me.” He laughs, then kisses your cheek. Both of you stare out of the rain, as if it’s going to suddenly stop just because you’re politely waiting for it. “I meant it. Every time.”

“Hm?”

“Every time I said I liked you, or that you’re amazing. I was just afraid of- I don’t know. That I’m not honest enough or nice enough, or even good enough at soccer. I just-” He seems so tired as he says it, so brutally truthful, so terribly self-doubting.

You squeeze his hand. “Yuta, it’s okay. Honestly, all this time, I thought you’re too good for me. You’re so much more than the things you say you are. You’re a star.”

“I’m not. I can be an asshole, and jealous, and not serious even when I should be-”

“Yuta, if you like me despite all of my ridiculous bad qualities, I’m pretty sure I can deal with a little jealousy. You’ve shown me who you are and I still like you. You’re loyal and funny and romantic and so many other things. I like you.”

He sighs sweetly, like he was holding in a breath for so long and is finally letting it out. He’s holding your hand so tightly, it feels like he might never let go. Right now, you think you might be okay with that. “Sorry. I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

You peer into others’ eyes for a long time, content to just look. Then, the cold finally gets to your legs and you shiver, scooching slightly closer to him. You look out. The rain isn’t getting any better. “Do you want to run? To make up for us not going together this morning?”

He doesn’t even respond. He just glances at you, winks, and tugs at your hand, starting to go. The rain pelts you as you go, utterly soaking you, getting in your shoes, darkening your borrowed hoodie. His hair sticks to his forehead, making him look a bit like a wet kitten. Maybe a lion, more accurately. Still, in the passing lights and the sheen of the rain, he glows.

“Yuta?” You say between shallow breaths.

“Yeah?” He keeps going, keeps tugging you along. You have to work to keep up with him, pumping your legs hard.

“Do you want to go professional?”

He looks back at you quickly, but then turns forward. “I would.”

“I really think you could do it!”

Then he’s laughing, truly, mirthfully. “That’s the second best thing you’ve said to me today!”

At that, you’re laughing too, though it slows your pace, though it makes your lungs burn, though it helps rain water run into your mouth. When you make it to your complex, soaked through, looking like you just took a swim in your clothes, you don’t want to let go. Reluctantly, both of you part ways to change clothes in your respective apartments with the promise to meet soon and start Yuta’s effort to culture you with anime.

Sowon and Yein tease you relentlessly, both when you enter your apartment leaving puddles on the ground and when you leave again ten minutes later completely dry. They tease you for the next week whenever they catch you leaving if they know you don’t have classes. The next Friday, you end up staying up far too late watching one of Yuta’s shows, which you admit are at the very least fun, and you fall asleep in his bed. You’re sure you’ll never hear the end of it from your roommates, even if Yein has been staying in the volleyball boys’ apartment every other day for the last month.

In the morning, a mere three hours after you and Yuta went to sleep, you wake up in his arms to a strange blaring of J-rock. He reaches over you to slap his phone and shut it off. You stay awake just long enough to comment on how strange it is hearing the music next to you and not through the floor.

When you wake up around noon to Yuta staring at you, his bangs half covering his eyes, you flip over, checking the time so that he can’t see the absolutely embarrassed look on your face. “You’re so weird.” “Why are you being all shy? I’ve seen you naked. There’s nothing more to see.”

“There’s plenty more of me to see, thank you very much, Nakamoto Yuta.”

“I know there is, darling.” His arm is still slung over your torso like it was when the alarm went off and he tries to wrestle you back around to face him. You squirm in his hold.

“Darling? You’re so weird. Why are you so weird?”

“Weird? I thought I was romantic and funny and-”

“And weird!” You wiggle more until he flips you onto your back, straddles you, and pins your hands to the bed. It’s quite an incredible sight, him pinning you down with his raven hair a complete mess and no shirt, where you can faintly see marks that you may or may not have left on his chest earlier in the week. “No fair. Home ground advantage.”

He leans in, looking ever so charming despite his disheveled appearance. “You know what makes for great morning exercise?”

“You’re weird and a horndog and-”

“Running! Let’s go.” He suddenly rises up, taking one of your hands with him and pulling you into a sitting position.

“Yuta, it’s noon! There are going to be people out everywhere.” He tugs on your hand and you move so that you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “And it’s Saturday, so there’s going to be even more people…”

“You don’t need to worry about people judging you. If anyone gives you any funny looks, I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Punt a soccer ball at their heads?” You’re standing now, looking at him uncertainly.

He shrugs. “Sure. But, seriously. I promise that you have nothing to be self conscious about. You also have me. That part most importantly.” You would smack him if the smile he gives you doesn’t have you reluctantly agreeing.

He’s right, of course. The run is completely fine. At least, you’re distracted enough by your boyfriend for it to be fine. When you return, you split off to take showers in your apartments. After you emerge from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your body, you find him waiting in your room. You register him saying something about the tables turning and “great afternoon exercise” before he practically pounces on you.

Afterwards, through your sex-high haze, you hear a loud knocking on your front door. Groaning, you move only so much as to press your face into Yuta’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna get up…”

“Did I make you feel that good?” His voice is a warm rumble, teasing, though full of the same tiredness that yours has. You’re about to jab him lightly in the side when his hand shifts down, two of his fingers running through your folds. Shivering at the suggestion, you wiggle closer to him, hiding your face even more.

“Let me rest, you sex-fiend.” Before he can reply, there’s a few more insistent knocks at your door. “Ugh…”

“Were you expecting someone?” You shake your head against him. He reaches over and grabs your phone. “I heard this going off earlier while we were busy.” You make no move to take it from him, so he turns it on, his eyes scanning the recent chain of texts you’d just received. “It’s your brother.”

You immediately bolt straight up. “What?” Your mind ticks back to the previous day before you’re scrambling out of bed. “Shit, shit, shit, I forgot he was coming today!” As quickly as you can, you try to throw on the various items of clothing that had gotten scattered around the room in your - Yuta’s, more accurately - haste to move them off of the bed, where you had laid them out for after your shower.

Yuta stretches lazily. “Glad I could remind you.”

“Asshole, get clothes on! He’ll kill you if he figures out what we did!”

“Ah, to be killed by L/N B/N. You say ‘what we did’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“He’s my older brother, for God’s sake!” You throw a shirt at him, smacking him in the face. “He will murder you! If he doesn’t murder me for forgetting our plans first…”

“And your plans are?” He slips his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, slipping it on.

“I’m taking him to see your game. Maybe meet the team. Who knows? You won’t be able to see it if you don’t move your ass.” You finish putting your jeans on.

“I’ve never escaped through a window before, but it sounds fun.” He’s still smirking, clearly amused. You’re certain he would actually do that if you let him.

“On second thought, just stay here. I won’t let him into my room.” Your phone lights up with your brother’s face and number and starts to buzz. You pick it up. “Sorry, I’m coming! I was napping.” You hang up. “Please, Yuta?”

He steps into his own jeans. “That’s what I was planning on. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to incapacitate myself before the game.”

With that reassurance, you close the door to your room and head for the apartment door. Your brother, clad in a hat, hoodie, and jeans, weirdly normal for him, is standing in front of your door, his phone in his hand. He narrows his eyes. “Hi, Y/N. For a second there, I really thought you forgot about our plans. Who takes a nap on a Saturday afternoon?”

You step aside, letting him in. “I was just tired today for some reason. Sorry.” “You’re lucky you’re my favorite.” He walks in, sliding off his shoes next to yours. “Are your roommates home? It’s been a while since I’ve seen them.”

“No, but they’ll be at the game later. You won’t miss them.” You stand there, swaying somewhat awkwardly. You’re sure that he’s noticed that you’re acting strangely. “Who let you into the lower doors?”

Your brother steps inside casually. “Your neighbor Jaehyun. Nice kid.”

“Y-Yeah. He’s one of our midfielders.”

“I guess I’ll get to see him in action soon, then. Where near here is good for something quick? We only have an hour and a half until the game.”

You’re thankful for a change in subject. “Depends what you want to eat! Think about it while I run to the bathroom?”

As you head there, you glance at your closed door. You feel kind of bad for leaving him in there, but it’s for his own protection. When you get back to the door, your brother is in the same place, staring at the shoes around the entry. He points at a pair of men’s shoes, which you realize with dawning horror are Yuta’s.

“Y/N? Whose shoes are these?”

“Oh! Those are, um, Johnny’s. Yein’s boyfriend.”

He deadpans. “Johnny. Your neighbor. The one who lives right across from you. Who is dating your roommate who isn’t here right now.” When you don’t respond, he sighs. “Y/N, it would be a lot easier to lie to me if you didn’t tell me so much in the first place. Who’s in your room? I know you hate closing your door if you’re not sleeping.”

Reluctantly, you walk to your room, cursing observant soccer players. Yuta looks mildly surprised to see you, and you walk over to where he’s sitting on your bed, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him over to your brother. If he’s afraid of your brother, he doesn’t show it.

“Yuta, was it?” He’s still expressionless. “I’ll have you know that there’s a few rules.” Before Yuta can even ask about the rules, he’s launching into a detailed explanation about consequences, saying something about maiming and making it look like an accident.

“B/N, you’re a professional now. You should really try not to say such scary stuff. Also,” you say, frowning, “I can handle myself. You know that by now.”

Yuta breaks his silence. “She really can. She’s strong enough to deal with anything.”

“You really believe that?” Your brother’s gaze is unyielding.

“I do.”

“Well, then.” He suddenly lightens up, smiling at the two of you. “Want to join us for dinner? I’m thinking noodles.”

“I actually have to get to warm-ups soon…” Yuta says regretfully.

“That’s a good boy. See, Y/N, I trust your judgement. We best be off, then.” Abruptly, your brother turns, putting his shoes back on. You scramble to join him, grabbing your things and putting your own shoes on.

“I’ll see you later?” You say to Yuta, who’s simply staring, somewhat shell shocked that he survived the encounter.

He blinks, then gives you a sort of smirk. “How about a kiss for-”

“Don’t push it.” Your brother cuts him off, standing in the doorway. He starts down the stairs. When he’s not looking, you lean over, pressing your lips to Yuta’s cheek. Before you can turn around, he sneaks one of his own onto your lips. You run after your brother.

He thoroughly grills you about Yuta during dinner, but you don’t mind. You keep out the parts about sex and the specifics of the relationship coming to fruition and he seems satisfied. You barely make it to the game in time because of your brother’s interrogation, but you still get there early enough to see some of the drills. In work mode, he crosses his arms, making approving comments about Yuta’s footwork. Your boyfriend is in a similar mood, already focused in.

Then, the game starts. The other team starts with the ball, but it makes no difference. The Lions take it back, sending it back and forth across the field, gaining and losing it, until Yuta, as usual, scores, redeeming himself from the previous week. Your brother says something under his breath about potential and skill. Through the game, the Lions make great plays and you find yourself cheering for all of them, even Mingyu. The rival team stands no chance - not for lack of skill, but simply because your team is determined. By the end of the game, the score is a solid 3:0.

You’re one of the first onto the field after the teams break away from shaking hands. You meet Yuta in the middle, jumping on him in a hug when you reach him. You can’t stop the outpouring of praise, telling him how well he played, how brilliant he was. He just laughs, telling you he did his best. It’s the most positive thing you’ve heard from him after a game.

When you let go of him, willing to let the rest of his friends surround him now, you step away in search of your brother. To your surprise, he’s chatting up the Lions’ coach, who seems somewhat flustered by the Ravens’ striker speaking to him. Before you can get close, the coach blows the whistle he has around his neck, getting the attention of everyone around him, but particularly the team.

“Boys! Gather round, we have someone here with something to say to you.”

It doesn’t take long for them to recognize who your brother is.

It’s funny seeing the team rush to your brother, some pretending to be cool, some openly fawning over him. But, there’s one person who isn’t looking at him. From across the mob forming around your brother, you make eye contact with Yuta. And, in the midst of the stars shining in the form of the Raven, the Lion’s light falls on you.

#yuta smut #yuta fluff #nct smut #nct fluff #neowritingsnet #nct angst #yuta angst #nct one shot #yuta one shot #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #yuta imagine #nct imagine #yuta fanfiction #yuta fanfic #sports collab #i hope everyone enjoys this :)#apologies for lateness #wonjaekook

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obiwanobi · 2 years

Note

« I wish you would write a fic where…. »

Okay this one is dark it’s okay if you are not comfortable with it, don’t reply :) :

What if for a mission (like a slavery mission) Obi-Wan was obligated to hurt Anakin in order to keep their cover. But they didn’t really talked about it before (because they didn’t think they would have to go through such length) so there is no consent of any kind and they can’t communicate through their bond. The mission ends and Anakin struggles to reconcile the image of a master who beat him and the kind master that is his Obi-Wan plus he knows it was the for the sake of the mission and he’s glad they managed to free the slaves but he’s not okay (trauma from childhood) that Obi-Wan was willing to do that to him without asking through the bond. And of course Obi-Wan is eaten by guilt.

oh no that's so sad 😢

I don't think Anakin would (could?) talk about why he can't even look at Obi-Wan for some time. Obi-Wan managed to apologise soon after the mission, and it was so awkward and tense, both of them knowing that it wasn't enough, that they decided to avoid each other for weeks.

but how do we fix it, anon? Can we make it worse before making it all better? Like Obi-Wan wanting to catch up with Anakin for the first time after a mission report, and he walks to Anakin, putting a hand on his arm to stop him, and it's light and easy and familiar but Anakin still violently pulls away from him? Looking at Obi-Wan like he's also surprised by his own instinct and Obi-Wan is like 'oh alright I guess I will never ever try to come closer than 20 meters because of course it makes him uncomfortable' and it's not what Anakin really wants but he's also not ready to let go of his resentment-unease-disgust yet.

I hope there's still a good ending to this, maybe Anakin grows fed up with Obi-Wan always moving to stand on the exact opposite end of a room from him and says "this is stupid Obi-Wan, just put your hand on my shoulder or something, let's get over this," then rolls his eyes when Obi-Wan mumbles something unintelligible, and "Force this is so stupid, just--" and he walks to Obi-Wan and puts his hand on Obi-Wan's forearm (ignoring Obi-Wan's vain attempt to dodge) "See? It's fine. I'll get used to it."

He can see that Obi-Wan is 0% convinced so it's Anakin who initiates all physical contacts now, and in a bizarre reverse situation, he's the one who tries to touch him more and more, pushing himself to feel safe again around him, until Obi-Wan, trapped on the sofa because Anakin decided to sit too close to him to avoid, frozen in a very uncomfortable position for the past 20 minutes, finally admits "I don't think you should forgive me," and it finally opens the discussion and now they have cuddle sessions together where they try to mend the trust between them and puts words on what they feel and how they will deal with it.

tell me what you want me to write!

#I turned something angsty into h/c for once in my life #but I guess it's going to take some time for anakin to take another mission with obi-wan #and just trust him again #clem's aus #asks

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trilliastra · 3 years

Text

a series of firsts

[5 first times + 1. Shinwoo x Taekyung. A light on me fic.]

“What is this?”

“Flowers.” Taekyung states, matter-of-factly. Shinwoo rolls his eyes, unimpressed, but he can feel his ears turning red as he watches Taekyung’s lips turn up into a smirk.

Taekyung likes teasing, Shinwoo has come to realise. He likes pointing out the redness of Shinwoo’s ears, remembering his inability to hold a proper conversation when they first met, leaning in for a quick kiss when Shinwoo least expects.

It’s infuriating and adorable and Shinwoo wishes he could tease him back, but all his thoughts leave his mind when Taekyung smiles, batting his eyelashes sweetly as if he did nothing wrong. It’s a problem.

“What for?” Shinwoo asks, looking at the potted plant in his hands. He doesn’t know what kind they are, never really paid attention to flowers before, but knowing his boyfriend, they probably hold some obscure (or cute) meaning.

“Our anniversary.” Taekyung explains.

Shinwoo almost drops the plant, surprise and panic growing inside him.

“One month.” Taekyung adds.

Oh, oh no.

He remembered it, of course. Shinwoo has been counting the days, the weeks since they first got together. He put a heart on his calendar, marking the day forever, and now, every morning when he wakes up, the first thing he sees is the calendar on his wall, the red heart smiling at him. It’s a good way to wake up.

“I -” he falters. Damn it, he can feel his ears getting hot, “your present, I-”

“You didn’t remember it, did you?” It’s not really a question and Taekyung reaches out to touch Shinwoo’s ears fondly.

“I did!” Shinwoo argues, “I always remember, I put it on my calendar just in case -” Shit, he notices Taekyung’s eyes widening at the confession and Shinwoo looks around, swallowing heavily. Is he a bad boyfriend for thinking about running away?

“Really?” Taekyung smiles, not that teasing smirk, but a gentle smile, sweet, fond. Shinwoo has noticed that he only smiles like that when they are together.

“I -”

“It’s okay.” Taekyung interrupts his apology with a quick kiss on his cheek. “I didn’t really expect you to buy me something.”

“But you did!”

“It’s my mom’s.” Taekyung confesses. “I didn’t think I had to buy anything but then Namgoong texted me and I panicked.”

Shinwoo blinks. “Oh.” He feels even dumber now, because he got the exact same text from Namgoong and the only thing that crossed his mind was ‘I’m gonna walk Taekyung home today’.

“Oh.” He repeats, gathers his strength to ask, “I guess we should talk about this, right?”

Taekyung frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never been in a relationship before, is this - is this something we want to do? Monthly gifts?”

Taekyung’s expression goes pensive and he shrugs. “Isn’t that what people do?” His boyfriend gives back. Shinwoo gets distracted by the way he bites his lip, blushes when Taekyung notices and snaps his fingers in front of his eyes. “Shinwoo.”

He clears his throat, looks away. “I - yeah, some people, I guess. But, do we want to do it? Because,” he shrugs back, “it’s sweet, but -”

“It’s a lot of work.” Taekyung completes and Shinwoo sighs, relieved. “I couldn’t even think about that to give you now, I can’t imagine doing it every month.”

“And the money.” Shinwo adds, smiling when Taekyung nods, resolute.

“Once a year is enough, right?”

“And birthdays.” Shinwoo adds after a minute.

“That sounds fair.” Taekyung agrees, smiling, and Shinwoo kisses him to seal the deal.

“You should take this back to your mom.” Shinwoo says after a, admittedly, long time. Well, it’s not like Taekyung wasn’t kissing him back.

Taekyung hums in agreement, cheeks pink and mouth red from all the kissing.

They get lost in each other sometimes, Shinwoo hopes this feeling won’t ever go away.

“Soon?” Shinwoo asks.

“Soon.” Taekyung agrees, already pulling him back in for another kiss.

Taekyung isn’t at the student council room when Shinwoo arrives after his math class. He closes the door back again immediately, running towards the exit.

He thought they could talk after school, but Taekyung is still avoiding him. Shinwoo was dreading this moment as much as he was anticipating it, but he realized that being without Taekyung is so much worse than apologizing for a mistake.

It was their first fight.

He was stressed with his school work and he had a fight with his mother yesterday morning, his mood was sour and Taekyung ended up paying the price. Shit, he was so stupid.

“Can you leave me alone?” He had said, already regretting the words the moment he said them. He meant it, though, and Taekyung knew it as well, he always does.

Sometimes, when things are hard and he is feeling particularly bad with himself, when his self-deprecating thoughts invade his mind and he can’t push them away, he just wants to be left alone to deal with it by himself, to curse his choices, his abilities, his brain.

He snapped at Daon once, when his friend tried to cheer him up, and almost made Namgoong cry when his friend heard Shinwoo call himself a useless piece of shit. They worked it out, Daon patting his back when he apologized and Namgoong making him promise not to say anything like that ever again, but Taekyung - Taekyung doesn’t deserve someone like him.

He was waiting for the moment Taekyung would notice he’s not good enough to be with him, but he didn’t think it would happen so soon. His boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) at least deserves an explanation.

‘It’s not your fault’, he wants to say, ‘it’s me, I’m the idiot’.

“Shinwoo.” Namgoong follows him outside. “Taekyung is looking for you.” He pulls him by the arm, practically dragging Shinwoo back into the school building and leading him towards one of the empty classrooms.

“He is?”

“Duh.” Namgoong says, shaking his head. “He is worried.”

“He is?” Shinwoo asks again, dumbly.

Namgoong sighs, frustrated, and lets go of his arm. “Remember what I told you the last time?” Shinwoo frowns. “I said I was going to smother you with kisses and hugs until you believe you are worthy of love. But that was when you didn’t have a boyfriend.” He shoves Shinwoo inside a room. “He’s gonna do that now.” He says, punching his shoulder - hard - and closing the door in front of Shinwoo.

When he turns around, surprised and confused, he sees Taekyung waiting for him.

“I’m sorry.” They say at the same time and Shinwoo falters, heart skipping a beat. There it is - the end, three months and five days after the first time Taekyung took his hand, called him his boyfriend and accepted the goodbye kiss in front of his apartment.

Three months and five days and Shinwoo will be alone again. He knew it was going to happen, knew it was inevitable and yet the pain is stronger than anything he’s ever felt.

Taekyung stalks towards him, determined, as Shinwoo takes a step back, slamming his back against the door. He could run, he thinks, eyeing the exit, but suddenly Taekyung is right there, hands on both his cheeks, eyes shining with a fire so bright that it scares Shinwoo.

“Why do you look like this?” Taekyung asks, turning his back from one side to the other, leaning closer as he seems to be inspecting Shinwoo’s face. “Are you sick?” He stops. “Your ears aren’t red either, what’s wrong with you?”

Shinwoo blinks once, twice, three times before he gathers the courage to ask. “Why did you apologize?”

It’s Taekyung’s turn to blink confusedly. “Because! You were upset and wanted to be left alone and I didn’t listen. I’m sorry.”

“But -” Shinwoo feels the cracks in his heart mending, the fear that once consumed him being replaced by hope, “I yelled at you. And you’ve been avoiding me since yesterday, you - why are you not breaking up with me?”

“What?” Taekyung tilts his head to the side, lets his hands fall. “I was giving you space! Isn’t that what you wanted?” He blinks, brings his hands to his hair. “Ah, I’m so confused!” He then turns to Shinwoo, points a finger at his face. “Do you want to break up?”

“No!” Shinwoo answers immediately. “I thought you did! I mean, you should! Because I yelled at you!”

Taekyung sighs again, turns around and starts pacing around the room. He whispers to himself, words that Shinwoo can’t hear or understand, before he schools his face into something less confused and more annoyed, turning to Shinwoo again. “I have no idea what’s happening,” he confesses, taking Shinwoo’s hand and pulling him to the nearest chair. He forces Shinwoo to sit down, hands on his shoulders and then sits on the chair opposite him, face determined. “Explain.”

The earnest look on his face, the eagerness to understand Shinwoo, to solve this misunderstanding, it’s enough to make Shinwoo nod and start talking, ears burning red with shame and fear, but when the tears start streaming down his face Taekyung wipes them for him, and somehow Shinwoo knows that they will work it out.

Three months and five days and one fight later, Shinwoo finally breaks.

“You can tell me if you need to be alone.” Taekyung whispers in Shinwoo’s ear as they hug. Taekyung walked Shinwoo home this time, the reversal of roles made Shinwoo feel cherished as if all he needed was someone to take care of him for once. “And you can tell me when you don’t want to be alone.”

“I will.” Shinwoo promises, tightening his hold on Taekyung’s shirt. It’s late and his parents have texted him many times, but he doesn’t want to let go. Ever.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

Taekyung pulls back, but Shinwoo doesn’t have time to mourn the loss of heat before his boyfriend is squeezing his cheeks with both hands, smiling fondly. “I love you.” He confesses.

Shinwoo thought he was all out of tears for tonight, but the words make his eyes water again. “Not fair.” He mumbles, sniffing pitifully, chest so full of love he feels like he’s going to explode in a million pieces. Taekyung laughs softly, his own eyes filling up with tears. “I was going to say it first.”

“It was my turn.” He teases, sneaking in a quick kiss. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Shinwoo sniffs, squeezing his hand. When Taekyung turns around, he calls him back. “I love you, too, you know?”

Taekyung laughs, loud and carefree. “I know.”

They are alone in Shinwoo’s room, his parents gone for the weekend. It’s not the first time Taekyung stays over, but the air is heavier now, the tension building up since he closed the door behind them.

He thought about this, Taekyung in his bed, smiling at him teasingly, hands sliding down his back, under his shirt, inside his pants-

“Do you-” Shinwoo forces himself to say, “do you want to eat something? I could-”

Taekyung shakes his head, shy in a way Shinwoo has never seen before. Taekyung likes to tease, he is playful and honest and straight-forward, rarely timid in front of his friends. “Okay.” Taekyung says, looking down at his own hands as if they are the most interesting in the world. Shinwoo sighs.

“Hey,” he kneels in front of his boyfriend, “we don’t have to-”

“I want to.” Taekyung confesses, cheeks a delightful shade of pink. “But I- I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know either.” Shinwoo says. “Never been in a relationship before, remember?”

“Yeah, but-” Taekyung looks up, blushing harder when their eyes meet, “you never - with anyone?”

Shinwoo shakes his head. No one has ever made him feel like this, no one will ever make him feel like this. There is only Taekyung.

“Oh.” Taekyung whispers, shoulders relaxing. “So you don’t know what you’re doing either.”

Shinwoo huffs out an embarrassed laugh. “No.” He reaches out for Taekyung’s hands, but stops before they touch, waits for Taekyung’s permission. When his boyfriend nods, he takes his hands, brings them closer and presses a kiss on each palm. “We can stop any time, you just have to say it.”

Taekyung nods. “You too.”

Shinwoo smiles and stands up, pulling Taekyung with him. “Let’s eat first.”

His boyfriend smiles and follows.

It’s hot and messy and they laugh for a long time when Shinwoo’s first attempt to open Taekyung’s pants fails. Taekyung blushes when Shinwoo kisses his neck, chest and lower, but he doesn’t tell him to stop, only moans softly and then louder when Shinwoo touches him.

When he’s taking out his shirt, Taekyung doesn’t look away, lets out a huff of frustration when Shinwoo slows down, fumbling to open his own pants. “Too slow.” His boyfriend whines, hands touching his chest and trying to pull him closer again. Shinwoo gasps when their bodies touch, skin to skin, as they kiss deeply.

They’ve touched each other before, in Taekyung’s room, but it was rushed and messy because they knew Taekyung’s mother could come home any time. Shinwoo loved listening to Taekyung, watching his face when he’s close, laughing together after they crashed on the bed, holding hands and enjoying each other in the afterglow.

But this is different, it’s new and weird and amazing all at the same time. Shinwoo is gentle, careful in his touches, even when he feels Taekyung’s nails scratching his back, even when his boyfriend asks for more, he tries to make it last.

They will have other opportunities to try different things, to discover what they like and don’t like, but they will never have their first time again.

“Shinwoo.” Taekyung moans when he comes with Shinwoo’s lips on his neck, placing soft kisses on his skin.

“I love you.” Shinwoo whispers when he comes, holding Taekyung tightly and wishing they could stay like this forever.

Taekyung looks like his mom, Shinwoo notices. They have the same eyes, their noses looking a bit similar as well. That does nothing to ease Shinwoo’s nerves though, because her cutting glance is as intimidating as Taekyung’s when he is annoyed.

“Shinwoo,” she says, assessing. When he nods, bowing again, she narrows her eyes at him, “Taekyung’s boyfriend.”

Taekyung visibly squirms from his place next to her, as if he wants to join Shinwoo but doesn’t dare move away from his mother.

“Yes.” Shinwoo nods again, eyes going from Taekyung to his mother and then back to Taekyung. Taekyung’s father is still nowhere to be seen, Shinwoo doesn’t know if that’s a good thing. He doesn’t think he will be able to handle another meeting. “Noh Shinwoo.” He clears his throat. “Nice to meet you.”

“Uh-huh.” She says, calmly, as if this is just another day at the mall and not the most awkward moment of Shinwoo’s life.

“Mom,” Taekyung calls, “stop, he is going to pass out.” Shinwoo touches his ear, he can bet they are as red as a tomato.

“Alright.” She sighs, then opens her arms, smiling brightly and pulls Shinwoo into a hug. “Hello.” She says, voice soft and cheery and Shinwoo really feels like he’s going to pass out.

They had talked about this, Shinwoo wanted to meet Taekyung’s parents, he really did! But it never worked out as they planned, work emergencies, family problems, once Taekyung’s mother burned dinner and they had to cancel because she would not dare ‘serve burned food to my son’s boyfriend’.

So, months passed, close to a year and though Taekyung met Shinwoo’s parents on multiple occasions, Shinwoo ended up never meeting Taekyung’s.

Until today, when Shinwoo is shopping for Taekyung’s birthday. His luck, really.

“Is that for Taekyung’s birthday?” She asks, eyeing the bag Shinwoo has tried to keep hidden from his boyfriend. Taekyung left them alone while he went to the bathroom and Shinwoo has been trying really hard not to run away.

“Uh, yeah.” He looks around, lowers his voice. “It’s a drawing kit, he said he wants to try drawing again.”

“Ah, yes, he told me.” Her eyes soften and she smiles at him again. “You’re a good boyfriend.”

Shinwoo clears his throat, embarrassed. Her smile widens when she notices his red ears. “Ah, thank you. I- I try.”

“I hope Taekyung is a good boyfriend, too.”

“Yes.” Shinwoo rushes to say and his voice comes out louder than he expects. “Yes,” he closes his eyes, counting to five in his mind, “he is.”

“Good.” She says. She’s still smiling, Shinwoo notices, but her eyes are somewhat sad and, with a heavy heart, Shinwoo notices that she’s mourning.

“He- he is great, the greatest person I’ve ever met.” He confesses. Taekyung’s mother blinks, surprised. “It’s- it’s because of you that I got to meet someone so special,” he takes a deep breath, “thank you.”

When Taekyung comes back from the bathroom, he takes a look at his mother’s red eyes, Shinwoo’s red ears and gives them both a curious look. “What?”

“Nothing.” His mother answers, wiping away her tears. “I’m just really happy you found each other.”

+1.

“Why are you crying?” Shinwoo asks as Taekyung sniffs against his chest. “We will still see each other.”

“Not everyday.” Taekyung answers, pulling back and slapping Shinwoo’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t forget me.”

Impossible, he doesn’t say, but Taekyung knows, they’ve talked about this. And it’s not like he isn’t scared either, going to university, meeting new people, learning new things. It is scary. But he trust Taekyung’s feelings, he trusts his own heart.

They will be okay.

“I love you.” He says again, will keep repeating it every day, every year so that Taekyung won’t ever forget or doubt how much he is loved and cherished.

“I love you, too.” Taekyung answers back easily.

#light on me #shinwoo x taekyung #taekyung x shinwoo #my fic #hi hello it me

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 06

Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors, music snob!Remus, Author’s notes: song used: Come Together by The Beatles

BTW: I always try to use little to no physical descriptions for the reader insert but I did add that the reader has some sort of hair. I didn't mention hair texture or length (Sorry if ur bald). My taller readers, I only mentioned that you were shorter than Remus (no height was given)

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 6: ABBA vs. The Beatles

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

“Merlin’s beard! Binns is a sadist; torturing students must be his only pastime,” James yawned, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes.

Nothing could ever compare to the History of Magic. Today, lessons were dreadful and muddy. Professor Binns’ monotone voice filtered throughout the class, rambling on and on about various dates in history. Hardly anyone paid attention before he started calling on students. Annoyed, Binns would continue to reiterate his inquiry until the student(s) got the correct answer, no matter how long it took.

A sadist indeed.

Although Binns wasn’t the sole reason why the class was pathetic, but rather the lack of any practical work was simply a joke. The class only reminded Y/N of her short time in public school. Geometry? Utterly useless for any daily life interactions. To make matters worse, Binns surprised the class with a pop-quiz and two chapters of reading. Luckily, he had an ounce of mercy in his ghostly body and dismissed the class early for lunch.

James continued, “I would rather fight a dragon than — Woah! Your hair! “

She glanced to look at herself through the reflection in James’ glasses. Her hair, which originally was emerald green, was now turning into a golden yellow. The different colours clashed together boldly.

“You look like the banner for the Holyhead Harpies,” Peter said, striding up to James’ side.

“The Holyhead Harpies,” James said dreamily, “They’re probably one of my favourite teams.

Remus, who had been trailing behind Peter jumps in, “You only like them because they’re all women, you wanker.” He turns to Peter, his hand shooting up to the side of his head, massaging small circles into his temples, “Why’d you get him going?”

James became insufferable whenever someone or something mentioned Quidditch. Not only would he boast about his abilities as a Chaser, but he seemingly was a never-ending encyclopedia about Quidditch. It only worsened as November neared, the start of the new Quidditch season was approaching.

One time Y/N found herself stuck listening to him babble about Ireland winning the world cup for about thirty minutes. She didn’t have the heart to stop him, though. Nobody listened to his rants and he could hardly contain his excitement. How could she tell him she wasn’t interested?

A monstrous smirk etched its way onto his face, “Caught me.”

“Be anymore of a predator would ya, Prongs?”

“Hey! That’s not the only reason why I like them. Did you forget their victory in 1953 against the Heidelberg Harriers? Their strategy was blood-fucking-brilliant. They’re legendary! My father was there to see it in person. Lucky bastard. He told me…”

His voice fades into the background as Y/N catches Remus’ eyes. A glint of mischief shined through them before he forced a fake pitiful smile. He mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to her before looping his arm around Peter’s shoulder, discreetly leaving James’ side and out of the classroom.

That sly, slippery bastard.

"— and did I mention that their seeker was one of the most sought out —”

“Wait, James.”

He abruptly pauses, waiting patiently for her to continue. She leads them out into the corridor and towards the great hall. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off like that, but when is my hair going back to normal?”

Y/N instantly regretted mentioning her hair. There was no trace of a smile on James. His shoulders slumped a bit and his walking even staggered. “Godric, I know, I know and I’m sorry. I thought it would have returned back to normal by now. I’ve been creating reversal spells — even started asking Moony to help.”

“Moony?”

“Remus.”

“Another one of your nicknames?”

“It’s not a nickname! It’s a brotherhood — a pack!”

“Oh, sorry Prongs,” she drawled, a sarcastic smile on her face, “If I didn’t know you I would assume you were an asshole.”

“What? How?!”

“You go around calling yourself a marauder, the king of Quidditch and now Prongs. Seems pretty assholely.”

James’ mouth opens before closing again, repeating the process several times.

“Plus, you pull silly pranks every day.”

He chuckles, “Oi! You helped us with that itching idea!”

Her eyebrows raised in acknowledgement, “Touché.”

To this, James shakes his head, directing the conversation back to the Holyhead Harpies. Inwardly, Y/N wanted to whack him with a broomstick.

They were among the first students to reach the Great Hall, aside from students who had a free or were excused early by Professor Binns. None of the girls were there yet. Unfortunately, Marlene was held back by Binns, so Y/N was left to sit beside James who sat opposite to Remus, Peter and Sirius.

She had been trying her best to avoid Sirius whenever she could. It was clear he didn’t like her. He never laughed whenever she made a joke, he hardly noticed her, he never praised her, even if she tried to compliment him. He was just rude for no apparent reason. The rest of the marauders and girls knew this, although they preferred not to comment about the obvious, strained relationship (which they didn’t even know the reason for. Granted, Y/N wasn't quite sure herself. Was it the rejection, he just didn't like her or is just an ass?).

Although, ignoring and avoiding him proved to be extremely challenging. Y/N was glued to Lily’s hip ever since the Sorting Ceremony. It also didn’t help that if you were with one marauder, another one was sure to follow. She and James started to spend more time with each other, and by extension, she was obligated to be around at least one other marauder. With the addition of study sessions with Remus, it was inevitable.

Surprisingly, Sirius hadn’t made any snarky remarks, excluding dirty looks, he was being… nice — nicer to her. The action was a stark contrast from his previous behaviour and she speculated a few reasons why:

Most likely, James or Lily, she assumed the former, said something to him. Since his little spat with James at breakfast a few weeks ago, Sirius was tight-lipped ever since.

Maybe he was done being a prick, deciding to stop by himself after realizing he was a prick.

Went through something personal, it stopped, and his behaviour improved.

Minutes after the bell rang, students began to trickle in for lunch. The comfortable chatter rose as Y/N finished eating an apple. Everyone seemed pleased when James’ Quidditch lecture was interrupted as hundreds of owls streamed in, packages and letters dropping into the laps of students. She hadn’t expected anything considering her owl, Celeste, didn’t drop anything off since the first week of October. However, today she fluttered down between the bread and fruit bowls, dropping off several letters and a small parcel onto Y/N’s plate, pecking at the bread crumbs on the table. She tore the letter open, inside it said:

Dear Y/N,

Are you still having a hard time with Charms? If so, perhaps I find some textbooks and send them over.

Don’t slack off this year. Send me a letter whenever you have the chance. (Make sure to tell Celeste to be quieter next time. You know I can, and never will get used to the owls.)

Mom

Her mother finally wrote to her. A sense of joy flooded her body as she placed the letter back down on the oak table. A part of her wondered if Celeste was dropping off her letters to the wrong house, the one back in Toronto as her mother never wrote back. She opened the next letter, immediately recognizing the messy scrawl:

October 19, 1975

Y/N! I thought you replaced me with one of your brits, but a false alarm, your letters just take a while to arrive. Must be tiring for Celeste to travel to and from Scotland then America and back. You know, whenever people see her fly in, they still recognize her.

Are you doing anything for Halloween? We’re throwing another dance. Going to be alone this year now that I can’t force you to come. I guess I’ll just watch half the school dry hump each other while I smuggle in firewhiskey.

How’s it going over there? I heard from a few students, even read in the papers about the war. It’s getting pretty crazy over here. Teachers have been meeting and trying to prevent students and parents from losing their shit. My mom has been worried too, writing to me like a lunatic and I’m not even in the UK. The MACUSA have been keeping quiet but they were caught having meetings with counsellors from the Ministry of Magic. Even heard that Jenkins is stepping down. If it keeps getting out of hand here, I can’t imagine what it must be like at Hogwarts. I truly thought the war was dying down, I was wrong. Keep your wand close. Surely, you’ll get away with a hex or two.

Until next time

Matthew G.

So engrossed in her new environment, her old life slipped to the back of her mind. There was a detachment from her reality compared to the one at home. A pang of guilt hit her, swallowing her up from the inside out until another pang hit, loneliness. If she easily forgot everyone, would anyone remember her? None of her old friends, apart from Matthew, had made a move to contact her since she left.

Often thinking about writing them first, she had to remind herself if they wanted to, they would. Especially with the knowledge that people still recognized Celeste.

Was she forgettable and if so, was it karma for forgetting too?

It put a mechanical vice grip on her heart, applying just enough pressure to be a constant reminder. With every beat, it tightened more and more.

Looking around the table, she saw her peers huddle in groups, familiar laughter ringing throughout. So noisy, so taunting. She may have been friends with Lily, Dorcas, James or even Marlene, but they had their own friends. Friendships that had years to develop before she came. She had only known them for less than two months.

Forgettable.

How hilarious, she thought.

“Hey,” a gentle voice cooed into her ear, “Are you okay?”

She hummed back absentmindedly.

James wore a concerned expression, his eyes knitted together, one raised higher than the other like it always does when he was worried. The look he shot her suggested he wasn’t convinced, although he didn’t press; instead opting to stir the conversation. “So, who wrote to you?”

“A friend and my mom —”

A snort so loud that it caused the rest of the marauders, random onlookers and even Lily (who had a look of pure disgust on her face) turned towards them. “What did you say?”

“I got a few letters?”

“No!” He bellowed, “Who sent you them?”

“My friend and my mom —”

Nearly choking on his sandwich, James clutched his stomach laughing. Laughing so hard he has to grip the table to prevent falling off the hall bench. "Haha! Mom?! MOM?” He mocked in a poor American accent, “What the fuck is mom? It’s MUM. Bollocks!”

“We say vitamin.”

“It’s VIT-A-MIN! Who says VIGHT-A-MIN?” Without a pause, James presses his entire body onto her shoulder, smushing her before grabbing the letter her mother sent her. His eyes scanned across the pages before hitting a certain word. “Back home? Maple trees? Where did you use to live exactly?”

“Canada.”

“Canada?! You don’t mean those snowy gits?” At this, Peter and Remus snort under their breaths. Even Lily had to force down a smile.

Staring deadpanned at him, in an unamused voice, “Really?”

“You are a bundle of surprises! I thought you lived… I’m not sure. I assumed somewhere like New Hork.”

“York,” Lily corrects.

“Tomato, tomato,” he jokes, playfully batting his eyes at Lily before biting into his sandwich, “You do live in London, right?”

“Right.”

James takes a moment, letting the conversation die down before he quickly glances at Y/N again. An undecipherable expression crosses his face before it’s promptly replaced with elation, “I take back anything negative I’ve said about Canada. They have an amazing Quidditch rooster. Have you gone to any of their games?”

A low grumble of sighs follows at the mention of Quidditch from James. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus shake his head and sighed dejectedly.

“Nah, I’m a New-Maj, remember? My mom — “

“Mum —”

“ — sorry, Mum — hardly understands the wizarding world, let alone what Quidditch is.”

His eyes were wide, whimsical, as a hand flew to his chest dramatically, “Rubbish! Bloody ridiculous! You’ve never seen a real Quidditch game? One day, I swear I’ll bring you to one! Or you can bring me to Canada one day and we can watch a home game!”

As James continued to rant, Y/N’s mind slowly drifted back to the bitterness in her chest. Trying to distract herself, she borrowed Lily’s quill and a few sheets of parchment, scribbling down letters in response.

Mom,

I’m fine with Charms, you don’t need to send anything. And don’t worry, I’ve been studying for my OWLs.

Love you, write soon.

The next letter was addressed to Matthew:

Matty Matt,

Of course, I didn’t replace you… yet.

Another dance? You would think the students’ protest last year would have influenced the professors this time. I guess it’s time for you to get wasted. I didn’t tell you last time but I think I’m going to a party. A friend of mine is throwing it and I know he’s going to force me to come no matter what. He briefly mentioned costumes and drinks. Plus, there’s going to be some kind of prank that I may or may have not been a part of? Sounds cool right?

Yeah, I’d say it’s been bad up here. I don’t know much about what's going on outside of school, though. The professors are hiding it well. I didn’t even hear about Jenkins stepping down. Keep me updated.

Until next time

She sealed the letters before sending Celeste off again, “Be quieter when you drop off the letters, yeah?”

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

It must be her lucky day.

The ringing of the bell went off, signalling the end of class. Professor Flitwick asked the students to stay behind so he could hand out quizzes the students completed on Monday in preparation for their upcoming test on Growth and Reductor charms the following Tuesday.

It was never a good sign when a professor flips your test over to prevent other students from seeing their mark. Flipping it over at a downwards angle, Flitwick handed Y/N her quiz.

Turning it over nervously, a tight coil formed in the pit of her stomach. A large P was plastered on the top right corner in bold red ink. She studied hard for this too. Angrily, she shoved her work into her bag and left the class. This was the third poor she'd gotten in a row. She should have told her mother she needed those Charm books.

“I swear I’m going mad! Her brother is a complete cow! He even — are you listening?”

She looks at the girl beside her, Marlene. Her glossed over, doe eyes must have served as an answer before the blonde shook her head.

“Sorry, distracted,” she mumbles, before forcing out a fake-happy tone, “Continue your story! I wanna hear!”

“Hey,” Marlene says in a softer voice, “If something’s bothering you, you can talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” she replies instinctively. She felt bad spacing out during Marlene’s story but her mind was running through and under hoops. The last thing any fifth year student needed was to fall behind in their classes, let alone feeling like nobody cared about them.

At that moment, she wished she was wrapped away in red and gold blankets to wallow in her self-pity party, away from prying eyes. She could feel the burning sensations of tears building up.

Dammit.

Y/N looked out the window to her left. The sky was melting with the warm hues of reds and yellows while the other half was being slowly engulfed into a cloak of twilight. Even from here, she could feel the cool air seeping in from the windows making her tug on the sleeves of her robes.

She continued, “I’m just tired — been a long day. I’m going to take a nap before dinner. See you.”

Judging by the look on Marlene and Lily’s face, guilt riddles her body. They both look sympathetic. The pity only made Y/N feel disgusting. In all honesty, Y/N will care later. Right now wasn’t the time and she desperately needed some shut-eye.

Before she left the room, she overheard them talking.

“What’s up with her?”

“Dunno.”

Great.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

Sleep did little to ease her thoughts.

The same uneasiness she felt on the train ride to Hogwarts settled deep into her bones again. She thought she was past this. The worrying about friends, missing home, feeling alone, failing class, stressing about her future. The rational part of her brain knew it was just one silly quiz (and old shitty friends), but knowing herself, if she were to continue to have this mindset, she would only fail in the end.

Dinner ended and Y/N belligerently climbed up the stairs towards the library to attend today’s study session. The Charms quiz threw her into a loop and it was better not to dwell on it, opting to rather use her time for something useful.

Her marks improved significantly since she attended her first session two weeks ago. The last couple of assignments and quizzes she handed in that she worked on during the groups were some of her best work, ever. Additionally, her ability to retain information was improving at astonishing rates and she found herself participating in lessons more often. Unfortunately, she started to doubt her abilities again.

There weren’t as many students as usual. Perhaps it was because of the Quidditch meeting for all teams tonight, or because nobody wanted to spend their time in a library Friday night. She assumed it was the latter.

Although, the same student with black hair from Slytherin was there; tucked away in his usual corner. He was always there. Whether it was the study sessions, another OWL or NEWT student or he simply just enjoyed the library, Y/N could always rely on him sitting there in his little nook.

In the far back, surrounded by tall bookshelves sat Remus. Another student, a first or second year, judging by their height, seemed to be asking him a question, rapidly writing down something on a piece of parchment whilst they walked away. Remus leaned back in the brown chair, his right leg was folded over the other as he stretched.

She spent over twelve hours minimum with Remus directly since the first session, minus the time he was around James and the girls. Perhaps she only started to notice afterwards but she swore Remus wasn’t around this much before. Now, he was everywhere.

In the past couple of weeks she’d gotten to know him, she made a mental list in her head of him:

1. Remus loves sweaters. They weren’t flashy, seemingly preferring to wear ones with small designs, stripes or a solid colour. He wore green the most. He also wore cardigans. Two, in particular, he wore the most; one was white and the other was a muted brown. They were big and hung off his loose frame, the pockets were often stuffed with books, rumpled parchment and his wand.

2. He’s a coffee addict. He drank it in the morning, the afternoon, at the study session and sometimes with meals at dinner. He loved to dump pounds of sugar, so if he only drank black coffee, it usually meant he was in a bad mood. James even joked that he became Sirius whenever he drank black coffee, because haha! Get it? It’s BLACK coffee!

3. He frequented the library whenever he wasn’t with the rest of the marauders. He enjoyed poetry, wrote post-it notes after post-it notes to annotate his favourite parts. He even slept there from time to time, not without having to persuade Pince to not give him detention.

As if Remus magically sensed her, he took a large inhale before he stopped stretching, opening his eyes to look at her. A small smile was plastered on each other’s faces. He stuck up a few fingers to wave at her, motioning her to come over.

“Hi Y/N. I thought you didn’t come on Fridays?”

“I don’t but I have a test, Charms, Tuesday.”

“Oh, well I’m happy to help.”

“Thanks for the offer, Professor Lupin, but just being down here will help me focus.”

A scarlet blush settled on his face at the mention of his tutoring. “Well come sit with me then.”

Pushing the chair out of the way, she sat down beside him, pulling out her cassette player and earbuds along with her notes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus staring at the player curiously.

“Do you want to listen?”

“If you don't mind. I didn’t know you could use these here.” Picking it up, he turned the rectangular device.

“If record players work here, why not this?”

She hands him an earbud, alongside a small collection of other tapes she had on hand.

“Choose whatever you want to listen to.”

Without much thought, he pressed the play button. The upbeat tune of Waterloo by ABBA trickled into their ears. Y/N bobbed her head up and down before the song was suddenly stopped.

A sour grimace sat on Remus’ face before their eyes met, his nose upturned slightly.

“Why’d you stop it?”

“I hate ABBA.”

“What!?”

“I just don’t like their cheesy disco-pop-esk sound. They sound generic and random words are thrown in when they don’t add to the song.”

“Jeez— never met anyone who hated them that much.”

A ghost of a smile appeared before he flicked through her collection of tapes. He picked up Abbey Road by The Beatles. Opening the player up, he slid out Waterloo. With a click and the press of a button, Come Together played.

“So you hate ABBA but not The Beatles? Benny and Bjorn said they were influenced by them!”

“Keyword: Influenced; which is just another word for a shitty knock-off version.”

4. Remus Lupin is apparently a music snob.

“Well, I think both are good.”

“Respectfully, I disagree with you.”

“Whatever you say, professor.”

"I've been thinking a bit, why did you come to Hogwarts? Why not just stay at your old school?"

The sudden switch of topics threw her into a loop. “Wasn’t by choice. My mom’s a doctor and got a position here. It was too good to turn down. But it’s not bad. There’s less wizarding laws.”

He nods his head, "I'm assuming you have dual citizenship?"

"Mhm."

About a half an hour passed as she sighed for the umpteenth time before putting down her quill. Her chair scraped back noisily as Y/N’s hand balled up into a tight fist, feeling her fingernails bite into her palm. She’d been flicking through her notes, the words all blended.

At this rate, if History of Magic didn’t exist, Charms would surely be her least favourite class.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

She was at a loss, this was the third time Remus had offered to help and he was persistent. She felt horrible that she was taking up his time to help her on a stupid Charms test.

He continued, “If you think bothering me is an issue, it’s not. I run the sessions on Friday. It’s my job.”

“Fine, but there has to be something I can do in return.”

“Hmm,” Remus pondered for a second, “How about this, I tutor you in Charms and in return you give me your Potions notes? I'm dreadful at it.”

“Deal.”

“Great. Before we start, is there anything in particular that you have questions on?”

Silently tapping on the quiz she received today, Remus snatched it and quickly scanned over her answers and Professor Flitwick’s notes.

“I see what happened. You know, the curriculum taught at Ilvermorny is different. That’s probably why you can’t understand some of this shit.” He cleared his throat, “So as we know, the growth charm increases the size of your intended target…”

His voice, like a light switch, changed instantly. Instead of his softer deep, raspier voice, it became commanding and steady. He never stumbled over his words and articulated his points elegantly. She found herself enraptured by him, understanding why he was in charge of the study groups.

Eventually, Remus takes a pause, “Does that make sense?”

“Yes. You know, you’re really good at this. No matter how much I asked Flitwick or even Lily I could never get it.”

A large blush bloomed on the apples of his cheeks before he shyly rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I’m not that good.”

“No time for modesty, Professor Lupin!”

“Okay, okay! So here, do you see what went wrong? There would be a reaction with those two spells if —”

A boy, small, most likely a second year, stood at the foot of the shared table holding a large red and gold book. His hair, dark ginger, similar to Lily’s, was cut short. He fiddled with his fingers as he continued to stare at the two.

“... Um, hi. You're Remus — right?”

“Yup. Did you need help with something?”

“Yes! I’m having trouble with the Transfiguration spell, beetle into button.”

A look of understanding passed through his face before Remus turns to look at her, “Duty calls. It’ll be quick.”

“Of course, take your time.”

It was not quick. Understandably, very few were successful at the ginger’s age to perform the spell, but thirty minutes passed and the second year still didn’t understand the basic concepts. No matter how many times Remus had reiterated his point differently, the boy couldn’t retain it.

“I just don’t get it.”

“You learned this last year, it's a quick revision. I’m not sure what part you’re talking about. Look, do not wiggle or twirl your wand left, direct it towards the right. You have to picture the spell in your head before saying the incantation.”

He guided the boy's hand steadily before performing the spell himself.

“I don’t understand!” The boy whined.

He sighed, “Then we keep trying —”

“It’s too hard. Why are they teaching this crap anyway?”

“Could you stop complaining?” He snapped, closing his eyes before he realized what he’d just done. “I’m sorry about that. I’m… just tired. I can’t help you anymore, though. You should ask someone else,” Remus said brusquely, his eyes unnerving as he stared at the child. As a result, he yelped out a ‘thank you,’ rushing off in the opposite direction.

The muscles in his jaw tensed under the soft glow of the table lamps. There was a pale red tint rimming his eyes and he looked visibly paler than normal. Irritated, he bounced his knee rapidly, up and down, before looking out the large window beside them. The sky was mostly cloudy. Only the peak of the silvery moon appeared. A sliver was missing before it was fully complete.

He closed his eyes, before breathing in. His posture once stiffened, completely relaxed before a flimsy smile reappeared on his face, returning his attention to Y/N.

“Let’s continue, shall we?”

“If you’re tired we can stop.”

“No, s’okay. I’m fine — really.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, adding to her list:

5. Remus was always so hard to read.

147 notes · View notes

sasuhinasno1fan · 3 years

Text

The way you had your hair reminds me- Zutara Week Day 1

My second Zutara Week though I hope I can actually finish it this time. I decided I really wanted to do something with Katara doing rhythmic gymnastics so I decided that since most of the prompts fit, I’ll do a sort of Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo AU. It’s a good kdrama if you’ve never heard of it. trying to fit 16 hour long episodes into 7 days is gonna be interesting. I’ll warn you now and let you know there will be onesided LuTara but for like a day maybe. I haven’t written that day yet so we’ll see. This will end in Zutara happieness, I promise. Anyway, enjoy. Hair

Zuko crawled carefully as he wiped down the windows. Most of his classmates didn’t want him anywhere near an open area, especially with his limited vision but he’d just gotten his bandaged taken off and he wasn’t about to let it hinder him.

Without them on, he didn’t see Mom flinch at the sight of them, though the massive burn wasn’t any better. The fights between his parents weren’t either and Azula’s teasing was starting to be hurtful more than playful. He wanted it all to stop. If he pretended that things were ok, maybe they would be eventually.

“Hey scarface!” Zuko looked over, 3 of his school bullies storming over. He tried not to flinch, already knowing what they were going to yell at him about. They’d been doing it all day. “We lost the race thanks to you!”

Zuko used to be more confident. But after the burns, a few harsh words and he’d start retreating back down into himself. These bullies took advantage of it. During their Sports Day yesterday, Zuko had dropped the baton in the relay race and ran in the opposite direction, away from the bullies yelling at him.

“Mr. Reversal, can’t believe you’re so stupid.”

“You need a walking stick, scarface? Huh?”

Zuko felt one of them shove him and he expected to hit the window frame. Instead, he went flying out the open window. Years later, Zuko would mostly remember him being caught by an older man with darker skin, most likely from one of the Water Tribes, with kind blue eyes, who held him as he burst into tears and two younger children. The boy patted his back, telling him not to worry because his sister would take care of it and the girl screaming up at the bullies from the ground floor. Her long braid swung back and forth as she shook her fists and threatened to do violent things to them. her eyes seemed bluer than her families, like the clearest ocean.

He didn’t know they’d slip back into his life years later. That the little girl who threatened bullies for a boy she didn’t know, would become so much more important to him.

________________

Zuko unlocked his bike, trying not to feel discouraged. It was hard not to when he’d been disqualified from another competition for having a panic attack. Every time he walked onto the mat, his hearing would go wonky and he’d start seeing double, not to mention his heart beating like it was trying to escape his chest. As a result, he’d always forget to sault his opponent and the referee.

Along with being propositioned to train an up-and-coming fencer to get onto the national Olympic team – which he refused because how was he supposed to help someone when he could even finish a match – all he wanted to do was collapse onto his bed. He could already tell that during training tomorrow, he’d have to deal with snide remarks from Jett. How that guy became captain, he’d never know. He knew if he just beat him in training like always, it would piss him off even more and with the school’s Sports Day coming up, he was not in the mood to do the worst event for the Fencing Department.

He climbed on his bike, adjusting his kit sitting on its place but stopping himself from peddling back to campus when his phone rang.

“What Sokka?”

“So, the results of the match went up. Jett wants to talk to you; says he’s got the prefect thing for you to do to make up for your loss. The rice lifting challenge.”

Zuko had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. The idea of the lifting challenge was to carry as many bags of rice and the industrial size, like the one the school cafeteria ordered and hold it for as long as possible. Usually, the Karate Department would be the one to win, fencing never even coming close.

“I’m not going.” Zuko said, making up his mind.

“What?”

“I’ll hang out at Lu Ten’s office or something, but I’m not going. Not to the crapshot of a meeting or to Sports Day. I don’t care what he threatens me with. I’m only coming back to drop my kit off.”

“Um, well I actually heard Mai was back. Didn’t make it past the preliminaries for the national team I hear.”

This day couldn’t get any worse.

“Screw it, I’m not coming back for the next few days. I’ll be with my uncle if you need me.”

“Wait! Ask Toph to do your event for you. it would put the Weightlifting Department in danger of losing but most of those guys don’t like her anyway. She’d love a chance to get back at them. come back to campus and ask her and then I’ll take you out for lunch. At my dad’s restaurant. You love his marinated salmon.” Sokka said, trying to entice his roommate.

Zuko sighed. “I want two orders. And you’re paying.”

“Done! Get here soon.”

Zuko didn’t bother answering, stowing his phone away and pushing off, heading towards Republic City Sports University.

______________________

Effortlessly, Katara grabbed her back leg and straightened it as she did her pivot. She kept her balance as she came out of it and continued to twirl her ribbon. Her coach nodded.

“Very good. You’ve been practising. Your balance is better. Now I want to see if your fouettés have improved as well. If you want a chance at placing first and getting noticed by our sponsor and qualifying for the national team preliminaries, your routine can’t have any mistakes. Ty Lee, pay attention. I’m testing your fouettés as well.”

Katara looked over at the girl dressed in pink, who was pouting down at her matching hoop, Suki patting her on the shoulder. While Katara and Ty Lee weren’t friends, it was hard to not bond over being singled out by their coach.

Katara stood at the ready, twirling her ribbon as she readied herself when the door burst open.

“Azula!” Ty Lee cried.

Azula Lung was the student with the most sway in the whole school. Her father was the Prime Minister of the Fire Nation and while he didn’t hold much power in Republic City, since all powers were equal, that didn’t mean much at the University. She got the best room, private transport to competitions and rules didn’t apply to her. She could boss around any coach, even though she was in the Karate Department. There’d been rumours that her place was bought, until her first competition where she creamed everyone. She was her department’s ace. In fact, she managed to take the Weightlifting Department’s old gym for the Karate Department, which started a massive feud between them. she was rude and arrogant and somehow, one of Ty Lee’s best friends.

Katara noticed a girl standing next to her. She was dressed in all black, the only colour being the red of her nails. She looked incredibly bored and only looked annoyed when Ty Lee launched herself at her.

“Mai, you’re back!”

“Mai has returned from her qualifying competition for the national team. We’ll be taking Ty Lee with us. Problem?” Azula announced.

“No of course not. Except, Ty Lee, you were supposed to show me your routine for Sports Day? Since you’re our department’s cheerleader.”

Azula scoffed. “Sports Day, waste of time. She won’t be attending. You, blue peasant.” Katara balked at that and narrowed her eyes. “You’ll be taking her place. Problem?”

Katara opened her mouth to say, yes big problem, but all the girls of the Rhythmic Gymnastics Department crowded around her, suffocating her with their hands.

“None at all.”

“Thanks Katara!” Ty Lee said, scooping up her bag and dashing off, Mai following and with a raised eyebrow that spoke of her superiority, Azula leaving as well.

“You can’t argue with her Katara.”

“She’d have you removed from the school. I heard she got a person’s whole family business shut down for pissing her off. Do you want that for your dad?”

“Her dad might be the Prime Minister, but he’s practically a mafia boss.”

Comments like this floated over her head, as well as ones telling her they’d help with making a routine for Sports Day, which was in a few days. All Katara could think about was how completely unfair this all was.

And she let it out too once training was concluded for the day.

“It’s completely insane how she can just lord over them like that!” she said, harshly untangling her hair from its bun.

“Easy, you’re gonna rip your hair out.” Suki said, stopping her from tugging at it more and helping to pull half of it into a bun like she usually wore it.

“She’s a student. A sophomore at that. Where does she get off acting like she’s the greatest thing in the world? Just cause her dad is a Prime Minister? So is mine!”

“I thought Water Tribe issues fell under Yue’s dad’s jurisdiction?” Toph, a member of the Weightlifting Department asked, her hand holding on tightly to her guide dog’s harness. She was just as well known as Azula, due to the fact that she was blind but was still one of the highest climbing Weightlifting competitors at the school. She beat all the senior’s bests within her first month.

“Yeah, only because the South is smaller. That’s not the point! The point is, she does whatever she wants and doesn’t get in trouble for it and it extends to her friends too. I have a competition coming up soon and instead of working on my routines for that, I’m going to be learning choreo for a routine for one of the dumbest traditions of Sports Day.”

“Oh,” Toph said, a massively mischievous smile on her face, “well you won’t think it’s stupid when you hear what I heard. Wanna take a guess as to who’s the Fencing Department’s cheerleader?”

Katara looked over at Toph, who’s smile was growing maniacal. Usually that meant someone was going to get embarrassed as hell. It usually tended to be Sokka.

“Wouldn’t it be one of the girls?”

“Nope.” Toph shook her head, popping her p.

“Is it-?”

“Katara, watch out!”

A guy on his bike and panicked look as he turned the corner, thankfully started the veer off course at the sight of her. She still stumbled over her feet and fell to the floor, her hands pricking in pain as they were scratched. Thankfully though, her jacket took most of the damage. The guy on the other hand, had to shove his bike off his feet, rubbing at his shin.

She took in the pale skin, paler than Toph’s and dark hair surrounding his face. It didn’t stop her from noticing the large burn surrounding his right eye. she noticed that his school jacket was the same one Sokka wore, meaning he was in the Fencing Department.

“You should be more careful.” She meant for it to come out a bit nicer, but the anger from dealing with Azula slipped in.

clearly the guy didn’t enjoy being yelled at as he snapped back. “I didn’t see you.” he seemed to rethink his anger and continued in a calmer voice. “Are you ok?”

ok, now she felt bad about snapping at him. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, what up Sparky?” Toph asked, seeming to brighten as she figured out who almost crashed into them. her guide dog Badger, lead his owner over and with surprising accuracy, Toph punch the guy on the arm.

It was a little scary how well she could do that.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Hey, tell me. Seen his skirt yet? I know he doesn’t shave his legs so please tell me he’s going all out for this.”

The guy sighed. “Thought Sokka told you not to tell anyone.”

“Sokka? He’s the Fencing cheerleader? That’s why he’s been borrowing my hair pins? Those things are expensive.” Katara interrupted.

Toph burst into laughter, clearly enjoying herself while Suki looked thoughtful.

“So that’s why he asked for makeup advice. Suddenly Sports Day is looking a lot more fun.”

“Speaking of which, I’m going back to my room before Jett finds me to let me know my event. Oh, Toph wanna annoying your department?”

“Always.”

“Take my spot for the Rice Lifting event. I’ve dealt with way too much to even put up with Jett today.”

Katara furrowed her brow, wanting to say something about the fact this guy wasn’t going to participate but then she noticed Toph’s smile dropped a little and her punch was definitely softer the second time she hit him.

“Done deal Sparky. Tell your old man I’ll see him later.”

“So who was that?” Suki asked as the guy finally took off.

“Zuko Lung, not related to the royal brat. I go to his old man’s tea house sometimes. He’s Sokka’s roommate apparently.”

“Oh yeah, he’s a pretty good fencer from what I hear. Weird though, I haven’t seen his name in the announcement of students placing.” Suki said.

She had a point. Katara never remembered seeing anything either. She also found it a bit strange Sokka never dragged his roommate to meet the rest of them. there was something about Zuko though that seemed familiar. It was on the tip of her tongue but nothing came to mind. Oh well, for another day then.

“Hey, let’s go find Sokka. Maybe if we catch him off guard, we can get him to agree to let us wax his legs.”

__________________

“I hate you.” Sokka mumbled, hiking his cheerleading skirt up. Katara bit her lip to keep from laughing at the crop top he was in. apparently, he pissed off their department captain by telling him that Zuko wasn’t participating and Toph was taking his place, so his new uniform was worse than his last.

She tossed her braid behind her, trying not to think about how young she must have looked. She had her hair like this when she was younger since it was much easier to put it into a bun. Her own uniform was rather pink for her taste, but Ty Lee basically guilt tripped her into wearing it since it already been bought. She was still annoyed at this, even more so when she found out her new roommate was Mai. The dark and depressing girl was apparently in the Archery Department and Sokka, who’d been in that Department before transferring to fencing, said she was undefeated. Yet she didn’t get past the first round of preliminaries to get onto the national team.

“Hey Sokka!” Aang, a member of the Track and Field Department came bounding over, his own skirt floating around his legs. “Katara, you never told me how much fun a skirt can be. Took me a while to find boxers that weren’t too long but still.”

“I’m glad your having fun Aang. At least someone is.” She said, smirking at Sokka.

“You deal with 3 hours of having your hair ripped out and then come talk to me.” Sokka snapped. “Ugg, I’m gonna kill Zuko. This is all his fault.”

“Wow.” A familiar voice said. Zuko was in casual clothes, carrying a cooler. Next to him was a man, with a squarish face, the same gold eyes and dark hair as Zuko, though his hair was pulled back into a top knot. “See if I bring you anything ever again.”

“You know Jett will kill you if he sees you.”

“He can’t do anything. My uncle called to pull me out for the afternoon. This is work, we’re delivering ice tea for the Fencing and Track and Field Departments. Aang, next time, don’t put your order late at night.”

Aang looked embarrassed. “Sorry. You were already gone when I got back from training. I was going to order for the Rhythmic Gymnastics department, but I know how conscious your coach is about sugars and such.” He said, looking at Katara.

“It’s ok. I’m stealing one though, I deserve the extra sugar for being in this outfit.” She said, walking over to Zuko and opening the lid on the cooler. She noticed he was staring intently at her face.

“What elementary school did you go to?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Did you go to Ba Sing Se Preparatory?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“You screamed at those bullies.”

Bullies? Wait. It hit her like a thunderbolt, why he looked so familiar. His burn was a bit more faded but she couldn’t believe he forgot him. He’d been pushed out the window by bullies and her dad, would come to drop off lunch for her and Sokka, managed to catch him before he hurt himself and she’d screamed at the bullies from the floor.

“Holy crap. That was you!” Sokka said, “you had like no hair then!”

“Sokka!” he’d disappeared from class for a few weeks and when he came back his hair was cut so far back that it made his bandages stick out more.

“Yours was in a braid then.”

She was confused for a moment when she realised, he was talking to her. Yesterday her hair had been out but now it was in the same style she had it in as a child.

She’d always wondered what happened to him when Zuko suddenly disappeared for good one day. She’d didn’t think she’d find out now.

#zutara week #zutara week 2021 #weightlifting fairy kim bok joo #AU #rhythmic gymnasit katara #fencer zuko #fencer sokka #weightlifter toph #runner aang

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beepbeepbobop · 3 years

Text

Back again.

I was telling my friend (who isn’t a Baccano! fan, but listens to me ramble) about my take on immortals and Czeslaw, and I don’t know where to put it, so! It goes here. As a warning, this is mostly me rambling and probably treads ground that has been talked about a lot in the past, but I hope it’s interesting anyway.

(This and the Infinity Train post is not a sign that I’m going to be more active in the future. Social media and the prospect of interacting with other people’s posts still make me anxious. Maybe one day.)

So! The first thing to keep in mind is that change is a major theme in Baccano!. No one is incapable of changing, but people have different relationships with it depending on who they are. Czes can't believe that he has changed seventy years after Isaac & Miria stealing him despite clear evidence that he has. Meanwhile, Nile actively resists change: His greatest fear after becoming immortal was that he would become desensitized to the loss of human life and begin to devalue it, so he spent decades fighting in active war zones so that he'd never forget the reality of death. This backfired, and instead left him inured to loss of life...but it's clear that he doesn't want to be this way? Realizing that he's gotten to the point where his expression doesn't even change if someone dies is devastating for him. Chane is the opposite: While it's absolutely for the best that she stops being a hitwoman and killing machine for her father, softening up is terrifying to her because then she can't serve her father the way she wants to. Czes is on the opposite end of the spectrum, because he wants to be better because he thinks he's a bad person (later on, he decides that he's the only bad person left in the world. Sir.), but can't recognize it because he doesn't feel different.

And...this is pertinent to the older immortals in particular - I'd argue even moreso than with the younger ones. Aside from the fact that the Elixir literally stops you from changing in the sense of age or injury...it also has to place inhibitors on your brain. Your brain is, after all, a physical part of your body! There are some....weird aspects about immortality that no one is able to figure out (for example, immortals can give birth; someone also pointed out that there are no examples of crying in reverse even though that's also a part of your body), but it's still safe to say that the brain doesn't age either because then...then a lot of the cast would be catatonic from Alzheimer's. Even without that, the human body can only retain so many memories. If an immortal's brain had the ability to deteriorate over time or overload based off of the amount of memories it contains....well, I don't think any of the older immortals would be able to function. Szilard definitely wouldn't be able to function (and neither would Firo after he devours Szilard) because Szilard has the memories of over a dozen people running around in his brain. Which brings me to my next point: If an immortal's brain functioned like a human's, devouring would not work as a concept. One of the hallmarks of being immortal is gaining other people's memories. Imagine the strain that would cause. And yet, it doesn't seem to be a problem! The chief worry of those who have devoured other immortals is worrying that having the memories of the other person might change you consciously or subconsciously. This is Firo's concern over devouring Szilard.

So...the fact that the brain doesn't physically grow older or change (with some leniency given because real world science sure is iffy here)...feels relevant because, mn...

Many of the older immortals feel stagnant, or stuck in time. Firstly, if the immortals changed at the same pace as a human being, I don't think most of them would be recognizable from one era to the other. And yet, they are! The Victor Talbot of the 1700s is clearly the same person as the Victor Talbot of the 1930s, albeit with alterations (because what kind of person would stay exactly the same after centuries?). The answer to that question is Elmer, by the way. Everyone comments on how he acts just like the Elmer they remember back in the day. But Elmer is a special case, seeing as he's our local empty shell and probable sociopath (not that he has ASPD! ASPD, sociopathy and psychopathy all present and function entirely differently from each other, which makes it....strange that they're lumped under the same umbrella - but that's another matter). Secondly, immortals...Uhm, they all handle grief horribly, and seem to feel stuck in the past? Maiza, for instance, acts starkly different from his past as a rebellious noble-boy gang member, but he's never forgiven himself for giving Gretto the information that led to his death. (Gretto being his brother.) Huey's overarching goal is to bring his dead girlfriend back to life, and he's been working towards this goal for centuries. Sylvie, who admittedly was not an immortal when Gretto died, held off on drinking the Elixir until she was all grown up, then set out to finding Szilard to take revenge on him for killing the boy she had run away with. This lasted for, you guessed it, centuries.

This isn't to say that immortals don't change, or even that they don't change drastically. I mentioned Nile, who became inured to death after fighting in war for decades. Czes went from a trusting, innocent child to someone paranoid and self-centered enough to try and get an entire train car's worth of people killed for his own safety to someone who wants to be a good person, but thinks he never will be and that there's something fundamentally wrong with him. But changing appears to be very, very difficult, and happens over an extended period of time in response to extreme situations.

And...this is particularly relevant to Czes (who keeps coming up as an example because he's the main person I'm thinking about with this tangent) because....it arguably hits him harder than any of the others due to being a child. Only the best decisions were made aboard the Advenna Avis, which includes letting the eight year old drink the immortality elixir. But...mn. It's one thing to be perpetually in your thirties, or twenties, or sixties, and another altogether to perpetually be eight years old. Czes can't truly 'grow up' even though he has more life experience than most adults combined, and it shows in his extreme emotional reactions, his self-centeredness, ect. There's a certain misconception about anime-only fans that he's an adult in a child's body, but I think it's easier to tell in the light novels that that's not the case, especially since you see what he's like back before the Advenna Avis. (He is shy. Very shy. Did nothing wrong ever.) Also, the fact that SAMPLE goes, "Yes! The perfect sacrifice!" when they specifically take a child to target emphasizes this. It's not proof - I'm pretty sure that SAMPLE would focus on his physical age as an 'eternal child', and may or may not have the resources to analyze him and go, "This boy is still eight years old in his head," - , but it hammers the point home.

Then...mn. One thing that's stuck out to me ever since the start is how long Czes was with Fermet. There's such a thing as learned helplessness, and it's not like Czes had anywhere to go, so that's not what is odd to me...especially when Fermet is known for manipulating people, and could definitely seed the idea that Czes can't go anywhere. More than physical proximity, I think about how long Czes believed in Fermet. It's explicitly stated that Czes absorbing Fermet's memories is what made him realize that - oh, Fermet was just sadistic and everything he said was an excuse. And...I think this is both an example of being controlled in many respects, and....another example of an immortal being stuck in the past - but in a very, very different way.

First off, learning that the people you look up to want to harm you is...difficult at best, especially when you're younger? But being mentally 'stuck' at a certain age would make things worse, because Czes is perpetually an age where it's natural to depend on a parental figure, and at an age where the brain isn't equipped to make those kinds of calls or realizations. There's also the matter of cognitive dissonance! Cognitive dissonance means a lot of things, but essentially, it's the idea that you have two conflicting beliefs, but the actions you take can retroactively alter your beliefs/place emphasis on one more than the other, as the mind is predisposed to reduce dissonance. I...take issue with how cognitive dissonance is interpreted because many examples don't account for the beliefs or opinions not being equal in the first place, but that's not the point. The point is that, as a child, the impulse to reduce dissonance is present while also being played against difficulty reading intentions, perceiving the world outside of yourself, and thinking critically. (For what it's worth, abusers also tend to discourage critical thinking because it damages their narrative, which would also play a part.) So, for example...

Say that, theoretically, Czes was yelled at every time he questions the idea that Fermet's intentions are right, or that maybe Fermet doesn't have his best interests in mind. (Czes is insightful, and they lived with each other for a long time, so this probably happened at least once unless the text directly contradicts me.) This is tame compared to the things we know about his time with Fermet, but ignore that. The desire to not be yelled at would lead him to hurriedly agree later on, and cognitive dissonance means that you're inclined to try to make your beliefs agree with your actions. In other words, the more he plays along, the more his brain tells him that he definitely believes this, and it makes perfect sense to! Fermet has shown that he cares about him, and took him in after his grandfather died, so of course. It only makes sense. And it's even harder for him to bridge the gap to a different conclusion because of how difficult it seems to be for immortals to change. It's only when Czes devours Fermet (or...or at least gets his memories) that everything snaps into place, because he can't reconcile that no matter how hard he tries (coincidentally, this also happens when he gets memories of being an adult, and while I seriously doubt that Czes went through Fermet's memories willingly, it kind of hammers my point about how difficult being eternally young would make things). So of course he snaps as hard as he does. It'd be kind of amazing if he didn't, honestly.

TLDR: Being immortal made it even harder for him to recognize or comprehend his trauma. Sorry for that.

#baccano #baccano!#czeslaw meyer #nile (baccano)#I don't know who else I discussed enough to tag #but the segment about szilard made me wonder whether you would have more memories from devouring a dozen people or from living #for a couple centuries #I think it depends on how old the immortals were #discord ramblings

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cybernaght · 3 years

Text

Guardian rewatch: episode 12

We start the episode in the Snake Tribe territory, which is supposedly still somewhere within the confines of the Dragon City. It is baffling that it took citizens of this place so long to figure out that there are mysterious beings and demi-humans living among them, it truly is.

While the scene is mostly centred around the conflict between Zhu Hong and her tribe, and the ominous warning of the war brewing, it also does a really lovely joy of showcasing, yet again, the fierce loyalty not only she, but Guo Changcheng have to the SID. This boy remains the most precious muffin of a human.

At the SID, Sang Zan is learning to write under a loving watchful eye Wang Zheng. The once fierce and ruthless warlord is now the softest archivist. On a separate note, I am not sure how good of an archivist he might be considering that he is evidently illiterate.

Anyway, it’s heart-warming to see those two happy together. I sure hope nothing terrible happens to them in the future.

Our actual power couple, on the other hand, have done a full reversal into the relationship they had in the beginning; only it’s somehow even worse now. Shen Wei, who properly messed his cover up during the last adventure, has his guard up as he is being questioned in relation to a case. Zhao Yunlan, who grew to see this man as a friend and partner, is no longer amused by secrets, nor intrigued by them. He is now furious at their existence, upset at what he must perceive as lack of trust on Shen Wei’s part.

Shen Wei serves Zhao Yunlan a cup of tea with a side order of avoidance, hoping that by ignoring the subject of himself it will go away.

When in the previous scenes together they were always across the desk from each other, or next to each other, leaning in closely, body language open, there is now a rift between them. It’s awkward; neither of the men want to be here, but their needs are the opposite to each other, and neither of them are willing to back down.

Shen Wei goes on explaining in great detail his connection to the case and to the victim, despite Zhao Yunlan’s attempt to change the subject with a very unsubtle, “your body surely recovered fast”. The latter then proceeds to stubbornly talk about Shen Wei’s archaic ways, which earns him an incredulous “Are you even listening to me?” from the professor. The incredulity is wonderfully misjudged, considering the circumstances.

“I only want to hear you tell the truth”

We rarely see Zhao Yunlan open and vulnerable. I can’t off the top of my head remember him ever being open and vulnerable with anyone who is not Shen Wei. Zhao Yunlan operates on false bravado, aggressive charm, weaponised smiles. But with this man, he purposefully lowers his guard. I trust you, he seems to say, and I always have. Why can you not trust me?

Shen Wei gulps.

He then continues talking about the case, which is the last straw for Zhao Yunlan, who explodes, smacking his palm hard on the desk.

Shen Wei startles, looking hurt. I just… don’t understand what he was expecting. Once again, this is a man who, from Shen Wei’s perspective, has unmasked him on the first day they met. This is a man who has been poking and prodding him for weeks. And I get that it is hurtful when someone you care about does not respect your boundaries, I do, but truly honestly hoping that the same someone will just accept the relationship terms that have never even been discussed is a little bit unrealistic, especially when Shen Wei is not divulging anything.

Shen Wei is bad at communicating. Which is, I suppose, not news to anyone.

“It seems that Chief Zhao still hasn’t given up on suspecting me.”

“Not suspicion, but lack of understanding.”

Zhao Yunlan is trying very hard. He is trying to close the rift between them: by pulling the chair over next to Shen Wei’s and settling down on it, by reminding Shen Wei how much they have been through together, by telling the man that he is being perplexing. Shen Wei, on the other hand, has raised his barriers all the way back up, smoothly explaining that he is just a normal man who ends up being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He has got a polite smile playing on his lips, his mask fully in place.

Zhao Yunlan does not even pretend to have believed Shen Wei, he gives up on the conversation with a dejected “Fine, forget it.”

He makes his excuses and pulls his phone out to make a call to Wang Zheng to check up on the rest of the team. Just as that happens, the SID gets attacked by the magical sound waves, and Zhao Yunlan sprints into action.

Shen Wei calls after him, and then asks to come with. Considering they have just spent some very awkward time together, more or less fighting about Shen Wei lying an awful lot, Zhao Yunlan would be well within his moral rights to reject help. He doesn’t, however. Even now, the trust he has in Shen Wei - in his good intentions, in his friendship - is unwavering.

At the SID offices, Tan Xiao is using his sound device to get past the two ghosts energy beings, and break through the safety measures protecting the Hallows. In other news, apart from being susceptible from curses or poisons slipped through the letter box, the SID HQ also does not have anything that might stop a human from breaking into it. How those people survived for this long is a mystery.

A point of complete diversion from me: I am currency watching a contemporary drama entitled To Dear Myself. It’s about young professionals in Shanghai who get their lives broken in about ten different ways; Zhu Yilong’s the leading man; there will definitely be a lengthy think-piece on it here. But the reason I’m bringing that up here is that it also has Chen Weidong, the actor who plays Tan Xiao, as a contextually neurodivergent rich boyfriend of one of the protagonists.

It’s kind of surreal seeing him here; there’s only been about two years between the filming of those two shows, but he looks so different. Oh, and, he is very good as well.

Back in the world of Guardian, we see Sang Zan shaking off the sound attack and attempting to stop Tan Xiao. He does not succeed as such, but manages to pull a string which activates the Indiana Jones-style set-up with loaded crossbows. It’s very silly; I kind of love it.

While evading the arrows, Sang Zan flings the Awl up in the air, Zhao Yunlan catches it. How close is the University to SID? He took about five minutes to get here! The chief gets a barrage of premonitions which include Zhu Hong knocked out in the future, as well as in the present, and a little sneak-peak into the Disaster Wedding incident.

He then proceeds to pass out into Shen Wei’s slow motion embrace.

There is nothing wrong with this. This is beautiful.

Shen Wei checks on Yunlan briefly, but Tan Xiao goes on the offensive, which deserves him: a) a shot of dark energy right into his chest, which flings him across the space, b) the meanest of Hei Pao Shi’s death glares. This is the moment Tan Xiao earns an uncharacteristically rough treatment he’s going to get at the end of this episode.

She Wei carefully places unconscious Zhao Yunlan next to the wall, calling out his name. We can only presume that the lab has a second exit, as Tan Xiao manages to get away despite the two men currently being more or less in the doorway.

An indeterminate amount of time passes, and Zhao Yunlan wakes on the sofa, Da Qing in human form miaowing at him, his team and Shen Wei nearby. The team goes into a full debrief mode: Wang Zheng reports that she is generally able to repel sound waves, but was taken by surprise; Da Qing and Lin Jin speculate about the shield being affected by the waves as well, since an apparent Undergrounder managed to get through it.

Zhao Yunlan notes that the sound waves ability seems to be doubled, and used for both attack and suggestion. He notes that the powers can be numerous, while grinning conspiratorially at Shen Wei.

Shen Wei quietly despairs. He probably genuinely thought that this conversation was truly over. He takes a few seconds to come to terms with Zhao Yunlan actually teasing him about him maybe being an Undergrounder, before composing himself and stating that compound abilities don’t actually exist.

Da Qing, who doesn’t necessarily pick up what this conversation really is about, but does note that *something* is up with those two, comes to his own conclusions, asking Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan to stop flirting.

Lin Jing comes up up with this.

“Comrades!”

Thank you, Viki subbers, for notifying the audience that the word “Comrade” is also a slang for “gay”.

Lin Jing springs to his feet, saying that he needs a sample test of a human consciousness - presumably to create that clever brain chip of him which would make one immune to the wound wave powers. Zhao Yunlan very theatrically feigns a big scary headache to see whether Shen Wei would volunteer to take the test in his stead to spare him the pain. It’s an underhand move, but it works nonetheless.

We briefly return to the Snake Tribe, or, more specifically to Zhu Hong’s Fourth Uncle asking whether she is still mad at him, while she is forcibly restrained and bound to a pillar. What is it with this show and binding people to pillars? In reality, the one bound to a pillar is actually Guo Changcheng, which the Fourth Uncle doesn’t pick up on even through Xiao Guo is not actually wearing the clothes Zhu Hong arrived in. Zhu Hong springs the trap, plies her uncle with the same wine, and then goes to regroup with the others, leaving Xiao Guo behind for the time being, because, I guess, it makes more sense for Zhu Hong to be alone when she gets hypnotised later in the episode.

Honestly, it’s easier to not think about too much about this scene, so let’s return to the main characters.

Lin Jing is just finishing the experiment on Shen Wei, who is lying on the lab bed in his undershirt, seemingly asleep. I would assume that Shen Wei has gone into some kind of a meditative trance to try and affect the way his own brain works and emulate the human activity. He does not stir when Zhao Yunlan walks over, and call him.

“Shen Wei? Professor Shen?”

Having received no response, Zhao Yunlan leans in to…

... Count this man’s eye lashes? Admire the effects of his skincare routine?

Oh, no, sorry. Here’s the excuse.

Thank you, Guardian, for this moment.

As Shen Wei wakes up and rises, he lets Zhao Yunlan know in no uncertain terms that he did see through his ruse.

“You don’t have a headache anymore?”

This snaps Yunlan out of gazing at Shen Wei with barely contained lust to pretend that his head indeed still hurts. Considering that Shen Wei does not look concerned, and knowing that Zhao Yunlan’s health and well-being is his number one priority in life, we can conclude that he did know that a headache was just an excuse to get Shen Wei out of his shirt check Shen Wei’s brain activity. Our professor collects his things and leaves with a brief goodbye.

Lin Jing is staring at the readings, checking that the computer has worked properly. Noticing that something is wrong, Zhao Yunlan asks, “Did you see live pornography in his head or something?” Not that I blame his for his mind being the gutter, but also, wow Zhao Yunlan’s mind is in the gutter.

Lin Jing dismisses the idea of mind reading as a whole, and shares his findings that Shen Wei’s consciousness was unwavering, like a dead man’s. Unfortunately for Shen Wei, whatever it was that he did to appear human has not worked well at all.

Zhao Yunlan smirks.

Outside of the SID building, Shen Wei is still frozen in place, contemplating his future actions as he is thumping the Pendant of Pining.

“Should I tell him after all?”

Yes, Shen Wei, you should.

“If I tell him, will that put him in danger?”

I am afraid the the good ship Zhao Yunlan Being In Danger sailed the day Zhao Yunlan became Lord Guardian and Chief of the SID.

(Am I again getting unreasonably frustrated with a fictional character of a show that aired several years ago? You bet I am.)

What follows in the episode is a brief interlude of Zhu Jiu being horrible to Tan Xiao, and making inappropriate comments about him and Zheng Yi. We also learn some of Tan Xiao’s backstory, which expands on his character and explains that the reasons he felt so protective of the little girl was because she reminded him of a sister he once had.

Back to SID offices.

Zhao Yunlan is doodling Shen Wei and the Envoy as he tries to reconcile the two in his mind.

It does sound like he still has doubts that the two are the same person, despite the overwhelming pile of evidence that made him draw to this conclusion in the first place. If anything, it is quite surprising that it took him this long to figure out that the enigmatic mysterious handsome professor and the enigmatic mysterious handsome Envoy are the same person. It is also curious that he seems to think the Envoy is much taller.

Da Qing watches his friend’s mental agony in absolute bewilderment.

Very shortly, they will get a ping for the sound wave energy from somewhere close to Zhu Hong’s home and rush to the scene to find that Zhu Hong has, indeed, been put under mind control, as she attacks Chu Shuzhi.

Here’s another piece of fight choreography for me to tear into.

Okay, good things first. I really like that the actors are doing their own fighting. Jiang Mingyang is generally looking good in combat, and his reactions continue to be on point. Gao Yuer is very flexible, and her kicks are great.

The fight itself however, is another example of the time/money constraints.

The opening punch is… fine. They do lock arms for a split second, which indicates that Zhu Hong properly swung that in rather than stopping the energy, but they are also out of distance, so safety-wise that’s okay-ish, and at full speed it looks alright . But the way Lao Chu is sticking his thumb out and then wraps that around Zhu Hong’s wrist just gave a full body shudder. This is how one gets they thumb dislocated (which I have never done myself, but I hear is very painful) and/or gives their partner a nasty bruise. For anyone out there who needs to hear this, if you ever perform a fight, please tuck your thumbs in line with your fingers and avoid hurting yourself and others. Doing otherwise adds nothing apart from a small but completely avoidable risk of injury.

Then there is this kick-punch-kick combination.

The three moves in isolation are good, but they don’t flow together, at all. I think, and this is pure speculation, that the sweeping punch in the middle was actually meant to follow the previous two moves, then the kick would come next, leading into Chu Shuzhi restraining Zhu Hong. That first kick (which is the same as the third kick, shot from a different angle) just does not belong there as a follow-up to the two punches. I can speculate that it was cut there because it looked cool - which it does - but it also sacrifices any hope this fight had for coherent storytelling.

Then there is a capture and a swivel, very similar to the finishing move used in Zhu Jiu/Sang Zan fight in episode 11. Zhu Hong gets pressed against the tree, and the team shows up to sedate her and bring her back to the headquarters.

Tan Xiao and Zheng Yi watch this scene unfold at a distance, as Zhao Yunlan appears behind them. The SID chief calmly lets Tan Xiao know that he’s been abandoned by Zhu Jiu, and the other man offers no resistance to being captured.

The narrative brings us to the boxing ring, introducing us to it as Zhu Jiu’s energy farm, and then briefly cuts to SID, where Chu Shuzhi realises that they have not retrieved Guo Changcheng. The puppet master springs into action, leaving Lin Jing to wonder since when his friend is so protective of the rookie. If he paid attention, he would have noticed that Chu Shuzhi was protective of the rookie since day one.

We then move to the interrogation of Tan Xiao, which is happening in the hospital set, with Zheng Yi tucked into the hospital bed, even through it was never established that she would need medical attention, and, considering that she would have no issues walking out of the hospital very shortly, she clearly does not. Here, we see some more flashbacks, detailing Tan Xiao and the girl’s backstory, the abuse she suffered, and the bond the two forged. The young man is admitting to all the crimes he had not committed to protect her, and Zhao Yunlan is honestly moved. He sounds almost regretful when he lets Tan Xiao know that he will still be persecuted for his crimes.

Right on cue, Hei Pao Shi portals in.

Zhao Yunlan greets him with a customary “long time no see”, but the most acknowledgement he receives from Shen Wei is a side-eye which does not even focus on his face.

In fact, the Envoy is doing as much as he can to avoid even turning to Zhao Yunlan. He simply announces his purpose to the room in general and teleports Tan Xiao away. It’s easy to see what he is doing. In Shen Wei’s mind, the less communication he has with Zhao Yunlan as Hei Pao Shi, the better are his chances to separate his two personalities in the eyes of the other man. That said, showing an abrupt and uncharacteristic change of behaviour is the opposite of suspicious.

Even Da Qing notices the change Hei Pao Shi.

“Lao Zhao, what did you do to upset him? You used to do small talk, not anymore?”

Zhao Yunlan smirks, replying that he knows the reason why. He then notices the little girl crying, and goes to comfort her the only way he knows how, with a lollipop. When that does not work, he gestures for Da Qing to leave with him, and returns with a familiar black cat and an adorable “ta-dah”. It’s so sweet it makes my teeth hurt.

As this is going on, Hei Pao Shi is being his glorious over the top avenging self. For one, he is actually floating above Tan Xiao, which I don’t think he ever seen him do before. He then proceeds to throttle the young man, lifting him in the air and throwing him back on the ground.

He does so in order to shake the sound wave equipment out of him, sure, but it is easy to assume that Tan Xiao also brought the Envoy’s wrath onto himself by his misguided attempt to hurt Zhao Yunlan earlier that day. It’s deliciously petty; we know that the best way to earn Shen Wei’s ire is by threatening his companion. And, to be fair, Shen Wei had a bad day: this is as good a way as any to get some of that ancient anger out of his system.

As Hei Pao Shi realises that the man he arrested is a simple human armed with some clever technology, and the real homicidal Undergrounder is the girl he is protecting, so does Zhao Yunlan. Even miles away, even when they are having arguments, their analytical brains still work in sync. And, as plot twists go, this one is neat, albeit not entirely unpredictable.

Unfortunately, realising that the girl is dangerous, brings along a realisation that Zhao Yunlan left his friend in her care. He rushes to the hospital to check on Da Qing, finding the ward empty. If this was Zhu Jiu’s plan all along, it’s a good one: having access to a brainwashed SID member would also spell easy access to the headquarters and the Hallows - which is exactly where Zheng Yi leads Da Qing, taking the Hallows and leaving the Yashou to go into a berserk mode as he imagines or remembers Zhao Yunlan/Kunlun saying “I will abandon you”

Next up, episode 13: The Disaster Wedding.

——

Notes.

Every time Shen Wei lies my brain supplies me with Why You Always Lying song. Every. Single. Time. Which means I sing it a lot around the flat, to my partner’s great chagrin.

Whoooo boy and I thought the Episode 10 recap was the crackiest one I’ve done.

#guardian #recap #rewatch #zhao yunlan #shen wei #now with gifs #sometimes my brain is like this #I'm not sorry

41 notes · View notes

scoopsgf · 4 years

Text

can i get a good night’s sleep? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep?!

or: five times peter parker doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

my contribution to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! this is for @snarky-drabbles - I hope you enjoy it!

The first time is actually just the first in a while. Peter’s had problems sleeping ever since he was a little kid; it was just one issue of many that stacked up on top of each other, resulting in his personal belief that he must be the most difficult kid to look after on the planet.

Asthma meant hundreds of dollars spent on inhalers, covering what their shitty insurance didn’t. His poor eyesight was the same story and the bullies that used to break his glasses had never helped. But it wasn’t just physical crap, of course: he’s had anxiety for as long as he can remember.

There are cute side-effects like panic attacks and nausea, not to mention the constant sense of impending doom he’s been nursing since… well, birth, probably. When he was younger he’d worry about whether or not the taxi driver had enough gas in his car to get them where they needed to go, or maybe Ben would get shot at work (ironically enough, he’d never worried that Ben would get shot off-duty, and there is a teeny superstitious sliver of him that believes maybe if he had considered the possibility it never would have happened, like some kind of a reverse jinx or something).

One of the other cute things that comes along with it is insomnia.

So here he is, pacing in his kitchen at three in the morning because May isn’t home yet.

Her shift ended at two. She’s usually back within a half hour considering the hospital isn’t far, hence his agitation.

He’s tried calling and texting to no avail, and he keeps telling himself that everything is fine, that she probably just got held up; meanwhile his subconscious provides a great slideshow of mental images that speak to the opposite—her getting kidnapped because somehow someone links her to Spider-Man, her getting hit with a car, mugged, shot, slipping on black ice—and that’s actually not far-fetched considering it’s January, there’s a lot of it, and so he pulls out his phone and types, You didn’t slip on black ice and die did you? to May.

No little dots appear to signify that she’s typing. The message doesn’t even change from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’.

She has her read receipts on. She’s promised him. There’s no reason she’d change that, right? But maybe she accidentally switched them off when she was scrolling through her settings.

He calls her.

“Hi, this is May Parker, I’m unavailable at the moment but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you as soon as—”

Peter hangs up with a dissatisfied grunt.

It’s only then that he realises, to his great dismay, that he’s paced all the way onto the ceiling.

In his shock he loses concentration and falls. “Ow, fuck.” He pulls his aching knee to his chest. It’ll no doubt be bruised soon. “God has forsaken me.”

He picks up his now cracked phone and texts Ned:

I just fell off the ceiling at 3 AM in the morning

Don’t ask me what I was doing on it

Every bone in my body is broken :(

No reply comes which is pretty typical; Ned probably passed out in front of his PC like, hours ago. Peter can picture it: the light of his computer screen casting a blue glow over everything in the room, his head probably tucked into his arms to muffle his snores (and there’s also probably a bowl of stale popcorn spilled across his floor at this point), his creepy mother lurking in the doorway—or worse, trying to find out how to snoop through his laptop while he’s out of it.

Peter could totally go swing down there and help the guy out. It would be something to do anyway.

But no. The door is too far. His suit… too much work. It’s definitely better to just stay here curled up under the table like a little turtle.

But wait—a blanket.

Is it worth the effort? Probably. Peter scans his immediate surroundings and, oh boy, Lady Fate is actually on his side tonight because there’s a gigantic purple fluffy one hanging off the couch and it only takes a little bit of physical exertion to yank it down and wrap it around his body.

He burrows deeper into it and scrolls through Instagram. MJ posted a picture of a banana today. Literally like, just a banana. No caption, no explanation on her story, nothing.

Peter double taps it and comments: i hope u asked before u took his jacket

No like. No reply. That makes sense. It is three in the fucking morning, after all.

No. Three thirty. It’s been an hour and a half.

What had May said once? That it was okay to call someone if she was two hours late?

Peter tries texting and calling one more time and then just sits there, staring at his home screen and watching the minutes pass. At exactly four AM after much deliberation and stomach churning, he calls someone else.

Three rings later: “I’m in Vienna right now so this better be good.”

Peter feels even more nauseous than before. “Oh,” he says. “I guess—never mind, then. Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, that was just for show and I’m greatly intrigued as to why you’re calling me so… early? Late? Anyway I’m out of the conference room now so lay it on me.”

Against his will, Peter’s lip quirks up. “Um, it’s kind of stupid—”

“Nothing is ever stupid,” Tony says. “Especially when it’s coming from the brain of a kid with an intelligence quotient of 260.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and then it all just comes tumbling out, “It’s really late and May was supposed to be off at two and home by two-thirty, but she’s not and I don’t know what to do. I tried calling and texting but she’s not replying and I know that I’m probably just building it up in my head but I can’t help freaking out because like, what if she got stabbed or slipped on black ice or—”

“Hey Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Tony’s voice has softened immeasurably. Something uncoils in Peter’s stomach. He flops onto his side and closes his eyes. “I’m breathing.”

“That’s good, kiddo. Now just hang on a sec, I’m gonna call the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Well she works there, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“And you haven’t tried calling them yet, correct?”

“...Correct.”

“Ergo,” Tony says.

“But I—”

“Yeah?”

Peter bites his lip and then he just blurts it: “I don’t want you to hang up.”

He feels like such a child but the thought of losing connection with Tony is literally making his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. He needs someone. He needs an adult.

“Well lucky for us both I have two phones.”

Peter cracks an eye. “You what?”

“I’m Tony Stark, don’t question it. Hang on, let me just—hello, hi, um, I need this room. No, it can’t wait. Yes the whole room. Yes locked. I don’t know, five minutes? Ten? An hour? No, I’m not joking. Thank you. Thanks. Yeah. Okay. Bye now.” Something slams shut—the door to the office Tony just stole, probably. “Okay, just a sec, I have the number for the reception desk she works at in my phone.”

Peter, for some reason, feels immeasurably comforted by that. He sits in silence gnawing on his lip while Tony has a somewhat muffled conversation he can’t hear the other side of. Then, “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay, well, they said she’s covering for someone and can’t get to the phone because a baby had to have emergency surgery so she’s literally in the OR as we speak. Pretty badass and not bad as far as excuses go. Now that you know she’s fine and not dead by ice, how about you get some shut-eye, okay kid?”

Peter swallows. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“No Mr. Stark this time, huh?”

“It’s too late for formalities.”

“I see,” Tony replies. “Sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line goes dead. Peter, slightly relieved but not fully consoled, rolls over to face the door. He doesn’t sleep at all that night and is still there when May comes home at six in the morning with bagels and apologies.

—

The anniversary of Ben’s death is always super weird.

This time it takes him a few minutes to remember what day it is: he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth and then it hits him like a train: oh, it’s been three years.

Then comes May. She usually tries to cook something for breakfast but like always it burns. He leaves the bathroom to the sound of the smoke alarm and fans a cookie sheet at the screeching little device while she swears up and down in Italian.

“It’s okay, May, really—”

“No, it’s not!” She snaps, tossing a batch of blackened cinnamon rolls into the trash. “I just want this day to be easy for you!”

Peter goes over to her and, after kicking the oven door shut with his foot, pulls her into his arms. May starts to cry even though she tries not to; sniffles turn into barely stifled sobs. He knows that it’s harder for her than it is for him. Ben was her husband and they’d been married for thirteen years when he died. Sometimes he still catches her looking to see if he’s laughing too when they watch TV, only to find an empty recliner.

“It’s okay for it to be a bad day,” he whispers. “You know that, right? I mean, I love you to pieces, May, but I don’t wanna see you bending over backwards for me.”

“But that’s my job, doofus.”

Peter pulls back. He’s an inch taller than her now. “No it’s not. We take care of each other, okay?”

Then comes school. Ned usually hovers nervously like an agitated gnat, too afraid to say anything, not sure if he should act normal or be sad in solidarity, which means it’s kind of Peter’s job to set the tone. As he’s putting his combination in for his locker he asks, “So did you beat that level of Obra Dinn last night?”

Ned, shoulders slumping with relief, starts to ramble on about how hard it was to do and how it took him like, thirty whole tries.

They go to class. Peter zones out. He doesn’t bother making more web fluid or ditching and he gets so inside his own head that Coach Wilson compliments him again during gym class. Peter deliberately slows down after that, even if it’s kind of irritating; being physically active actually helps work off his anger.

Because that’s what he is more than anything else: angry. At the mugger, yeah, but at himself more than anything else. It was his fault that they were out that night, anyway. It’s a wonder that May doesn’t hate his fucking guts.

When school is up Peter comes home to an empty house. He thinks about going on patrol but doesn’t really feel up to it, and then he feels bad for not wanting to do it because like, what if someone is dying?

So he puts on the suit and swings from rooftop to rooftop, but there’s no action today. Peter eventually settles on a fire escape with a burrito. A stray cat hops up after a while and, despite his matted fur and crazy eyes, Peter decides he has a kind of quiet dignity about him and names him Charles.

“Do you like beef?” He asks, holding some out for Charles to sniff. The cat yowls and, without any warning other than that, nearly chomps Peter’s fingers off to get the meat.

“Ow, jeez!” Peter shakes his wrist. “I was literally giving it to you for free, but go off I guess.”

Charles blinks his big brown marble eyes and then literally jumps off the fucking ledge. Peter leans over and watches him scamper across the street, somehow not getting hit by any traffic. Sometimes he thinks his spidey sense is more like feline sense in that way: he could probably manage the same thing with his eyes closed.

After a while the sun sets and all of the streetlights turn on. Peter does another patrol around the immediate vicinity but again, nothing. He stays out anyway though because he’d rather do his Chemistry homework behind a dumpster than sit alone in the apartment with nothing but the quiet for company. At least out and about there are sewer rats and mangy dogs and shady characters who actually just turn out to be skateboarders.

Peter is almost done with his assignment when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He looks up and finds Iron Man himself coming in for a landing. The suit drops with a barely audible clunk; it’s Mark 54, the sleekest and most lightweight model yet.

“Oh thank God,” says Tony’s voice, “you’re not dead.”

Peter frowns even though Tony can’t see it. “No,” he agrees slowly. “Why would I be dead? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your aunt called me in a panic at around four when she got home and you weren’t there, and then I checked the scanners and saw that you’d been here, completely stationary, for like five whole hours—needless to say I had a little bit of a heart attack and here I am, relieved and also mildly infuriated. Care to explain, young padawan?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it again and, “It’s four AM?”

“Four fifteen,” Tony corrects.

“I didn’t even—I didn’t know! Shit, May’s totally gonna kill me, I might as well be dead—”

“Woah woah woah,” the faceplate lifts, “calm down, okay? No one is mad. Just, uh, concerned, I promise.”

Peter is still frantically packing up his school supplies and not really listening. He only stops when Tony gently touches him by lightly gripping his elbow. “Kid?”

Peter stares down at the older man’s hand. Behind the mask his eyes start to burn. “Ben died.”

“Pardon?”

“Ben died,” he repeats louder. “In this alley. Two years ago.”

All at once Tony’s face falls. He moves to sit by Peter on the grimy floor of the alley while the suit hovers nearby, a hollow shell, just the way Peter feels now.

“Kid,” Tony says, “take off the mask.”

“What? No, I’m in public—”

“No one’s around,” Tony says. “Just take it off, okay?”

Peter does, reluctantly peeling it back to reveal his tear-stained cheeks. Tony stares for a second and then, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around Peter. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I—” he chokes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of having to watch May be strong for me when I can’t be strong back, and I’m tired of Ben not being around. I miss him and it—it’s not fair.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s never fair. That’s why it hurts, kiddo. You’ve got all this love and no place to put it.”

Peter bites his lip to stop it from quivering and looks away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just feel pathetic.”

“Don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I felt the same way after my mom died and it… In some ways I don’t think the feeling ever actually went away, but uh, take it from someone who’s had a lot more time to process: no one is expecting anything from you, okay? And I can guarantee there’s not a single human that thinks two years is long enough to be perfectly fine again. You’re allowed to still be upset about this.”

And Peter is. He’s really, really fucking upset about it and so tired of holding it in. Tony pulls him against his chest when Peter starts to cry and it sort of seems like he’ll never be able to stop. There’s just so much, so much guilt and pain and all kinds of other bullshit that he refuses to lay on May.

So he lays it on Tony. And it’s surprisingly not horrible or awkward or even the end of the world.

“You good?” the older man asks, when Peter finally sobers up enough to wipe his cheeks dry and take a few steadying breaths.

“Yeah,” he says, voice ragged and awful-sounding. “Um, sorry. For freaking you and May out and ruining your shirt, I mean.”

“You know there’s this really snazzy invention called a washing machine—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Tony laughs and it makes Peter laugh too, and the tension between them just sort of dissipates. “Speaking of clothes,” Tony claps his hands together, “you got any to wear in that backpack?”

“Uh, jeans and a hoodie?”

“Fantastic, incredible. Throw them on, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“But what if someone sees?!”

“Let ’em. I’ll have Pep release a statement claiming you as my personal assistant or head intern or something.”

“That’s totally unrealistic.”

“Do I care? No. Just—okay? Up and at ’em, make haste, come on. What do you feel like, pancakes or waffles?”

They bicker about which is better the entire way to the little diner Tony choses, and Peter comes home full an hour later. May is fast asleep at the kitchen table. He kisses her forehead and starts on breakfast for her.

—

He’s thirty minutes into helping MJ study for her AP French test when she finally gets a question wrong. “‘Il n'est pas clair que’?” Peter queries, holding up the flash card.

“‘It’s not certain that’?”

He makes a pitying noise. “Close. ‘It’s not clear that’.”

“What’s not clear, exactly? That if I see one more word in French I’m gonna blow my brains out?”

Peter snorts. “No, actually it says more clarification is required on how much you like your boyfriend. Suggestions to improve that include: a hug, a kiss, both—”

“Neither?”

He pouts. “Mean.”

MJ rolls her eyes, but she kisses him first. She tastes like the Twizzlers they’ve been eating and her hands are in his hair and she laughs when he presses his lips to her cheeks and nose and forehead.

They somehow end up in an incredibly compromising position. “You know,” MJ muses, “I don’t think I’ve been studying the right kind of French.”

Peter, hovering over her (oops), nods in agreement. “This kind is definitely way better.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and he’s so consumed with this: her and him and the smell of her jasmine shampoo—that he almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

Peter rips away abruptly. “What was that?”

She groans. “God, you’re such a dog sometimes.”

He ignores her, sitting alert with his eyes narrowed at the window and, sure enough, there it is again: a faint, blood-curdling scream. “Someone’s being attacked or something. Maybe four blocks away tops.”

MJ squints. “Don’t tell me you can echolocate.”

“I—” Peter’s mouth snaps shut and then opens again. “I actually don’t know. Anyway, I gotta go.”

He presses a quick kiss to her cheek, throws on his jacket, and quickly ducks out her fire escape (which happens to be the same way that he came in). He slips the mask on and tosses his hood up; it’s raining in heavy, icy sheets and Peter is drenched within seconds of swinging. He remembers the first time he’d gone out during a storm; the webbing he’d made hadn’t held up because the chemical formula hadn’t accounted for the massive amounts of water-based reaction, so the biocables had evaporated as they left his shooters. Thankfully he hadn’t jumped first that day, otherwise he would be a Peter Pancake.

Another scream sounds. Peter follows it and winds up latched onto the side of a two-story brick building. There’s an incredibly dark alley below, but a quick flash of lightning tells him everything he needs to know: one man is trying to wrestle a woman down, while another is rifling through her purse. He’s also holding a gun.

“Oh, cute,” he mutters sarcastically.

Peter tries to time it right: he takes aim and shoots a web right at the weapon with the next bout of lightning, but to his immense misfortune, the armed mugger had already seen him and was aiming right back. The bullet hits Peter in the side.

“Ow,” he says, “that was uncalled for.”

He drops. His side is throbbing and hot but he ignores it in favour of disarming the guy who shot him. It’s a brief struggle but Peter ends up whacking the gun out of his hand and webbing it to the wall opposite. Then he knocks the guy out with a solid upper cross to the temple.

Peter rounds. The assailant has already fled, leaving the woman shivering but relatively unharmed.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asks.

“Me? That guy shot you!”

Peter looks down at his side which is now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah.”

He’d actually forgotten for half a second. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s starting to really feel it: a burning sensation in his abdomen, an aching that pulses from his stomach to his chest. Ah. Wonderful.

A little dazed, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Super healing. Are you good? You need me to call you a cab?”

“What? No, um—the police station is like, down the block, I can go get them.”

“Are you sure? Because I can totally do that—”

“I can handle myself,” she says sharply, bending down to pick up her purse and the discarded items within. “It’s just… there were two of them and there was a gun and—”

“I get it,” Peter says, his hand pressing harder into his side as the world grows blurrier around the edges. “You really don’t want me to at least walk you down?”

“I’ll take a taxi,” she says. “You just, um, get yourself fixed up, okay? And thanks.”

“Yeah, sure, anytime! But, y’know, preferably never again,” Peter says, and proceeds to swing away.

—

Tony doesn’t expect to get woken up at two AM after only just falling asleep five minutes before, but such is life; FRIDAY’s voice bleeds through the speakers above to inform him that Spider-Man is currently rifling through the Med-Bay and bleeding from a wound on his side.

Pepper looks at him. “You heard that too, right? That was real?”

“It was real.”

They both scramble out of bed. Tony takes the lead, throwing on his jacket as he runs toward the elevator. It’s times like these when every second stretches out into an eternity; it takes maybe five of them to get from their floor to the Med-Bay, but it feels like forever.

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

“I know, right?” Peter glances up. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Peter,” she returns. “Do you mind if I wash my hands and take a look at that?”

“If you want. It’s kinda gross, though.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Through this exchange Tony was already washing up, and now he dons a pair of gloves and sits on the rolling stool. “Looks like it’s through and through,” he tells Pep over his shoulder. “Could you grab a couple suture kits and, uh, the stuff?”

Pepper makes a face. “The stuff?”

“You know,” Tony says, “The Good Stuff.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, that stuff.”

Tony feels around the area. “Do you know what kind of gun was used?”

“Looked like your standard nine mil,” Peter replies. His voice is growing a little slurred.

That’s good though, about the gun. Means there’s probably not any bullet fragments to worry about. Tony grabs a load of gauze and presses it against the wound. He checks Peter’s pulse while he’s at it and finds that it’s slowed considerably. “We’re gonna have to get you some blood, too. A neg, right?”

“Yuppers.”

Tony excuses that because after all, the kid is bleeding out on a table. Said kid actually starts to swing his legs back and forth and, yeah, that’s not gonna fly. “Do me a favour and lay back? I’m gonna put this towel right under you for now.”

Peter doesn’t have any arguments, or if he does, he doesn’t vocalise them. Pepper comes back in with the kits and drugs and, because she’s just smarter than him like that, bags of blood.

Tony grabs the vials first and loads up a syringe. Peter is pretty numb to all of it until the needle goes in. Then he frowns. “Why are you injecting me with alien blood?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s not alien blood, it’s a pain killer. A serious one at that, so you’re probably gonna feel a little out of it for a while, okay?”

Peter frowns. “Is it for Steve?”

Tony tenses, but it’s only for a second. “Yes,” he says, somewhat tightly.

“Ugh. What a turd, Mr. Stark. You’re giving me turd vitamins!” Tony scoffs while Pepper laughs. Peter notices. “See? She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re not helping me here,” Tony says to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, have some thread.”

Tony sighs. “Just stay still for me, okay?”

Peter does. Pepper passes him various supplies and they work together to sew up both ends of the gunshot wound. By the time they’re done, Peter hasn’t moved once, but his eyes are open and he’s frowning.

“How do you feel?”

“Wired,” he says.

“Seriously? Bruce never said anything about the side-effects, but I figured they’d be like normal pain-killers; make you drowsy and all that.”

“No,” Peter sits up quickly and doesn’t even flinch. “I feel like I just got steroids or something. Are you—are you actually telling me that Captain America’s drugs are infused with a stimulant? What, so he can keep fighting even when he’s in the middle of dying?”

Tony blinks. “Well that was smart of dear Banner.”

“Yeah, or insane.” Peter flexes his hands. “I feel like I need to go for a run, or like, break something.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “You need to heal, not mess yourself up even more, understood?”

Peter stares. “Is it normal to see sounds?”

Pepper bursts out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she says when Tony glares. “Really, I am, I promise. Peter, honey, how about we get you to a bedroom where you can rest up? We’ll call your aunt and explain everything.”

—

Everything is going fine until May asks, “How did you get to the Tower so quick, then?”

Peter blinks. “Hmm? Pardon?”

“If you were at Ned’s,” May says, “how’d you manage to swing all the way across town?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. “I, uh… well, funny story, um… I wasn’t actually at Ned’s?”

There’s a pause over the phone. Pepper, who’s holding it, raises an eyebrow. May says: “You told me you were going to Ned’s, Peter.”

His face feels hot. He hopes it isn’t red. Both Pepper and Tony—from the doorway with his hands stuffed in his sweatpant pockets—are staring. It’s almost as bad as if May were really here.

“Well I was going to Ned’s, but then I changed my mind and went somewhere else and oh—look at the time! I think we’re going through a tunnel—”

“Don’t even try to pull that crap! That’s it, I’m coming over there—”

“May,” Peter says, serious now, “you’re in the middle of a shift, there’s people dying. Just—I’m perfectly fine, I took my Captain America drugs and everything is gonna be okay.”

“But you lied to me.”

“No, I changed my mind.”

“And went where?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Peter.”

“May.”

She groans from the other end of the line and demands to speak to Pepper one on one. Tony’s fiancé grins and switches off speaker, before slipping out with a bright laugh to finish off the conversation. Tony stares expectantly. “So where were you?”

“Oh my god, not you too. You know, on second thought, I actually am completely exhausted and—”

“Uh, nope,” Tony flops down onto the bed. “Fess up.”

Peter sighs. He squirms down and covers his pillow with a head. “No.”

Tony joins him under it. “Tell me.”

Peter scowls. He rolls onto his side so they’re facing one another. “I was with my girlfriend.”

“Oooo—”

“Shush! It’s… it’s really not a big deal and I haven’t told May yet because MJ and I haven’t even really talked about it and it all happened super fast and—” he remembers to breathe, “I just… I always tell May everything, you know? But I kind of just felt like… this was something I had to figure out first on my own. Maybe it’s stupid, but I know she’s gonna be super hurt when she finds out it’s been a month and I haven’t said anything—”

“Kid,” Tony cuts in. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Peter promises, because he is. He’s also just incredibly hyper and stressed.

“It’s a normal instinct to want to figure things out and define them before you start announcing them to the world. I get that. But you’re still a kid, Pete, and even if you don’t want people prying into your love life, we still need to know where you are in case something goes wrong.”

Peter harrumphs as he turns away. “There’s a tracker on my phone and my suit. It would be easier to find me than anything else.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “You got a point there.”

“I just wanted time.”

“I know.”

“But I really like her, okay? Like she’s so smart and she’s got this really dark sense of humour and she’s actually kind of terrifying sometimes—”

“Oh, the scary ones are always fun.”

They stay up talking through the night and, when the sun comes up, Pepper joins them with a tray of freshly made blueberry waffles. May arrives around the same time and, looking too tired to be mad, simply drops onto the bed with them and steals what’s left of his food.

—

Peter is on patrol when he hears it:

a soft, quiet yelping coming from somewhere down below the rooftop he’s perched on.

At first he figures he’s imagining things, but then his ears perk again. He leans over the building’s edge to find the source of the noise.

In the dark it’s hard to make anything out, so he climbs slowly down the side of the wall, squinting. There’s another yelp and a low whine, almost pained. Peter zeroes in on the sound and creeps toward a set of dumpsters; they’re so full of trash they’re overflowing, and it’s underneath a broken down cardboard box that he finds it...

A puppy.

Now, Peter is no liar. He’s wanted a dog since he was like, a fetus. The words ‘A dog’ have been on every birthday and Christmas list for as long as he can remember. It’s only recently, in the years since Ben’s death, that he’s pretty much given up—after all, May is so overworked and they can barely afford to feed themselves. How could they afford a pet?

But also…

This is the cutest dog he’s ever seen.

It’s tiny and fluffy and brown and has the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

Peter kind of just stands there staring like an idiot for a good few seconds and then slowly kneels down. “Um, hi,” he says, in the gentlest voice he can manage. The puppy, who can’t be older than a few weeks and looks completely starved and exhausted, whines in response.

Peter holds out his hand for the dog to sniff. It lifts its head lazily and leans forward, nose twitching and dry. “You need water, huh? Come on, I know a place.”

—

“Shelob,” Tony greets without looking up from whatever project he’s working on. “What can I do for you at… one in the fucking morning?”

“I need your help with something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad or make me get rid of him—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, what have you done now?”

“He was just so helpless and cold and small and…” Peter swallows and reveals the puppy, presently wrapped up in his hoodie. “Meet Nugget.”

Tony’s face is the epitome of Disappointed Dad. He stares, open-mouthed, and after a second his shoulders fall. “Well, fuck.”

Peter snuggles Nugget against his chest and steps closer, but then Tony holds up a hand to stop him. “Nah-ah! Not until that thing gets a flea bath!”

Hope sparks in Peter’s chest. “You mean we can keep him?”

“I mean there’s no way I’m getting near him until I know I won’t break out in hives.”

“That’s not how fleas work.”

“Do I care? No. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

—

“Why do you have flea shampoo?”

Peter’s inquiry is made tentatively. They both have their hands in the sud-filled sink as they systematically wash Nugget’s fur.

“There was… an incident a while ago. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Peter stares. Blinks. “Okay. Well, I think he’s clean.”

Nugget barks as if in agreement, and so Peter and Tony lift him out of the basin and set him on a pile of no doubt expensive, fluffy white towels. Tony takes the lead after that. He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with the yapping, impatient puppy—even when Nugget tries to claw at him and shake himself dry, Tony never loses his cool.

A few minutes later they’re sitting on their stomachs watching Nugget stomp around on a blanket. There’s water in a bowl for him at one corner and a plate of chopped up chicken at another.

“I can’t take him home,” Peter says morosely after a few minutes. “May won’t let me keep him.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Where does she even think you are right now?”

“...In my bed.”

“Wow,” Tony says, deadpan. “Okay, well, I most certainly can’t keep him either.”

“What?! Why not?!”

Tony sighs. “I’m Iron Man, if you hadn’t noticed, kiddo—”

“Oh, what, so you’re too tough to look after him?”

“No, I’m too busy. I spend like, twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in a day in my shop and the rest of the time I’m on my knees apologising to Pepper and begging for forgiveness. There’s no time in-between to feed the pup, walk the pup—”

“I could come by,” Peter blurts. “Like, once a day, and I could make sure he’s eaten and play with him and stuff. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger—”

“Except to press ‘purchase’ on my shopping cart full of dog food—”

“Tony,” Peter cuts in, pleading, “please? I can’t just drop him off at some kennel so they can—” he covers the dog’s ears, “so they can euthanize him in a week when no one buys him. He deserves so much better, you know?”

Tony frowns, considering it, and Peter waits with his breath caught in his throat until, “God, fine.”

“Yes!”

“But! But! A pet is a serious responsibility, okay? You might as well be adopting a child—”

“What would you know about raising kids?” Peter asks, only jokingly, but Tony just stares and then, for some reason, smiles.

“You have to make sure he’s happy,” Tony says. “You have to be there for him in whatever way he needs, alright? I’ll set up a pen in the penthouse and you can make sure he works off his energy there, and if I have time I’ll even take you both to the park. And if he ever happens to pee on my carpet, I’m counting on you to clean it up.”

“Don’t you have, like, housekeepers for that sort of thing?”

“Yeah, but this is character building stuff.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll clean up the pee.”

They continue to iron out the details for a while and bicker over whether Nugget’s last name should be Parker or Stark, and it’s only when Pepper walks in—still in her pajamas, bleary eyed and complaining that they woke her up—that they both decide it should be ‘Potts’.

—

5. (+1)

It starts with a headache.

He’s bent over his desk studying for a Calc test when the throbbing begins. It’s not so bad at first, but after a half hour or so his vision is swimming and he keeps having to take breaks to massage his temples and close his eyes. The equations are all blending together and he can’t think straight anymore.

Peter decides to give up right around then. After all, if he’s not gonna retain any of the information, why bother?

May pokes and prods through dinner. Peter tries to fool her by acting like everything is normal and okay and even manages to make her laugh once or twice.

Inside, dread is coiling through his stomach like an irritated snake. He knows what’s coming next; after all, he doesn’t really get sick anymore, so what else could it be?

Peter tries to sleep but ends up tossing and turning for most of the night. He falls into some kind of half-conscious daze at around four in the morning and rouses about twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat and aching everywhere.

Feeling like he’s gonna vomit, Peter kicks off his blankets and strips the sheets off his bed. He takes his shirt off because the fabric is too abrasive against his skin and it’s like he can feel every fibre tickling against it, grating and chafing. He curls up into a tight ball and covers his ears with his hands to block out the now amplified sounds of the city: car alarms, dogs barking, music playing.

Normally Peter loves the way New York is never silent. Now, he just wishes everyone would shut the fuck up for once.

When he stumbles out of his room a little while later, May is already gone. She’d told him the night before that she had an early shift and for once he’s actually grateful. Haltingly, Peter gets ready for school. He’s already skipped three days this month and if he misses this Calc quiz he’s gonna fucking bomb the class.

May would kill him.

It’s better to suffer a little than die.

Brushing his teeth makes his head spin and the minute he wriggles into his clothes he feels like a caged animal about to claw his skin off. Everything takes so much longer than normal. He doesn’t eat because the mere thought of food makes the back of his throat sting with bile.

On the train, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to tune out the constant screeching of the rails. One day, on God, he will make it a personal project to oil every fucking line in the subway.

At his fifth stop, an old lady boards and all the seats are taken.

Peter swallows thickly and stands. Black spots dance in his vision and he grabs onto the overhead bar—something he hasn’t actually needed to use since he was a little kid—and tries not to pass out.

He almost misses the stop to get to school, but slips out at the last second, millimetres away from getting his backpack caught in the doors. Peter is hot all over and lightheaded as he makes his way out of the station. It’s even hotter up above, what with summer coming now and all.

Peter is late and he doesn’t need his watch to tell; Flash’s car is already parked out front instead of zooming through the drop off to run him over (which, hey, silver lining), and the majority of the student body is already inside.

Peter has to stop multiple times on his way to Spanish just to breathe. By the time he gets there he’s at least ten minutes late for roll call.

“Mr. Parker,” his teacher greets, unimpressed. “So glad you could join us.”

Peter makes a noise and takes the proffered quiz. He wonders absently why some people choose to teach. What is it, like, some kind of power trip for them?

He has five minutes to finish the quiz but doesn’t make it past the first question. Ned volunteers to collect them and stops at Peter’s desk while Professor Scott outlines today’s lesson plan.

“Dude,” he whisper-hisses, “you look like complete shit. What on Earth are you doing here right now?”

“Test,” Peter mutters dully, resting his cheek on his hand and closing his eyes. “Here you go. Didn’t finish it.”

Ned takes it carefully, holding it with two fingers like it’s covered in disease. “Do you want me to get the nurse or something?”

Peter hums. “No. Just… headache.”

Slowly Ned backs away. “Um—”

“Mr. Leeds!” Professor Scott says, loudly. Ned jumps. “Is there a problem back there?”

Yes, Peter thinks. You’re the human version of nails on a fucking chalk board. Please, for the love of all that is holy, just start on the vocab.

Only he accidentally says all of that out loud.

The whole class is staring. Flash is slack-jawed. Betty Brant’s eyes are the size of small moons.

“Parker,” Scott grits out—and Peter has denominated him to just Scott now out of reciprocation and spite; “You just earned yourself a shiny new detention. I’d like you to take this slip to the principal’s office. Please.”

Oh, thank God. At least it’ll be quiet there.

Peter stands and brushes past Ned and it literally feels like flames of hell are licking against his skin. He almost vomits. This is decidedly not good.

He takes the paper. “Gladly, good sir.”

When he’s gone, there’s an outburst of muttering that his enhancements let him hear. It only makes the overload worse. Peter covers his ears with his hands again and, overcome with a sudden wave of vertigo, ducks into the bathroom.

He barely makes it to the toilet before emptying his stomach of last night’s food.

Peter sags against the wall, panting. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for the world to stop spinning. About ten minutes later, the smell of jasmine shampoo—normally welcome—causes him to lean over and retch again.

MJ pokes her head inside the unlocked stall. “Jesus,” she whispers. The second her hands touch his body he flinches and she immediately retracts them. “Fuck, sorry. Ned said you wigged out in Spanish. I looked for you in the Principal's office but you weren’t there and... What’s—what’s wrong? I thought you couldn’t even get sick.”

“Bad headache,” he mutters, spitting into the toilet. It’s easier than explaining about his freakish mutations and how they sometimes go completely haywire, leaving him on edge and nauseous and irritable.

MJ grabs him some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with. “Did you take anything?”

“Pain meds don’t work on me.”

“Does May know? You should have called in.”

“Couldn’t. Can’t miss my test.”

She sighs. “Your final is like fifty percent of your grade and you could pass it with your eyes closed. You can miss your test, you’re just afraid of getting anything lower than an A.”

Peter is silent. “You got me there.”

MJ’s hand twitches like she wants to touch him but knows she can’t. “You need to go home. Lie down, get some rest.”

“May is working,” Peter says, “and if I have to take the subway again right now I’ll die. I really will. It’s so—the smell and the noise and I can’t sit down and—”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Just give it.”

She’s holding her hand out for it and giving him a no-nonsense expression that kind of reminds Peter of Pepper Potts on a rampage. He’s seen what happens to Tony when he crosses her, so he fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over.

“Hold on.”

She stands and leaves. Peter closes his eyes again. He tunes out her conversation because if he doesn’t, he’s absolutely gonna vomit again and nobody wants that.

MJ slips back inside the stall. “Okay, solved. Do you still feel like you’re gonna vomit?”

Peter thinks about it. “No.”

“Good. We’re gonna go to the nurse, okay?”

“Oh boy.”

—

Tony Stark walks into Peter’s school and finds the hallways empty. The classroom doors are shut and the muted sounds of teachers lecturing are the only signs that anyone is here at all.

He finds Peter in the infirmary, sitting on the examination table with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.

He’s at his side in an instant. “Kid?”

It’s surprise that gets Peter’s eyes open, but the little spider baby immediately regrets it. He flinches and sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony,” he whispers, like the name is all he can manage and the questions will have to wait for later.

Tony looks him over. There are no obvious injuries. The girl on the phone had said it was just a headache, but Tony is way more experienced with Peter’s brand of bullshit and knows there’s usually something else going on beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna go talk to the nurse and then get you out of here, okay?”

A nod.

It’s always a bad thing when he doesn’t argue. Peter Parker would start a fight about what kind of pizza to order, even if you suggest the kind he really wants, just to be a stubborn little shit about things.

Tony slips out of the exam room. The nurse looks up when he enters her office. “Oh my—Mr. Stark?!”

“Yes, hello,” Tony takes a cautious step forward as she stands. He doesn’t bother to sit. “I’m here to pick up the little gremlin in there.”

Her face flushes. “I didn’t know you’d been called, I—I figured I would just let him wait it out, you know? He didn’t want to be touched, so it was hard to figure out what was up and—so it’s real? About the internship?”

“Of course. Why would he lie?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Well… you know how kids can be.”

“Do I?”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Tony sighs. “Look, Nurse—uh, Timms—Nurse Timms, can I please just sign the kid out and take him home? He’s clearly in pain here.”

She starts rifling through her desk for a form. “I mean, I can admit you to take him home, but I really suggest you talk with the principal first—Peter was given a detention before he was brought to my ward, see, and I was—” she shakes her head. “I thought he might be faking.”

Tony stares without blinking for a whole five seconds and then, “Detention? For what?”

“I heard he bad-mouthed a teacher or something. But to be fair, Professor Scott isn’t exactly what I’d call patient.”

“Well, be that as it may,” Tony takes the form she hands him to sign, “my kid doesn’t fake. He has a condition, see. Gets uh… overloaded. Sounds, smells, it can be too much for him. Probably why he snapped.”

“That… that makes sense.”

“Yes,” he says succinctly, and hands the paper back. “You’d know that if you bothered to ask. Anyway, I’ll be going. Thanks for the help, Nurse Times.”

“Uh, it’s—it’s Timms—”

The door shuts behind him.

—

MJ was forced to go back to class. She’d argued and protested but Nurse Timms was insistent. So, MJ had relented. She’d pressed the lightest of kisses on his forehead and it surprisingly hadn’t felt that bad, and then she’d gone.

Tony Stark had shown up about twenty minutes later and it’s just when Peter’s starting to think it was all just a vivid hallucination that the smell of coffee and motor oil fills his senses again. It’s overwhelming but not debilitating.

“Kiddo,” Tony whispers, “is it okay to touch you?”

Peter cracks an eye. Everything is bright but Tony’s suit is mercifully black, so he focuses on that. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna move.”

“Well I gotta get you outta here somehow.”

“But my detention—”

“I already got you out of it,” Tony says breezily. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Tony,” Peter says, cheeks flushing. “You can’t just bribe my principal into—”

“I didn’t bribe anyone. I just explained the situation and besides, Morita’s an old friend.”

Peter closes his eyes again as he frowns. “You’re friends with my principal?”

“I’m a benefactor for your school, too,” Tony says. “But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.”

Something shifts in the air. Tony is sitting now. “Happy’s waiting outside,” he says, “but whenever you’re ready.”

Peter thinks about it for a few seconds and decides it’s gonna have to happen at some point, anyway. Might as well rip the band-aid off now. Slowly he takes a deep breath and manages to sit up with Tony’s help. The older man tries to avoid touching him as much as possible, but surprisingly enough the weight of his hand against Peter’s spine isn’t crushing or aggravating. It doesn’t hurt.

“Baby steps,” Tony says softly. “We’ll take you out the side door, okay?”

Even getting to the door is slow going but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. Right before they open it, Tony stops and pulls his sunglasses off. “Here, try these.”

Peter puts them on. He feels ridiculous because like, they work on Tony who was literally born in the seventies, but Peter really doesn’t dig the groovy shades. Regardless they’re better than nothing and even help a little.

The halls are empty again. Most of the students will be in the gym right about now, or the cafeteria for lunch. They don’t run into anybody on the way out and as soon as they’re in the back of the car, Peter sags against Tony’s side. He feels like he’s just run ten miles.

“Drive, Hogan,” Tony says, and then the partition glides up.

For a few seconds it’s almost completely quiet. Noise suppression tech, Peter realises, and he feels like he could cry from relief. For the first time in hours there’s just… nothing. No traffic, no dozens of students talking at once. The air conditioning unit is filtered, so he’s not being attacked with the smell of body odour and clashing perfume scents and Axe cologne. There’s just Tony and beautiful, amazing, showstopping silence.

Tony shifts a little. “Better?”

Peter nods, figuring it’s still probably not safe to speak.

“We’ll be there soon,” Tony says softly.

—

Peter doesn’t remember much after the car ride. He can vaguely recall protesting getting out of the Audi, and he remembers Tony assuring him that everything would be okay, and the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back in an utterly dark bedroom. The walls are insulated just like the car had been, so there’s just no sound, and the bed sheets probably have the highest thread count of all time.

Something shifts beside Peter and he realises Tony is there, feeling his forehead.

“What—?”

“Oh, hey,” Tony greets. “I think you might’ve blacked out there. All the noise hit you at once when we got out of the car and you just…”

“I fainted?”

Tony snorts softly. “Relax. It happens to the best of us. How do you feel, Webster?”

Peter hums. “Bad.”

“Let’s try a scale of one to ten.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Ten.” Tony lets out a little grunt at that and so Peter elaborates, “It was at like, a twenty this morning, so.”

“Ah, I see.” Tony’s grip shifts to Peter’s wrist to measure his pulse. “This okay?”

“It’s fine.”

And it really is. He doesn’t feel like burning his skin off or anything. Tony’s hands are just warm.

“Any idea what brought this on?”

Peter shifts a little. “I uh… haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.” He swallows. “Like, at all.”

“And how long’s that been going on for?”

“I don’t know. On and off for a few weeks, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Tony sighs and pulls his hand away. He rakes it through his hair. “Kiddo, what have we said about communication? Does May know?”

“....No?”

There’s a long pause where Tony just kind of sits there thinking, like he wants to say whatever comes next carefully. He massages his temples and then: “Alright, scooch over.”

“What?”

“Make room for me.”

Peter blinks and then, tentatively, scoots over a little to allow Tony room to lie down. The older man does, arching his back a little and grunting in pain because he’s like, ancient. They’re not touching, but very slowly Peter starts inching closer again. Eventually he works up the courage to try resting his head on Tony’s chest, which is terrifying not only because it’s Tony Stark, but also because he’d rather not have his brain implode.

Nothing happens. “Your fabric softener must be like, super expensive,” he whispers, because this is actually better than the sheets.

Tony snorts. “I’ll ask Pep about it.”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise and before he knows it, his eyes are closing. For once they actually feel heavy, and the steady rhythm of Tony’s heart beat is soothing, dependable.

Tony’s hands brush lightly over Peter’s hair and then thread through it. “Too much?”

“No,” Peter promises. “Good.”

And so Tony’s fingers run through his curls over and over, gently, lightly. His thumb sweeps over Peter’s cheek once, too, and then he starts muttering in Italian.

Peter cracks an eye. “Are you telling me your grocery shopping list?”

Tony laughs a little. “My mom used to do it for me,” he says. “Something about just hearing her speak the language made me feel… relaxed, I guess. Didn’t matter what she was saying.”

Peter smiles and wraps an arm around Tony’s torso. “Tell me something else.”

“You wanna hear about the time I almost blew up a Chem lab?”

“Uh, duh.”

So Tony launches into it, speaking in a low voice and absently twisting one of Peter’s curls around his finger. It feels nice and the headache is fading fast.

Peter sleeps.

#marvel #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #friendly neighborhood fic exchange #may parker #pepper potts #michelle jones #spideychelle #pepperony #nugget the dog #insomnia

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Note

I just wanted to say a) oh my gods the cute laiden fluff I die. b) holy crap you wrote that cute Little!Lambert fic I found a bit ago! Nice!! And c) rawrkin explicitly told me you were nice and worth messaging and who am I to pass up such an endorsement? I love your stuff it's very good. 💜💜💜

Considering I’ve already come and made a twit of myself in your inbox in response to this, I’ll keep it brief (and in reverse order). C) @rawrkinjd is out there being lovely and spreading rumours that I’m nice XD We all know they are the real sweetheart here! B) I’ve had a few more asks about Little Lambert come in (with Aiden getting involved too...) so there may be more of that to come. C) Fluff is where my heart will always lie. There are so many unhappy endings in real life, let fandom be where everyone gets to be happy and cute. With that in mind, I may work a hint of Laiden into your thank you ficlet which is a vague companion/follow-up to this one. :D

It seemed that Yennefer wasn’t best pleased with how winter was shaping up. The path up to the keep was still open and Lambert had been glancing out towards the approach regularly, as if expecting someone. Eskel seemed to be in on it, sometimes standing with him, a hand on the small of Lambert’s back, murmuring a soft “he’ll be here” at times. That already had Yennefer rolling her eyes. She still seemed quite bitter that her spell to turn the witchers into children hadn’t taught whatever lesson she wanted to instill in them.

As it tended to be, things came to a head with Jaskier. He had tugged playfully at one of the decorative ribbons on Yennefer’s dress as they moved around the dining hall, settling down for dinner. As Jaskier sat down, Lambert glanced longingly towards the door with a sigh.

“Have your happy families,” Yennefer growled and Jaskier was enveloped in a puff of purple smoke. As it cleared, a large eyed child sat in his place.

Nobody dared move for a moment, taking in the sight of a de-aged Jaskier until Lambert cleared his throat. “Oh no. He’s adorable.”

Not just adorable, also impeccably well mannered. Jaskier ate his dinner, already behaving like a dainty little lordling. It was all endearing and none of the witchers could look away from a toddler who had more table manners than the lot of them combined.

“Thank you very much for dinner,” Jaskier lisped. and Vesemir could see every stone cold witcher heart thaw in the room - including his own.

Settling Jaskier down for the night was an easy affair, he was sleepy, seemed quite determined that as it was evening, he would go to bed. That night, the wolves gathered in front of the fire and sighed.

“I didn’t think children could ever be this polite.” As he spoke, Vesemir stared into the fire. “None of you lot were ever this good.”

Famous last words. In the morning, Jaskier was gone. Not disappeared but definitely nowhere to be found. His altered scent led the witchers on a merry trail across the whole keep. Even worse, there was the occasional childish giggle and the patter of feet but Jaskier was nowhere to be found. They spent a whole morning looking, splitting up and taking different floors and wings of the keep, even going into areas that had been considered closed off for decades because nobody wanted to remember what happened behind certain doors.

It was futile, Jaskier was nowhere to be found. Even worse, the trail grew cold, there were no pattering feet or more giggles. The witchers reconvened in the dining room, looking haggard already, only to find Vesemir stood in the middle, staring up into the rafters, one hand raised to silence his wolves. Without a word, he pointed up into the vaulted ceilings. Only thanks to enhanced vision did the witchers see the small figure draped over a girder, arm dangling limply as Jaskier slept.

“How to we get him down from there?” Eskel asked, looking around.

“My question is, how did he get up there?” The counter from Lambert was also a fair one.

Before any answers could be give, Geralt broke into a run with “he’s rolling!” grunted between puffs of exertion. Sure enough, Jaskier had turned from his back to his side and gravity was doing its thing. Almost in slow motion, Jaskier toppled from the rafter.

“Eskel! Aard!” Geralt yelled. Only years of training together had Eskel sending a moderate blast towards Jaskier’s falling body. It won them enough time that Geralt could leap the final few meters and he caught Jaskier in his arms, his own shoulder slamming into the ground rather than their bard’s.

“Again! Again! Again!” Jaskier trilled, seemingly waking up without any kind of transition from sleep to sleepy to awake. Before anyone could react, he was up and off, rushing into the kitchen and, a moment later, running across a beam up high. “Catch me Geralt!”

The next minute Jaskier was falling again with a childish “whee!” and Eskel had to use aard to direct him towards Geralt once again. Thus the newest game was born. Jaskier had boundless energy to run, climb and jump, only to repeat again. And again. And again. Even Eskel was feeling the strain, his signs coming out weaker while Geralt huffed and puffed at having to run around to catch Jaskier who jumped off random beams, never the same one.

“Last one, then it’s lunch time,” Vesemir’s voice was clear through the hall and Jaskier took a running jump, almost missing Geralt as Eskel’s aard didn’t give him enough of a boost.

Sitting at the table, Jaskier eyed the plate of food, heated up remains from the previous night. While the witchers tucked in, Jaskier pushed it around on his plate before shoving it away.

“I don’t like it.”

“You ate it yesterday,” Geralt replied around a mouthful.

“But I don’t like it today. I want grouse.”

Even if Kaer Morhen had a stash of grouse, they wouldn’t have cooked any just because Jaskier was being picky. They ignored his indignant kicking of the table leg. The first sniffle and smell of salty tears had all of them looking up. Jaskier’s cheeky were ruddy red and large crocodile tears trickled down his cheeks.

“But I want grouse,” he wailed, voice breaking on a shriek.

Vesemir had honestly thought he had seen everything in his many years. But not once had he watched a child slither down a chair, muscles lax yet tight with rage. On the floor, Jaskier truly let loose, screaming, little fists pounding into the stone of the floor. The witchers all froze and stared at each other, not knowing what to do.

“If you won’t eat it, you’ll go hungry,” Vesemir ventured when Jaskier took a breath. Another howl of rage was his only answer.

Eskel was the first to decide this wasn’t for him. He picked up his plate and carried it into the kitchen, finishing his meal there, Geralt rapidly joining him. A look was exchanged between Vesemir and Lambert, neither wanting to be the last one left with a hysterical child. By virtue of being nearer the door, Vesemir won and made his hasty retreat.

Left alone with Jaskier, Lambert looked at his plate and then towards the door that led to the entrance of the keep. When no help seemed to come, he shrugged and kept eating.

There was a lull in Jaskier’s theatrics and Lambert felt a small wave of relief. “Hey kid, you done?”

“No.” More screaming.

“Okay.”

Eventually, Jaskier ran out of steam. After lying under the table for a little longer, he climbed out and sat back on his chair, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at the plate.

It was less than a day since Jaskier had turned into a child and already the witchers were tired. Not just the regular fatigue but the kind where they would have fallen into a pile in front of a fire and slept for probably a whole day. Eskel was worn ragged from all the signs, Geralt from the stress of catching Jaskier, Lambert’s nerves were fraying from the screaming and Vesemir thought he was too old for this shit. Sadly, his concoction only worked on witchers, otherwise he would have already pinned Jaskier down and forced a dose of the stuff down his throat.

The main door to the keep opened and a newcomer strolled in. A little put off by the lackluster greeting, Aiden followed his nose and found the others in the dining hall, a child opposite Lambert.

“You came,” Lambert sighed a waved. Three heads peered out from the kitchen and Eskel waggled his fingers with a tired smile.

“I did. And who is this? A Child Surprise?”

“Jaskier. The brat. I mean. The bard.”

Looking around, Aiden suppressed a smirk. He had a good idea what had been going on. Rather than make a big thing of it, he pointed at Jaskier’s plate. “You going to eat that?” A stubborn shake of head was his answer. “Sweet. I’m starving so you won’t mind if I-”

He cut off his words as a fork almost stabbed him in the hand. “Guess I’ll get my own plate then.”

The others watched as Jaskier glared at Aiden and hurriedly stuffed his food into his mouth, hunched over the plate. For his part, Aiden hid his triumphant grin and walked into the kitchen, getting a slight shoulder bump in greeting from Eskel.

After lunch seemed to settle down, the wolves were rather hopeful of an afternoon nap. Children did that, right? They piled in front of the fire, grumbling. Aiden joined them, Jaskier sat triumphantly on his shoulders and clutching his hair.

“Now,” Aiden said, “we need to put these big babies to sleep. Can you help me tuck them in?”

Little hands patted the throws down that Aiden draped over the other witchers. He tried not to laugh at how they were all drooping, cuddling up into a tangle of limbs.

A few hours later they woke in various states of decoration. Lambert had a candle stuck up his nose, Eskel’s hair was tied into a lot of small bunchies while Geralt’s face was scribbled on in charcoal and ash, giving him the most incredible eyebrows and scowl. Meanwhile, Vesemir was adorned in anything shiny that could be found in the keep.

“What the-?” Lambert growled and looked up at Aiden who was far too entertained.

“You left me with the kid. We kept ourselves entertained.”

Sitting up, Vesemir had to try and hide his own amusement. “How are you so good at keeping up?”

“He’s no worse than any other kid.” The shrug from Aiden seemed genuine. “You had them here too, didn’t you?” A look at the wolves and Aiden’s eyes went round. “You were all quiet and serious, weren’t you? Other than Lambert but even his firecracker ways were muted by comparison.”

It seemed that destiny had already matched the children to the schools they would fit in with the best. And it was safe to say, if Jaskier had been destined to be a witcher, he wouldn’t have been a wolf.

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #aiden #vesemir #de-aged jaskier #witcher wolf pack #tldr: child jaskier is a brat

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ayo-cowbelly · 4 years

Text

when the fire goes out, how do we stay warm? - part 1/?

next part ~ masterlist

welcome to my new series ~ an angst dump of “what if anakin and obi wan’s roles on zygerria were reversed?”

you can blame the New SW Canon discord for this. Their angst-loving asses fueled this fire, and what was supposed to be a snippet spiraled into this.

the yarra root i got from discord- we had a huge discussion about tatooine slave culture, and said yarra root is something tatooine parents will put in their child's tea/drinks, to kill them/"put them to sleep", so the masters won't hurt/kill them (it is seen as an alternative to a brutal, painful death). We also discussed the idea that people on tatooine will take their children (or just themselves) and go out to the sand dunes and "let the Desert decide their fates", so when Anakin mentions being "swallowed", that's what he means. Just to clarify.

Hope you like it!

@youngcreativenerdgoddess @alabasterswriting @ilonga @rynae-reblogs @everything-or-anything @waterrose3 (i love y’all, thanks for the support!)

***

Obi-Wan looks down into the arena from his place beside the Zygerrian queen. He wants nothing more than to jump down there, to yell, to scream, to do something- but he knows he can't. To blow their cover now is to destroy any chance of saving the colonists. But he wishes he could save more than just them. He wishes he could liberate this whole damn planet. He wishes he could get rid of the threat the Zygerrians posed, somehow- even if he had to rip the crown out of the slaver queen's cold, dead hands.

Obi-Wan looks across the arena as the queen speaks, not looking at Ahsoka nearby (in that horrible outfit, that made people leer at his grandpadawan, like she was a mere object. They looked at her the way Obi-Wan had seen people looking at Anakin during his brief time on Tatooine all those years ago).

Oh. Anakin. Where was he?

Obi-Wan was furious that the Council had sent Anakin, of all people, to this slaver planet. The should have remembered Anakin's past, his time as a slave when he was just a child. They should have remembered that Anakin was once considered nothing more than property, an object to be passed around to different Masters. Obi-Wan should have remembered, he should have fought harder.

He hopes Anakin doesn't know of this auction, as Obi-Wan knows that Anakin would tear down this entire planet if he found out. He would scrape tooth and nail to destroy this disgusting empire. For Anakin mostly acted on his emotions, not that it was necessarily a bad thing- but he sometimes forgot to look at the big picture. There was a balance there, one Anakin struggled to find.

Balance always seemed to elude him.

Obi-Wan worried greatly. After this dreadful mission, they'd actually talk, for once. About everything.

He focuses back on the queen's words, as she announces the Togrutan governor. Obi-Wan tries and fails to look away from the man's beaten form.

And then the worst happens.

"My friends, behold! Anakin Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear- on his knees before us!"

Obi-Wan barely registers Ahsoka's horrified gasp, for he is equally as distraught. Below him, on the sandy platform, is Anakin. A shock collar is on his neck and dirt on his face. His clothes are ripped, and his hair is mussed and greasy. Obi-Wan wants so badly to run to his brother before Anakin does something rash and gets them all caught.

But when Obi-Wan looks over Anakin's frail form again, he sees something. Something so much worse.

The fire in Anakin's eyes is... gone. There is no defiance, no opposition, none of that trademark confidence- only the hollow gaze of someone who is dreaming of being anywhere else. All at once, Obi-Wan's previous fears vanish. Before, he had been worried that Anakin would say something sarcastic, signal for his 'saber, fight back; but now, Obi-Wan knows that isn't the problem.

Anakin had been a slave, once. Before he was a General, a hero, a Jedi, a Master, a brother, or a husband (yes, Obi-Wan knew. Anakin had never been subtle, and try as she might, neither was Padmé)- before any of that, he was simply Ani. A slave, a son, a child of a cruel Desert that took more than it gave.

This is who is before them now. It wasn't Anakin down there, it was Ani, and that was so much worse. Obi-Wan Kenobi's (previously unknown, for he had never imagined it to be possible) greatest fear had come true, before his very eyes.

For the first time in over ten years, Anakin Skywalker was not fighting back.

"This Jedi, this watchdog of a petty, corrupt senate, a preacher of freedom and peace though he brings only war and death- is nothing more than a puppet! And now, he will kneel before us," The queen boasts, proudly smiling at the cheering crowd.

At this moment, Obi-Wan wants her life to end. He wants it to be at his own hands. How dare she do this, how dare she make Anakin go through such a thing, how dare she-

Oh. She's speaking to him now. "Show him his true place," She commands. Obi-Wan nods numbly, a pathetic movement of a broken man. Obi-Wan feels broken, he does. He feels crushed, splintered, shattered into a million tiny pieces-

Anakin had broken, and as Obi-Wan is his brother, he will too. Two halves of the same whole, and if one goes down the other surely will as well. They are nothing without the other, and are only something when together.

Some may ask, "What is the galaxy without Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

The real question is, "What is the galaxy when Anakin Skywalker stops fighting?"

Obi-Wan doesn't know the answer to that. He doesn't know what it's like to witness your dearest friend, your son, your brother, your soul, fractured into pieces-

Or maybe he does, now. He doesn't want to think about it.

He remembers things Anakin once said, about his mother and Yarra Root and a saying.

"I would rather my child die than be a slave like me."

But Anakin, Ani (for as much as they are different, they are also the same) had once been a slave. And now, he is again. Or maybe he always had been, and only his title had changed with time.

Has Anakin ever truly been free?

How could Obi-Wan have let this happen?

He approaches his former apprentice (though everyone knows that statement is a half-truth; no Master-Padawan pair had ever stayed so close as they had after Knighthood) and he almost wants to claw his eyes out. Anakin is kneeling on the hard ground, his shoulders are hunched. Obi-Wan has never seen him look so... defeated.

As Obi-Wan nears him, Anakin turns. His eyes are glassy, his cheeks are gaunt, and above all he looks haunted. "Obi?" He says weakly.

Obi-Wan doesn't care about their cover anymore. "Yes, dear one, I'm here."

Anakin shudders, his voice cracking from disuse and the delusions of fear. "I- I wanted to help, I was going to- the Root, Obi, the Root- I'll find it, so they can rest- let them rest, let me rest, please-"

"It's going to be alright, I promise. Just hang on," Obi-Wan whispers, and his younger brother makes an aborted movement, one he guesses was meant to be a nod. Obi-Wan looks up at R2, not able to take anymore of this con.

His and Anakin's lightsabers soar gracefully through the air, and Obi-Wan catches them both. Ignoring the angered roar of the spectators, he pulls with the Force and removes the shock collar, trying not to look too closely at the angry red mark it left on Anakin's neck. When Obi-Wan goes to hand Anakin his lightsaber, his brother flinches, but makes no move to take it. "I don't- I don't want it- I want to rest- I want to rest, like Mom- let the Desert swallow me, Obi, please-"

"Anakin, please just hold on, for me. Sleep, and I will be here when you wake up." Obi-Wan blocks the Zygerrian guards' shots as Anakin closes his eyes, slowly crumpling into a fetal position on the ground. The Jedi Master glances up to the balcony, where Ahsoka is holding the queen, green blade pressed close to her neck.

Obi-Wan grips the two lightsabers (lighsabers that would forever be entwined, just as their souls were. Though Anakin loved Padmé more than anything, with his mother a close second, Obi-Wan was somehow more. He was his other half, and they would be brothers until the end). Blades ignited, he scowls up at the slaver queen. "Your Majesty, I feel it is time for your reign to end."

"Oh?" The queen has the gall to laugh, even with a blade to her throat. "Is this what the Jedi are now, wild beasts that fight wars and threaten royalty?" She's not sending her guards to detain him, not yet. She's waiting for him to move, to break, to fight (fight when Anakin cannot).

Obi-Wan doesn't reply. Instead, he jumps.

He goes for the nearby guards first. Their heads roll onto the ground, cleanly severed. One by one, they fall at the enraged hand of a Jedi- no, this is not the fighting of a Jedi, this is the fighting of a brother, an other half, someone who is seeing red because their sibling has been torn apart. Obi-Wan had felt anger before, but never like this. This is cold, and detached, but it is also hot and painful and so horribly real-

And Obi-Wan is drinking it up, letting it fuel him as he practically flies through the arena.

Rex is taking out the Zygerrian reinforcements, his aim always ringing true. Ahsoka, who now seems to be nearing the Dark path Obi-Wan has started down, has killed the prime minister and is slowly backing away with the queen. Obi-Wan jumps up to them, signing at Rex to meet them outside.

"Get Anakin" He signs to the Captain, who nods once and as gently as possible lifts his General (the clones are much stronger than they look, Obi-Wan has learned) and exits. The Jedi turns to the enslaving, despicable ruler. She smiles cruelly, blood from where she must've bit her tongue starting to coat her teeth. She looks almost primal, exuberant, her eyes flashing with excitement-

She knows Obi-Wan is in pain, and she is reveling in it.

"Kenobi, is it? I must say, I've never seen a Jedi so unhinged. You've surprised me."

"I do like to keep my opponents on their toes," He says roughly, trying to keep his voice steady.

"You and I are similar in that fact." She smirks, making Obi-Wan's blood boil. How dare she compare herself to him (him, who had let Anakin be taken, let him be dragged off to Force knows where, to then be thrown in chains-)

Who was he to act so above this slaver? Yes, she had been the one to do this Anakin, but Obi-Wan hadn't helped at all (never mind the fact that he hadn’t known); and doesn't that make him just as guilty? He had been too preoccupied in the mission, the part he had to play.

That always seemed to happen to them. Obi-Wan was always busy with duties, while Anakin spiraled. Obi-Wan never noticed, never helped. His eyes flutter closed, just for a second, and he is met with the image of his sleeping brother, cheeks sunken and face pale. The guilt eats at him, painfully carving out a place in his heart.

The world fades. Obi-Wan lunges. There is a scream.

However, the scream doesn't come from the queen. It comes from Ahsoka.

"Master, no! It's not- you can't-"

"Ahsoka," Obi-Wan whispers, one blade mere breaths from slicing through the queen. "Anakin-"

"-Wouldn't want you to do this," She interjects. They are both aware of the unspoken truth that hangs in the air; Anakin would do it himself, before either of them could even move. "Master, please, she'll be taken back to Coruscant, but we can't do this." She gestures to his ignited lightsabers.

Obi-Wan looks to his weapons, then to Ahsoka, and back again. The blinding anger slowly melts away, leaving an icy-cold feeling in his bones.

The queen glowers. "Master Kenobi, I grow tired of this. Perhaps we can work up an agreement?"

"I will not barter with slavers, you witch," he snaps. He tries to shrug off Ahsoka's wince, knowing she was surprised at his tone. She had never heard her grandmaster so... outraged. Impatient, tired, disappointed, sure- but not this.

This is almost Dark.

The Zygerrian queen chuckles. "How about this: If you agree to my terms, I will let your friends go, no questions asked."

As much as he doesn't want to listen, Obi-Wan is enthralled by the promise of Anakin's safety. "What do you require?"

"Master, you can't-" Obi-Wan shakes his head, and Ahsoka, upset as she is, quiets.

The conversation resumes. "It seems I'm in need of an attendant, if the girl behind me is a fake. Would you be willing to take up the role?" Her tone and word choice are misleading. There is no option, no room to decline- if he tries, she will have them all killed. She is in control of the situation (Obi-Wan certainly isn't, he lost control when Anakin came out in a shock collar- don't think of it- don't- stop- no- ANAKIN-)

"You will let them go?" Obi-Wan asks quietly.

"They will be free," The queen answers, the irony of her words likely not lost on her. How rare it must be for her to let a person go, let alone three and a droid.

The lightsabers hiss as they turn off. Ahsoka looks horrified, and Obi-Wan's stomach churns at his decision. 'But Anakin will be safe,' He thinks to himself.

The queen grins. She has won.

***

if you want to be tagged in the next part, let me know! also i love comments vv much so please let me know what you thought!

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fandomlurker · 3 years

Text

A Ponderous Rewatch: Jockey For Position

Now that we’re done with that long cameo, it’s time for our feature presentation for tonight, and it’s a doozy!:

We open with Pinky frantically running on a spinning globe while Brain stands above him on the…globe holder? I don’t know if that part has a name or not.

“[winded gasps] Can I stop now, Brain?”

“Not until I finish my demonstration.”

Brain, that’s just… Well I was about to say it was mean, but given that Pinky understands the details of his plans better when Brain demonstrates it or draws elaborate diagrams, maybe it’s for the best? I doubt Brain could make that large globe spin just by using his hands, and Pinky’s been seen a lot of times running on the mouse wheel in their cage so he’s gotta be pretty in shape. Still, it feels like Pinky’s been running for a lot longer than he needed to…

You know what? I change my mind. It is a bit mean, Brain.

“When I build my reverse geotropic arrestor, Pinky, and throw it from the North Pole like this…”

The word “geotropic” doesn’t quite sound right. I wonder…

…Okay, yeah, Brain’s getting worse at naming things.

“…In a matter of seconds the cable will become taut, gravity will cease, and everyone will fly off the face of the Earth!”

Oh my GOD, Brain. This has got to be the stupidest plan you have come up with yet! Nothing about this will work.

Well, there goes poor Pinky.

“Leaving us alone to assume control.”

It’s still “us”, huh? Noted.

Long Pinky.

“Egad, Brain, brilliant! Haha hehe heh—!”

Pinky, sweetheart, I know praising Brain is kind of your thing but this is one time I’m going to have to call you out on your bias because this is super not brilliant and I’m actually a little worried for Brain’s mental state.

“—Oh wait, no, no. What’s going to keep us from flying off the Earth?”

That’s one flaw of many, Pinky, but I guess it’s as good a start as any.

“We will duct tape ourselves to a tree.”

Because the tree will totally stay in the ground when the Earth abruptly stops spinning. Not that it will stop spinning, because none of this makes any sense.

Brain, did this idea come from, like, a dream you had or something? Is that why the plan is working on dream logic?

I know this is a comedy cartoon and this is all a joke but sometimes Brain’s plans are so fucking out-there I just have to roast him for it.

“Unfortunately we still need to raise money to buy a one billion ton magnet. But I have a solution!”

Oh boy, can’t wait to hear the solution to this one. It’s gonna be stellar if the whole plan today is anything to go by.

Oh nice, Brain’s the one sewing for a change! Usually this is Pinky’s area of expertise, but it’s always nice to see that Brain can do some classically domestic things too.

“Tomorrow is the running of the Kentucky Derby. Do you know what that is?”

Most of my knowledge on it comes from “My Brother, My Brother, and Me” goofs, so my mind keeps autocorrecting it to “Kenfucky Derby”, but go on.

“Umm… Oh! A very large hat?”

“Promise me something, Pinky. Never breed.”

“I’ll try.”

Well, that’s going to come back to haunt them.

“The Kentucky Derby is the biggest horse race of the year. There’s a one million dollar purse going to the jockey riding the winning horse.”

“And I am going to win that purse!”

Okay, first off: Pinky, are you just going to stand there and stare at Brain as he gets changed? Like, I understand they’re naked normally and this is the exact opposite of stripping but umm…

Secondly: Brain, did you really have to get that up close to tell Pinky this? You two are making this too easy for me.

“Zort, Brain! A million dollar purse?!? Ooooh!~ You’re going to need matching pumps and earrings for that!”

Pinky’s got his priorities in order.

“Focus, Pinky, focus!”

“Now watch.”

And now Brain’s ordering Pinky to watch him dress and I just…I have no words. This is all so suspect. Why do you two even need a dressing screen if you’re usually naked anyway? And it shouldn’t matter if anyone sees you get dressed unless this is some weird reverse nudity taboo you two have developed and if that’s the case, why are you allowing Pinky to watch? And if it’s for a dramatic reveal WHY ARE YOU ORDERING HIM TO WATCH YOU CHANGE???

This episode is already so goddamn wild.

I am really not sure how I feel about that pan-up of Brain when he’s thrust his pelvis forward. At least the outfit is cute, though.

“Narf! Oh, Brain, I get it! You’re a beautiful lawn ornament!”

“Beautiful”, huh? Also noted.

“Look at me, narf, I’m a pink flamingo! Ahahaheh!”

Oh LORD, Pinky, how are you—?!?

“I’m a cement deer! Ah hah!”

PINKY, STOP, YOU’RE SCARING ME! D:

“Oh, I’m one of the seven dwarves, Brain!”

That’s more acceptable but Pinky, sweetie, warn me if you’re going to nightmarishly shapeshift again, okay?!

I guess we can add that to the list of random abilities Pinky has.

“Stop it, Pinky, or I shall have to hurt you.”

You are much calmer about this than I would be if this happened in front of me, Brain.

“Oh. Right-o, Brain. Narf.”

“Now let us make haste, for we have much to do before the race begins.”

“Poit.”

So then we cut to Churchill Downs, and I can only assume another roadtrip adventure was had off-screen.

“First, Pinky, we must visit the stables.”

“Inside, we will find the winning horse.”

“Err… How are we gonna do that, Brain?”

“The racing form, Pinky.”

My bet’s on... [squints] hLUUNO the horse.

“By analysing the velocity-based pace line, mile turf win and bayer speed figures, we’ll find a grade one stakes claimer who’ll give us a key horse situation.”

“Key Horse Situation” would be a great band name. Also, whoops, little bit of an error on the name plaques, background artists.

What do your mouse eyes see, Pinky?

“Err, can’t we just ride the pretty one?”

SHE!

So here she is, one of the few characters debuting in the Animaniacs run that will matter to PatB lore going forward aside from our main duo.

A fun fact for you all: Phar Fignewton’s name is a triple reference joke. “Phar Lap” was a champion thoroughbred race horse in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Fig Newtons are small pastries filled with fig paste. Lastly, “Fahrvergnügen” was a slogan for Volkswagon starting in 1990. Translated, it means “driving enjoyment”.

Phar Fignewton makes a whinnying noise and ends it off with a goofy laugh.

Brain is not impressed.

“Heavens, they’re multiplying…”

Pinky is instantly smitten with her.

BONK!

“This is a business trip, Pinky!”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Brain.”

“Here is our horse.”

“’Daddy’s Little Angel’…”

I guess it’s an ironic nickname.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Whu… I think so, Brain, isn’t Regis Philbin already married?”

…

Now I’m wondering if Pinky is suggesting that one of them marry Regis or if he’s suggesting that Regis marries the horse. Either way, what the fuck?

Yeah, same.

“The race, Pinky. By combining the statistics and my low body weight, this horse cannot lose! The prize money will be ours!”

GAH! Brain, I’ve had enough minor heart attacks from this episode because of Pinky’s eldritch morphing ability, I don’t need another one of your bizarre close-ups to do the same!

“Now I must take the place of the real jockey.”

“Hello?”

“Is this the Jockey who’s going to ride ‘Daddy’s Little Angel’?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Ed Mcmahon from Publisher’s Smearing House. You’ve just won ten million dollars.”

Pinky delightedly and silently listening in and chuckling in the back is precious.

And honestly, Brain, I don’t know why you’re crouching here, but it’s also cute.

“I won ten million dollars… I WON TEN MILLION DOLLARS! I am outta here! Later!”

The mice are lucky that he’s so excited about winning all that money that he forgets to do basic things like ask when and how he’ll get the money.

“Louie! Louie!”

“Later!”

“Who’s gonna ride my horse? I mean, Louie is the smallest, lightest jockey in the entire world!”

Did you know that there’s a weight requirement for jockeys, but no height requirement?

“Not anymore!”

“[GASP]”

Whoops, I just noticed another error, though it’s minor: Brain’s jockey outfit throughout this scene is light tan and purple instead of the pea green and purple that it’s supposed to be.

“You’re a jockey?!”

“Actually, I am a mouse in the early stages of an elaborate scheme to take over the world.”

The more this happens, the more I’m starting to think that Brain does this shtick on purpose to emotionally and mentally disarm people who would otherwise suspect that he’s not human. The fact that it works shows you just how idiotic the human beings of this world are.

“Well, fine, we all need a hobby but…will you ride my horse?”

Oh, sir, I think it’s much more than a hobby at this point. If only you knew…

“I shall ride! And win!”

His design is a little odd here, but it’s still a good pose.

So Brain next has to be weighed to make sure he meets the requirements.

“Saddle: Seven pounds. Saddle and rider: Seven pounds 3 ounces.”

So if you can recall from the previous rewatch post, a house mouse on average weighs 19g, and a common wood mouse weighs 23g (it can be up for debate which type of mouse Brain is). Converting Brain’s 3 ounces of weight to grams would result in him weighing 85.0486g.

Brain does have a bit of a cute little potbelly thing going on, but he’s also consistently much smaller in height and width than the average adult mouse in the series. I think the incredible difference in weight is mostly coming from the heft of Brain’s, well, brain and skull…and the muscle mass packed into that tiny body to help keep him upright.

“A genetically perfect jockey! This is fantastic!”

Please don’t phrase it like that.

“…Let’s look into early retirement.”

That jockey on the left is going through some shit, man. He looks like how I feel after working an eight hour shift on the holidays.

And so we skip to the beginning of the race!

That poor, poor jockey…who changed colour schemes for some reason.

There’s Phar Fignewton with a jockey who honestly looks like he’s high.

And here’s our little mousey fella, who has somehow managed to make this aggressive horse obedient.

“Camptown race is five miles long, do-dah, do-dah.~”

He’s so happy he’s singing to himself! This is honestly so precious that I completely forgive him for not getting the lyrics correct.

Coincidentally, Daddy’s Little Angel is positioned next to Phar Fignewton.

“Ooh, isn’t this exciting, Brain?”

Uh oh.

“Pinky, what are you doing here? Your weight will disrupt my winning calculations!”

I don’t know if it’d be that off, Brain. The combined weight of two mice is still much less than that of a human jockey.

“But Brain, it’s too exciting! I—“

[TARGET LOCKED]

“Oooh! Heh. Hello.~”

I think I’m going to save my thoughts on this whole…thing until the end. Right now I will say, however, that I wasn’t quite expecting the tongue-hanging-out-of-gaping-mouth lovestruck/horny??? reaction.

“Pinky, the race is starting!”

Too late, Brain.

And we’re off!

Bye, Pinky.

“There’s baloney in our slacks…~”

Pfft.

So as the race goes on, we get to know a few more of the horses’ names: Isle of Yap (a nice callback to the first PatB short), Flamiel (which is apparently the WB writers’ favourite word?), and Leggo-my-Egoiste (a double reference to an old Eggo slogan and the name of a cologne).

The other jockeys are more than a little surprised by Brain and his steed taking the lead early in the race.

Phar Fignewton is trailing way behind.

Meanwhile, Pinky’s woken up from fainting, seeing the oncoming horses—

--and promptly freaks out and stumbles back down again.

“Victory, she waits for me! Oh, the do-dah-day!”

You really have to stop tempting fate like this, Brain.

Phar Fignewton’s very tired, but what’s this?

Is that…Pinky in harm’s way?

ThePowerOfLove.mp3

Determined and fueled by her inexplicable crush, Phar Fignewton starts gaining ground on the other horses.

Brain didn’t calculate for this!

…Oh! Hi, Warners! Looks like they’re cheering Phar on.

“Oh no! Yah! Yah! Yah!”

I didn’t think whips were allowed in races like the Kentucky Derby, but apparently they are. Their use was only restricted—not banned—in the summer of 2020, which is alarming to say the least.

On a different note, I know some of you folks are now jotting down the fact that Brain knows how to use a whip. I see you.

She makes the save!

And she also wins the race! Way to go, Phar Fignewton!

“In the words of the great Willie Shoemaker: ‘Nuts!’”

It was a good try, Brain, but honestly I’m glad you failed this time if only so that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself with your actual world domination plan’s failure later. Maybe take a couple nights off to rest up a bit and formulate plans that aren’t totally bonkers, hmm?

I might as well go ahead and talk about this now. I…am conflicted on this whole Phar Fignewton thing. It makes for a very strange one-off joke about Pinky instantly falling in love with a distaff counterpart of his that’s a horse for whatever reason…but the fact that she’s not a one-off character is baffling in and of itself. Like I’ve said before, she’s mentioned a couple of times going forward as being Pinky’s girlfriend, or as a bizarre joke at Pinky’s expense about him being in/having been in a relationship with a horse. There’s even a small running gag about Pinky’s reaction to people’s disgust about it: “People can be so intolerant!”. I don’t know if the joke is supposed to be one about racial segregation or a wink and nod to queer folks in the only way that the writers could get away with in a cartoon at the time (in a “see, Pinky’s down for a relationship with anyone, even outside of his species!” type of way).

Phar Fignewton herself is a sweetie but besides that she has no personality to speak of and we’re just meant to assume based on physical appearance that she is equivalent to Pinky. And like, she hasn’t been uplifted to human levels of intelligence and sapience like Pinky has because of Acme Labs, but she seems to be naturally sapient for some unknown reason and just simply unable to speak English.

On top of all this, the relationship is very shallow and the only reason we’re given as to why Pinky likes her is because he finds her pretty. It’s perfectly in character for Pinky to easily fall in love, as he does so with other animals a couple more times in the spin-offs, but it just feels weird that this is the one that sticks around purely to become a running gag that gets mentions that are sometimes literal years apart from one another.

And listen, I know the writers most likely made this a thing just because they thought it was a funny joke and a few of them managed to remember about Phar and would use Pinky dating her as a gag. I know this. But it doesn’t make it any less confusing and weird. I remember the jokes about Pinky and horses from way back when I first watched Animaniacs and the PatB spin-off when I was a kid and I never had any context for it because I don’t think I ever saw this specific episode. Coming back as an adult and seeing all these episodes in order and watching this one in particular and finding out the context is “Pinky thinks a horse is pretty and the horse and him are in love and long-distance dating now” is both underwhelming and leaves me with more questions than answers.

…Also, if my earlier theories on why the writers made this joke are correct, does this mean Phar Fignewton is metatextually a beard for Pinky?

I just don’t know, folks. You’re welcome to leave your thoughts on this in comments.

Let’s wrap this up.

So as we can see, Brain is, as usual, back to work on another plan that involves—

—a goddamn cannon, holy shit! What is he using the glue for? That’s a little ominous, given what’s been involved in this episode.

There’s a hammering noise in the background and we see Pinky putting up a photo of Phar Fignewton.

“Pinky, will you please stop that? I’m trying to concentrate on tomorrow night!”

Wow, you’re more irritable than usual, Brain. I didn’t think some delicate hammering would annoy you that much.

“Mwah!~”

…Despite my ramblings earlier, that’s very cute of you, Pinky. I’m sure you could’ve gotten a better photo, though.

“Why, Brain, what’re we gonna do tomorrow night?”

Try to take over the world, of course! Right, Brain?

“Guess.”

…

Umm, wow. That’s a first. You look like you’re absolutely enraged, Brain. All this over some hammering sounds?

This had me taken aback a bit when I watched it the first time, not gonna lie. We’ve seen Brain after a plan’s failure plenty of times before. He’s been frustrated, sure. Humiliated at times, or maybe he just sighs in resignation and walks off into the sunset. It always ends with him simply using these feelings to fuel the fire in him to do better tomorrow night.

This is the very first time we’ve seen him jumpy and irritated at the most minor of things and so angry that he literally refuses to participate normally in his and Pinky’s shared catchphrase. And this was for a plan that was just to fund the real plan! So why is this time any different?

Oh.

OH.

Okay, that’s… That makes a lot of sense, actually. Damn.

Hey, fanfic writers? Ya’ll ever use this as the very first time Brain experiences romantic jealousy? Let me know.

“Oh yeah, try to take over the world. Right.”

I think even Pinky’s put off by this development, if his hesitant and quiet finishing of the saying is anything to go by.

And that’s what we end off with.

All in all, this episode is a wild ride of strangeness in small moments and bizarre additions to lore and ends on the first subversion of the long-running closing gag of the series. It’s not exactly a great episode, but that ending is intriguing enough for one of the main purposes of this rewatch. In short, I’m just baffled.

Luckily the next episode is much better. Next time, the mice head on down to Tennessee to seek world domination via country music.

See you then!

#Pinky and the Brain #PatB #Jockey For Position

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clearturtletrash · 3 years

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Horikoshi’s writing of Shouto and the problems I have with it

If you’re a fan of the way Shouto’s treated in the manga, don’t read, we’ll end up disagreeing on everything and you’ll probably end up offended lol. Because I’m not (satisfied, that is).

This post is spoiler-heavy for anime onlys, and for manga readers not up to date with the last arc (and last chapter for that matter, which is 301).

So, about Shouto and how he’s handled, along with ‘his’ story.

I don’t get how Horikoshi, whose writing I respect immensely, managed to depict such an incredible and alluring storyline with the Todoroki family, with some of the most complex character writing I’ve seen, but fumbled the one character he had to actually focus on.

Literally more than half the people in the Todoroki storyline are more interesting and more developed than Shouto at this point. Hawks, Endeavour, Dabi, Rei… a good bunch of fans are way more invested in their story than his, and I am too. It’s really sad, because if you asked me two years ago Shouto would have probably been one of my favorite character. But he was completely shafted, given no internal conflict, and at this point, I have the same interest in him as I do for Fuyumi and Natsuo, which basically means his only interesting feature to me is that he’s Endeavour’s child (oh, and he does have a cool design, but that can only get you so far).

Deku and Katsuki are more popular than him by a landslide compared to before if we believe the Japanese popularity polls, because Hori actually bothers to give them focus, conflict, and cool moments (even though, sometimes I feel like Horikoshi forgets Deku’s his main character lol). It’s a testament to how great Shouto was and how much potential had that he’s still that popular despite everything. Because, let’s be real, Endeavour and Dabi have taken the focus because they have much more emotional energy, while Shouto is just stuck in the crossfire, as a punching ball and stress relief (and eventually as the person who’ll save him I guess) for Touya (see how he was relegated to first aid during the big fight against Tomura? how he did absolutely nothing against Touya who was burning him alive? And how Touya had no interest in Shouto outside of the fact he was Endeavour’s son? Story of the way Hori treats him). He has no particular interesting insight to give on the Todoroki family either as he was too small to remember the important events, so even on this point we can’t count on Horikoshi to write something for him, everything comes from Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Rei. He's really had one great moment in S2 and S3 and that’s it. The way Horikoshi struggles to give him a personality doesn’t help either (he admitted some time ago he was hard to write sometimes, and… yeah, I can see that). I’m really trying to like his character but the manga gives us nothing, and keeps developing Endeavour, Dabi, and Hawks, which is great (I really love all three of them) but makes no sense given who’s supposed to be the main focus.

In the Endeavour agency arc, Endeavour’s thoughts and struggles were heavily touched upon, and Bakugou and Deku are in sync for 90% of it while Shouto’s just… there. as fodder for Endeavour, and maybe as a link between Endeavour and Bakugou/Deku too. He’s supposed to be a part of both these storylines, but instead, he just ends up as a way for them to overlap. we don't even take a peek in his thoughts, even though it's supposed to be an arc about the Todorokis!

I say all this as someone who eagerly waited for the day Horikoshi would portray Shouto, Katsuki, and Deku as a trio, but yeah, Shouto feels more like a third wheel than anything. if he wanted to establish them that way, he should have done it right after the sports festival arc, but after this arc, they have no scene together, and the focus shifted on Deku and Katsuki. Too little too late I guess.

To come back to the Todoroki storyline, I feel like Horikoshi simply woke up one day and decided Endeavour was more interesting to write lmao. at this point, it’s more Endeavour’s storyline than Shouto’s, even though Shouto’s supposedly one of the main characters. it has come to a point where, even though I know it ought to focus on Shouto because he’s (at least he should be) the main focus of this particular storyline, I’m hoping it won’t, because that’s just the least interesting aspect of this whole thing.

I’d say even Ochako’s treated better by the story, because at least Horikoshi tries to challenge her views and beliefs (even though for now it’s not very conclusive), while Shouto’s inner growth hasn't been put into question in how many chapters?

(btw, by inner growth, I’m not talking about his problem with his fire side, because that’s just been rinse and repeat for more than 200 chapters. I mean, srsly it’s been already 3 times since this problem has caused him to lose/fail... and it's not even satisfying like Katsuki or Deku (except for the first time in the sport festival, because that was when his character was still handled very well by Horikoshi). Why? Simply because when he loses, the stakes aren’t high, it’s all training or exams, so he’s just like, "oh, I have to maybe learn how to deal with it!", but there’s no real pressure he’s under. It’s not like Deku, who, if he does not progress, will break all his bones, and who failed to rescue Katsuki because of his broken arms (=and had a mental breakdown immediately afterwards and blamed himself). It’s not like Katsuki either, because Katsuki has a personality that makes low stakes feel like high stakes, which isn’t the case for Shouto. just compare Shouto's reaction when he loses because of his setbacks to Katsuki's reaction when he lost to Deku the first time (mental breakdown), or when Katsuki failed the provisional license exam (another mental breakdown, not caused just by his failing, but yeah). And anything else about Shouto's inner growth is tied to his reaction to Endeavour’s arc, which isn’t a flaw, and 100% depends on the way Endeavour acts. Apart from this, he has 0 internal conflict).

Sorry, I’ve gone off on a tangent lol.

To get back to the point I was making, and to further develop my analogy with Ochako, let’s look at their relationship with Deku, because there’s a major difference there, which is clearly in favor of Ochako. Deku has a big impact on Ochako, yes, but the reverse is also true. People complain she’s all about him (which, yeah, probably), but at least, she made a big impact on him too. She was the main reason ‘Deku' became his hero name. Shouto and Deku have a nice friendship, and Deku clearly considers him one of his best friends. but... it’s all one-sided in terms of impact, I can’t think of a single thing Shouto has done who changed/motivated Deku, while Deku literally changed his life. Because of this, he’s not one of the people who’s intrinsically tied to Deku’s character development, because he’s not Ochako, Inko, Katsuki or All Might (and probably soon Tomura).

His writing feels so fast compared to the others too. Shigaraki / Deku and Toga / Ochako have been paralleled for ages, have had a conversation at least once, and have had deep encounters early on. Nonetheless, both Deku and Ochako are just coming to terms with the fact these villains aren’t so different from them. However, Shouto’s only interaction with Dabi is a ten second eye contact when Dabi kidnapped Katsuki. Dabi had more interactions with Endeavour for fuck's sake! Shouto then learns Dabi’s Touya, and speed runs the development of Ochako and Deku. He doesn’t even need 10 chapters to process they’re ’the same'. Where were all the reflection and doubts? Okay, it’s his brother, so the parallels are easier, but still, it shows Horikoshi doesn’t allow Shouto to have that much introspection, and I feel it’s because Horikoshi just doesn’t care that much. Even worse! Horikoshi introduces another hero parallel to Dabi in the character of Hawks. A parallel much more interesting and compelling, because it parallels Dabi MUCH BETTER. They’re opposites in every ways (particularly in regards to their relationship with Endeavor), and know each other. Touya and Shouto don’t even seem to have spoken to each other...

And so, the only thing that still was interesting and that Horikoshi still bothered to develop was Shouto’s relationship with Endeavour, but in the end, even that was overshadowed by the much more complex, fucked up, and challenging relationships of Endeavour and Touya (and Endeavour and Hawks) as seen in 301 and before. Clearly the one Dabi’s fixated on is Endeavour.

one last thing: Shouto's stuck in a weird loop where Horikoshi kind of makes him comes close of the Bakugou and Deku duo, and then when we start to think they’re an actual trio, he does everything in his power to make it very clear how that’s NOT where he belongs either, since OFA/All Might/Deku/Katsuki is another storyline. It’s as if Horikoshi doesn’t want him here (see: how he decided the ‘win all might’ scene didn’t have to include him), but puts him there sometimes anyway. It’s probably because Shouto’s so popular, which, yeah, would be fine, if he could stick to it!

His supposed admiration for All Might (I feel like everybody forgets it's a part of his character, and I don't blame them) is brought up once every blue moon, which compared to Deku and Katsuki, is just ridiculous. And, once again, All Might has a much deeper and more interesting relationship with Endeavour than with Shouto. At this point, I don’t even know what Hori could do to make me want to read about him. I much prefer the dynamic of Hawks/Endeavour/Touya and Katsuki/Deku/All Might.

I hope the future will prove me wrong for his character. Actually, I hope everything I’m saying is wrong and idiotic, and Horikoshi will make every scene I criticized worth it and a means to an end. I mean, he clearly has the talent and writing ability to pull off some of the best character development I’ve ever seen, so anything’s possible. but yeah, I don’t really believe it for now, and I’m frustrated, because Shouto had so much potential.

tldr; I liked Shouto as a character, but he dwindled after some time, and now I feel as if he’s not the focus of his own storyline, because this place is occupied by the much more dynamic relationships of Endeavour, Touya and Hawks. And I’m not even mad, because their dynamic is much more interesting. However, I feel like Horikoshi grew bored of Shouto, and has put much more soul into Katsuki and Deku as of late.

I’m welcoming any responses, if people are seeing an aspect of his character I don’t, please enlighten me! I miss enjoying his character, and I’m not opposed to seeing him in a different light. I just needed to put down my thoughts in writing to make sense of them lol.

#bnha manga spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 301 #todoroki family #endeavour #todoroki shouto #todoroki enji #todoroki touya #ochako uraraka #I guess #im kinda new please inform me if I'm crosstagging I swear its not on purpose #todoroki shouto meta #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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darkpoisonouslove · 3 years

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Winx Club Season 6 Thoughts Part 1

I have watched this more than once and even though I have some memories of the ending, I still have no idea what is happening in this season. Now my expectations have been updated to “take what I can get” so that should go better. Also, I will be writing the number of the episode above the section of thoughts that deals with it so that it can be easier to navigate my posts. With that said, let’s get to it:

- Wow, they actually showed Daphne together with the Winx in the intro? Nice. However, I am torn between wanting to move on from Sirenix and despising the fact that I’ll have to suffer through Bloomix and Mythix this season. It’s a lose-lose situation for me.

6x01:

- The Trix now have beef with Daphne as well? And they are going back to the somewhat original plan of the Coven to destroy Domino? !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am actually excited about this!

- Did Daphne just try to go through the door? Aww, sweet precious child who has forgotten what it is to have a body. I am in pain for her even though I am happy that she is human again. I do not like the way that Marion and Oritel seem to not grasp the very obvious problem that Daphne is facing, however. I wish we could see their relationship with Daphne but we can’t step aside from Bloom for three seconds. At least they are showing some consequences of everything Daphne has gone and keeps going through.

- If the beast is the most powerful thing in the Magic Dimension, why does it listen to the Trix instead of just eating them before moving on to Domino? And it looked pretty awake without them having to summon it. So yeah, not much sense in this.

- Okay, I can get that Daphne is still getting used to having a body again but her doubting herself does not feel in character to me. She was always the one to tell Bloom to not doubt herself and she never lost faith in anyone from their family even when she spent two decades as a spirit. This is not my Daphne. She would know how to proceed. It’s like they reversed all her wisdom after bringing her back. As if you can’t be wise unless you’re a non-corporeal entity. I don’t like that. And wasn’t she the nymph of Magix? She is now the nymph of Domino. I mean, she could be both, I guess, but the titles are never used simultaneously.

- Why are the Specialists flying on their bikes if the ship is also there? And why is Daphne wearing heels if she has trouble walking?!?!?!?!

- Did Marion do all of the decorations with her magic? I’m just gonna accept that it was her. Also, I am kinda glad that they kept the maids from Magical Adventure. They were well-intentioned even if a little overbearing.

- Yes, Bloom, great way to be empathetic with your sister. Keep telling her about DANCING even though she can’t even walk in a straight line... or any kind of line. They should have waited with the party. And Daphne tripped here because Bloom had stepped on her clothes. It wasn’t her fault. Though, a makeover might be good for her. I am not a fan of the way Stella referred to her as if Daphne is the younger one and needs help (even though she does need help).

- I also don’t like the fact that they are trying to say that Daphne is stuck on who she was which keeps her from becoming who she needs to be in the present. It does not sound like her. But it’s cute that all the Winx are trying to help her. I won’t mind her being a more central part of this season. She has helped them so many times that it would be nice to see them do something for her or even with her.

- Daphne does look nice! Certainly better than Winx in their hideous dresses Won’t we burn those things already?!

- Yeah, Daphne cowering away and hiding at Oritel’s side is definitely not in character. Sorry but she legit gave everything she had to save her sister from the Ancestral Witches even when she knew it would be the end of her.

- Oh, look. They’re using the special Sirenix spells. I can’t believe it.

- Oritel (and Marion) must be so goddamn sick of the Trix and them threatening his family already. And it hasn’t been more than a year since they came back from Obsidian.

- Oh, poor Daphne. I feel so bad for her. But at least she has her family now and they can hold her and help her get through it. Though, I still think this isn’t entirely in character for her. Tritannus tortured her and she refused to tell him anything and she kept fighting even from her cell despite how limited her resources were. Here she hasn’t even tried. They said she didn’t have her powers but we haven’t seen her try to use them and Daphne has always tried until the very last moment.

- Okay, but I hate it when they send them places only for them to realize they had the answer all along.

- Omg, she was gonna sacrifice herself just to not threaten anyone else. This is more like Daphne. But I am so happy that she got her powers back. Even though they really half assed her Sirenix transformation, though I guess that was to be expected. After Roxy (oh, wait, and Diaspro, too), she is the only fairy besides Winx to be given any transformation so I guess they thought that anything would do.

6x02:

- Why is Kiko excited to be back at Alfea? And what the hell are Daphne and Bloom doing there? Daphne should be on Domino and getting reacquainted with politics and economy for when she will be queen and Bloom and the other Winx should probably be in the Love and Pet store. Anywhere, really, but at Alfea. Why are they at Alfea again? *sigh*

- Aww, I love the fact that they are all still wearing the charm bracelets Bloom gave them for Christmas. It’s cute. I am not as much a fan of Stella being as obsessed with fashion as she was in season 5. They made her whole character about that (except the struggle with her parents but that has also been resolved now more or less so...)

- I guess bending down is overrated now. You just use magic instead of any other way of solving problems like picking things up from the floor or making space in a room. And poor Kiko. No one noticed that he got miniaturized.

- The new clothes suck. They look so... same. At least the old outfits still had some personality to them.

- How did Griselda not feel the wave of Stella’s magic? Or notice the... illusion? (I suppose Stella used dispersed light to create the appearance of a normal bedroom instead of the boutique.) At least she noticed Kiko. But ewwww, why did he lick Bloom’s face (and after he was angry with her)? He’s not a dog!!!!! Please, writers.

- Oh, no! The pixies are here. Why did they not only change Tecna and Musa’s pixies, but also the design for Piff? Locket, Amore and Chatta look almost the same but I am so not on board with the very fact that they are all back. The least the writers could have done would have been to keep the old pixies (and designs). (Just, please, tell me that the Winx aren’t students again.)

- Faragonda has been Headmistress of Alfea for 100 years? Yeah, right. Direct contradiction right there. In SotLK Hagen said that when they battled the Coven, they were Winx’ age. So they should be about 50. I just hate this. And Faragonda saying that she doesn’t like celebrating anniversaries because they make her feel old? That feels OOC to me but okay.

- Lmao, dying at that dance between Faragonda and Wizgiz. XDDD

- Griffin sounds like she’s finally turned the education in CT in the right direction. She even asked the elder students to help the freshmen which is nice because we’ve seen her not care about the malice witches exhibited towards each other (which I call bullshit on but still). But with the proving thing? Yeah, okay.

- Obviously Selina and Bloom know each other because Selina is from Earth and we all know that everything that happens on Earth is in Gardenia. Love how Griffin didn’t react to that info, though. Does that mean that there were witches on Earth even when the fairies were trapped? Dammit, writers, develop your damn world!

- How did the pixies even defeat the trolls the first time around? And why the hell did they decide that it was a good idea to imprison them under pixie village? You see, this is why you don’t live over the place you imprisoned your enemies. Because they don’t need to find you if they get free. They are already there.

- Oh, Griffin actually stopped the destruction of Pixie Village? I am surprised. I thought she would just let it go on. I mean, the show hasn’t been all that consistent with her characterization so...

- How the hell is Bloom sensing the other pixies? She isn’t bonded to them. If anything, Locket should be the one being able/unable to trace them.

- I was ready to be majorly pissed at this episode and now I am. It was already annoying me but the Trix defeating Griffin so easily made everything much worse. And like... she didn’t even try to fight them? She could have put up a shield to protect herself from all their attacks and she could have used her ability to fly in order to be more mobile while fighting them but nah. She just got soundly defeated. Amazing. And by amazing, I mean the exact opposite. This was horrible and I hate it.

- So... did the Trix ditch their Sirenix? And where did they get those new powers? Also, why the hell did the other witches join them so easily? I know that most witches must want recognition but some of those witches were there when the Trix nearly killed them both in season 1 and season 2. They at least shouldn’t have joined them. Or even if they’d joined, it should have been just a cover so that they don’t get spelled like Griffin and they could secretly work on taking the Trix down. Oh, yes, and why do the Trix want to take over the other colleges? That somehow doesn’t make sense. They already tried that back at season 1 and it didn’t work out.

- What the hell happened to Cloud Tower being a living being? They just destroyed parts of it but nah, that hasn’t come up yet. I hate this. Also, the fact that Griffin not only got turned into a crow but also hit by a lightning. Poor baby!

- Oh, great! She almost died. Love how it was never addressed what it was like for Griffin not just to be a crow but also unable to help save her school and her witches because she couldn’t even warn the others what was going on.

6x03:

- Why can’t Roxy just grant the crow the ability to talk? We know from season 4 that she can. The dark magic could have prevented that but at least they would know that there is a spell on the crow. And how did Faragonda not feel Griffin? There should be some part of her aura or whatever that hasn’t changed despite the magic in place. Not to mention that Griffin could have tried to show her it was her in some way. The two know each other. Surely if Griffin flew around and pulled out an object that means something to both of them, Faragonda would have started wondering and would have probably figured out what happened. There were so many ways around this but the writers didn’t want contact to be possible because otherwise, it would be over too soon when Winx defeated the Trix.

- Why are the boys at Linphea college now? Also, why doesn’t Brandon know that Sky has a cousin? I guess Thoren doesn’t show up on Eraklyon but does that mean that his whole family has just let go of their ties to the crown? I somehow doubt that.

- Yes, Musa. Destroying all of Alfea with your music will surely cheer up the pixies.

- So why is Miele not in Alfea? That sounds kind of weird. Although, it is possible that she didn’t want to be in Flora’s shadow or in her surveillance the whole time.

- Studies? *groan* Why the fuck are they students again?!?!?! I hate this. But I like the fact that Griselda is back. It’s not the same without her.

- So... not just Bloom, but all the rest of Winx know who Thoren is? But Brandon doesn’t? You know, Brandon who is Sky’s best friend and squire? Yeah, right.

- “Barbaric yell”? Fuck you, too, you “spiritual” snob.

- Is that Nex? Please, tell me it’s not. He seems even worse than Roy. Who is instantly jealous even though he has no right to be since he and Layla aren’t dating. God, I really miss Nabu. He was such a mature and sweet guy. Exactly what Layla needed. (And why is Roy with the Specialists when that doesn’t make any sense whatsoever?)

- Great job, Tecna. Now Helia is probably gonna think that Flora is visiting some old boyfriend. You could have just told him she was seeing her sister. Though, I have to ask where the hell Flora has been all summer if not at home (since she hasn’t seen Miele in so long)? And from her own words it sounds like she hasn’t seen her since season 3 which is just ridiculous.

- You tell him, Layla. Though, that will only make it worse if they get together later because I do not expect the writing to be clever enough to imply that it was Layla who helped Nex (I presume) get over his pride and superiority complex.

- If Linphea college is so great, why didn’t Flora study there as well? Is it new? It has to be very new in order for that to be the explanation.

- Wait, they actually realized it’s Griffin? But why can she only speak in single words and not whole sentences? Roxy could make Artu talk like a person.

- Yes, they have to tell everyone else because it’s not like Cloud Tower is a whole castle floating in the sky that is probably visible from kilometers.

- Oh, wow. They bothered to give Miele a five-second transformation? I can’t believe it. How very generous of them.

- They actually managed to make the connection between the flying Cloud Tower and the trouble on the ground? I am surprised by their normal level deduction skills.

- Did the Legendarium just negate not only their spell, but also their powers? Wow. That is... actually kinda interesting even though I do not expect it to make a lot of sense when they bother to explain it.

- At least the Specialists caught Winx before they could fall and die. I actually like the fact that they all have to retreat. It was obviously hard on them even though they didn’t have their powers anymore.

- Oh, goodie. It’s Bloomix time. In case someone hadn’t realized that Bloom is sooooo special. She now gets her own transformation. It’s fun how they didn’t even bother explaining how it was possible for the Legendarium to extinguish all their powers.

6x04:

- Well, at least Stella’s enthusiasm can never be extinguished. But yes, just exercise in high heels, why don’t you? I am so sick of them never wearing comfortable shoes. Enough heels already! They need to wear something that is actually suitable for the activity at hand.

- Poor Kiko. At least Stella didn’t break something while pulling that stunt.

- So Thoren and Daphen actually know each other? Why is everyone acting so familiar with everyone else even though they shouldn’t know each other? I hate this. Also, Thoren doesn’t sound all that sincere. I mean, he probably is. It just doesn’t exactly sound like that to me.

- I am sick of them making Stella the most incompetent in everything. You’re telling me that Tecna that is always on her phone and computer is pulling off all the physical exercise with no problem but Stella that can probably run a marathon if there is shopping involved can’t? I am not buying it.

- I am so done with both Roy and Nex. But more with Nex. Roy is kinda jealous which is ridiculous because he isn’t with Layla but Nex is being a fucking asshole and I hate him so much. I really hope he changes if he is going to be with Layla. (He’ll have to. I don’t believe she would ever spare another glance at him if he remains like that and if she does, then the writers have completely ruined her.)

- I wish Daphne would go to the rescue mission as well. She was the one who figured out the whole way to save everyone.

- Miele was doing so well! She was so brave, fighting multiple opponents. She is great! She even has more interesting spells than Flora.

- Wait, basilisks? Aren’t they supposed to be like snakes? These look more like dragons. I know they said flying basilisks but still.

- The petrifying stares are kinda interesting. But we all know that no Winx is gonna get turned to stone so there is still no tension here. Cute Riven and Sky moment, however.

- Seriously? Bloom can withstand a Trix convergence on her own but Griffin couldn’t? Yeah, makes total sense. I have said this already but if Winx are obviously stronger than the teachers, why not just make them directors of the schools and be done with it? It’s not like anyone else is getting anything done anyway.

- Awww, Stella did the flip! Nice!

- That basilisk totally could have petrified Flora and the other fairies but, of course, it didn’t even try. Like I said, no fucking stakes whatsoever.

- Didn’t they already deal with the tree... whatever the hell they are (I am too lazy to check how you write that and, honestly, this show does not deserve the effort)? Why are there more? Also, she totally did not need to save Miele from falling because Miele has wings. She could have just went back into flight and Flora could have earned her Bloomix just for saving her from the tree thing.

- Okay, the Bloomix spells look better actually. I hope. Otherwise, this will really get on my nerves.

- Why weren’t the Linphea fairies using their wings? That could have saved them from being petrified. I think in flight it would be easier to dodge the rays than it would be while you’re running AND HAVING YOUR BACK TURNED ON THE BASILISKS. BECAUSE THAT IS FUCKING SMART.

- And talking about smart, Roy was an absolute idiot. He could have just whisked Layla away while he was on his hoverbike and been done with it. He didn’t have to get in front of her and get turned into stone. And what does Nex do? His sudden care for Roy made him all stupid as well and he got himself petrified too. Great fucking job! I see how amazing you are in your supposed area of expertise.

6x05:

- Aww, I love the way Stella pulled Layla out of danger. I am really starting to ship this. Could have gone without Layla asking her if she remembered the flip since she obviously did as Stella performed it just a couple of minutes earlier (but it was in the last episode so they have to even give a flashback!) but it was cute that they did it together. I don’t really think that their actions should have qualified them for earning Bloomix but anyway. I don’t mind that they transformed together because their dynamic is really cute and I am sinking in deep.

- Ah, yes. Bloom was fighting the Trix. Totally forgot that because there was no stakes to that fight whatsoever. I do like the aesthetic of Bloom being in a different transformation than Stella and Layla. We haven’t seen that since three seasons ago when the first Enchantix was won.

- How did Stella get inspired for THESE hats by the battle? This is so totally not appropriate wear for any remotely intense situation. At least she didn’t get sulky this time when the rest didn’t like her designs.

- They’re making Riven an asshole again. I am glad that they had Tecna also being busy with her own things. Honestly, I kinda feel like they’re making Musa too demanding when it comes to attention. And Tecna is right that her algorithm is quiet while Musa’s music isn’t. When you live with other people, you have to respect their space. However, you’d think that they’d resolved this issue years ago since they have been roommates forever. I do like the symbols on their door, though. It really personalizes the space.

- Oh, Daphne has friends! That is really cool! Though, I hope this girl is a magical creature that ages differently because otherwise, this doesn’t make sense. What they said about the long time they haven’t seen each other makes me hopeful.

- These pandemonium sprites look like rats. I am not impressed. Even if they have destructive screams. You’d think the Magic Dimension will have something more interesting. The legend of the four sisters from the Hallowinx episode was leagues above this both in complexity and in creepiness. They need to step it up a notch with the Legendarium. And they don’t even explain any extended history (if any) behind the legends which could have been a great way to worldbuild. But nah.

- I don’t understand what is Musa’s problem. Tecna is allowed to not enjoy herself. And Musa is acting as if if all of her friends don’t enjoy the place she loves, she will not be validated in her love for it. It’s getting annoying. Not to mention that the pixies are not helping. I forgot their only role is to clown around... Which by the way, we already have Kiko for.

- Okay, the thing with the sounds residing in the pandemonium cave is actually kinda cool. Still not sure how exactly Tecna and Musa defeated the sprites but it was cool to see them team up. I’ve always known that the two of them can combine to a very powerful result. And Tecna creating tech for Musa is super cute!

- Ooooh, Diaspro team-up with the Trix! I love it! And Diaspro and Icy circling each other looked like they were checking each other out. They just need to get Bloom to leave Sky and join them and it is going to be the most powerful OT3 ever. (Why is Diaspro still only in her Winx form, though. It has been six years (and possibly more depending on where the movies fit in the time line).)

6x06:

- Vortex of flames? And fire eaters? That finally sounds intense. Let’s just hope that it will deliver as much as that’s possible at this point in time. Also, I love the fact that Diaspro is invited to the event on Domino. She is a princess, after all, and it would be a good idea to try to smooth things out with her kingdom (since she and Bloom aren’t on good terms).

- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Daphne is getting crowned as the heir to the throne! Yessss! Good! I am so happy to hear this! And they’ve gotten rid of the ugly dresses. Though, you’d think that Daphne will also have a new dress that is special for her coronation.

- Well, Thoren has jumped on quite the fast horse. Which I know will keep being the case but... What is Sky’s problem? Is it that Diaspro is there? Or is it because of Thoren? They’re suddenly being inseparable.

- Yeah, I don’t think Bloom’s weakness is from sharing the Dragon Fire. It is supposed to be inextinguishable so it shouldn’t be weakened by a few sparks that she gave to her friends.

- Aww, Daphne, honey, we know you will do your best for Domino! You already have! The whole planet wouldn’t be here without you and your family wouldn’t be either. I am so glad she is finally getting the recognition she deserves.

- Yeah, okay, Thoren left Sky but that was years ago. People change. Though, considering who he’s grown up with (aka Erendor), I can see how that is a foreign concept to Sky. Not to absolve him of responsibility for being so quick to judge after all this time in which he hasn’t bothered to see Thoren. And besides, they should let Daphne make her own decisions. She is more than capable of protecting herself.

- “I just love love” Amore is every shipper ever. Probably why she is most tolerable to me from the pixies.

- This is bullshit. Bloom was born without Dragon Fire. She didn’t have any before Daphne gave it to her. She doesn’t need it to sustain her. Maybe to sustain her powers. But not her life. And back in season 1 when the Trix stole the Dragon Fire from her, she was just fine. She wasn’t passing out and stuff. Stop making inconsistencies just to have more drama, dammit!

- Those fire eater things look stupid. I hope they are more effective, at least.

- Love how Diaspro didn’t even get to have her transformation even though they didn’t have to draw her a new one. They just had to take the transformation sequence from season 1. But even that was too much. At least Sky has learned not to trust her anymore. I can’t believe this day came.

- I like to think that Oritel asking about the girls meant all of Winx not just Bloom and Daphne (even if he didn’t but I think that he did).

- So why did Daphne just stand there instead of blasting Diaspro before she could throw Bloom into the vortex? I do love Diaspro and her wicked good days, though. If only she would just stop caring about Sky. I mean, Icy is right there!

- So it is confirmed that Bloom is a pyromaniac now, right? She was falling towards a vortex of flames and thinking about how beautiful it is. I can def see her lighting things on fire just to see the pretty flames once she got old enough to use a lighter. What is that hydra in the vortex, though, and where did it come from?

- Of course, Bloom can defeat the hydra and survive the vortex even though she was too weak to walk on her own. Of fucking course! Makes perfect sense! (I just hope the Trix will take Diaspro on their side even though Bloom survived. Diaspro did her job and the Trix have been failing to kill Bloom for years. They can’t hold that against her.) Edit: Where the hell did Diaspro go? We never see her again for the rest of the first half of the season (and possibly the second half as well). This plot point was just abandoned midway and I hate it!

- They already danced. Nothing says that they can’t again but they’re making such a big deal out of it.

- I’m gonna say it here but I am really not a fan of the Bloomix designs. The separate elements are good on their own but combined all together are too much for me. I don’t know where in the outfit to look because every part of it is screaming for attention.

6x07:

- Wow. I guess Stella doesn’t have to worry about getting rid of spiders. She can just yell at them and they’re going to leave. That’s actually useful. Wish I could do that.

- Please, tell me that Faragonda is at least taking some interest in how things with Griffin are going. Not that I have doubts about how well Roxy can take care of her but I doubt that Griffin is feeling very comfortable with the whole ordeal. I think she’d feel better if she spent some of her time as a crow with Faragonda. (Also, why didn’t Faragonda try to break the spell on her? If she can’t, then how did anyone else?)

- I have to say that them saying the Library of Alexandria wasn’t burned but hidden is hurting me because I wish that could be true. At least then the books wouldn’t have been destroyed even though we still wouldn’t have access to them.

- Love it how Daphne’s class has only the Winx and some other fairies when it is convenient. Aka when the Trix need someone to pose as.

- Why did the Specialists only come to Alfea to wish Winx goodbye? They could have done that on the phone. And I really don’t like the way they are making me like Roy by having an even worse option there for Layla. But the gift was actually cool. At least he gets her to a certain level.

- What was the idea of Daphne taking an entire balloon for her and the pixies if the pixies aren’t even flying with the balloon? They’re flying on their own and are just keeping up with the balloon. She could have gone with Bloom and the pixies could have been in the other balloon with Winx.

- I thought Bloom used her fire to make the storm disperse but nope. She just brought the two balloons higher up. And I just got excited over nothing. Damn!

- Really? Cherie just solved this? On her own? Even though Winx couldn’t? Yes, I agree with the Trix. This is ridiculous.

- Of course. Where there is Egypt, there are mummies. Normally, I don’t complain about mummies as I love all things Egyptian but there isn’t one thing that Winx hasn’t managed to fuck up in the last couple of seasons so I am not thrilled about this development.

- Why aren’t the Trix attacking? They have a perfect opportunity. They could blast Winx in back as they deal with the mummies and finish them off. But that would be too reasonable a plan. They have to wait for Winx to get a handle on the situation because they can’t be bothered to move their asses and get something fucking done.

6x08:

- How is THAT going for their bandages? They just keep blasting the mummies.

- Really not a fan of the way Daphne’s magic appears to be elemental. I think it would have been cooler for her to have some other powers. Or at least have just one element (and I think water would have been more interesting).

- Why does light seem to work on the mummies? They’re dead! They shouldn’t care about light. Nor sleep for that matter! I was gonna say that rain would make more sense as it would make their bandages wet but that didn’t work, yet somehow sleep seemed to have an effect. At least for a while. The lack of logic in this is unreal.

- Chatta just found the oldest way for defeating a mummy - unwrapping it from the bandages. Has none of them watched any movies? That is literally everywhere! Even though it does not make sense either because under the bandages there is a dried up body and this should have been gruesome as hell, not successful.

- Why did Selina send the Sphinx after the city instead of after Winx? That seems like they wanted to cause some unnecessary destruction only to make the Sphinx look tougher. Like we don’t know they’re gonna defeat it.

- How can Bloom feel everything? This is getting preposterous.

- Well, of course, Bloom can also sense a diary that she has never seen. Because it obviously has the energy of a living person and she can feel it. Makes perfect sense, why are you asking?

- At least the Trix are pretty good at keeping up the charade as Alfea fairies. Despite Stormy’s almost instant fuck-up in the the previous episode. Though, if they were smarter, they would be studying Winx to find out how they beat them every time and then deliberately set out to prevent that from happening so that they can win.

- When did Selina get into the library? I know Acheron told her that she needs to find the diary but she managed to teleport to another planet and we didn’t even see it. Not to mention that he said he knows where she can find the diary, yet she doesn’t seem to be doing so well in her search for it.

- Of course, suddenly it turns out that Bloom had a friend in Gardenia that she has never ever mentioned before and no one knew nothing about. Makes sense. They did look cute together, though.

- Seriously????? Piff got the Sphinx?!?!?!?! The Trix are an absolute mood in those last two episodes. This is ridiculous... again.

- Yeah, sure. They’re just doing convergence left and right. And with Daphne. Not like that should be hard to pull off. And I hate to say this but it should have worked. They so totally don’t need Bloom in order for the convergence to happen.

- Originally, they were supposed to have only one try but whatever. And my guess was five letters because I thought he was only asking about the word “books”. I didn’t think it was supposed to be “those books”. But I was still close enough. And it wasn’t that hard a riddle.

- So the library didn’t get burned down. Winx fucked it up and now you can’t enter it anymore. Nice one! Yeah, successful mission for you. But you managed to send to hell the whole library.

6x09:

- “We’re getting to see the world”? Yeah, one country from one single planet. It’s not like they have been all over the Magic Dimension. Sure, they are totally impressed by Earth that has been shown to be behind on tech AND magic. This line would make sense if they were normal people from Earth. The way things are, it just sounds weird.

- They really have no better way to create danger and are using the pixies to mess with the balloons? Pathetic. Also, why is Daphne using water to stabilize the balloon? How does that make sense?

- They’re just making pointless filler. Stella could have given them the proper warm attire the first time around. There was no need for that ridiculousness. I cannot anymore.

- Oh, yes, suddenly Bloom’s rationalizing abilities peak and she is considering all the question marks around Selina being in the library. Right. Totally bought that.

- Well, at least the Trix are rocking the disguises and the undercover work. That is the breath of fresh air that I need.

- How are the pixies not dead? The Trix turned Griffin into a crow but the pixies are somehow putting up a fight against them? I am going to scream. This is unbelievably stupid. The Trix have the power to decimate the pixies with one hit. So why didn’t they? They would have done us all a favor.

- Yeah, it was so obvious that Piff would wake them up before the Trix could finish them off. It’s just too convenient.

- I see Icy is still struggling with her crush on Bloom that hasn’t let up since the third movie. She didn’t even try to fight. And after all of this, they didn’t even take the diary? Come on!

- They saved his restaurant? It never would have been endangered if they hadn’t shown up! And I didn’t see anyone putting any conscious thought into saving the restaurant... or destroying it for that matter.

- Speaking of their never ending journey, are you telling me that this is the still the day that they left Egypt? Please, do not tell me that they somehow managed to get from Egypt to China in hot air balloons in one day! The hell!

- Oh, yeah, Icy, blame Stormy. You totally had the chance to blow the Winx away but you decided to leave because you don’t actually want to be rid of Bloom. Just admit it instead of blaming Stormy for your leadership and decisions.

- Pearls of restraint? Seriously? How do pearls relate to restraint? This sounds ridiculous. Are you telling me that they are going for some ocean-fire opposition here? Thanks, I hate it!

- Of course, the pearls are easy as fuck to find. Why would they be hidden or protected or something? Pft!

- How the hell did he give them a live flower? And they just said it’s one of a kind and handmade. Where did it come from? That just... doesn’t make sense. Why do I even bother anymore? Not to mention that it is supposed to only grow in Gardenia but he totally had one that was still alive in China. I don’t even know what to say anymore. I have run out of reactions over how incredibly illogical all of this is!

6x10:

- How many colleges are there and why have none of them ever come up before? I should be glad that they are giving us some tiny bit of worldbuilding but what we get is half assed as hell. We don’t even know where these things are or how they even help the Trix.

- Yeah, the Specialists AND the palladins are training at Alfea because THAT makes perfect sense. But OMG! Riven humoring Kiko and being so cheerful? with him? Absolute perfection!

- I am sick of the pixies. They weren’t so annoying in seasons 2 and 3. What happened?

- Oh, they brought back the freshmen? I thought no one would remember about them. I am pleasantly surprised for the second time in two minutes and I cannot believe it.

- They also unspelled Griffin? Nice.

- Am I the only one that is weirded out by the fact that everyone is referring to them as “the Winx” now? They just called them “girls” before. And even the dragon tamer from the previous episode referred to them that way which was just weird af.

- Aaaaaand Alfea just gained another facility. Not like that takes space or anything. And they were like “Oh, yeah, there was totes a greenhouse in this school and Flora didn’t know about it because it was abandoned BUT... it’s in perfect shape.” The bullshit is unreal once again.

- Omg, Stella and Brandon are so adorable! He is instantly humoring her and just rolling with her theatrical performance. They were made for each other.

- Yes, of course, Sky is the only one that is picking on the “wrong” vibes Selina is emitting. Because he is just so instinctive and it would be an opportunity for drama between him and Bloom (further supported by her just instantly trusting Selina and breaking Alfea protocol for it). Edit: There was no fight between Bloom and Sky about Selina, I can’t believe it! At this point they would throw just about anything between them so I am surprised that they didn’t use the opportunity.

- Wow. Does Stella really have to change their outfits every time they step into a different room? And she just left Selina out. It would have been weird to change her clothes as well but leaving her out was also just... odd.

- Plant monsters again? Didn’t they fight similar plants at one point? I honestly don’t remember when that was anymore but the ones they already fought looked like sunflowers. Maybe in Gardenia when Diana took over? That sounds right.

- Ah, this explains why they unspelled Griffin. That way they had all Palladium, Griffin and Selina pretending to be with them just so everything can piece together in a convenient way.

- Well, this is the most consistent Bloom has been ever since season 3. Something happens and she is instantly running back to Gardenia. At least the Winx tried to talk her out of it (and aww, precious Stella even crying over it!). And okay, I get she is upset that she nearly got Flora killed (love how Selina will never answer for that even though it was one of the closest calls ever) but she just wanted to protect a friend. She couldn’t have known what Selina was planning. And leaving now after they were in such a rush to find Eldora seems very counterproductive and selfish or at least self-absorbed on her part. They still have work to do.

6x11:

- There’s a Bloom dopelganger at Cloud Tower? Why are they even accepting students? And why did that fairy decide to join them (also, the hair cages are the stupidest thing ever)? They didn’t even give her a reason to do that. I almost feel like they only did it to show it’s possible to switch from being a fairy to being a witch in order to set up Selina’s story. Not like Mirta ever existed or anything. Or Faragonda for that matter (and yes, they switched from being a witch to being a fairy but that implies that the opposite is also possible).

- What, Griselda now has a problem with classical music? But I can’t believe we are seeing Roxy after she is done being useful to the plot. And it was nice to see her in a class in the previous episode.

- Why did Stella need to give them wings? We can go an episode without being reminded that she’s into fashion. And I hate how they are making Winx fight the second Bloom is not there. How is training gonna help if they can’t lock up the Legendarium? That should be a priority!

- Oh, god, the filler is unbearable (so I’m skipping it) and it’s not even giving a good perspective on the emotional mess which I think was the point. They could have done so much in the half an episode they wasted. (Also, how come Layla ended up with Nex when she seems to have more in common with Roy or at least get along with him better?)

- Even the Trix know that Bloom runs back to Earth every time there are consequences for her actions that she doesn’t want to face. But why vampires? And they made it sound like the idea of vampires exists only on Earth. That seems kinda weird.

- And the flower is in Gardenia. I mean, I knew that because I remember parts of the whole Eldora thing. But still.

- Yes, Layla and Stella are the only ones that grew up as princesses so only they can try to be leaders when Bloom is gone. I have to say that that shot of all of them hugging with Kiko but without Bloom is literally perfect for the rewrite I would do that has Layla as the main character and her and Stella are dating. (Why the hell did Bloom leave Kiko behind? She has NEVER done that before!)

- Oh, they’re energy vampires? They don’t drink blood? Or that’s just a paralyzing spell? Oh, wait, no. It’s a hypnotizing spell. I do hate to admit that that seems to be one of the abilities of vampires but they have reduced them to just that? And kinda draining energy? Booooooooring.

- Wait, the vampires are suddenly shooting beams out of their eyes somehow. ‘Cause that makes sense.

- At least Bloom realized that the Legendarium brought the vampires to life. I was just gonna say that it’s dumb of her to not figure that out after so many episodes.

- Well, this episode was completely pointless and could have been easily cut. So could have been the next, I’m guessing. The pixies were pointless as well because Bloom was going to run into the vampires sooner or later and Winx were supposed to go to Gardenia anyway because the flower is there. There was no need for any of this, really.

6x12:

- Poor Mike and Vanessa. They have been threatened so many times because Bloom will not face her problems and drags them with her to Gardenia. And they are still never complaining about it, never even for a second wished that she hadn’t found out the truth about herself. They are so precious, I love them!

- If you can’t stay at your home, why did you barricade yourself inside it? The logic.

- Of course, she doesn’t have a complete plan. Why would she? She didn’t have to stop and fight them. She could have just kept flying to get them far, far away. It’s clear that she is their target. And that would have bought her time to think.

- And once again, Winx show up just on time to save her. Couldn’t have let the vampires take a bite or two... Oh, wait. They don’t bite. Why would they? Not like that is literally the MAIN thing to a vampire.

- Oh, come on! She’s acting like they have been apart for ages and she abandoned them forever. And her little speech is annoying me because she sounds like she had an epiphany and I call bullshit on that. She was moping right up until the battle and then she clearly wasn’t thinking about ANYTHING.

- Stella legit turned Bloom into a broom?!?!?! For what possible reason? And was she planning to sweep the streets with Bloom’s hair. Very inappropriate even if I would have had nothing against seeing that.

- Oh, yeah. Great idea to leave behind the transformations and go all casual. They might have been able to fight back otherwise and we couldn’t have had that. They needed to be “enslaved” in order for something to appear to be happening.

- What do you mean Stella’s address is Alfea college? Her address should be on Solaria. And why did she just not put Mike and Vanessa’s address? That’s the only Earth address she could have used. But no! Her fashion obsession had to be dragged back in but at least this time it served some purpose.

- “Solar halo”? That sounds so cool. But did the vampire really leave two pixies “guard” against a fairy and four more pixies? How does that make sense? Your math does not add the fuck up! I know you’re undead but you must have some brains left in there.

- Oh, yeah, and the sunlight even breaks the vampires’ spell BEFORE destroying the vampires. NO.

- They make me sick as well, Darcy, don’t worry. They really left enough time for the fashion show as well? I am getting sick of this fashion obsession when there is nothing else going on! There is no plot. There is no point to these episodes.

- She wants inspiration? She didn’t have enough of that when they were fighting all the goth vampires? Though, I have to say that I really like the designs! She really mixed them up and I am so happy to see Stella designing something with a goth streak because it works for one of my ideas.

6x13:

- This is the most important pizza on a TV show ever. But I am so happy to see how excited Mike and Vanessa are to have all the girls together. They have basically adopted all of them at this point.

- Does this episode intend to start at some point? 1/4 is already done and they have not done anything AT ALL!

- Oh, the touch of Selina and Bloom feels is the first interesting thing.

- Even Mike has noticed how convenient it is that everything is in Gardenia. But wait, Bloom had a drawing of the flower and she didn’t remember it when she first saw it? Wow! They are amping up the ridiculousness even more.

- Wait, why did Bloom keep saying that she’s Bloom and Eldora keeps ignoring that? Isn’t Eldora supposed to be the one that remembers her and Bloom should be the one to have her memories wiped or whatever? Also, Eldora’s cheerfulness is exhausting me when it is coupled with her chaotic energy. That post about Eldora being a drunk Faragonda is too real since Faragonda’s cheerfulness and positivity is a lot more peaceful.

- Weren’t there supposed to be no more fairies on Earth after the Wizards of the Black Circle? Then how come Eldora and Selina were just fine? That is stupid and contradicts the entirety of season 4 but, of course, no one cares about continuity. What is that? If it doesn’t make money, it’s not of interest.

- Yeah, Selina’s backstory makes no sense because she wasn’t after power. She was happy with Eldora and then all of a sudden, boom! She’s evil. Yeah, right. And where did the being the witch of snakes come from? She has never been shown to... oh, wait! That was somehow relevant to the finale, wasn’t it? Ugggggh!

- Lmaooo, the Trix are writing their own critique on the whole thing. Yes, it is all the same old song and dance. I wish they would get more interesting powers. And instead we’re getting Mythix that is both ugly and unnecessary.

- Why didn’t the Winx try telling the Trix that Selina is playing them? That would have made things different.

- “I’m so over the Legendarium.” We all are, Layla. We all are.

- So Eldora is the fairy of flowers? Aka the previous Flora.

- A bit responsible? Yeah, guess who would have never found the Legendarium if not for her. And leaving it unprotected where it could find Selina was so incredibly stupid.

Part 2 is here.

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