#this has been finished for so long but i debated whether or not to upload it here lol i’m not super happy w it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

watchmegetobsessed · 2 years

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WILDEST FANTASIES (part 8)

⚫️A/N: alrighty, i feel like its a part we have all been waiting for, so i won't keep you guys up any longer! the credits for the inspo of the last scene goes out to that anon who sent me a prompt about it, i really loved it and decided to use it 👀

⚫️PAIRING: Professor!Harry X Reader

⚫️WARNING: sexual content

⚫️WORD COUNT: 7.7k

SERIES MASTERPOST

Something is off with you, Harry can feel it. Your text yesterday about having fun was so out of the blue and he couldn’t really put the pieces together. He didn’t tell you about the farewell dinner so you couldn’t possibly know he was going anywhere. If he is being honest, he was contemplating canceling just to be with you for a few hours, if it’s even just sitting in his car in a parking lot, but then Nina asked if she could ride with him so he had to go.

He tried to text you a few more times throughout the evening, but you ignored them all and then sent him a vague reply saying you had a lot to study. He had no reason to question if you were telling the truth or not, but it just didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

You haven’t texted him all day and it’s odd not to hear anything from you for so long. He is starting to worry that he did something to hurt you or what’s worse, you changed your mind about him.

“Alright, the final assignment is due tomorrow, please make sure to upload it in time, I don’t want to read excuse emails all weekend,” he sighs as he finishes his second to last class of the day. Students start packing and chatter fills the room as he sits back to his chair to gather his notes as well. As everyone flows out of the room they say their goodbye to the professor and he smiles back at the warmly.

Grabbing his phone he checks the screen but sees no new message from you so he decides to text you again.

HARRY: Having a busy day? Anyway, I’m thinking about you. As always.

As soon as he hits send, he cringes a bit. Was it too much? Is it why you’re so distant? Because he is being too intimate and not at all casual?

He stares at the message thread for a while, waiting for the three little dots to pop up as you type, but you don’t even open the message. Groaning, he locks the phone and gathering his stuff he heads back to his office. Nearing the building, he notices your figure lingering at the entrance, you seem like you’re debating whether you should go in or not. As far as he knows, you don’t have any classes in that building, so the only reason why you’d be here is to see him. However, it doesn’t make much sense after avoiding his texts all day.

As a sudden idea, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and dials your number, hiding behind a tree from where he can see you but you won’t spot him. He watches you get your phone from your coat’s pocket, staring down at the screen for way longer than Harry would like you to contemplate answering the call and just when he is sure you’ll decline the call you finally accept it.

“Hey,” he hears your voice only through the line, you’re standing too far from him to actually hear your voice.

“Hey, what’s up? Haven’t heard from you all day,” he clears his throat, trying to sound as casual as possible. His eyes are glued to you as you move to the edge of the pavement so you’re not in the way of anyone passing by.

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve been pretty busy with studying and everything…” you trail off, kicking the dirt around, crossing your free arm across your body as you keep the phone at your ear with the other. Even from afar, you seem stressed and maybe even uncomfortable to be talking to him, but he has no idea what happened that changed the dynamic between the two of you.

“Are you sure it’s just that? Don’t mean to be nosy, but you sound a little off. You know you can talk to me, right?”

You stay still, staring down at your feet before he sees you shaking your head and running a hand through your hair. Now he knows something is up and he is determined to figure out what it is.

“Do I know?” you ask back and it’s like a punch in his stomach. “I mean, I didn’t know we were doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Like… the talking and… connecting.”

This is not making sense to him, last time you saw each other was in class and you were your usual self, but now… it’s like you’re trying to keep him at an arm’s distance for some reason, but he has no idea why.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” he breathes out, panic rising in his guts.

“No, what are we doing?” you snap back and he sees how you spin around angrily. “I just…”

“Talk to me, please! Because I really don’t know where this is heading and it’s stressing me out.”

“That’s the thing, where is this heading, Harry? What is this exactly?”

“Is that what’s bothering you? That there’s no label on it?”

“Honest to God, I have no idea what’s bothering me exactly,” you admit. “It’s all just a mess in my head.”

“But what messed it up? You seemed alright just yesterday, did something happen?”

You hesitate and he fights the urge to just walk over to you and talk in person. It would look creepy though if he just appeared and talking so openly is not a bright idea either around here.

“Maybe… we should talk things out,” you offer and though it’s not an answer to his question, it’s still something he can work with.

“Yes, of course. Are you free right now?” he asks, his heart hammering in his chest as he stares at your figure in the distance. You glance up at the building and then turning around you start walking away, his heart sinking.

“No, not really. But I can drop by your office tomorrow late afternoon.”

“Alright, sure. If you want, you can spend tomorrow night at my place too, we can extend your stay,” he says, as you walk out of his sight.

“I’m not sure about that. But I have to go now.”

“Okay, take care.”

“You too. Bye.”

The line goes dead before he could look at the screen.

Keeping yourself away from Harry is like staying away from chocolate when you’re on diet. Torturous.

It’s not what you want, but you figured it’s what you need. Jealousy has been eating you away since you heard him and Professor Alvarez in his office and you know it’s immature not to talk to him, but you feel like you need time to think it through before actually having a conversation with him. His phone call surprised you yesterday, especially because you were just in front of the building where his office is, contemplating to see if he is there. Hearing his voice almost broke your tough act, you wanted nothing else than to throw yourself into his arms, but you need to be rational now.

You can’t jump into this head first if he is not even on the same page as you. You’re aware you never agreed that this would be something exclusive, that neither of you will be seeing other people, but it felt like you had a silent agreement.

Guess you were wrong.

Keeping yourself away for a bit from Harry was necessary because you didn’t want to act out of anger and pure jealousy, making yourself look like an immature baby. No, you want to approach the matter like an adult, a grown woman you want Harry to see you as.

Making it through Friday is a pain in the ass. You keep checking the time every five minutes even though you’re not meeting him until just late in the afternoon. You wanted to think out everything you’re gonna say and ask, but as the day carries on, your mind empties out and you have no idea how this is going to go down.

You’re still planning to go to Zion’s birthday party today, right after meeting Harry so you can just go straight to the bar and get shitfaced right away in case your conversation with him doesn’t end well.

When your classes finally end you rush home to change and get ready for the evening. You’ve already planned out what you want to wear and you’d be lying if you said the outfit was meant to get Zion’s attention. You’re more curious to see Harry’s face when he sees you in a black corset, a black, sheer long sleeve top underneath and your favorite tight jeans with knee-high, black boots. The corset is your secret weapon, only wear it on special occasions and today you want Harry to regret ever even thinking about another woman.

Is it petty? Probably, but you still want it.

You look hot. As you stare at your reflection in your full body length mirror, you come to the conclusion that if Harry won’t be affected by just seeing you in this outfit, he is not worth the stress and time you’ve been wasting on him.

“You’ve got this,” you nod at yourself before grabbing your coat and heading out.

Harry has finished his last class a while ago and has been sitting in his office anxiously waiting around for you to show up, unable to focus on anything. It’s been a struggle he’s been facing since you’ve came into his life for sure, he feels like a lovesick teenager having a crush and dreaming about her day and night.

But for fuck’s sake, he is thirty-two, a grown man, and yet, he still has his knickers in a twist even at just the thought of you, he needs to get his shit together. Hopefully, this situation will be sorted out today.

He fights the urge to text you to see if you’re already on your way to his office, he is not trying to look like a desperate loser though he definitely feels like one. Busying himself with sorting out one of his shelves, putting the books he doesn’t need into a box that’s been lying on the floor for weeks, he is able to get his thoughts off of you just for the shortest time. That is until he realizes he is standing right where he had you pinned against the shelves not long ago the day when you left your second writing on his car. He will never forget the way you begged him to just think about giving you a chance. He was so close to fucking you right then at that moment, just press you against the shelves, have your legs hook around his hips and pound into you. Nothing has ever needed that much of his self-control in his life and if only Nina didn’t interrupt the moment, he would have snapped.

Now that the turning point has happened and he has had a taste of you, he is hooked. Completely intoxicated by you and he hasn’t even fucked you. He knows that when the moment comes, it’ll be the end of him.

When he hears footsteps approaching his office he knows it’s you. He is not sure if it’s because he recognizes your steps or it’s just a sixth sense he has developed to always be aware of your presence, but he takes a deep breath running a hand through his hair right when he hears the knocking on the door.

“Come in!” he calls out. The doorknob turns and when the door opens and he sees your figure behind it, the air gets caught in his throat.

The corset. The damn corset. He is not sure if he wants to rip it off of your body or wants nothing else but that on you while he fucks you until you forget your own name.

“Hey,” you breathe out as you walk inside, closing the door behind you, taking a few steps further into the room, seemingly feeling out of place.

“Hi! You look… uhh, you look amazing, Y/N,” he says as he can’t take his eyes off of the way the corset pushes your breasts up, the swell of them on showcase through the sheer top. His mouth salivates.

“Thanks,” you nod, chewing on your bottom lip and he doesn’t miss the way the corners of your mouth curls up the slightest.

Rounding his desk he gets to the front of it and leans against it, hands holding onto the edge as he looks at you, not quite sure how to start this.

“So, will you tell me what I did that upset you?” he asks softly.

“You didn’t do anything you shouldn’t have,” you start, thinking your words through carefully as you speak. “I guess I just put things into a different lighting.”

“Do you mind explaining that to me? Because I’m a little lost right now.”

Before you could answer, your phone starts ringing and letting out a sigh you fish it out of your purse, seeing Zion’s name on the screen.

“Just give me a second,” you tell Harry as you answer the call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, when are you planning to arrive?” he asks, judging from his voice he is quite enjoying himself, maybe he has already started pre-gaming for the party.

“Um, not sure, I have to take care of something quickly.”

Harry catches most of what Zion says on the other end of the line and he is not at all pleased that you’re talking to another guy when you’re supposed to be talking to him. Jealousy bubbles in his chest and it clouds his mind more than he could control. Clenching his jaw, he keeps listening to your conversation.

“Do you need a ride? I can get one of my friends come and get you if you want.”

“No need, I’m alright. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay, just let me know if you change your mind. Can’t wait to see you!”

“Thank you, see you soon. Bye,” you say quickly before ending the call. When you look back at Harry you see the change in him loud and clear. The way he stands, how he is looking at you, it’s not how he welcomed you just moments ago into his office.

“You’re seeing someone tonight?” he asks, the sass in his tone is impossible to miss.

“I have plans,” you nod shortly.

“With the same guy from the gala?” he cocks his head to the side and you don’t like the attitude he is giving you right now, as if you did something wrong.

“Yes, I’m seeing Zion tonight. Is there a problem with that?” you sass back.

“So you’re seeing the guy you were on a date earlier. That says a lot,” he nods pursing his lips and you already know where this is heading.

“I told you, that wasn’t a date. And you’re the last one to hold shit like that against me, Harry.”

“What does that supposed to mean? I’m not parading around dressed like this, begging for every man’s attention on campus!” he snaps and he regrets his words the moment they roll off his tongue. It was harsh, way meaner than he intended, but he can’t take them back and the look on your face now feels like a punch into his stomach.

“Well, that was a nice way to call me a whore, thank you. I’m out of here.”

You turn on your heels and march up to the door as Harry calls after you frantically, but you have no intention of stopping. You came here with a plan to talk it out maturely, you mustered up all your courage and rationality to have this conversation in an effective way and he threw that right out the window, so now you have to get away from him before you say something you might regret.

“Y/N! Y/N, wait!” he calls after you, but you don’t even react. “Fuck,” he mumbles as running back to his desk he grabs his stuff, locks the office and bolts after you.

You’re out of the building by the time he catches up with you and now that you’re out in the public, the situation just became a lot more limited. Harry finally reaches you and grabbing a hold of your arm he pulls you back, turning you around.

“Hey, don’t walk away when we are having a conversation!”

“It’s not a conversation I want to keep having, if you haven’t realized,” you snap back, but realize you should keep your voice down before someone catches onto what’s happening.

“I didn’t mean it like that, okay? It came out entirely wrong, I just…”

“You just what?” you hiss back at him. “You just assumed shit about me from the tiniest fraction of information and didn’t even let me explain myself!”

“It was a mistake, okay? Can we actually talk this out? Because—“

“Hello, Professor Styles!”

A group of girls walk past the two of you, interrupting the heated conversation. Harry’s jaw clenches as he takes a tiny step away from you, shooting a tightlipped smile towards the girls.

“Hello, Brooklyn,” he grumbles, nodding his head. The girls seem giddy by getting noticed by him and you want to claw their eyes out seeing the way they are gawking at him. The two of you wait in silence until they are out of hearing range before he leans back closer to you.

“Come to my place, we can talk there.”

“I don’t have the time,” you answer right away, keeping up the tough act.

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re gonna be late to meeting him,” he growls, his eyes on fire as he exhales sharply through his nose.

“Or what? Feels shitty when you’re not the only one, huh?”

He picks up on the spite in your tone, but he can’t put the picture together just yet. However, he knows he has to get to the end of it or he’ll lose his mind.

“Get in my car, now,” he orders and starts walking towards his car that’s parked near the building, in sight from where you’re standing. You follow him to the car, but don’t make an attempt to get in and Harry notices right away. Walking around the vehicle he opens the passenger side’s door and looks around to make sure the air is clear before he steps so close to you, his chest is almost pressing up against yours. “Get in there or I’ll do it myself, Y/N. I don’t fucking care who you’re trying to fuck tonight, we’re gonna have this talk.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the threat and it definitely ignites a fire between your legs. You hate yourself for loving it so much when he is so dominant and bossy, makes you want to fall to your knees for him no matter what.

Running your tongue over your lips you keep eye contact with him for a few more seconds before climbing into the car. Harry shuts the door angrily and the sound of it makes you jump a little. He gets behind the wheel a moment later and you leave the parking lot in complete silence.

You feel like a kid who got into trouble and her dad had to come pick her up, but it’s ridiculous, because you didn’t even do anything. If someone is in trouble, it should be him for going on casual dates with Professor Alvarez and then getting mad when you’re seeing other people as well, even though you’re not interested in hooking up with Zion again, he is genuinely just a friend.

Arriving to Harry’s house he parks down without a word and gets out of the car, heading to the front door without even checking if you’re following. The childish part of you would love to throw a tantrum for the lack of attention, but you’re also very confused about what’s gonna happen now. Folding your arms on your chest you drag yourself after him, reaching him just when he opens the door and he holds it open for you to walk in first, still a gentleman. Nothing has changed since the last time you were here last weekend, but it still feels like it’s been an eternity since you sucked his dick while the pasta was boiling that evening.

You shimmy yourself out of your coat and drape it across the back of the couch and you lean against it as well, staring back at him, waiting for him to make the next step, because he was the one who basically dragged you here like an absolute caveman.

Harry has gotten rid of his own coat and he is now standing a few feet away from you, hands on his hips as he is seemingly trying to figure out what to do or say.

“What did you mean when you said it feels shitty when you’re not the only one?” he then finally asks, eyes snapping up to meet your gaze. His stare is so intense, you have to look away from him, because you feel it in your guts.

“I meant that it’s bold of you to get mad at me for spending time with someone else when you’ve been going on little dates with Professor Alvarez.”

“With Nina?!” he asks in confusion and you hate it that he calls her by her first name.

“So she’s just Nina to you, huh?” you scoff, though deep down you know you’re being petty.

“She is just a friend of mine, Y/N. I thought we were over this, that dinner was nothing but something to pass time with while you were here that day.”

“I’m not talking about only that. I heard the two of you the other day, don’t try to lie to me,” you spite back, finally looking at him as your anger bubbles in your chest.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t go to dinner with her on Wednesday, I heard her in your office, when you talked about going together and how excited she was about the place you were going to,” you scoff, mocking her voice as you speak.

“Y/N, we did go to dinner, but not just the two of us. It was Dr. Kennedy’s retirement dinner with a bunch of other people from the department!”

All blood rushes out of your head as you realize that you’ve fucked up. Big time. You were the one to assume first from hearing just a few words of a conversation and it didn’t even occur to you that it was something entirely different than what you thought.

“Well,” you start, holding onto the remainder of your pride, “I might have been wrong, but that doesn’t change the fact that she wants more than just friendship from you.”

“First of all, she doesn’t,” he replies and you roll your eyes at him, he is such a blind, gullible man. “Second, if she does, that has nothing to do with me, because I don’t want her like that, we are just good friends, won’t be anything else.”

“Oh, so you can spend time with people who want to fuck you, but I can’t?” you point out pursing your lips, pretending to be thinking hard about how all of this is fair.

“But I never fucked Nina! You can’t say the same thing about your little friend!” he snaps back.

“And what does that have to do with you, huh? We never even agreed on what this is, you don’t have the right to tell me who I can meet!”

“We never agreed because you never even gave me the chance to bring it up, you’ve been fucking avoiding me for days, telling me you have shit to do when you’re literally in front of the building when we’re on the phone!”

“You fucking saw me?” you gasp. “And you just pretended like you didn’t?”

“I wanted to see your reaction, because you weren’t saying shit to me,” he throws at you. “Turns out you were being distant because you were reconnecting with your fuck buddy!”

“I’m not trying to fuck Zion! The only person I’m trying to fuck is you!” At this point, you lose your temper and throw all your plans out the window to keep your cool and be mature. “I’m going insane thinking about you with anyone else, because why wouldn’t you want someone else, we never agreed that it’s exclusive and I’m not a mature, hot, age appropriate professor you work with, I literally had to beg you to even give me a chance! I’m trying to save myself from the pain for when you’ve had enough of me, when you get bored of me!”

With your chest heaving, you unload all your fears and doubts you couldn’t get rid of. In the meanwhile, he just stands there, completely still, staring back at you with his lips slightly parted.

“I can’t stop thinking about you and I’m so afraid that once you get what you want from me, you’ll just… throw me away.” By the end of the sentence your voice dies down and you stare back at Harry trying your best to hold your tears back that are threatening to spill. It’s the reason why you were so bothered by the thought of him and Professor Alvarez spending time together, because deep down you’ve convinced yourself that he would choose her in a heartbeat and you’d end up with a broken heart, because your feelings for him are more than just a physical attraction and it scares you that he might not return these feelings.

As you stare at Harry, you’re afraid this outburst just ruined all of your chances. That this is going to be the moment when he tells you to leave and never talk to him again and that will be the end of it. You’re bracing yourself for the worst, your insides trembling as he just keeps staring at you without a word and it’s making you lose your mind.

And then it all happens so fast.

One moment you’re about to start crying, the next he closes the distance between the two of you and his lips crash down against yours, hands grabbing onto the back of your thighs, urging you to jump and you obey blindly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kisses you like his life depends on it.

You forget everything you just unloaded on him, the only thing that matters is the way your body is pressed up against his, his fingers digging into your thighs, lips devouring yours and his tongue is classing against yours violently. He is rushed and wild, not holding himself back at all as he starts walking, but you’re too busy kissing him back to check where he is taking you.

A moment later your ass lands on something hard and when he pulls back, gasping for air, you realize that you’re sitting on top of his dining table.

“Y/N, I can’t fucking stop thinking about you. You’re making me go crazy. If you think that I could even look at another woman, you’re out of your mind.”

With a growl, he is back at attacking your lips and you can’t hold your moan back as he jerks you forward, your core meeting his groin and you can already feel him hardening in his pants. His hands rush to the top of the corset, but with his mouth on yours he can’t figure out how to get it off of you.

“This fucking… thing,” he breathes out, tearing himself away from you as he focuses on the corset.

“They are just like bra hooks,” you chuckle out of breath, showing him how to get it off. Once he gets the hang of it, he is quick to unhook the whole thing and it falls from around your abdomen, leaving you only in your sheer top. The corset has enough support that you don’t need a bra underneath, so your breasts are now on full display in front of his greedy eyes. For a few long minutes, he is just staring at you, his breathing still rapid and heavy and then his gaze snaps up to meet yours.

“And you were gonna meet another guy like this?”

“Well, I had the corset on, so—“

You don’t get to finish, he kisses you again, hard, and he is quick to rid you of that sheer top before his mouth moves down the column of your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin until he reaches your breasts. He is leaning onto you so much that you’re almost lying on top of the table as his mouth covers your nipple, a deep moan rumbling through your chest at the feeling of his lips and tongue on you.

“Fuck! Oh my God,” you gasp for air, his hand kneading your other breast, pinching your nipple to rile you up more.

“Do you still want to meet your friend? You want to leave, Y/N?” he asks against your skin, eyes flickering up to you as he watches you come undone underneath him.

“No, I just want you!” you whine, so desperate for him like never before.

With a hand on your chest, he pushes you down until you’re actually lying on top of the table, he straightens up and takes a moment to just look at you, topless, completely gone for him. It’s a sight he could get used to for the end of time.

He takes off your boots, though mentally he is already thinking of the time he’ll fuck you in them and only them. Throwing to the side he unbuttons your pants and drags them off you, leaving you in only your simple black thong. It’s not as fancy as the one you had on last time you were here, but you couldn’t care less about your lingerie right now.

Feeling a bit too exposed with him still fully dressed, you involuntarily move an arm to cross over your chest, but he is quick to stop you, his hand wrapping around your wrist to keep it by your side.

“Don’t even think about covering up. I want to see what’s mine,” he growls and you gasp at his words.

His. You’re his.

“I want to see you too,” you beg him, maneuvering your hand until you can lace your fingers together with his, squeezing it.

Licking his lips, he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach before he pulls back and takes his t-shirt off, revealing his naked torso with all the tattoos you want to trace with your fingers until you know them by heart. Keeping his gaze on you, he unbuttons his pants and takes his sweet time tugging them off, leaving him only in his boxer briefs, his cock deliciously hard against the elastic fabric.

Hooking his fingers into your underwear, he pulls them off of you, throwing it behind him before his hands push your knees apart, exposing you fully to him.

“This sweet little cunt has been stuck on my mind 24/7 these past weeks,” he murmurs, bringing a finger to your pussy, slowly running it between your wet folds, teasing you with how gentle he is when all you want is to be ruined by him. “I don’t want anyone else to even think about having you like this. I want to be the only one.”

“You are the only one!” you gasp, when he starts to draw circles to your sensitive clit, smearing your arousal across your soft skin.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N? Is that what you want?”

“Yes! Please!” you cry out, when he pushes one single finger into you, knowing how crazy he is driving you with not giving you what you want. Deep down you know it’s kind of a punishment.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, professor! Please, fuck me!”

“Good girl, knows exactly what I want to hear,” he smiles at you wickedly before he leans down and brings you joy with that perfect mouth of his.

“Oh, fuck!” you gasp, because he is not holding back on you, sucking and licking as if you were his favorite treat. Boys you’ve been with kind of just pretended like they knew what they were doing when they went down on you, but Harry is a fucking professional, could make you come with just his mouth and tongue in minutes.

You cry out in pain when he stops abruptly, but you don’t have much chance to protest, he scoops you up from the bed until you have your arms and legs wrapped around him and he takes you straight to his bedroom while you kiss him wherever you can reach, his neck, jawline, biting his earlobe gently before he throws you to his med, climbing on top of you, his lips crashing down against yours right away. Running your hands down his back, you grab onto his ass, bringing him closer to you, both of you moaning when his erection presses against your wet cunt.

“Impatient, huh?” he growls against your mouth, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“This foreplay needs to end,” you breathe out, making him chuckle, but it quickly turns into a moan, when you bring a hand to his crotch and palm him through his underwear. Hooking your fingers into the elastic, you drag it down just enough to free him and while your hand wraps around his cock, he gets rid of the last piece of clothing he was wearing. Holding himself up above you, his head falls forward, forehead resting against your chest as you start pumping him, imagining what it’ll feel like to finally have him inside of you.

Harry reaches to the nightstand and grabs a condom from the drawer. His cock slips out from your hold as he kneels up, tearing the package open with his teeth. He watches you intently as he rolls the condom on and you’re on the verge of passing out, that’s how badly you want him. This moment has been keeping you on the edge for so long now, it almost appears like another of your fantasies.

“I’m only doing this if you tell me you’re mine. I will not be sharing you with anyone, Y/N. I’m a very jealous man, if you haven’t realized it.”

He just stares down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he holds his cock with one hand, ready to finally take you.

“I’m yours. All yours,” you gasp, your hips buckling at the sight of him. He exhales sharply through this nose, his hand that’s not busy with his cock grabs onto your thigh and he digs his fingers into the trembling muscles.

“Fuck, you are ruining me, Y/N,” he breathes out as he lines himself up with you, but only pushes the head inside. He stops and then comes back on top of you, his chest pressing against yours as his lips capture your mouth in a searing kiss, his hips moving forward slowly as he fills you up entirely.

“Oh my God,” you moan into his mouth, his big, thick cock stretching your walls out slowly and he gives you time to adjust to his size, staying still as he kisses your face all over, murmuring sweet nothings as you focus on your breathing.

“You’re fucking perfect. So perfect for me, Y/N. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

His hand squeezes your hip, moving up your side and ribs, kneading your burning body as you finally feel confident that you’ll be able to take him.

“You can move,” you tell him, your voice barely more than just a whisper.

“I’m gonna start slow,” he tells you, his lips brushing against yours and you nod. “And then I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

Just as the words roll off his tongues, he pulls back and thrusts forward again, starting off in a slow rhythm just as he promised. You pull your knees up and hook a leg around his waist, your heel digging into his perky ass as the muscles keep flexing with his movements.

When you thought about this moment before, you were convinced you’d freak out at least a bit, feel like it’s all just a dream, but now that it’s actually happening, you’ve gone to a zone where nothing else exists, just you and Harry.

“Fuck, you’re so big, Harry,” you moan, when he starts to pick his pace up a bit, his hips slapping against yours in a sturdy rhythm.

“Bigger than you imagined, hm?” he growls into your neck before biting the soft skin under your jaw.

“So much bigger!”

Hooking an arm under your left leg, he lifts it until he can put it to his shoulder, reaching a whole new angle now, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N. It’s like you were made for me,” he moans, his stray curls falling to his forehead as he keeps pounding into you and he is so deep inside you with each thrusts that your orgasm is threatening to set you on fire sooner than it ever happened.

“Harry, I’m gonna come!” you warn him, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Come for me, baby. Want to feel you come so I can give you more,” he urges you, his mouth capturing your lips in a greedy kiss and relief rips through your insides, your walls tightening around his cock as he keeps fucking you, even when you scream his name. “So fucking pretty, I want to see you like this every day,” he pants as you try to catch your breath and he stops for a bit, letting your leg drop from his shoulder so he can wedge himself fully onto you, kissing you deep and hard, still inside you.

You’re seeing stars, this was better than any fantasy you’ve had of him, and it’s not even over yet.

Harry pushes himself up and you whine painfully when his cock slips out of you. You’re still sensitive after your orgasm, but also ready to take whatever he is about to do to you.

“Turn around for me. I want to see that pretty ass,” he tells you as he sits back to his heels, giving you space to move. Your muscles protest as you roll over to your stomach, getting yourself up on all four, your ass sticking up to the air for him and Harry swears he has never seen anything prettier than that. Your delicious ass, your wet folds and pink, glistening pussy, waiting to be fucked just by him. He could cry.

“If only I knew you’ve been sitting on this ass in my class…” he sighs as he kneels up, his hands kneading your ass cheeks, admiring the view in front of him, even giving it a smack, making you gasp at the impact.

“What would have you done, professor?” you coo, glancing over your shoulder and you almost squirm as you see him there, behind you, watching you with a hunger in his eyes you’ve never seen.

“This,” he growls and with one swift movement, he thrusts into you.

Grabbing onto your hips he starts off in a quick pace this time, not bothering to build it up like before. Now he is going rough, his hips slapping against your ass every time his cock buried balls deep inside you.

“Go as hard as you want,” you pant, even though your thighs are aching and you just know his fingers are digging into you so harshly, you’ll have marks on you in the morning. But it doesn’t matter, all you want is to please him better than anyone has ever, to leave a mark in him so he’ll never forget you.

“Y/N,” he grunts as one of his hands come to your back and he pushes you down until your face presses into the pillow, your knees slipping out from underneath you, but you try to keep your ass up for him as he fucks you so good. He holds himself up on his hands on either side of your head and brings one of yours behind you until you reach his hips and hold onto him while he pounds into you relentlessly.

“Harry, I’m getting close again,” you gasp, feeling your second orgasm building up in the pit of your tummy.

At your words, he pushes himself up and off of you, but this time he pulls you with him, your back smacking against his chest, your skin sticking to his as your sweat mixes. He wraps his arms around your abdomen, the two of you working together to find the best position possible. You settle on his lap, arching your back so he can still go deep inside you, your head falls back to his shoulder and his hands come up to your breasts as he starts thrusting again.

“God, Y/N, I can’t fucking believe you,” he moans, sucking in your throat, your whole body shaking at this point. “You’re mine, all of you. Mine.”

“Yes, Harry! Oh my—Ah!” You reach behind him with one hand, grabbing onto his hair harshly while your other one comes to his thigh, the roughness of his hair feels so good underneath your palm, you dig your fingers into the muscles almost exactly where his tiger tattoo is.

“Come for me again, Y/N!” he grunts and you turn your head until your lips could meet his, just when your relief washes over you so suddenly, you forget to breathe for a moment. “Oh my God, I feel your pussy tighten around me, so fucking good,” he cries out and as you remember to breathe again, his thrusts fall out of rhythm and he comes, hard and loud, one hand groping your breast, the other one clasping your stomach as he holds onto you desperately, your mouths melting together, his moan becoming yours and vice versa.

At last, he stops moving, but stays inside of you, and once he has caught his breath, he starts peppering the side of your face, your neck and shoulder with soft kisses. You feel like a ragdoll, your limbs are sore and your pussy is completely destroyed, but you’ve also never felt better.

Harry carefully pulls his softening cock out of you, a whine slipping through your swollen lips as he maneuvers the two of you until you’re lying comfortably on the mattress.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He gets rid of the used condom, throwing it to the little bin next to his night stand before he cradles you into his arms and you gladly cuddle to his side, laying your head onto his chest. As you’re mindlessly drawing around his butterfly tattoo with your finger, a smirk tugs on your lips, growing wider and wider with each passing moment while Harry’s hand is gently rubbing your naked back. Lifting your head you look at him, your chest practically bursting from happiness.

“What got you so smiley?” he chuckles softly, his hand coming from your back to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.

“You.”

“Okay,” he smirks.

“So… what does all of this mean?” you ask the question that didn’t get discussed before he jumped at you.

“I’ve told you I’m not the type to do casual. I don’t want that with you either.”

“Then what do you want?” you ask cheekily.

“All of you,” he answers simply.

“So like… I would be your girlfriend?” you ask, feeling like a giddy teenager who is about to have her first boyfriend.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. I want you to be mine.”

“And you would be mine?”

“Absolutely,” he nods, a warm smile spreading across his face as he cranes his neck and you push yourself up until your lips meet in a sweet, chaste kiss. Laying your head back to his chest you sigh happily, you still haven’t wrapped your head entirely around everything that just happened, but it’s slowly settling inside you.

Your hand wanders down his stomach until you find his cock that’s already stiffening again. This man has the stamina of an athlete in his twenties, it’s unbelievable. Driven by a sudden idea, you push yourself up and straddle him with a coy smile.

“What are you doing, hm?” he hums, hands coming to rub your thighs on his sides. You wrap a hand around his cock to help him get fully hard as you bore your eyes into his.

“I want to do something. And I want to do it raw. I’m on the pill and I trust you,” you say, giving him the chance to protest. You would have told him to ditch the condom earlier, but you were so in the zone, you couldn’t have gotten a word out.

“I trust you too,” he nods and then watches you as you lift yourself up just enough to position him to your entrance and then you slowly ease yourself down, his cock filling you up again.

“I’m gonna spell out who my pussy belongs to,” you smirk, biting into your bottom lip as his eyebrows rise up curiously.

“Oh, yeah?” he chuckles and you nod. “Okay, let’s see then.”

You steady yourself, hands on his abdomen on either side of the butterfly tattoo before you start moving your hips carefully, a moan slipping through your lips from feeling him moving inside you.

“H…” he murmurs the first letter and you keep moving. “A...”

“Mhmm,” you giggle softly.

“R… R…”

“Very good,” you praise him, gasping as your walls tighten around him while you draw the last letter out with your hips.

“And… Y.”

“So, who does my pussy belong to?” you ask coyly, lying down on top of him, your chest pressing against his while he is still inside you. His arms come to wrap around you as you cup his face in your hands. Harry pulls his knees up and starts thrusting upwards, his uncovered cock gliding perfectly inside you.

“Mine,” he breathes out. “All mine.”

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #professor!harry #wildest fantasies #harry styles smut

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plesiosaurchestra · 2 years

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As promised, here is my analysis on Nyan~ Neko Sugar Girls.

Before reading, please be aware that the show touches on sensitive subject matter, such as death, illness, abuse, toxic relationships, Stockholm syndrome, and sexual assault.

Nyan~ Neko Sugar Girls, a series created by Yoli-chan from SoapOpera46 on YouTube, has long been a subject of debate among internet users. While at first it seems ridiculous that the creation a show that looks like it was made in MSPaint is still being debated today, the more you analyze the situation the more bizarre the series gets.

The main debate that rose from Nyan~ Neko Sugar Girls’ creation, is whether or not the series was made poorly as a joke, or if it was a genuine attempt at making a fanime. It is my personal belief, that the series was made by Yoli-chan as a joke. While advice for either side of the argument is few and far between, I believe I’ve found more evidence in favor of the series being a parody. Most damning is the fact that Yoli-chan didn’t use her trademark anime-esque typing quirks until she uploaded the first episode of Nyan~ Neko Sugar Girls in 2010.

I also feel like it’s worth mentioning a certain joke in episode three, in which Hitoshi-san was about to say that they lived in America before correcting himself. In the context of this show being made unironically, this would make no sense because in the video they draw a lot of attention to Hitoshi saying this by adding an American flag in the background but in the context of this being made as a joke it makes a lot more sense. Most likely Yoli-chan is poking fun at her supposed surface level understanding of life in Japan.

So I lead myself to the conclusion that Yoli-chan is satirizing...something, but I was unsure as to what she is satirizing exactly. I formed a list of various anime genres she might be parodying, such as shoujo, harem, ecchi, and drama. I was originally going to write about how the series is meant to be satirizing the anime fanbase as a whole, but I ended writing myself into a corner with that one. So I went back to harems, an idea I had originally only written down to fill space, an idea that I overlooked. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made.

Our protagonist oddly enough, isn’t Raku-chan. The true protagonist is actually Hitoshi-san. Harem animes tend to focus on the love interests rather than the main character, so there’s no problems there. The true problem lied in Hitoshi-san himself, who was far too interesting to be a generic harem protagonist (it’s a low bar to reach). He’s charismatic, emotional, flirty, and a jokester which are all very rare traits for a protagonist in the genre to have. In the context of a genre deconstruction however, these traits make a lot more sense. Hitoshi deconstructs the stereotypical generic protagonist in his introduction scene.

Before he is introduced, the only other time that we see him is in the opening, and compared to the other girls his appearance is a bit more generic. Unlike Raku and Koneko -who are shown walking and having their hair dramatically flow in the wind- Hitoshi just awkwardly bobs up and down. He wears a black shirt and blue jeans, and lacks any notable features like cat ears or a tail. We don’t think much of him, but he’s likely going to be important judging by his presence in the theme song. During the episode after Raku-chan and Koneko-chan finish eating, Raku’s head quickly darts over her shoulder and she exclaims: “Koneko-chan! Look at that guy over there! He’s so sugoi!” This is where we are properly introduced to Hitoshi-san, who wastes no time (awkwardly) flirting with the girls and delivering his signature catchphrase. From this Raku-chan falls in love at first sight and we know that he is by no means a vanilla protagonist. This leaves us with one other question though, if Hitoshi-san is the protagonist, then who is Raku-chan?

Raku-chan is supposed to be a character who can be described a number of different ways: the Betty, the nice girl, the girl next door, the childhood friend, but I feel that a phrase that encompasses all of these is “The First Girl”. In harem animes and the romance genre as a whole, the first girl serves as a base template and a set-up for potential subversions. She’s likely a neighbor or a childhood friend -or at least someone who acts like one of those things-. From a grab-bag of traits she can be kind, energetic, playful, intelligent, honest, and upstanding. She cares about the protagonist like a friend, but secretly she wants more. Most importantly, it’s unlikely that she will end up with the protagonist in the end.

Since episode one -other than her loud voice- her most notable trait was her hopeless infatuation with Hitoshi-san. As strange as she may be, she fits plenty of the tropes she’s kindhearted and acts like an old friend to Hitoshi despite them just meeting. The love part’s pretty obvious, and so is the rejection. She falls in love with Hitoshi, only for him to end up with Bokutachi instead. I’ll get to how she’s a subversion, but first I have to talk about Bokutachi-san himself.

Bokutachi-san is the closest the series ever gets to having a true “villain”. He kidnaps Hitoshi-san and talks about his intentions to “have his way” with him. After Hitoshi-san is saved by Koneko-chan and Raku-chan, Hitoshi-san seems to suffer from some form of Stockholm syndrome which caused him to fall in love with his captor. This would eventually lead to Hitoshi-san rejecting Raku-chan’s love confession, which leads to her untimely death which Bokutachi then mocks Hitoshi with. Oh yeah, Raku-chan dies, of a broken heart to be specific. Before this we were lead on to believe that she was going to die from either rabies or a neko demon. Needless to say the entire series gets very strange after Raku-chan gets rabies from a squirrel.

There are a lot of parallels between tropes found in harem anime and Nyan~ Neko Sugar Girls, but what does it all mean? What’s Yoli-chan trying to say? My guess is that she’s trying to satirize toxic relationships being used as plot devices in the romance genre. Here’s how:

1. Raku-chan is established as an angelic archetype of sorts. She’s innocent, loves Christmas, and her possession by the neko demon causes her to grow angelic bird wings instead of reptilian wings that you’d expect from a demon. (Not to mention that after her death the normal end credits song is replaced Koneko-chan singing Last Christmas)

2. Bokutachi-san is the villain and an abusive partner. He starts the conflict of the anime, kidnaps and ties up Hitoshi-san, and intended to assault him.

3. Hitoshi-san inexplicably falls in love with Bokutachi-san in spite of the abuse and trauma he went through.

4. Raku-chan (the angel) dies due to Hitoshi-san choosing to stay with his abuser.

Did Yoli-chan intend for this series to be interpreted in such a way? Probably not, but it’s certainly quite a strange coincidence considering how a bunch of this fits together.

#ampere.txt #nyan neko sugar girls #analysis

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mackjlee9 · 3 years

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Flirty!Corpse x Flirty!Male!Reader [Fluff?]

[I don't feel comfortable giving Corpse a real name, so in every one shot you would refer to him as "Corpse" or any other pet name.]

(Okay, for the channel name think of something that could have a nickname for you, mine would be JeyK and Corpse would call me Jey, but if you want you can make it as if he calls your real/oc name.)

Masterlist

A sigh left my mouth as I finished uploading a video playing Party Animals with some of my friends. I leaned back on my chair, thinking about what my subscribers had been asking me.

My best friend has a channel on Twitch and he had been talking about me to his viewers, saying something along the lines of 'he has such a deep and sexy voice... I'm kinda gay for him, honestly.'

It made me laugh I'm not going to lie, but I also felt really insecure about my voice, again. Even more now that people had been asking for a voice reveal, which was making me extremely anxious. It's been almost a year since I started my YouTube channel, and I had quite a big number of subs, but it wasn't massive, mainly because I did gameplays and that's it.

And that's what has been stressing me out.

So I was debating whether I should do it or not.

But for now, I grabbed my phone and checked Twitter, people were already commenting about the gameplay while others were asking for a voice reveal. A few groups of people were wondering how my voice sounds like, clipping what my friend said and comparing me to Corpse Husband.

Do I know Corpse? Hell yeah, I do. I've been a fan for way too long, and somehow he was partially the reason why I started my channel. Playing videogames is what I love the most, so I just... recorded it. Never excepted that people would actually enjoy them.

And very, very recently, I started to get tagged with Corpse on Twitter asking for us to play Among Us together, mainly because in my videos I had "big brain" strats, so they wanted to watch us as imposters or whatever. And I kinda wanted to play with him, but I was way too nervous and anxious to actually ask him.

So while I wondered if I should pm him or not, I turned off my computer and went to bed.

The next morning I checked my channel and the majority of the comments were people begging for an Among Us video with Corpse. A signature thing I do in my videos, is let people decide what I should play next, and that's what I've been doing ever since I started.

And as I read every single comment, I thought 'fuck it,' I grabbed my phone, opened Twitter and sent Corpse a quick message. Obviously, I wasn't expecting him to answer me right away, so I almost screamed when my phone dinged in my hand.

Basically, the conversation was something along the lines of me asking him if we could play something together -without recording it- as pretty much everyone had been asking us to, and he agreed. We set up a time to play and we spent the rest of the time talking.

I guess, my trust on him exploded thru the ceiling because I told him about this "voice reveal" everyone wanted me to do, and I asked him if I should do it not. Personally, I was really stressed and scared because I thought people were going to hate my voice or whatever, but at the same time, I want to do it, that's how I explained it to Corpse.

He understood me completely. What I wasn't expecting, was him asking me to send him an audio of my voice. I was really nervous about that, and he pretty much noticed it, my voice was so fucking shaky...

Then I saw the three bubbles appear on the screen and my body started to tremble.

Oh, believe me. No one would be mad or hate your voice, trust me.

Well, that's was unexpected.

//////

Ever since that one day, Corpse and I grew closer, maybe too close because at times we would "flirt" or whatever -it was funny because we called each other 'baby' really often-, we talked everyday, like, he actually gave me his phone number which was absolutely insane. We discussed the fact of how would I reveal my voice, and Corpse told me he knew how.

At the moment, he was streaming Among Us, and I was watching it, enjoying the stream as always, until James Charles had to leave, and Corpse talked first.

"I can get one person if you guys want," he said in slightly excited voice, and everyone else playing got curious about that.

"Who is it, Corpse?" That was Sean, aka Jacksepticeye.

"Uh, (Channel Name)," after he said that, I froze.

And my phone dinged. God, this was his plan?

You up to play among us and reveal your voice?

I chucked as I heard him explaining my "situation", how I wanted to do a voice reveal because people have been asking me to, and this was a good opportunity, adding the small "He's a good imposter, by the way."

;Fuck yeah, dude.

I quickly closed the stream and got my recording set up, plugging the microphone I bought recently. I took a deep breath as I opened Discord and the game. Corpse invited me to join the call and I put on my headphones.

I was so fucking nervous as my finger hovered above the unmute button, but first, I joined the game as I saw he code in chat.

"He's here... (N/n), can you hear us?"

This is my chance.

I pressed the unmute button and answered.

"Yes... yes, I can." A huge chorus of 'Wow's' echoed in the call and everyone started freaking out about my voice. It scared me, "Wh-what's wrong with my voice...?"

"Oh, (N/n), there's nothing wrong with your voice." Sean's words were reassuring, making me smile slightly.

"It makes me happy to hear that, Sean." I was sure I could hear him mumbling an 'Oh God,' which made me confused.

"How can your voice be deep than Corpse's? It's... fucking hot, dude," Felix's (Pewdiepie) words made me feel my face heat up but I just laughed it off.

"His voice makes me gay, I'm not even going to deny it," okay... I wasn't ready to hear that from Corpse, "I would marry him just so I could head his voice everyday."

"Well, I would marry you, baby, so I guess it could be official." I could faintly hear how the rest were going like 'What is happening?' Or something, but I was just concentrated listening to Corpse laughing, "Your laugh is freaking adorable, babe~," I said in a teasing tone, which made him try to stop his laugh, turning into a shy giggle.

"... am I the only one that feels like a third wheel right now?" Sean chucked at the end of his words, and pretty much everyone agreed with him.

"Shouldn't we started the game?" I asked after everyone calmed down, and they said 'yes,' right before the game started.

"My chat is broken..." Corpse said as the round was about to start, I could hear Sean, Valkyrae, Felix, Sykkuno and Pokimane muttering 'same,' adding the fact that everyone was "simping" over my voice. "I'm the number one simp, guys, sorry but that place is already mine."

"Oh god..." I mumbled to myself as Corpse's voice sounded so serious. Well, I am a simp for him too tho.

"(N/n) is mine, back off," a laugh left my mouth as I felt my face burning with embarrassment.

But I decided to go along. "Yes, baby, I'm all yours~."

"Could you flirt some other time, guys? We're trying to play," Everyone laughed at Felix's statement, but we agreed to what he said, and we began an intense Among Us play.

#corpse husband #corpse #fluff #male reader #youtuber #corpse husband x reader #.mackjlee9 writes corpse #reader insert #x reader

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todoscript · 4 years

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Corps-à-Corps [ 1 ]

Parts | one ; two

Corps-à-Corps (“body-to-body”): the action of two fencers coming into bodily contact with each other that is deemed an illegal move

Genre | Sports AU. Slow Burn. Angst. Fluff. Future Smut.

Pairing | Fencer!Todoroki Shouto x Fencer!Reader

Words | 10.7K+

Warnings | Pining. Mild cursing. Characters are aged up. Insecurities and expectations. Research was done in order to accurately convey the action of the sport in this fic as I am not a fencer. Whole fic will be two parts.

Author’s Notes | Oh wow, 10k words. I was debating whether or not to just write the entire story in one go and post everything together, but at the speed I’m going, along with my assignments harassing me in the background, I decided to upload as a two-shot. Also please read the ending author’s notes when you’re done!

Also a special thank you to @sadistiks @natsuosfairy and @pat-writes-stuff for being my beta readers! <3

The thought of being late to your very first practice at the fencing academy you’ve admitted to is nothing short of an insult to your former coach, who was the one who recommended you in the first place.

You tell yourself this, yet here you are, running as if your life depends on it. Ragged breaths are ripping from your throat, accompanied by the slick sweat dotting the skin of your temples and a pair of lungs positively burning through every arduous step you compel yourself to tussle through.

“Dammit, why’d I have to be late today?!” you groan through gritted teeth, glancing at the map in your hand to verify the correct path forward to the Tokyo Fencing Center. As you clutch the strap of the duffel bag hanging off your shoulder, you seethe over your lack of time management skills, knowing full well you can’t blame anyone for this disorganization but yourself.

You persevere through, despite the dizzying heat flushing your skin and the fatigue piling in your body, awarded with the fencing center coming into view. You grant yourself only a second of rest before you’re rushing forward again. If you were a track athlete, then this would be the last hurdle.

Finally, with a fierce slam open of the double doors enclosing the facility, you’ve crossed the finish line. The relieved heave of your breaths practically topple you over in exhaustion but you regain your balance by adjusting yourself next to a wall. Little do you know there was still another impediment you needed to face.

The noises that lightly ring and echo throughout the hallway emit down from the main room, indicating to you that you’re definitely past due punctual. Steps heavy and hesitant, you cross into the threshold. Everyone has already clad themselves in their fencing gear, scattering into their respected fencing disciplines to practice amongst each other. You’re left standing there in high contrast compared to the white uniforms dispersed in the room. At this point, you just hope to speak to the primary instructor without disturbing the vibe.

However, your goal is cut short by a quick thrust of a saber. Your eyes view over and behold the fencing match before you, where two combatants ready their blades on opposite sides of the piste—the extended playing area the game takes place on. Their bodies are encased in the standard protective gear, faces obscured by the dense masks covering their heads to the napes of their necks.

“En-garde... Prêtz?” The referee utters two distinct French words before starting the bout—one meaning “on guard,” the other “ready.” Each participant raises their weapons in preparation.

“Allez!”

At the signal, their movements advance into nearly triple time, feet light and flexible as their steps shift across the mat. You’re familiar with this particular fencing discipline known as saber fencing. It’s fast; in fact, it’s the second-fastest sport at the Olympics after rifle shooting. The aim of the game, of course, is to hit your opponent anywhere from the waist up with your sword. It may seem simple enough, but there’s another layer of complication factoring in the game’s speed, for this sport is calculated in as little time as milliseconds.

The fencer on the left side of the piste lunges forward, attempting to draw the momentum. Sadly, it’s a sloppy pursuit; his form is unstable and his efforts are in vain due to a missed strike. He swiftly backs up.

At this error, the opposition takes the reins and progresses forward, forcing his competitor back and back across the mat from his utter retaliation. In an instant, he spots a chance to win priority by taking over the impetus of the battle, and makes no hesitation in slashing with his weapon. Every movement he commits to is as swift as wisps of fire in the wind and burns nearly as fast. His opponent tries following the hit out of sheer panic. In the end, the exchange of strikes is so quick that even a simple blink could deter you from the actions at hand.

The two attacks make simultaneous contact on their lamé—the electric conductive jacket hugging their upper bodies—causing the machine in front of the referee to glow two colors. Left is indicated by red, green for right. If both colors concurrently light up, it’s the referee’s position to decide who earns the point.

Though the battle proved to be hasty and expeditious, you managed to observe every detail as keenly possible. From your basic understanding of the rules of saber fencing, the point should belong to—

“Right,” the referee promptly states, his arm lifted toward the corresponding side. By controlling the initiative of the fight, the right-sided fencer gains priority, meaning he’ll receive the point even if both players hit. The moment his competitor had made a mistake, the opposition had the right to steal the momentum along with priority.

The gush of air that heavily tightens your lungs eventually releases into a breath you hadn’t realized you’ve been holding in the spur of the match. The complication, as well as the speed of saber fencing, has always made you appreciate the aspect of the game, despite how different it was from your own fencing discipline.

“And so the victor of this match is Todoroki,” the referee congratulates as everyone around sounds with applause, at which you can’t help but join in. The triumphant fencer brings his blade down by his side before running a hand over his mask to reveal himself.

You glimpse at a head of white and red tresses that flair elegantly upon layers, sticking to the sweat glistening across his forehead. His pretty heterochromatic eyes gleam at his victory, and exuding nothing but effortless confidence, he stands tall above the crowd. However, there’s frigidity in his expression, an underlying cold beneath frosty irises of turquoise and gray that’s difficult to comprehend.

Movements like fire. Spirit like ice. And together, they collide into an enigma that rattles your thoughts in that infinitesimal moment.

Staring at his form, you can’t help but compare this scene to a shot right from a movie, what with the man’s handsome looks, glowing charisma, and athletic ability. He’d definitely make for a killer male lead—

“Ahem.”

The panorama view is pressed on pause when you hear an abrupt clear of someone’s throat in your direction. The referee greets you, a slender man possessing messy, shoulder-length hair and an unusually worn-out appearance despite his young age.

“Can I help you, miss?”

Everyone’s actions are on hold after the match. They peep over to the commotion surrounding you and their instructor, exchanging choruses of whispers and curious looks. You can’t suppress the urge to cross your arms and nervously rub your skin over the uncomfortable amount of eyes boring into you. After all, it doesn’t take a detective to comprehend how you stick out like a sore thumb in this sea of white.

“Oh, um, I’m a newly admitted fencer… My coach recommended me, and I’m here to attend my first practice,” you manage despite an embarrassing red creeping up your cheeks. The only physical bearings you can hold onto is the strap of your duffle bag, which you grip firmly in hopes of not potentially floating away like a hot air balloon. Though at the same time, you’d also wouldn’t mind drifting off, or perhaps even bury yourself into solid ground if it meant escaping the stares.

While exhaling an arduous sigh, the man’s flat and tired eyes sink into your existence. You honestly can’t tell if he’s annoyed with you or perhaps just having an exhausting day. Maybe it’s both. In that case, you might be fucked.

“Well, you’re about twenty minutes late and not dressed in fencing gear. Though I suppose explanations are long overdue,” says the instructor, adding more heat to the squealing teakettle that is your mortification, “Your name?”

“L-L/n Y/n,” you reply. Let’s hope he’s not asking for it to kick you out of the academy.

“L/n Y/n...” He flips through a page, scanning the contents, “You’re an… épée fencer?”

“Yes, sir.”

As the man continues looking over his clipboard, you notice blue and gray eyes peering right from behind him. Your face lights up, perceiving them to belong to the saber fencer—Todoroki—from the earlier match, and your eyes are drawn to his as if they’re glaciers glimmering in the moonlight. The boy, however, averts his gaze the moment the two of you make brief eye contact. He returns to the mat and brandishes his blade for another bout.

“L/n if you want to stay here,” the instructor’s voice nudges your attention back to him, “I suggest you go get changed in your fencing gear. And quickly. I have an assignment for you.”

Your only reply is a prompt “yes sir” before you hurry to the locker rooms, bag smacking against your side at every step as if it’s physically reprimanding you for getting in such an unpleasant predicament. All you give it is a violent throw into a locker. Your hands rummage inside, hastily scouring for your gear to don on.

The thin clothes you’re currently wearing allow you to slip your long fencing socks over them, along with white trousers that hang onto your form thanks to two straps hooked over your shoulders. Next comes the safeguard for the upper body—a plastic chest protector first, followed by the plastron or the underarm protector. Finally, a white jacket sports over all the upper layers. Everything afterward is self-explanatory, what with only the gloves and shoes left. You won’t need the mask until later, so you grip it next to your hip, leaving the locker room with haste.

By then, everyone resumed their usual business for today’s practice. The swoosh of blades accompany you when you return to the training hall, sights set back on the shaggy-haired man standing on the side waiting for you. His wary expression is a chasm you can’t correctly discern.

“Though you’re not punctual, you dress fast at least,” he says just as you approach, “Now if you want to secure your spot here, there’s something you need to do.” You follow him to a piste occupied by only one other fencer. Assuming the player is also an épée fencer like yourself, you can guess what this “assignment” consists of now.

“If you’re going to be training here, I need to evaluate your skills and see where you currently stand,” he declares and hands you the corresponding weapon to your discipline: The épée, the largest and heaviest sword used in fencing. Compared to foil fencing, it dons a larger guard and is broader and thicker. But unlike saber, which has more slashing in play, this weapon is designated for thrusting.

“So I’m having you perform in a small, quick match right now. I’m only giving you one chance to prove you should stay here and train amongst us, so I suggest you play to the best of your ability.”

You nod, enthusiastic, and ready for the bout. Your opponent wordlessly walks off to the opposite end of the piste, their épée blade prepped at their side while you do the same, also wearing your protective headgear. Due to their dense mask, you can’t distinguish any prominent features or emotions on your contender, but you’re sure the sensations crossing their body are parallel to your own.

“En-garde.”

Inhale and exhale. Your even breaths lull your nerves, and every hindrance you faced today is buried in the back crevice of your mind. Right now, you focus your energy and spirit into this small match, let yourself envelope the vitality of fencing that drives your movements.

“Prêtz?”

Your knees are bent, steps light on your toes while your grip remains steady on the handle of the épée, the shine glossed from the hilt to the tip of the blade points you toward a new adversary standing in your way.

“Allez!”

Even with the signal, the small spring in your step ushers you only a bit forward. Unlike saber fencing, the pace is quite different. Whereas saber is fast and flashy all within as little as a speck of a second, épée is methodical, slow, and plays defensively. For in épée, any part of your body can register as a point. So the discipline focuses on maneuvering cautiously to protect yourself, being wary of your stance, as well as deflecting and parrying attacks.

Saber fencing is equivalent to a real-life scenario. If two people are equipped with knives and face off to see who wins, then the one who makes the quickest move and cuts down their opponent first is victorious. They don’t just trade blows with each other; they go in for the kill. It’s basic survivability. Meanwhile, épée fencing is reminiscent of a duel—a show. The competitors give the crowd a performance to enjoy, watching through every meticulous move and observing their blades clash in a struggle. Similar to the exaggerated fight choreographies seen in action movies and animation.

Every step an épée fencer performs is calculated and strategized in their heads because there are so many vulnerable factors an opponent can exploit. Knowing any part of your body is a target for your opponent’s blade, the most sure-fire way to avoid receiving a hit is to take extra precaution in your form while monitoring the enemy’s.

You regard every movement, every muscle, your competitor makes, indicating how fast or slow they shift when not attacking. Suddenly, the opposition proceeds forward, easing slightly into your range. You grapple yourself, ready for the fencer as they swiftly advance at a possible opening, their épée is thrust in an unyielding path to take you down. However, you foresee the hit, bringing your blade up to parry the attack. When the metal swords collide, you detect a break in your opponent’s defenses and launch your counterattack known as riposte—the offensive action carried after a clean parry.

The point of your blade hits home against the fencer’s chest. With the electric conductive lamé pierced, a high-pitched squeal rings in the air—a distinct indication that you have rightfully gained the point in the bout, winning the short test match.

Typically, a regular bout would continue until one of the contenders reaches fifteen points, but in this case, the coach had already held his hand up to halt your actions only after one round. You remove your mask, vision adjusting to the light, and hearing faint sets of claps in the vicinity. Glancing around, a small ring of onlookers commend your swift demonstration. While it is not on par with the garish applause you witnessed earlier, you appreciate the praise with an elated grin lining your lips. Your eyes cross into the threshold and notice Todoroki sparing a brief glimpse over the laudation, but doesn’t pay much mind.

“Hm, at least your former coach didn’t make a mistake recommending you here. You’re not half bad. Could touch up your technique a bit more, but I suppose that’s what you’re at this academy for,” the coach calls out, but his tone quickly submerges into deep waters. Out of instinct, your back straightens when he nears.

“However, I don’t have time for slackers, and tardiness is not something I tolerate. Here at this fencing academy, we don’t waste our time dawdling. We get in, make the most of every minute, and get our jobs done. So I better not see you twenty minutes late again, understand?”

A creeping veil of severity slithers down your spine, jolting nerves in your body you had no idea existed. If you stared into the man’s eyes long enough, they might shift into a threatening hue of red that could swallow you whole. Your fear over that has you shaking your head up and down in rapid succession, and surprisingly, the oppressive atmosphere disperses instantly like smoke scattered by the wind.

“Good. With that said, I’ll be your coach, Aizawa Shouta.” His narrowed brows soften when he speaks, reverting to his downbeat appearance. “If you have any further questions, you can ask your fellow fencers. If not, then get to practice.”

He walks off to inspect the other fencers on their progress, allowing you to conduct your business. However, before you can conjure any thoughts on how to proceed next, a hand finds its way into your peripheral vision. A girl with onyx black hair tied in a high ponytail comes in view, a singular thick lock framing the kind smile adorning her face.

“That was a great match, I enjoyed every bit participating in it, even though it was so short,” she says. It’s by her statement and when your eyes scan across her form briefly that you recognize her to be your opponent, now no longer concealed by head protection.

You take her hand, grip settling into a light shake while you return the smile cordially, “Ah same, I hope we can play a full bout in the future.”

“Agreed,” she giggles amicably, which you find soothing, “My name is Yaoyorozu Momo, and as you witnessed, I’m an épée fencer like yourself.”

“L/n Y/n, though just Y/n is fine.”

“Well, Y/n, that was quite an entrance in the beginning, coming in twenty minutes late to your first practice,” the girl teases, a playful hand over her lips that leave a pout on your own.

“Yeah, that was my fault…” you drawl, rubbing a hand over your head. Your eyes avert to the ceiling upon remembering the chagrin, “It’s an excuse, I know, but I lost track of time…”

“Haha, don’t worry. Coach Aizawa may seem like a hostile man, who arguably doesn’t get enough sleep, but I assure you he has his soft spots. You just have to get to know him a bit more.”

Your face droops, finding the claim hard to believe when testifying for the man’s daunting character that left your nerves shivering. At this point, all you need to do is not get on his bad side, and you’re good to go.

“Rather, if I did have to point anyone to look out for, it’d be fencers like him,” she gestures off to the side, your eyes following the movement. The person in query is a boy of slick, blonde hair whose lips draw into a smug grin that somehow irritates you enough for your face to gaunt.

“That’s Monoma Neito. Fencing is a chivalrous sport, but he’s as arrogant as they come, all talk and no action. However, his family funds and supports the academy, so he was offered a place here with little regard. Luckily he fences saber so we won’t be running into much of him anyway,” she describes a type you’re fairly familiar with. They’re the kind of people that throw their money at their problems, reaching undeserving plateaus thanks to their authority and status. It’s frustrating to think a prestigious sports academy can still be touched by people like him, considering the lengths ordinary folks like yourself need to extend to reach the same level. In this cruel world, some arrive at the top with a simple touch of a button on an elevator while the rest must burn and sweat and suffer to climb mountains that span the same peak.

Despite that, you’re glad this place still harbors some exceptional skills, judging by the abundant competence surrounding the room in the form of rigorous training and practice. You should join in the grind soon. However, your curiosity piqued at the last second as your eyes have subconsciously been trailing the saber fencers, seeking peculiar tresses of red and white. It’s not long until you spot him again—Todoroki. He’s stepped off to the side, relieving his thirst with water and wiping the lingering sweat dotting his face.

“Hey, Yaoyorozu,” you call, eyes unwavering, “can you tell me about that boy over there, Todoroki?”

She gives a mildly surprised look, “You don’t know who he is? I thought the last name would ring a bell, especially as a fencer.”

“Um, should I?” You raise an eyebrow. Even when you spare another glance at the boy, hoping your mind would jolt with a distant memory, nothing clicks. Only a blank greets you.

“That’s Todoroki Shouto, son of Todoroki Enji, who’s a former saber fencing Olympian. He’s one of the best fencers here. They say he rivals his father in skill and is aiming to participate for the next coming Olympics, but Todoroki doesn’t talk much about it,” she finally answers. Your gaze fills with intrigue, processing the information through a filter that quickly fathoms the different planes you and the boy of ice and fire live across. Little do you realize that your worlds will soon collide faster than sword to body, and mar just as bad.

It’s by the next practice at the Tokyo Fencing Center that you genuinely take Coach Aizawa’s words to heart and let it show in your actions by committing to managing your time that day. Even with university classes and studies before another rigorous training session, you arrive with no commotion, no irritating looks, and no sweat. One thing’s for sure, the coach won’t be biting your head off this time.

You start to consider the notion that you could potentially be the very first person here; if not for a sound you begin to discern louder and louder the more you walk down the hallway toward the training room. You surmise it’s too early for anyone to be here when practice does not officially start until two o’clock sharp. Lighting up your phone, it reads 1:40 PM, twenty minutes ahead of schedule.

A ghost? No, you don’t believe in such things. Unless it’s maybe Coach Aizawa’s exhausted spirit coming to punish you for last time? In that case, perhaps you should be more mindful of specters after all.

You decipher the noise as a swoosh carried by thin metal slicing across the air and resounding in swift successions. Your steps careful and silent, you enter the training hall to peek upon the lone entity. It’s there you spot a white figure, however it’s not a ghost. Instead, it’s a fencer. A saber fencer at that, and one whose form is in peak and perfect condition as they jut their blade out with such a keen technique, you’d want to capture the shot within a sculpture of ice to admire every angle. But, under every chain of moves is a fire that melts and burns the previous images’ glaciers.

Before your thoughts can catch up to you, the fencer stops and lowers his sword.

“Do you usually spy on people while they’re practicing?”

The figure evokes a husky voice from beneath the meshed mask. Had it not been only the two of you here, you might not have heard the muffled words that nearly have your feet stepping on top of each other from how sudden they resonate in the air. You gather yourself and find your balance. When your eyes reach the boy’s again, he’s already swung off his headgear, revealing his heterochromatic eyes peering at you. Todoroki waits silently, expecting an answer.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to gawk at you or anything,” you sputter while unable to look directly at him.

“You kept glancing at me the first day you came in for practice too,” he mentions, his voice relaxed despite the detail making you out to be some attentive fangirl, maybe even a stalker if you stretched it. Surprising to you, however, he furrows his brows.

“Did I do something to bother you?”

You swing your hands up fervently to deny the question and assure to him that was not the case.

“Oh no! I just, uh…” your splayed utters have you fumbling to reach for a response that won’t come off too garish for your standing, “I just… admire your fencing. Saber has always been a discipline that’s fascinated me, considering it’s so different from épée.”

“Right, you’re an épée fencer,” he says.

You nod genially, “Hehe, that’s correct. I’m L/n Y/n, by the way, the new girl, but you probably already knew that when the coach scolded me last week for coming in late,” you chuckled, offering a strained grin to lighten the dreadful memory.

Noticing he’s about to return the introductions, you stop him with a wave of your hand, “Don’t worry, I know who you are, Todoroki Shouto.”

He lifts a brow, and you have to giggle at the perplexed expression etched on his face when comparing it to the icy demeanor he usually sports on pause.

“I watched a bit of your match last week the moment I walked in,” you explain, “Plus, you’re quite the talk around here at the fencing academy.”

“Am I?” Todoroki questions, a hint of inquisitiveness edging the tip of his tongue.

“I thought you’d already be the one to know that. You’re the skilled saber fencer here,” you tease. “So do you usually come so early just to do warm-ups and swing your saber around by yourself?”

His eyes avert to the blade handled in his right hand, then return to you, “I follow a training routine. In the morning, I work out at a gym, and then I come here afterward.”

Your eyes blink twice, interpreting his words, “Wait, so you’ve been here since..?”

“1:00,” he finishes for you. Your mouth hangs open in an almost cartoonish manner.

“You seriously stayed here for a whole hour doing fencing drills before the actual fencing? And that’s after working out?” you relay the questions in a way that expresses the details to be appalling, yet he simply shrugs.

“Isn’t that a bit much? Don’t you want to hang out with people for a bit or relax somewhere else?”

He pauses for a minuscule moment, glancing at the saber’s shining edge that reflects the fraternal twins of his irises across the metal. It’s as if the sword imparts him with an answer to your query, which drops weight in his next statement.

“The way I see it, there’s not much time to waste if I’m going to go for the top. If I’m going to beat him, I need to keep up this momentum, or else I’ll stray off course.”

You stare, eyebrows knitted, and unable to recognize if the words coming from his lips are genuinely his own upon sensing the candle flicker of anguish lit behind his glacial facade. The heat threatens to melt it off at the emphasis of “him.” Whoever “him” is, you aren’t too sure. Unfortunately, Todoroki does not allow you to ponder any further.

“Sorry, but I have to get back to my training,” he says before turning his back to you. The proximity left behind stretches into a tension you know you shouldn’t trifle with, lest risk snapping a nerve that must be left untouched.

“Right, it’s almost 2:00, and I need to get changed anyway,” you offer back, though truthfully, it was a way to excuse yourself and not suffocate under the tense atmosphere.

By the time you’ve entered the locker room and gotten changed, the other fencers have trickled in along with Coach Aizawa. Practice proceeds as usual, and everyone scatters evenly into their disciplines. You train in sets of matches with the other épée fencers, going through the ropes and trying to polish your technique—advice given to you by Aizawa that you needed to improve on.

It’s by the third match that the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind start to surface and cloud your motions, evident when you teeter in your stance and receive a thrust right against your torso you surely would have dodged in time. That bout ends in your defeat. Continuing with practice like this won’t do, so you seize the loss as a sign to take a water break and settle the haze in your head.

“Got something on your mind, mademoiselle?” a voice chimes in, airy, flamboyant, and not a tone you recognize, “You’ve been staring at that bottle of water for an awfully long time.”

The boy that approaches the bench is slim, blonde, and possesses an aura, both foreign and confident. He draws attention to the scrunched bridge of your nose and the pointed crests furrowing your features that you fail to notice you’ve been harboring.

“Well, er,” you’re hesitant to admit it at first, but you relent with a nod.

“Would you like to talk about it with me? I am always willing to lend an ear to any of my fellow fencers.”

You don’t say anything, words trapped in your throat as if lost in an abyss. Instead, you answer with a small nudge in a general vicinity. The boy turns in that direction and bemuses that you’ve ushered his gaze to where all the saber fencers are practicing. There’s a twinkle glimmering in his eyes now, a look that sparks uncertainty for you.

“Ah, some boy trouble?” he inquires playfully. Grasping his words, you fluster and your cheeks color pink. You vigorously shake your head.

“N-No, it’s not like that!” you start, voice rising slightly in volume, “I’m just worried about… OK, this guy. He seems like he has no room to breathe, practicing all the time.”

“Ah, you must be speaking of Todoroki Shouto.” His finger points to him, and you observe Todoroki is diligent as ever during practice.

“You see it too, don’t you?”

The boy you’ve come to know as Aoyama Yuga exchanges an inquisitive look, “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t blame him for living like that, considering the situation he’s in.”

Your eyes perk up, puzzled by his statement as you spare a confused visage, “Huh? Why not?” you ask.

“His father may have been a renowned saber fencer, but he was only runner-up to Yagi Toshinori while they were in their prime. Ever since Toshinori started competing in fencing tournaments and competitions, Todoroki Enji has always placed second since,” he remarks, shifting his gaze back to the dual-haired boy while he tells the story. “People say the youngest of the family was trained to rectify that error.”

Now you’re able to put two and two together, joining the pieces to view the full picture.

You draw a memory in the long film of your life. It’s an old clip from the Olympics you watched when you were only a small child, and from it sparked your ambition to fence in the first place, watching the athletes display their skills and passion on the piste for the entire world to behold. Little did you realize that the men participating were rivals whose bitter strife exists even to this day in the form of Todoroki Shouto and his father’s will carved into him. The will to carry out a petty dream that is not even his own.

You fight against the notion, “But shouldn’t he think about himself rather than his father?”

Aoyama shrugs, “It’s up to him to decide how he creates his path. And if he chooses to walk on it, who are we to stop him?” is his response before walking off, finishing the chat, “Well, it was nice talking to you, mademoiselle, but I must be getting back to my practice. Au revoir~”

The conversation leaves an odd sensation in you that you can’t shake off, with remnants of Todoroki’s struggle swirling. As you glance toward the boy one last time that day, your heart aches for him.

It’s the weekend, and you’ve made some plans to stop by the mall and head to the sporting goods store to replace some of your fencing equipment. Lately, the sneakers you’ve been using have worn out, making it challenging to keep your feet light on the piste, so you thought it’d be about time to purchase some new ones and break them in before the next practice.

When you enter, you’re greeted by the usual cashier at the register, who doesn’t pay much mind to you coming in, his attention glued to a volleyball game playing on the television. You instinctively head to the fencing section of the store, located around the back area where equipment such as blades, safety gear, and other fencing goods are sprawled and laid around for the average consumer to gander.

You navigate through the aisles, but soon discover another patron in the distance, hovering around the section—which to you was strange. Fencing is a sport a majority of people have heard before; however, it isn’t a sport that generates as many fans as basketball or baseball. People who follow the game take the time to understand the swordplay and make a note of what happens during the action, as well as touch upon the complicated rules. An average sports fan would find it hard digesting the contents of fencing, with many regarding that the pacing and action is too monotonous for their liking. Plus, fencing does not harbor as many active players compared to other popular sports littered with sponsorships, so because of all that, this section of the store was usually vacant whenever you visited.

Approaching closer, you decipher the figure obscured by the rows of equipment and goods, and to your utter astonishment, tresses of red and white hair come into view.

Your first instinct is to duck and dodge between the rows, an act which you’ve been repetitively doing as of late. To run into Todoroki outside of fencing practice is appalling to you; though, it seems fitting that if he were not working out at a gym, training at the fencing center, or staying at home, he’d take root in the fencing section of a sports store.

Your head darts out. Man, what am I doing? You gingerly think, relaying to yourself that you’ve already been called out for spying on him the first time you’ve encountered each other. It’s better to act natural and not give the security cameras the wrong idea that you’re potentially stalking this boy.

You ease out from behind a rack of protective gear. Todoroki does not detect your presence in the slightest as his attention is on the variety of premium shoes lining the shelves. So when you suddenly tap your finger against his left shoulder, he turns in haste and is bewildered to be greeted by your stiff facade.

“Oh hey, Todoroki, didn’t expect to run into you here,” you wave, and his expression mellows upon perceiving that it’s you—the épée fencer he spoke with before.

“Likewise,” he replies, then rotates around again to scan through the shoes. Luckily for you (or perhaps unluckily), your reason for coming here is to get your sneakers replaced so you establish yourself next to him.

Todoroki starts a conversation, despite his quiet self, “What are you here for?” he asks.

“I need to get a new pair of shoes, mine are a bit worn-out at the moment,” you answer, following down the rows of footwear to find your particular size and desired brand. “Since you’re in this section, I’m guessing you might be needing some new ones as well?”

He shakes his head, “My current shoes are fine. However, I’ve been thinking about trying out this new brand,” his finger hovers in front of him, drawing his sight to specific footwear, “Been told they’re better for fencing.”

Your eyes go from tracing the shelf to glancing at the boy, curiosity dancing. “Oh? Think I should try them out myself?” you ask while your hand grazes against the natural texture of the shoes you’ve been accustomed to, “I’ve been using these specific pairs for a while now, maybe it’s time to switch it up.”

“From what I hear, the cushion on these makes it easier for your feet to walk across the piste,” is his response before he spots said shoes on a particular row, about to draw them from their display board to inspect closer. However, subconsciously, your hands brush up next to each other while wandering through the litter of footwear among the walls. You’re both quick to separate as soon as they touch—like the sensation singes your skin—creating a distance between your hands.

“Sorry about that,” the two of you murmur your apologies. Upon hearing how in-sync your words sound between one another, you giggle and the boy next to you can’t help but hide a grin beneath his hand, amused.

Then you watch as Todoroki resumes analyzing the pair of sneakers. They’re fresh and matted in white with slick black streaks etched across the material. You nudge the boy to let you have a look, and he passes it to your palm. From a glimpse, you can tell these models were created with excellent quality and attention to detail.

“Wow, these are quite the shoes. A bit fancy, don’t you think? Wonder how much they—” the rest of the question does not leave your lips. You’re hushed the moment you turn over the white price tag strung around the holes the laces weave into, attempting to process the confounding amount of zeroes printed there. It only concludes with your eyes widening and your mouth hanging open. You ask yourself, how can mesh material molded into two simple pieces of footwear cost this much? Baffled, you merely twist the tag back around so you wouldn’t have to read the price anymore, and ease your spirit.

“I think I’m good with my current shoes…” your voice deadpans, swiftly gathering the box of reasonably priced sneakers into your arms.

Todoroki doesn’t make much of your reaction. He pulls the shoes off the shelf and ends up accompanying you to the register.

“It was a surprise to see you here, Todoroki,” you tell him.

“It’s my free day today, so I thought I’d run some errands,” he says.

A free day, huh? Your mind conjures the thoughts of last practice, recalling the rigorous routine the boy performed every other day, memorized into the fiber of his muscles down to the marrow of his bones.

You had to ask, “What do you usually do on your free days?”

“Rest,” his response is blunt and straightforward as expected, “sometimes get ahead on my studies,” he adds. By this point in the conversation, the two of you have arrived at the cash register.

You haul the box onto the counter, an action the cashier isn’t particularly fond of, forced to divert from the game airing on the screen. He scans the shoes, issues the price, and gathers the box in a plastic bag before doing the same for Todoroki, enacting the bare minimum amount of manners throughout the process.

Your purchased goods in hand, you’ve essentially finished your business here. Yet your eyes blink back, mind swallowed by the fact that after you leave the store, both of you will return and go about your day as you always do, likely not sparing a glance at each other until the next coming practice. You trail behind Todoroki, crossing through the exit with your gaze keen at the back of his head as if mustering a thought out. Soon, an idea emerges almost similar to a fast flicker of a light switch. Your voice calls out to him, and he turns back to you as a result.

“Say, Todoroki, since you mentioned today is your free day, how about we go grab something to eat together?” you ask, noting that the clock is currently ticking to lunchtime.

He narrows his brows, expressing uncertainty, “I don’t need to be back home until later, but I’m not sure if—”

“What? Are you gonna tell me you have homework to do or something?” You tease the boy for his overly-strict attitude. “C’mon Todoroki! Hanging out for a bit and eating with a friend shouldn’t hurt,” you chide, tone light, and persuasive.

Friend. You repeat the title in your head, wondering if it was right to designate that status on your own when you haven’t interacted much with him. In the end, you push the tricky thoughts aside for now.

“In fact, I know a pretty neat café around here. It’s right next to this popular soba restaur—”

His entire demeanor reacts in a flash the instant the last words depart from your mouth. Suddenly, he dons a faint, spirited expression, approaching closer as if he had heard wrong.

“Did you say soba restaurant?” His tone conveys an intense zeal at the word soba. You gawk before blinking in quick succession, the almost uncharacteristic gleam in his eyes taking you back. Then, your pupils dilate at the pieces assembling in your head.

The icy, diligent, handsome saber fencer, Todoroki Shouto, has a great weakness for soba noodles.

A smile curls across the line of your lips, “Would you like to come eat there with me?”

There’s a brief pause between you, but surely enough, Todoroki agrees with a nod. You verify with an exchange of smiles—yours wide, welcoming, and his subtle, yet still simmering warmth—before tugging him along with you to the soba restaurant, humming in tune with your steps that the boy can’t help but be amused by. When you arrive there, Todoroki’s quiet enthusiasm is evident while he scans through the menu filled with an assortment of food.

“They even have cold soba served in baskets here,” you hear him mutter beneath the menu. It ensues an amused grin on your lips. You try your best to contain the giggle threatening to chime as you watch the boy’s fervor for the noodles take on its most prominent form when presented and served within a woven basket, the bowl of dipping sauce on the side.

You opt for a hot bowl of udon, a contrast between the colder, thinner noodles on the opposite end of the small table. The two of you eat across each other, slurping your food with gusto to truly appreciate the restaurant’s well-cooked meal that soothes your bones. Just as Todoroki smothers his soba in the flavorful sauce, you speak to him to ease the atmosphere with more small talk.

“Todoroki, you mentioned earlier that you do some of your studies on your free days. Do you attend university?”

He swallows his noodles down to issue a response, “I do.”

“Interested in any particular majors?”

Todoroki shakes his head, “I’m undecided for now,” at his answer, he sets his bowl down for a moment and his sight lines down to his basket of soba.

“I haven’t had much time to think about where I’d head during university. Or what I’d do afterward.” The stare he evokes on his food could delve a fissure through the plate, considering the intensity over the troubling thoughts you’ve accidentally allowed to settle.

You frown, the udon noodles hovering above your bowl, twirled in your chopsticks. “It’s likely because you’ve been fencing all your life, huh?” you quietly surmise yet it’s loud enough for him to hear judging from the pensive look that crosses him. He doesn’t carry a response back because deep down, he knows it’s true. All he’s ever known throughout his young adult years of living is fencing. It has got to the point where the sport is second nature to him like it’s all he wakes up for, all he breathes for.

The shift in the air is apparent as you watch him silently resume eating his soba, but you don’t let the change deter your mood.

It’s up to him to decide how he creates his path. And if he chooses to walk on it, who are we to stop him? Aoyama’s words stir the depths of your subconscious. They ring through you until eventually activating an almost visceral reaction.

With your hardened fist wrapped around your chopsticks, a determined slam rattles the table. Todoroki, along with the nearby patrons encompassing the restaurant, rouse when it connects.

“Hey, look, you’re a great fencer. You should use your skills and talents to mold your future if that’s what you want to do,” you affirm, vigor in your voice, “It’s OK if fencing is integrated into your life. What matters is how you make your abilities your own and how it shapes you as a person.”

Todoroki blinks over your words. You scrutinize his face, searching for a reaction within the delicate seams of his handsome features before your chopsticks meet the broth in your bowl again.

“What I’m asking is, ‘Why do you fence?’” you ultimately inquire. That is the most important question after all, isn’t it? People who live this long in their path as athletes wouldn’t burn so much sweat and energy into a sport without so much as a reason—a goal.

Todoroki swallows the last of his soba noodles while contemplating. “I guess, to put it simply, it’s to become the best. To compete with the best and to go where... my father once stood.”

Your eyes flicker at the note of his father, perceiving the falter in Todoroki’s tone before the mention.

“Maybe even higher,” he adds, setting his utensils across the edge of his depleted bowl of sauce. You understand the reference at the attachment of higher. To head towards the upper step that his father could never achieve on that podium. It’s a weighty, arduous, and grandiose ambition, but the boy is determined to go to any lengths to get there, for the flare beneath his eyes quavers into a blaze too powerful to be doused by even a torrent.

“That would be quite a feat, Todoroki,” you whistle, “I just hope you remember, you’re allowed to go at any pace you want. You don’t need to be running all your life to get there.”

Saber fencers are fencers who live on the speed and adrenaline of the game, and only seem to increase their acceleration as time goes on. People who thrive on the discipline compare it to Formula 1 racing as it’s aggressive, fast, and requires split-second decision making. In a way, these traits reflect the boy’s story—the vigor he feels, the rapid-fire swiftness he tackles his life to attain that one point further to win the bout and achieve his dreams, his glory. He’s forgotten that he’s allowed to go at any pace he desires to accomplish something like this. He doesn’t need to keep his body in a full sprint all his life to make it to the finish line. He’ll get there eventually, and certainly doesn’t need his aspirations to be handheld by someone on the sidelines. He just needs to realize he can make those decisions on his own.

The breath he respires inward, along with the silence that drags amidst the gap enclosed among you two, is enough for you to know he’s absorbing your words. However, you’re blindsided when he leans forward on the table, chin resting on his palm with poise in his gaze.

“Why do you fence, Y/n?” He redirects your question right back. It’s not a move you expected, for you don’t respond immediately, attempting to conceive a reply through a trance in your head. Ultimately, you are scrounging for an answer that doesn’t exist.

“I’m... I’m not sure myself,” you say, returning empty-handed at the question.

Unlike Todoroki, you don’t harbor any challenging or earnest dreams and ambitions. Whereas he strides through his life, steered down a clear, concise path, you course through your existence like a nomad, and wander with no map and no specific directions to guide you except the wind and stars.

Perhaps the “stars” that led you here was that Olympic video you watched long ago, the one that spurred you to fence, and now collided you face-to-face with Todoroki, where he continues his venture to the top, and you’re still settling at the bottom with no particular outstanding talent or skills. Maybe the reason you could never drive yourself to achieve such feats is because you know, deep down, you’d never attain the results you desired. You’re just... average.

He observes as you shroud your figure in a stiff stance, your visage cast down to your own hands intertwined together beneath the table. You do not meet his eyes. Like an épée fencer, you are slow and defensive, putting up a wall hoping that it will be enough to repel the pierce of the deafening question away, along with the sear of his fixed stare.

However, he relieves you of the tension when his hand journeys across the table to tilt your chin up. Your walls teeter down as he allows your eyes to meet his once more, except at glance they do not burn. Instead, they are warm, soothing—parallel to the smile on his lips—like a kindle of fire you could sit by and revel in peace and tranquility.

“It’s OK, Y/n. I know you’ll find it eventually,” he assures. His words comfort you. The stiffness in your nerves mellow upon hearing the smoothness of his voice.

When the waiter abruptly drops off your bill on the table with a palpable clunk, your gazes remove themselves from one another at last, aware that you’re in the restaurant and have cleared your plates and bowls of noodles a while ago. Now was about time you vacated the spot for another set of people to occupy and enjoy a meal.

Your hand rummages into your bag to pluck out your wallet to help pay; however, Todoroki already allots his card atop the tray retaining the receipt, telling you that the food was on him. Even when you deny the offer, he still firmly insists.

“Consider this a thank you for showing me this place,” he asserts, “and for spending your time with me. I enjoyed talking with you.”

You wane, your hand easing out from your bag to wholly accept the proposal upon hearing that he relished your company—that the moment between you two meant something to him within his usual monotonous routine. It was a change, one he realized that, despite his uncertainty in the beginning, proved to conclusively recollect his thoughts and perhaps made him judge his ideals.

In the end, you lug your purchased shoes at your side as the two of you leave the table after paying the bill, now standing beside each other outside the restaurant.

Currently, the sun hangs above the clear sky scattered in the bright azure of late afternoon. You check the time on your phone, grumbling over how fast the hour flew by during your meal. Todoroki simpers, waving a hand out in front of you.

“I think it’s about time I headed back,” he says. You nod in agreement, knowing well you’ve intruded into his free time today, but are glad he enjoyed himself nonetheless.

“Can I borrow your phone, though? I need it to call someone to come pick me up.”

You pass your phone over to him without hesitation. He punches a few buttons through the call app, and the tone rings two consecutive times before he speaks into the mic. From where you’re occupying, you distinguish a muddled feminine voice talking on the other line.

His mom probably? Or maybe he has a sister? Either way, he concludes the call with a click sooner than you can debate further, returning your phone after his fingers dial across the screen longer than necessary. The swift series of motions bemuses you just as he places the device back into your palm.

“I’ll see you next practice, Y/n,” he farewells with a flourish of his hand as he walks off.

“Wait, what was it that—” your question pauses when you gesture your eyes down at the answer in front of you. The light emitting from the screen displays a newly added contact information with an attached number, and interestingly, it’s indicated by a single given name.

Shouto

Due to your inclination and inquiry, the contact rallies you to press your thumb above the series of numbers, clicking the message icon in the submenu. You type a quick text and push your finger on send without delay.

⇒ [ 4:13 ] — shouto?

Oddly enough, a gray bubble of ellipsis materializes as a notion that someone is typing on the other end, and it disappears just as fast as it emerges.

⇒ Shouto [ 4:13 ] — yes?

Of course, you’re surprised by how instantaneous the message appears, noting Todoroki had just utilized your phone to call home a minute ago. But at a tilt of your head, you pinpoint the boy hanging by the lamppost in the distance, turning back at you with—lo and behold—his phone right in between the slips of his fingers, a teasing grin gracing his lips. Your taunting nature quips a similar smirk in response.

⇒ [ 4:14 ] — you sly dog

“My, seems like you’ve been in an especially good mood lately, Y/n,” Yaoyorozu notes the way you hum upbeat melodies in the tune of a song one improvises on the spot, unique and unheard on any radio station, while you clasp the straps of your trousers over your shoulders in the locker room. The beam cast prominently on your face is enough indication that her remark is spot on.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you jest in a dulcet tone, fully aware of your jovial complexion. It’s almost as if a luminosity glows within your ambiance.

Since your run-in with Todoroki three weeks ago—resulting in your furtive exchange of numbers—you’ve been sending messages to one another, holding conversations outside the confines of fencing practice. During these texts, you grasp more and more of each other—your lifestyles, personalities, and interests. Todoroki even mentioned his older siblings to you in one exchange. His sister, Fuyumi, taught children at an elementary school while his brother, Natsuo, worked in the health department. However, his oldest brother, Touya, he wasn’t too sure about though he insisted he must be doing fine on his own, so you didn’t pry, surmising the brother to be free-spirited or some sort. Despite the generous dictions Todoroki spoke about his family, he still maintained a strained effort to not mention his father anywhere in your chats, presumably not to taint the conversation’s mood or flow. Especially considering his mother and his father are not on good terms.

However, through every delicate shift, you made a point to him that if he ever needed to open up to anyone about these sensitive topics that you’d always be willing to listen.

“You’ve even been on fire with all your matches during practice recently. Care to explain?” the onyx-haired girl questions, but you continue to wave her insistent queries away, latching on your last piece of fencing gear. Yaoyorozu quirks an eyebrow as she follows your splendor outside the locker room and into the training hall.

As you enter the room, now hectic with work, you catch sight of Todoroki only a little distance across from you, who’s preparing for a match. When your eyes meet, a smile unconsciously spreads on your lips cheek to cheek while he acknowledges your gesture with his own. Unknowingly, the reciprocation does not sneak past Yaoyorozu’s keen, peripheral vision as she soon emerges by your side with a witting glint in her eyes the moment Todoroki turns away.

“Oh I see now…” she begins musing, her hums pitching toward a chafing inflection, “You and Todoroki Shouto are seeing each other.”

“Momo!” you shrill. Despite Yaoyorozu passing on her remark through a bare murmur, your senses spike into acute awareness, jutting your head side-to-side behind you to perceive if anyone heard. Though your cheeks bloomed a dainty pink, the tips of your ears were suffusing a much more noticeable red that the girl can’t help but giggle at.

You release a sigh after composing yourself. “Shouto and I are most definitely not a thing,” you insist.

“Hm, but you’re already on a first-name basis with each other.” Yaoyorozu is as observant as always. You furiously shake your head, continuing to deny every accusation.

“Look, we’re just good friends! Besides, he doesn’t have time to get involved in things like that,” you tell her, and thankfully, Yaoyorozu does make a point that the boy seems more pressed about fencing than seeking a relationship at the moment, so she waves it off for now. All in all, you’re merely happy you could befriend him and offer your support whenever he needed it. Well, that was a summary of your relationship anyway. With Yaoyorozu mentioning the possibility of you and Todoroki being an item, it does find its way into your mind.

Holding hands, going on dates, exchanging—

But as soon as the idea transpires with vivid imaginations, you drive them away through an impulsive slap of your palms against your cheeks.

What am I thinking?! Shouto has too many things he’s working towards right now. He doesn’t have time for love and relationships! You scold yourself and immediately rush into training to distract those thoughts from appearing again.

On an average day of practice, the schedule follows along the lines of everyone scattering into their respected areas to warm-up before transitioning to drills and matches, mixing it up against different opponents to grasp a broader skill level. Today, you occupy your time as much as possible, taking breaks only when necessary to maximize the session and not allow your eyes and mind to wander towards a certain dual-haired young man again. And you’ve nearly succeeded this feat to the very end if not for said boy popping up at your side unexpectedly while you were placing your épée down.

“Oh, whoa, Shouto,” you sputter, about to tip off balance had Todoroki not caught you through a grip on your arm.

“What’s up?”

“Sorry, Y/n,” he apologizes, “but I wanted to ask if—”

“Todoroki.”

He’s cut short by a call, and when you two turn around you’re greeted by your messy-haired coach standing behind you.

“I need to speak with you real quick.” Coach Aizawa nudged his head toward the sideline. Obliging, Todoroki nearly dismisses himself from your side, but leans into your ear at the last second to mutter in a hushed voice, “Wait for me when you finish changing after practice, I’ll tell you then.”

Your sole response is a swift nod before Todoroki walks along Coach Aizawa. Whatever they’re speaking about is far beyond the curiosity of your mind because instead, you’re pondering the last bit of Todoroki’s words that edged off, making you wonder what he wanted to ask you. At first, you speculated the query to consist of trivial topics, like perhaps he was going to ask for another restaurant recommendation to show his family or whatnot. However, it didn’t take long for you to dive into the depths of your overarching thoughts. You surmised that maybe the other fencers have also speculated the two of you are in a relationship, and the boy came to you to clarify the matter by drawing a clear, defined line between you to rectify the misunderstanding.

“God, I’m just paranoid,” you mumble under your breath. While you do agree with not letting the others misinterpret your friendship, you’d rather it’d be through a means that wouldn’t have to hinder something between you two.

All you can do for now is fend off the rest of today until you’re finally hastening to the locker rooms to get dressed.

You tug the white uniform off to replace it with your casual apparel, shoving the gear back into your duffel bag and latching the strap onto your shoulder before closing the locker much more abruptly than necessary. As you’re about to make your leave in an evidently impatient manner, you still made sure to slip a remark to Yaoyorozu that you’ll be waiting outside the center for when she finishes.

By the time you headed to the exit, Todoroki had already situated himself beside the door, scrolling through his phone until he noticed you approaching.

“Hey, Shouto,” you greet, and Todoroki locks his phone to turn his attention to you. “What was it that you wanted to ask me earlier?” you ask, hoping he didn’t notice how eager you sounded.

“Right, I was recently invited to watch a fencing exhibition, and I wondered,” he starts, his hand brushing against the back of his head, “if you wanted to come along with me.” He averts his gaze to anywhere but your face, stance surprisingly stiff and a dust of pink blotting his cheeks that you don’t catch.

Oh, it was only that. At all your overrun thoughts and misunderstandings that built up beforehand, a grin arises, and you inevitably can’t suppress the laugh that gradually trembles in your gullet. Stumped, Todoroki scrutinizes your sudden animated expression like he’s left out in the ending of a joke.

“What? Was it something I said?” He squints his eyes, deliberating if he somehow said something humorous. You flit your head back and forth while the quivers resonating from your throat cease.

“No no, it’s not that. I’ve just been overthinking things is all,” you explain. Todoroki tilts his head.

“‘Overthinking’?” he repeats.

“Yeah, like I’m looking into certain details too much...” you trail off, voice running toward a dead-end that forces you to shift the tone of the conversation, much to your chagrin.

“Shouto, has anyone… said anything today?” Unknowingly, your fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt when you ask the question, nervous.

“What do you mean?”

At the response and his narrow brows, you shake your head, almost lamenting even asking something so ambiguous. “No, never mind, it’s nothing.”

Todoroki discerns the faint stir in your expression when you wave off the query. However, you’re quick to transition back into the subject at hand before he can even attempt to pry.

“Anyways, to answer your question, yes, I’d be glad to come with you, Shouto,” you answer, but a finger rests beneath your chin, “Though I’m a bit curious as to why you chose to ask me instead of someone else.” If Todoroki was invited to observe an exclusive exhibition match, it’s likely to consist of many other competent players within his league, meaning it’ll be an advantageous way to size up the competition. To invite you of all the people from the academy to tag along with him may be a waste compared to the other talent nurtured in that training hall. You understood your skills that much, at least.

The dual-haired boy raises his shoulders, nonchalantly, “I don’t see why I wouldn’t invite you.”

“I mean, wouldn’t it benefit another fencer better?” you reason. Todoroki remains unchanged in his stance.

“I don’t care about anyone in there. You’re the person I want to go with, Y/n,” he declares, firm with weight beneath every word that you don’t even think to oppose his fortification. So much so that those over-analytical inferences jointly possess your senses once again—the gears in your head beginning to speed up through a motor of hypersensitive nerves that drive your thoughts into ambient fantasies—until you will yourself not to let his words run over you, no matter how unwavering they may sound, or how saccharine they may be. You cannot indulge in cloying mirages, because you tell yourself those word don’t mean anything. They shouldn’t mean anything.

“Alright, alright, I’m going with you,” you ultimately yield, and Todoroki grins like he’s beaten you in a longstanding debate.

“Good.” You hear a car pull up outside the fencing center, right as he finishes. At that, he makes his leave, calling out to you that he’ll see you again for the exhibition between an empty expanse that increases more and more as he walks to the vehicle. Your voice is only a distant holler when you utter back that you can’t wait, tone dying down. The moment his car drives through the broad horizon across the sky soaked in brilliant hues of reds and oranges, your hand reaches into your duffel bag to draw out your phone out of a deep longing for something you can’t properly discern.

An odd pang ripples your cognition, inciting you to unlock and push buttons that lead you back to your texts with Todoroki. You thumb across the keyboard in a gradual process to type a message you have little idea of the repercussions behind.

⇒ [ 5:34 PM ] — shouto what would you think if you and i|

“Oh, Y/n, thanks for waiting!”

Yaoyorozu’s preppy voice disrupts your motions, eluding your attention from the text message that is impulsively transcribed by the emotions running through your fingertips.

“Oh, Momo, you’re done,” you respond, feigning a sprightly tone in your reply to help waver the sensations playing at hand before cutting them off entirely by your thumb squeezing the backspace, suffocating the incomplete message away from your thoughts.

It is better to stab the heart now before it can beat any faster.

You try to ingrain this into your head, yet the lingering sensations you fail to extinguish produce the electric shock that prevents that heart from dying, and you head home, not realizing that it swells back into aching throbs.

Ending Notes | We made it to the end! Hope it wasn’t too boring or anything. If you liked to be added to the taglist for part 2 (which is basically the final part), just ask. However, I just want to warn you now in case you did not read the warnings and genre at the top, that this twoshot will contain smut. While it won’t be super explicit, it is still NSFW content so beware under 18 aged readers, especially since I haven’t posted any explicit content before this aside from sexual undertones and implied stuff on Syndicate. As always, comments and feedback are welcomed!

#bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #mha x reader #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bnha imagines #mha imagines #shouto x reader #shoto x reader #my writing

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taekooktimeline · 4 years

Text

June 2 & 3, 2020 (filmed) - Soop Episode 8 -

That night it was Tae’s and Joon’s turn to cook. Shortly after they began, Jk made his way to the upper house in case they needed help. It was a common scene to see Jk in the kitchen during their stay, whether he was called upon or joined voluntarily - this occasion being the latter.

The first thing he asks is about how well they were handling themselves in the kitchen.

He continues by making a snarky / teasing comment as he lightly chuckles, jokingly. He’s alluding to the fact that both Tae and Joon are inexperienced cooks. He first looks at Joon and his pasta.

He then moves to observe Tae and changes to a supportive tone, letting him know he’ll happily eat it no matter what the results are. He’s being realistic but telling him to not be afraid to make mistakes.

Jk reassures him by saying one can’t mess up meat - it’ll always taste good.

Tae let’s his insecurities afloat by saying he would never cook again if he messed up such a delicious steak that was so difficult to botch. Jk was well aware of Tae’s lack of confidence when it comes to cooking & that was his way of encouraging him.

Since there is nothing to help them with, Jk silently watches his phone and stays close, waiting to see if he was needed. This precise scenario is actually unfamiliar - at least to Soop viewers.

Jk let’s out a couple more compliments about Tae’s meat before leaving to take a nap. He must not be too interested in the aglio e olio spaghetti since it’s a blander dish by nature.

Later on Jk literally held onto his bed as Hobi woke him up, but once on his feet he checked his phone and then began to run towards the kitchen as he tried to keep on reading his messages. He was apparently eager to eat steak because it appeals to his taste buds, which makes sense. “I really want to eat steak,” he sings.

He stops running to finish reading his messages before entering the kitchen.

Heavy speculation: Turns out Tae needed assistance and couldn’t leave the meat alone. Joon had left him around 5-10 minutes ago, depending on how long Hobi had to insist to Jk to wake up. Could or could not be related to Jk running while checking his phone as there is no way to know. Decide as you wish.

Hobi goes for paper towels while Jk asks what he could do to help - something he has done with other members as well. Tae says he only needed paper towels and plates.

Tae then expresses concerns about his cooking, seemingly having some trouble.

Jk stays as his cooking assistant from that moment onwards - a role he excels at. He first finds paper towels inside the kitchen and stays right by his side -

Then Tae asks him for some help with the seasoning. They cook in harmony -

Jk is the most wanted -

Full cooking scene:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1LidgpCh7yKntT0_1VcUq-GhNKS4Wj-eN/view?usp=drivesdk

Later that night, Hobi and Jk spot Tae just as he started lighting fireworks so they make their way to him.

Jk quickly joins Tae, who hands him a firecracker, while Hobi asks about other members.

Taekook are too entertained to worry about the others whereabouts.

They pass the lighter between the two, heavily involved in the bonding activity. “When else will we ever get this opportunity?” they later said.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1n2_p1Qd4wUt3qtwWjoatGchl9GWk_fD3/view?usp=drivesdk

Jimin joins them too and all four enjoy the spectacle.

Taekook are the only ones setting the fireworks off. They must be the most excited and daring, taking into account Hobi was pretty scared of getting near.

Tae lights three at once - quite courageously - and runs off. Hobi about Tae: “He’s so eager”.

Hobi and Jk dance in front of the sparks which Tae vocaly marvels about. They are surely having fun together.

Tae prompts Jk to do the same as him and light three at once - scary to do as it’s time sensitive, but with beautiful results. He tried to listen but ran off at 2. This is faintly reminiscent of “we always got scolded together, even back then”.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1mUkfEzN38QYCXD1TrqV-ATBDD3_e4OSK/view?usp=drivesdk

June 3 (filmed) - Tae wakens Jk to watch the sunrise, which they later mention. He is seen leaving the floating house a little after the first rays of light start illuminating the sky. *There is debate about whether Tae spent the night in Jk’s room or not, but we think the footage is inconclusive. It doesn’t contradict the official story but it’s also compatible with Tae staying over so decide as you wish. Some think Tae must have stayed over because he wasn’t shown entering the room, but remember this was a 1 or 2 hour long sped-up timelapse with many missing frames (many cuts). It was only luck that a single frame of Tae exiting made it into the final footage. The frame can't be seen in the weverse app due to differences in resolution, compression and frame rate compared to weverse’s desktop version (which is where the illegal uploads came from) as a professional explained to us. We checked the official desktop version and Tae’s frame is still there meaning BH didn’t try to hide it. In layman’s terms - there is no conspiracy from BH to backtrack and omit Tae leaving the boathouse. In order to modify Tae out BH would have to reupload the one file, meaning those viewing via Weverse on a desktop computer would also not see Tae. Only one file is processed and encoded to work across as many devices as possible. This means different versions of the same video in different formats with different compressions - but all derived from the one upload (according to the below cited individual who works in tech). Disclaimer: this individual works in tech and had discussions with her partner, who is also in tech. Please fact check.

Additionally, not turning on the light is respectful since Jk wasn’t obligated to get up. As previously said, anything is possible in this case (as far as if Tae stayed over / when he arrived at the boathouse).

https://twitter.com/tkgkurm/status/1316082109253996544?s=21 or https://twitter.com/borahaestreet/status/1316137683958329347?s=21 or https://www.instagram.com/p/CGS8Ub3IovM/?igshid=6ibd8ghe4ens

The next we see is Tae walking with his selfie camera to Jk to watch the sunrise together. It seems like he was coming back from the main house.

Adorable, sleepy Hobi joins them. Tae says “you did it!” which implies it had been taken into consideration. The gathering might have been talked about the previous night or it could have been spontaneous where Tae woke him up without a warning and hoped he’d make it out of bed. Both Tae and Jungkook happily greet him.

https://twitter.com/flirtaeguk/status/1315991107562401792?s=21

Jk is also sleepy and keeps yawning alongside Hobi, unlike Tae who is very much awake. They both made an effort to accompany him. Jk yawning -

Hobi yawning -

He asks Jk if he pulled an all-nighter.

Jk denies and explains Tae woke him up. *Personal opinion: Sara is inclined to think Tae was the one to pull an all-nighter while he hung out in Jimin’s room judging by his state of alertness (I’m used to doing it and they are too) and how there’s footage of vmin in Jimin’s bed from earlier that night. It’s not easy for Tae to wake up early. Anyhow, it’s not impossible he later hung out in Jk’s room. Regardless of what happened Tae chose & dared to get these two out of bed at such ungodly hours just because he thought the scenery was nice - lacking apprehension - which means he feels very comfortable with them.

Tae disappears and Jk immediately wonders where he went.

*Just for fun - the editors added an adorable caption for Tae canoeing:

Jk giggles when Tae reappears and asks him if he’s having fun - happy to see Tae enjoy himself.

He then compliments his rowing skills.

This causes Hobi to also comment. Jk agrees with an “exactly”.

Jk adds onto it pointing out more details about Tae’s good technique.

More of Jk yawning -

Jk films Tae with his selfie camera. At the start, he says “V” in a deep, playful voice - presenting him to the public (note the subtitle in the below pic - the English subtitle didn’t show “V” when Jk says it but it’s written in the Korean subtitle next to Tae).

When Tae softly asks them what they think of the scenery - looking directly at Jk - the younger sweetly replies with the following -

the original Korean text notes “GCF” (making reference to Jk’s filming skills):

https://twitter.com/borahaestreet/status/1316019584776826883?s=21

and https://twitter.com/flirtaeguk/status/1315996054337150978?s=21

and https://twitter.com/taekook1206/status/1316223828985487361?s=21

; Full sunrise clip:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/18uvnNmmboRHRaITTpa98ZKfpCO48abiZ/view?usp=drivesdk

Later on - it seems the members went back to bed after watching the sunrise. Tae wakes up at 12pm and is surprised he slept so little.

He then walks from the main house to the floating house, where Jk is staying.

He doesn’t bother changing out of his PJs as he makes his way to the floating house.

It’s uncertain whether he checks his breath or simply rubs his face as he walks there.

We find out he is, indeed, coming to visit Jungkook.

Speculation - There is debate if Tae locked the door when he entered. Decide as you like.

Personal stances: Sara is basically sure that Tae didn’t lock comparing it to the distinctively different & loud sound it made when Jk locked the door while playing with Jimin (Ep 7 behind the scenes, Jk locking the door: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1729xJUd1fvff5MozK0J7meAj4tZEOZ0w/view?usp=drivesdk ; Hobi closing the door without locking which generates the same “clicking” sound as in Tae’s occasion: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ITikRqRtKYJjVEjCxrF3t42UBu1IcuB6/view?usp=drivesdk) combined with the unlikely context, while Kayla thinks it’s possible (since we don’t see what they are up to for those two hours - maybe Tae unlocks it at some point (not saying they were up to anything but maybe just wanted privacy) + three non BTS listeners seemed certain they heard the door lock when shown the zoomed in clip without context - who Tae is, what room he’s in, etc … but who knows). As we stated above, it’s debatable so please decide as you wish.

Tae closing Jk’s door -

https://twitter.com/taetae_pteryong/status/1313898743939305472?s=21

It turns out Tae preferred to keep on resting with Jk rather than alone in his own bed, even if he had to go on a little walk. He throws his cap off and leans over Jk, his face close.

Note Jk’s raised arm as he slowly turns to have an idea of their positions.

Here Jk’s tattooed arm is blurred next to Tae’s head - Jk still facing upwards.

Tae says “move over” while Jk sleepily groans in protest.

Jk groggily rolls to his side, an act that conveniently gives Tae the space he was searching for & that prompts him to climb over to be the “big spoon” in the cuddle. His foot skims over Jk’s as he latches a leg and arm around him.

some close ups of Tae positioning himself (mostly for their feet since it’s quite intimate) -

https://twitter.com/recorder331/status/1313910423075266566?s=21

In a sweet moment that indicates closeness, Tae tries to pull the blanket up on him so he can be closer and warmer as he cuddles.

Jungkook appears to pull Tae’s arm closer - although it’s unclear. We have differing opinions. Decide as you wish.

https://twitter.com/loveforvguk/status/1314153041659125760?s=21

Tae then playfully boops his leg against JK. He may have wanted him to wake up after all but stay in bed, calmly laying together for a while - although they both ended up feeling too cozy.

Full clip:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/15UX3WLZ9jrNjHY5kNo876VQcLUc4-Ux6/view?usp=drivesdk

Hobi heads their way apparently two whole hours later with the intention of waking Jk up. The below images confirm the approximate timeframe.

Hobi says he’ll go wake Jungkook up, seemingly unaware that Tae had joined him in bed.

Once he gets there he first calls for Jk, pauses and also calls for Tae in a higher, slightly surprised tone. Goes to show it was unexpected for him.

Hobi is insistent, they have to eat and leave the cottage soon.

Jk stretches and gets up relatively quickly - although looks sleepy. Taking into account the cut, it must have been a couple of minutes since Hobi entered.

Hobi looks on and doesn’t leave until they get up. He had to make sure. This may be strongly subjective but he seems to have a somewhat wary demeanor, looking at them as if he was studying the situation.

Tae suddenly sprints out of bed.

Note Hobi’s face -

He pauses at the door for a bit before reminding them to hurry up. He might think they are capable of going back to sleep and miss lunch. Maybe that’s the only reason he looks faintly concerned, but that’s up for interpretation.

Publicly debated topic - There was a clear cut between Hobi entering the room and when he talks to Taekook, finally getting them out of bed. ARMY pointed out that the door was left more closed after Hobi entered, but when we see him again - after the cut - it’s wide open meaning someone crossed it in the meantime, which makes people wonder. Jk’s feet also change position which means there was substantial movement. This has led some to believe that Taekook were cuddling quite intimately and the cut was made to hide it.

Skeptical stance: Please keep in mind all content is edited, with cuts, and we don’t necessarily believe this is a big deal. It’s just being noted since it was a widely discussed topic.

Observations(both anticlimactic & open): Contrary to popular belief, Hobi did knock on Jk’s door in ep 7 when he was alone. The cut could’ve just been made to shorten the moment since TK didn’t want to get up. Maybe Hobi went back towards the door after getting a response from them, opened it, hesitated & decided to make sure they got up. Judging by their feet, Tae was already on his back before the cut - same as Jk who was even starting to turn towards the wall. Seeing that their positions weren’t compromising prior to the cut and that Tk were shown cuddling just moments before without a problem, I don’t think BH tried to hide anything with this specific cut. You can decide as you wish. Nevertheless, I think them cuddling before Hobi entered was very possible which is explained below.

Door looks more closed -

As you see, prior to Hobi’s entrance it is indeed possible that Jk was hugging Tae if you observe his legs and how he starts to turn the other way around. His left knee is lifted and folded which would be the one folding over Tae (in the speculative case) while the other leg was straightened. Why the need to move right when Hobi enters? Also, in this action one of his legs is left without a blanket to cover him which could indicate he was closer to Tae just seconds before.

However - still prior to the cut - Jk had already turned towards the wall with both his knees facing that way, therefore, there was nothing to hide anymore - if there ever was.

Tae was also on his back if you look at his right foot’s toe facing the door (the foot with exclamation points is Jk’s facing the wall).

In the next scene, the door is wide open and Jk’s position has changed further - rolling more on his side, straightening his legs and fully covering them with the blanket (except his foot).

https://twitter.com/_k91230v_/status/1314470859361247232?s=21

or may view footage of this in Korean here -

https://twitter.com/hellotae_vv/status/1314213325505400832?s=21

; Full clip:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1AVMFqki3PWhCcXlN-rKrEGloODWk9l95/view?usp=drivesdk

Taekook sit next to each other as they eat - possibly the last two to join. They grow impatient when they finish eating and get up. First it’s Jk and then Tae follows suit, surrounding the table to go where he is.

It seems like they cross a few words - although not heard - and for some reason Jk hands his phone over to Tae. We’ve noticed the editors can alter the volume of their mics as Jimin is heard muffled at some point during this scene.

Members urge the duo to sit down so they can say thank you.

Taekook then can be seen walking together towards the main house, but choose to engage in different activities.

Full lunch + tk walking:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qLT2eoYEy_HI8CIbv7Iti-C29io1wZ92/view?usp=drivesdk

While Jk quietly carved wood -

Tae searched for playmates for a water balloon fight - clearly still playful unlike what they tried to portray in ep 6. Tae is certainly calmer compared to his younger self, but he still likes to joke around. The pandemic affected his mood and this was a time for healing, but his core personality didn’t drastically change and it was a recent situation. In late 2019 (around early November) Tae said these words: “They say I’m restless, but that’s who I am. I think that’s why they gave me that nickname. I don’t think my personality will change no matter how much time passes or how old I get. I’d like to be considered a playful person to everyone”. As we said, we reiterate they must have used Tae’s recent mood as the perfect excuse to naturally justify the separation strategy they had been using to pretend they drifted apart these last years.

Back in Seoul, BTS visit the studio to record the theme song for Soop. Even though there is an empty chair, when Tae comes back from recording his part, he proceeds to sit on Jk’s lap, who doesn’t protest. This is what Tae saw as he was entering the room -

He walked past Jk playfully smothering Hobi to leave the paper -

And turned around to look directly at them.

He hesitated for a second - standing still in front of them without looking around - and went for it, claiming his seat on top of Jk.

Jk was smiling, maybe about Tae or maybe about the silly singing he was participating in along other members. Regardless, he was in a good mood & unbothered.

Tae let himself fall flat against Jk, completely relaxed.

Jk started to feel a bit asphyxiated after a while so he gently incorporated himself, making Tae sit straight but with no intention of pushing him off.

Tae stays there for a considerable amount of time, both comfortable and smiling whenever something funny happened.

Note that the members seemed to play a sort of musical chairs. When a member returned from singing, he would take the seat of the person who got up to go record. Therefore, the argument that Tae avoided the seat for Joon isn’t very credible. No one else sits on a lap and no one else had an issue finding a seat when he wanted. (Tae sitting on Jk’s lap: https://drive.google.com/file/d/14UhAYnWI4YWrMNoK3wa69m_tod-X7c9m/view?usp=drivesdk)

When all go in but Yoongi, Joon suggests the members sing in a breathy tone, to which Tae says it’s his speciality.

However, Vmin then show solidarity in hyping Jk’s voice. Right after they agree to an airy tone for the chorus, both Jk and Jimin start softly singing to themselves, but Tae doesn’t hesitate when he suddenly turns to Jk and grabs him by the arm to pull him to the center. As Tae is doing this action, Jimin asks the rhetorical question “isn’t he the best at it?”

Tae has a precious grin adorning his features -

Tae affirms Jk is the best at capturing the breathy tone BTS is striving for as he leads him to the center of the group. The younger shows modesty by questioning their decision as he says “why? why?”.

Notice Tae’s arm still pulling him -

Tae then gestures to the mic, insisting.

He briefly gives Jk’s arm an encouraging pat / light grab as he says again Jk should sing in the center.

Jimin agrees and says Jk is the chorus.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1RqnHIjmLPjzxsBKaXbJEkbbiYZT7XQmK/view?usp=drivesdk

Towards the end of the recording session, Tae goes in to record a solo soulful piece (Jk follows after). When Tae begins, Yoongi and Jimin immediately turn to Jk and start laughing loudly, with Yoongi clapping as he laughs (other members also laugh). Jk grins.

Speculative stance: Yoonmin may have turned to Jk because it was expected he’d go in after Tae and “duel” as Yoongi later says. Perhaps they turn to him to gauge his reaction at following in recording his soulful take after Tae.

Jk introduces Tae with a “Here goes V” - raising expectations.

Yoonmin look at Jk as they laugh -

Members really want Jk to record the ad-libs he was doing while sited. They call it a “war” and an “ad-lib battle” (keep in mind neither Tae nor Jk uttered those words).

Once Jk is done and gave them all good laughs, Joon asks him to go back in to do a final ad-lib. Mirroring his prior actions, Tae excitedly hunches forward to get him off his chair and into the studio, very much looking forward to more of Jk’s hilariously soulful singing.

TK ad-lib battle:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1x1JYtCG-bwBD6WZWwUQ2WaLpi7gw2-CG/view?usp=drivesdk

#taekook #taekooktimeline #2020 #june 2020 #200602 #domestic #encouragement #supportive #cuddles #closeness #playfulness

59 notes · View notes

lake-arrius-caverns · 3 years

Text

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 7: Awakening

oops im seeing about changing my upload day to friday but yesterday i totally forgot abt it so lmao

summary After a successful assignment, Fahjoth is glad to be given a few days off and learns a little about his duties from Caius. The twins plan a trip to Vivec City for some exploration.

content warnings none

tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

—————————————————————————————

Flouncing through the front door of Cosades’ tiny house, Fahjoth couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he brandished the scrolls of parchment with glee.

“I got them!” he cried, ecstatic. “The notes from Sharn gra-Muzgob! I got them!”

Cosades looked up from his supper with one brow raised, but by no means did he look on with disapproval. “And not a scratch on you,” he remarked, holding out a hand to receive the scrolls as Fahjoth passed them over. “I knew it wouldn’t be long before you found your feet. Well done, Novice.”

“Well, I had help—” Fahjoth started, unwilling to take all the credit for his achievement, but Cosades didn’t seem to be listening anyway. He unfurled the scrolls and silence fell as he pored over them, a thoughtful look on his face as he examined the scrawling, loopy handwriting. Fahjoth took a seat at the table and waited, wondering what his next assignment was to be. At least Ribyna was on standby back at the South Wall Cornerclub, and for that, Fahjoth was grateful.

“Well, Fahjoth,” Cosades started, rolling up the parchments once again and turning to face Fahjoth with the beginnings of a smile, “I’m promoting you to Blades Apprentice. You deserve it after the hard work you’ve put into all your duties.”

Fahjoth’s heart began to soar with excitement. “Apprentice?” he repeated, awestruck. “Thank you, sir! So, uhh... what will I be expected to do now?”

“Nothing too different, I assure you. It’s mostly a recognition thing, to be perfectly honest,” Cosades answered. He got to his feet, beginning to pace around the room in deep thought and occasionally stopping to check a book or scrap of paper, cross referencing several stacks of notes. Fahjoth wondered how he was able to keep track of it all. “Now, I'd like some time to think how this all fits in with the Emperor's plans for you. So if you'd like to get in a little freelance adventuring, go ahead. But whenever you're ready, I'll have new orders for you."

“Oh... alright.” The news came as a welcome surprise for sure. Fahjoth had to admit, he was glad to have a few days of downtime at last. It would be a good opportunity for him and Ribyna to do some exploring; she had mentioned wanting to visit Vivec City at some point, perhaps now they could finally go.

But there was one thing that he had been growing more and more curious about; the subject of all his errands, the very reason he had been putting his life on the line in exchange for whatever information Cosades wanted. He knew nothing about any of it, and the burning desire to ask, to learn exactly why it was so important, could not be quashed. Maybe now was the time.

“Sir?” he questioned, biting his lip with uncertainty. Cosades stared fixedly at Fahjoth, indicating that he was listening, and so Fahjoth continued — albeit with some hesitation. “Could you explain the... things that I’ve been getting information about? The, uh, the Sixth House and the Nev... Nevera... Neraver—“

“The Nerevarine,” Cosades finished for him, and Fahjoth nodded. “Of course. I forget that you can’t read well. We’ll start with the Sixth House.”

Fahjoth shuffled in his seat, getting himself comfortable and listening with rapt attention as Cosades began to speak. “There isn’t much to say about the Sixth House cult just yet. A trusted informant of mine says they're a secret cult associated with some strange events recently. More importantly, my informant thinks these recent disturbances are related in some way to the Nerevarine Prophecies."

“And what are the—?”

“I’m getting to that part, Apprentice. One thing at a time. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but there’s been some attacks recently attributed to sleeper agents of this cult. Have you heard anything about them?”

Fahjoth shook his head. “No sir.”

“There've been several attacks recently, and these Sleepers all say the same thing. ‘Serve your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory.’”

A shiver suddenly tore through Fahjoth’s ribs, catching him by surprise. Why did that name sound so familiar? There was no distinct emotional response attached to hearing it, but the hairs on Fahjoth’s arms continued to stand on end, giving him prominent goosebumps.

“Keep an eye out, and if you see anything suspicious, let me know.”

“Yes sir.”

“Alright, now for the Nerevarine.” Cosades rejoined Fahjoth at the table and took a swig of something from an open bottle before continuing. “The Ashlanders—“

“The what?”

“The Ashlanders— by the divines, Vetharys...”

Fahjoth grimaced, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Sorry...”

“No, it’s alright,” Cosades sighed. “I just thought you would’ve heard about them by now. I don't know much about them. Most people say they‘re murderous savages. But most people are idiots. I know they hate the settled Dunmer almost as much as they hate Westerners. I don't think their tribes tend to be particularly welcoming to outlanders, so watch yourself if you’re ever wandering in the Ashlands.”

Fahjoth nodded, remaining quiet to let Cosades go on.

“The Ashlanders pass down their customs and history in the form of poetic verses. Among the things they preserve in verse are the dreams and prophetic visions of their wise women, in particular the verses that foretell the coming of the Nerevarine. And before you ask,” Cosades added, seeing that Fahjoth was about to speak again, “some Dunmer believe that an orphan and outcast, a youth born on a certain day to uncertain parents, will one day unite all the tribes of the Dunmer, drive out the invaders of Morrowind, and reestablish the ancient laws and customs of the Dark Elven nations. They call this orphan and outcast the ‘Nerevarine’, and say they will be a reincarnation of the long-dead Dunmer General and First Councilor, Lord Indoril Nerevar. But... I don't know much else about it. That's why I'm sending you to find out.”

Fahjoth nodded, fascinated by the sudden bombardment of information he was receiving. “And... it’s relevant to stuff that’s happening now? These cult attacks and whatnot? That’s why we’re investigating it?”

There was a split second where Fahjoth thought that Cosades may have paused, his stern grey eyes locked on Fahjoth’s own, but then came a perfectly normal response, leaving him wondering if he’d simply imagined it.

“Correct.”

Armed with this knowledge, Fahjoth suddenly felt inspired. So this was what all his top-secret missions had really been about. He still had no idea why he’d been pulled out of prison to join this endeavour specifically, but he no longer felt as much of a need to question it. This was his chance to make a difference, to do some real good in the world; it strengthened his resolve and he silently vowed to give it his all, regardless of how many errands he would end up having to run.

“Alright. Thanks, sir.” Fahjoth rose to his feet, figuring he should go and find Ribyna and tell her the news, but Cosades leaned back in his chair and stared at him with such a dour look in his eyes that Fahjoth faltered.

“Don’t forget, Vetharys — always pay attention to what’s going on around you. You’re an agent of the Blades; information is our specialty,” he advised. “And never let your guard down. I don’t ever want to find you being sent back to me in a box.”

Fahjoth cringed, feeling distinctly like he was being told off for the sheer amount of ignorance he had so openly displayed. Well, he had to learn somehow, didn't he? “Yes, sir… thank you, sir.”

And with that he bade farewell to Cosades for now, scurrying out of the house before he could be admonished further, and made a beeline straight for the South Wall Cornerclub. Just as he rounded the corner and descended the short flight of stone steps between buildings, he found himself face-to-face with a familiar dark-haired figure, and coincidentally just the person he was looking for.

“Ribyna!” he called, grinning as he got his sibling’s attention seconds before she stepped into the cornerclub. “Thought I’d find you here.”

“‘Sup, Fahji?” Ribyna turned away from the doorway and gave Fahjoth the usual hug of greeting. “You look happy. Has something happened?”

“I got a promotion!” he exclaimed without hesitation, eager to share the news. “And I got a few days off, too. I was thinking maybe we could do something.”

“Ah, well done, bro!” Ribyna congratulated him with a grin. “Yeah, I’m good for a few days. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I thought maybe we could go to Vivec City? If you still wanted to go there, that is.”

For the second time that night, Fahjoth thought he detected a fleeting look of hesitation on the face of someone he was speaking to. This time it was Ribyna, who appeared almost apprehensive as soon as Fahjoth had mentioned going to Vivec City; but then her response was as casual as ever, leaving Fahjoth even more befuddled and debating with himself over whether he was just seeing things.

Maybe I’m just tired, he mused to himself.

“Yeah, sounds good. D’you wanna leave now or tomorrow?” Ribyna asked. “If you like, I can go see how much the silt strider bloke charges.”

“Well, it’s getting on a bit, but…” Fahjoth paused, looking upwards and searching for the position of the sun, which was already past its highest point in the sky. He estimated that they had a few hours of daylight left, so ignoring the little voice of caution in his head, he made his decision.

“Yeah, why not? Let’s go tonight. Could be fun to stay overnight in the big city!” Fahjoth enthused, and Ribyna nodded.

“Alright! I’ll go find out how much a one way trip costs,” Ribyna said. “Start heading over towards the silt strider and I’ll meet you there!” And with that she tore off, racing over the bridge in the middle of town and zipping up the stairs to speak with the caravaner.

With a quiet chuckle, Fahjoth shook his head and began to meander at a far more relaxed pace after his twin, passing by one of the townsfolk as he stepped off the bridge. He dipped his head and smiled in casual greeting, but the Dunmer gripped his wrist with such force that Fahjoth gasped in shock.

He leaned in, his face mere inches from Fahjoth’s own, and Fahjoth could see only too clearly his strangely blank, vacant expression. His eyes, though unfocused, were glaring at Fahjoth with such a scorching intensity that he almost broke out into a sweat, his heart hammering rhythmically in his chest like a trapped sparrow, fast and fearful.

And then he spoke, his voice gravelly and harsh, the sound of crumbling charcoal over burning ashes.

“Beneath Red Mountain, Lord Dagoth sleeps. But when he wakes, we all shall rise, and the dust will blow away. Serve your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory.”

Momentarily frozen, Fahjoth’s senses eventually returned to him and his first instinct was to yank his wrist free of the Dunmer’s grip, panting as if he had just run a marathon. The Dunmer jerked as Fahjoth tore free, and then within seconds, the blank look on his face melted away and he cleared his throat, glancing around as if confused. He then regarded Fahjoth with a perfectly normal, albeit rather sleepy stare.

“What do you think of our city, outlander?” he asked mildly, but before Fahjoth could even think of a response, a voice calling his name caught his attention.

“Fahji! C’mon, hurry up!”

His mouth dry, Fahjoth wheeled around and dashed after Ribyna, not stopping until he had caught up with his twin. Ribyna looked irate as she immediately began a short rant.

“I’m not paying for that bloody silt strider. It’s a ripoff! And if we’re gonna stay in Vivec overnight, gods know how much the rooms are gonna set us back, too. Come on, we’ll walk instead—” She paused and frowned as she finally took in Fahjoth’s appearance, while he tried to calm himself down in the meantime.

“What the fuck’s the matter with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” With a shake of her head, Ribyna corrected herself, “Actually, you weren’t even this pale when we did see a ghost. Did something happen?”

“A— a Dunmer,” Fahjoth began, his gaze rapidly flicking from left to right, half-expecting an attack to come out of nowhere. “A Dunmer stopped me and... and said a thing...”

However, as he took in Ribyna’s attentive expression, he realised with a heart-wrenching disappointment that there was no way he would be able to explain any of it to her. Not without going into detail about the missions that Cosades had given him, which he had been strictly forbidden to do. He could lie, omit some elements of the truth, but then what would be the point in that? His voice trailed off into silence, leaving him awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. After a few seconds, Ribyna spoke up again.

“Did he threaten you?” she asked, very seriously. “D’you want me to find this bastard and have a word?”

“No!” Fahjoth replied hastily. With reluctance, he took a deep breath and tried to swallow his anxieties, his gaze wandering down to his wrist as he rubbed it. There was no visible blemish, but somehow, he felt his wrist burning fiercely where the Dunmer had grabbed him. “It’s fine. It was probably nothing. Let’s just go to Vivec,” he added, “I could do with the walk, I think.”

It was clear from her expression that Ribyna didn’t believe him, but his tone of voice made it very clear that to question him further would only exacerbate the issue, and Ribyna relented. “Alright,” she said eventually. “But if you’ve got a problem, you can talk to me, okay?”

“Yeah... I know. Thanks, Beebs.” Though he wanted nothing more than to confide in his twin, Fahjoth regretfully held back. He was alive, and that was the main thing; telling Cosades could wait until he got back. In his shaken state, he found it far too overwhelming to think about right now anyway, and so the two departed from Balmora and embarked on the considerable journey southwards to Vivec City.

#oc: fahjoth #oc: ribyna #tes #tes fic #morrowind #dunmer #dunmer oc #nerevarine #elder scrolls #elder scrolls fanfic #tes iii: morrowind

12 notes · View notes

reeesea · 3 years

Text

Something Sweet: Part Seven

~sweet home~

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

pairing: minsung, han jisung/lee minho

warning: mild language

words: 4.7k

summary: Home is where your bros at right? right.

a/n: I actually like this chapter, shocker. i hope you enjoy

ao3

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

Minho stared at the video file sitting on his computer, on the familiar application site that had been haunting his mind for the past couple years. The debate he found himself in with himself on whether or not to submit another application, had become his default subject of thought for much of the past few weeks. All building up to right now. Something had tipped the scale though. Something that reminded him if he didn't submit an entry this year, that he might as well have given up on his one dream. His one goal. The only thing that had been keeping him motivated through university. So once again he found himself rationalizing, and knew that if anything he had to try, at least just one last time.

Upload complete, Thank you for your entry!

Minho sighed loudly. He had sent it in. The first part of the application. It was just a basic dance routine supplied by the academy. He had practice and recorded it all within one sitting. Having been a part of a dance crew for much of the past year had allowed him to quickly pick up choreography and perfect it. The other reason being that he wanted more than anything to get the overbearing presence of the audition tape out of his head space as soon as possible. A heavy sigh left his lips as he laid back down on the studio floor, not too long after a ping of his phone revived just enough for him to check his messages.

[Rich Boy Han Jisung]

2:50 pm

Minho-hyung!

I hope your day has been going well~

Sadly, no updates on when ill be free :/

They’re working us hard for the debut

It’s alright Ji, work hard!

You better be taking care of yourself tho...

4:03 pm (new)

Have you heard this song? Made me think of you :)

{link attached}

I hope you like it!!!!

Oh, no i havent

I’ll give it a listen ^-^

As of late it wasn’t uncommon for Jisung to send the older songs he thought he would like. Always saying some cheesy line that was so blatantly sweet it made Minho flustered everytime. This time of course was no exception.

Ping.

HYUNG THAT EMOJI

Asjdnjsfma

I knew I was rubbin goffon you

Kkkkk

Dont get too ahead of yourself

atleast I can still type coherent sentences

~goffon~

Boo :p

Why Jisung was so persistent about sending him songs was lost on the older, but it was a sweet reminder that someone was thinking about him. It had been a while since Minho had even imagined that someone took a few minutes of their day to actually consider how he was doing. It didn't quite make sense to him that suddenly out of nowhere, there was his boy, man, person, who purposefully took the time to dedicate brain cells to his existence. Wild.

Minho hurriedly clicked the link to the song that Jisung had sent. It was an upbeat song, with a strong but subtle strumming of a guitar to keep the song’s pace just quick enough to be comfortable. “There's no one else that could ever hold me like you do.” The lyrics were in the realm of positive longing and companionship, but the dips into minor chords and tone of the singer created a mood of desperation. More than anything, the song brought forth a story to Minho. One that he could see with his eyes close and feel his body wanting to move to.

A smile stretched across his face, as he rose from his spot on the floor, dusting off the dull ache and pressure in his shoulders from having just finished a routine not even 10 minutes ago.

“But I know that I'd be crazy, Not to wanna be the one to keep you up all night”

Woah there Jisung, at least take me out to dinner first. He made a mental note to tease the younger later about his “Made me think of you :)” line later. Already stretching and drawing a plan in his head, Minho took his phone and saved the song, pressing the repeat button twice, to allow the guitar chords and chorus harmonies to carry on endlessly. A smirk stretched into an excited smile. Not wanting to jinx himself, a shy “finally” was whispered in the back of Minho’s mind at the surge of inspiration, but not spoken aloud just yet.

---

Flashing lights, heavy makeup, hot clothing, and too much fog from the smoke machine is all Jisung had thought about for the last couple hours. 3RAHCHA was in their last photo shoot for their debut. The concept photos would be released later through the week, slowly revealing the three members and their group as officially signed with JJP ent.

The multicolor lights had been running through his vision for so long that as soon as he walked into their Green Room, he had almost forgotten what color everything actually was. Looking in the mirror he saw the blonde highlighted streaks in his hair had settled nicely, slightly slicked back. The stylist had surely done their jobs well. Painting the three rappers up to look less like the nightcrawlers they were, and into something that leather and fishnet clad superstars might look like was definitely a challenge. Jisung had his makeup done just enough to give his eyes a smoky look to them, and grey contacts to emphasize his gaze. The ensemble he had on looked like something that had come straight from a catwalk. Fishnets crawling up his arms from his gloved hands and an asymmetrical shit he for sure would not have been able to put on without the help of his stylist-noona. All that plus some leather pants and combat boots, he definitely looked more like his persona J.One than the notorious hoodie clad couch potato named Jisung he usually found himself as.

Having just finished his own solo shoot, he signaled Changbin to head on to the set as he returned. The older nodded from his chair in front of the makeup station, as the artist finished the final touches to his eyeliner. Jisung watched as the shorter rapper walked out to the set in a white puffer jacket that he somehow pulled off, even with the bright red pants he wore. A part of Jisung was thankful his stylist hadn’t taken that many liberties with his outfit, but the makeup and outfit Changbin wore really only emphasized his intimidating stare and the wideness of his shoulders. It was undeniable that their concept photos would come out well.

Chan, who was seated on a couch, eating some of the provided sandwiches, was already hunched over his computer and mixing equipment again, airpods in. Probably working on tracks for their third comeback knowing him. Not wanting to jump right back into work Jisung snagged a few snacks from the buffet and found a chair he could lay on. Listening to music that wasn't work had become a rarity for Jisung in the years he had been with 3RACHA. Of course he always tried to stay on top of the recent pop and hip hop trends, but straying any farther than his trusty morning and workout playlists was more than unlikely.

Lately though, Jisung found himself looking through a lot of random indie, alternative, “western” pop, and especially dance music. The versatility of the genres was comforting to Jisung in the rather turbulent state his emotions and mental state have been in, as the debut approached. Also Minho. Meeting Minho definitely had introduced a whole new set of feelings Jisung was still working on navigating. As he listened to the different songs that populated this radio, he told himself he was just looking for some inspiration for his lyrics and 3RACHA’s new music, but even he knew that was mostly a lie.

Ever since that night at the bar with Minho he found himself always considering the older and what he would think of a song or how he would dance to it, or if he would even like it. After pointing out that he liked a particularly upbeat pop song with melancholic lyrics, during their impromptu karaoke session, Jisung had been delvinging into all related categories to find songs he thought the older might enjoy. He wanted more than anything to inspire his older companion? Partner? (that was a later Jisung question.) but he wanted to repay the man who had allowed him to get out of his creative slump. That night, as soon as the youngest rapper had returned to the 3RACHA “house” he felt the start of at least 5 separate tracks and choruses appear in his brain. His two hyungs jumped into action along with him as Jisung desperately tried to write and record everything that was jumping out of his brain at once.

Jisung remembered Chan’s smile and encouraging words as he fitted a few of his new verses to songs they had previously put on the shelf. After finding a particularly emotional but upbeat song he immediately wanted to send it to Minho. He always got hung up on what to say with the link. Other than the thought vomit that occurred every time he chooses to send him a potentially good song: “Found this song? U Like???” No Jisung, what are you five?? “I think you will enjoy this song. Please give it a listen? :0” No that just sounds desperate.

“You doing alright there Ji, I can hear you sighing through my earbuds?” Chan peeked out from under his styled bangs with a raised eyebrow, sending Jisung into a red embarrassed mess that he had been caught. He hoped his layers of foundation would cover it up.

“Yeah fine fine, don't worry. I’m FINE.” Attempting to hide Jisung curled up tighter into his arm chair. Just be casual Jisung it's a song not a marriage proposal dear god. “Have you heard this song? Made me think of you :)” Good, yes fine. Send.

Minho responded immediately and cutely with an emoji that made his heart jump a little. Minho would respond always with a variation of a “Thanks! I’ll go listen”, but Jisung had yet to receive any confirmation that the older actually enjoyed the links he sent, much less had found some inspiration in them. At this point the only thing he could do was hope. He wanted nothing more than Minho to be smiling because of him.

Officially exhausted, it wasn’t until late when the 3RACHA boys had finally made it back to their apartment. The day Jisung had, had been anything but short. Almost collapsing immediately on the couch. Sana notified them that she had already ordered food to be delivered for dinner and that they should go to bed as soon as they had finished eating. Chan looked like he was about to pass out on the couch before the food even arrived, which was more than likely at this point. After their shoot they were immediately sent to a few other meetings laying out their marketing and schedule plans for the upcoming weeks. Although glad they were able to part with their artistic and career decisions with their company, it did add a lot of work and responsibilities to the trio.

Jisung’s phone had died somewhere after meeting 3 of 5 and he had submitted to having to carry the lifeless brick with him anyway. Not ideal for his wandering mind and anxiety that comes with a few too many stressful meetings. Once finally arriving home he went and plugged his phone in at the charger on the kitchen counter. Lighting up with notification buzzes as it rebooted back to life.

[ 5 new messages from Lee Minho hyungie]

Immediately cursing himself internally for not bringing his charger with him, he opened his messages from Minho ignoring all others.

[Lee Minho hyungie]

5:45 pm

Hey Jisungie, just finished up practice!

Actually may or may not have danced to the song u sent…

Maybe I’ll show you some day hehehehehehehehe ;)

7:21 pm

Han Jisung, did you forget your charger again >:/

Well I’m off to my late shift, I hope you have a good night~

Jisung always found himself smiling at Minho’s before work texts. They were always so cute. Either some sort of sweet well wishing or some other Minho-esque goodbye, along the lines of “don’t die mysteriously while i'm gone ;p” or “Have a good night, try not to miss my WONDERFUL company too much <3”. (The hearts always made Jisung grin hard, even if they were sarcastic)

This night though, Jisung found him almost jumping in victory at Minho’s text.

[Lee Minho hyungie]

12:35 am

YOU DANCED TO THE SONG

Really?!?!?!

What did you like about it?

When can I see????

You better not leave me on read after work!

Jisung tried to imagine what kind of dance Minho would do to the track he sent,and suddenly found himself flush at the thought of watching the other dance. Somehow, watching Minho dance, felt more intimate than any other situation that they’ve shared. Thankfully Minho seemed to want to hold off, so at least of the time being Jisung’s heart was safe. The exhaustion and stress from the day faded ever so slightly as soon as he thought of Minho with coordinating blush to match.

Jisung you lovestruck fool.

“Jisung! Food’s here!!! If you don't hurry Chan’ll eat your portion again.”

“HEY! It was one time.” Laughter filled the apartment gently as they all respectively fought gravity to get up and make their way to collect the food from the delivery man.

---

Minho tore up the stairs and through their apartment door as quickly as he could without spilling the carry out food he had in his arms. The clock was ticking a little past midnight and fear set in that the older would miss their planned celebrations.

Bursting through the door, “Did I beat him?!” The oldest was frazzled from rushing in order to beat their third roommate home from work.

“Barely! I was afraid you wouldn’t make it, with having to bring the carry out.” Hyunjin’s sigh of relief was visible throughout the boy's now relaxed body. He had spent the last ten minutes hoping that they would still be able to pull off their surprise party for the youngest. Pacing around and failing to come up with any backup plans if Minho had been later than Felix. Thankfully for them both, Minho had a way of always being on time.

“Hey all that matters is I made it. Is everything else ready?” Looking around Minho could see that Hyunjin’s bed was transitioned back into the couch setting and that the floors had been tidied up. A couple stray balloons littered the floor as well as a home made “happy birthday felix” sign hung from their living room screen divider.

“Yep, I've just been waiting anxiously for you to get home for the past half hour.”

The door handle of their apartment began to jiggle, signaling the two boys to spring into action. Minho setting down the carry out, and Hyunjin frantically lights candles on the small cake on the coffee table. The door swung open, revealing a disheveled after-work Felix wandering through the door. As soon as the boy turned toward their living room, he was accosted with shouts and the flailing limbs of his hyungs.

“Surprise!!!” “Happy Birthday!!!”

Felix’s smile erased any of the signs of exhaustion off his face immediately as soon as he spotted his hyungs excited expressions. The cake, the streamers, the balloons, and sign all sparked some joyful tearing of his eyes as he set down his things and made his way to the small cake with a few random lit candles on top. The clock had crossed over into the next day as Felix had made his way home, that he had almost forgotten that it was now technically the early morning hours of his birthday. Coming home to joyful cheers instead of their usual exhausted silence had given him a certain happiness that he hadn’t realized he was missing.

For all of three of the roommates this was their first time having a celebration in their small home together. By now the sense of home was undeniable and without realizing it all of them had begun to consider each other and their shared 3 room apartment, home.

The disjointed singing of happy birthday followed by the laughter and conversation surrounded their coffee table as the three enjoyed their small carryout feast and cake. The warmth that their company gave each other lasted well into the night.

“Hyung! It's my birthday, stop eating all the cake!!!”

“I have no idea what youre talking about Lixie.” Minho says while actively taking another bite of their 2 person sized cake.

“Hyung!” The laughter of the oldest filled the room followed by the other two’s not too long after.

“Happy Birthday Lixie~” The smile hadn’t left the freckled boys faces since he had sat down, and remained as he pulled his two roommates into a forceful hug. It was his birthday so the boys both submitted to the clingy nature of their third roommate, as always.

---

It was late into the early morning by the time Minho had checked his phone.

[ 5 new messages from Rich Boy Han Jisung]

A soft pang of guilt hits his chest after reading the younger’s texts and realizing that he did in fact leave the other on read for the better part of the last two hours.

2:43 am

I’m so sorry Sungie!

We were celebrating Felix’s birthday, and I didnt check my phone….

Look at the cute cake we got him!

{photo attached}

Minho sent the selfie of the three of them with Felix’s cake, if anything just to lessen the guilt in his chest. Hoping that the cuteness of Felix’s smile would be enough to forgive him for low key ghosting him for a few hours. Minho knows that on the days Jisung has the most schedules are the hardest for him mentally, and he always tries his best to be there for him and send him a message or two to lessen the load on those nights. The fact that he hadn’t been there tonight filled him with some worry. A part of him hoped that the younger would’ve been asleep by now but their late night track record did not exactly support that.

---

Jisung had been lying painfully awake in his bed for an hour when he heard the buzz of his phone. Slightly upset with his body for not giving into the exhaustion he had gathered from the day, and just letting him sleep, he turned to the side table to check the messages. Awake fully ,but only mentally half conscious, he read through his messages:

Minho. Oh, yay, it's Minho.

Felix’s Birthday. Oh right he had mentioned that coming up.

Cute cake. Aw that cake is really cute… wait.

Birthday.

I have one of those, around this time to-

I missed my birthday. I forgot my birthday. Everyone forgot.

The cute picture Minho had sent was so filled with happiness that Jisung almost let the pain slide and pass the moment by. But something just didn't feel right in letting himself forget his own birthday. The fact that the others hadn’t remembered didn’t bother him too much. Chan, Changbin, they were all busy with schedules and he can't blame them. Especially since he, himself had forgotten. No birthday text from his family either. Unsurprising though since he rarely got in contact with them since moving to Korea in high school. He forgot though.

He wasn’t quite sure why this was bothering him so much. Some people don't even celebrate their birthday, or remember how old they are, but Jisung had always prided himself on never letting his work take over entirely who he was. To exhausted-Jisung, he couldn’t help but feel like this was one step toward losing the grip on who he was, and that was in itself, terrifying.

The coldness of his bed and the dark expanse of his room seemed to only perpetuate the way Jisung felt. Floating, alone, lost. His insecurity was starting to come into focus, and no wonder it had been keeping him up. He had been spiraling for days probably, without even knowing it. The buzz of his phone lit up his face, snapping him out of his own thoughts for a moment.

[Lee Minho hyungie]

2:50 pm

You okay Jisung?

I hope I didn't wake you

Jisung noticed that the app had revealed that he had read the messages and was indeed awake. Unfortunately, exhausted-and--spirling-Jisung was the only one present enough to send a response. Hopefully Minho wouldn’t mind him too much.

You didn’t wake me, was already up :/

It looks really fun hyung

I just realized something too

My birthday was yesterday

I forgot it

Jisung found himself fighting the watering of his eyes as he sent those messages. Why was he crying? He just forgot, he was busy. It was okay. Right? The tears seemed to only cloud his vision more, blocking him from reading the messages from Minho that were buzzing and populating the screen. Not bothering to wipe his eyes, he let them blurr.

Wh- do you- mea- ???

Jis--ng ar- y-- ok--?

I-- sorry i- di-nt -----

---- wa-t --- ca-l?

--sung?

A few moments passed, without him realizing it, as his phone buzzed some more, screen changing to the incoming call screen. Sucking up his tears and drying his damp screen, it took a few tries before answering the call.

---

“Jisung!?” Jisung nearly flinched, just nearly.

“Hi hyung, How was work?” hoping to cover up his tears by changing the subject. Jisung thought it was a pretty good attempt.

“How wa- what, no. Jisung are you okay?” There it was again. The undeniable worry in Minho’s voice. Ow.

“Yeah I’m okay.” Despite Jisung’s efforts it was obvious to Minho that the other had in fact been crying. Not wanting to push the younger though, he allowed him to change the subject

“.... okay, I just want to check in on you. I worry you know, Sung!”

“About me? that's silly hyung.” The distance in his tone replaced Jisung’s usual brightness, and it hurt Minho to hear it.

“I don't think so. How am I to know what my favorite customer is up to? You may be a soon to be rap star but that doesn’t keep you from ignoring your hyung.” Even though Jisung giggled at that, the irony of the statement wasn’t lost on Minho. A wave of guilt washed over his chest as soon as he said it.

“I am sorry though. For not answering sooner and everything.”

And for reminding you of your birthday, and making you cry, and not being there to make you smile.

“No don’t be sorry! That’ll only make me feel worse for bothering you… I think the exhaustion was just making me delirious, I haven't been sleeping well these past few nights.” Minho had to fight his initial protective instincts that told him to scold the younger for not taking care of himself, because a part of him knew that the younger was certainly trying his best to do so.

“Well if you can’t sleep ever, just call me okay? I’m usually up from my shifts anyway. Plus if I'm not up surely one of my roommates is. Felix will probably never let go of you once he finds your birthday brothers." Hearing Minho's laugh lightened the tight pressure that Jisung hadn't realized had been settled in his chest.

"Okay hyung, i'd like that I think."

"You better. My time rarely comes free, and this is a limited time offer." Jisung’s laugh is a little bit more enthusiastic this time.

“Of course hyung.” A silence came over them for a moment. Not an awkward one, more of a point of realization and relief. Like the feeling after having a good cry, in Jisung’s case.

“Happy belated birthday Jisung.”

“Thanks hyung… Did you have a fun time with Felix?”

“Yeah! It was actually a lot of fun. Just some carry out and cake after work, but it was good to relax with them. We don't always have free time together, and haven’t had the chance to celebrate anything until now. Hyunnie luckily found a cake on sale at the mart today, sparking this whole thing.”

Minho remembered the frantic call from the younger as he delved into his plans for giving Felix the “perfect surprise birthday celebration” because he had “found the perfect cake to match Felix’s cuteness.” It was on sale. Also because “Come on Min-hyung Felix would absolutely do the same for us.” Explaining the situation to Jisung really did solidify the fact that Minho knew Felix, would in fact, plan some adorable birthday celebration for the older two if given the opportunity.

“What would you guys have done if he hadn't found the cake?”

“I’m not sure maybe it would’ve just been a carry-out celebration.”

“Still sounds really nice hyungie. You and your roommates seem so close.”

“I suppose shared rent does that to people.” Minho laughed it off but he had begun to cherish the brotherly bond that had grown between his roommates.

Not having ever considered it before, the fact that the roommates were only able to buy a cake because it happened to be on sale, revealed to Jisung that their financial situations may have been farther apart than he realized. Money had never been a barrier that Jisung had to face, always having family (or honestly Changbin) help pay for his living and pursuit of his dreams. Sure he’s had part time jobs in the past but he never found himself worrying about not making enough each month. Not going to university definitely was a large factor in maintaining his “affordable” lifestyle.

“It's nice you do things for each other. I can't remember the last time my hyungs and I have done something together that didn't have to do with our music.” Jisung started to feel some sort of jealousy at the closeness that Minho and his roommate had found in each other. Financial guilt and emotional jealousy are a strange combination for a half conscious Jisung to say the least.

“Are those fools not taking care of my Sung properly? Illegal, tell them to call me I have to yell at them too. They better not be working you too hard.”

‘My Sung’ Jisung almost choked. Almost.

“Nonono Hyung! They take care of me fine, we're all just exhausted with work.”

“Hmmmm okay they get a pass this time, but please relay my threat.”

“Okay okay I will.”

“You should probably get some rest soon. You're busy tomorrow right?”

Jisung yawned in response, which was enough convincing for Minho that he needed to rest.

“Okay looks like it's sleepy time for hardworking Jisung~”

“Wait hyung!” Jisung wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet, even though his body was actively fighting him.

“Yes belated birthday boy?”

“Thank you for not letting me be a sad gremlin all night. It would've been nice to have spent my birthday with you, but you still made me feel better.”

The musings of sleepy Jisung were just about enough to let the fondness burst from Minho’s chest. As much as he continues to hide it, the fondness still seeps into his voice, “Of course, Jisung we always have next year.” A promise he wasn’t sure he could keep but Jisung always made him want to try new things.

“Next year?” The sleepiness had definitely taken over, making his voice much softer than his usual bright edge.

“Yes next year... Goodnight Sungie, call me back if you can't sleep okay.”

“Mmkay, G’night hyungie.” Already half asleep by the time he hung up, Minho was glad that the younger was finally able to rest. Glancing at his roommates huddled together on the couch already drifting off, Minho accepted that it was his turn to finally rest knowing that all his younger companions were all safely sleeping. Hyung instincts he supposes.

-----

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

#skz au #skz fic #stray kids au #stray kids fic #lee minho #han jisung #minsung #leeknow #skz lee know #skz han #stray kids #lee felix #hwang hyunjin

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recentanimenews · 3 years

Text

INTERVIEW: Rajorshi Basu on Creating Studio Durga and the State of Anime in India

All images via Studio Durga

What constitutes “anime” is a topic of much debate. The general public associates the word “anime” with a particular visual style. Purists, on the other hand, believe that only animation made in Japan can be considered anime, regardless of whether the visuals are on the K-On! end of the spectrum or the Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt end of the spectrum. This is, to an extent, understandable. But can such a strict definition continue to hold weight in an era where anime is becoming increasingly global? Can a production from outside Japan that possesses all the traits we have come to associate with anime be called anime?

The members of Studio Durga — an independent animation studio based in New Delhi, India — certainly seem to think so. They proudly claim to be India’s first anime studio. While India has worked on anime in the past — in the form of co-productions with Japan (such as Ramayana: the Legend of Prince Rama) — what sets Studio Durga apart is the fact that they work without any foreign assistance, be it from Japan or elsewhere. Their debut work Karmachakra — an 80-minute Bengali-language film, the first in a series of films — is an entirely independent film, made by a core team of only seven members for animation production. Karmachakra is pending release, but the first 20 minutes of the film have been uploaded on YouTube as a “pilot episode” — which won awards at the Independent Shorts Awards 2020: the Platinum Award for Best Animation Short, and Honorable Mentions for Best Web Series/TV Pilot and Best Original Score. Karmachakra is a supernatural mystery-drama, aimed at an older audience — something that is rare in India, where animation has long been seen as a medium for younger audiences only. The Indian anime community has reacted very favorably to Karmachakra, with many heralding it as a step forward for animation in India.

youtube

I reached out to Studio Durga founder and CEO Rajorshi Basu, who was kind enough to answer my questions. We had a great discussion, not only about Karmachakra, but about anime and 2D animation in general. Here’s what he had to say:

(The following questions and answers are lightly edited for clarity and content.)

How did you get into anime and manga?

Rajorshi: The first anime I recall watching was Ninja Robots on Cartoon Network — way back when I was three or four years old and didn’t really know it was called anime. There was Heidi, Girl of the Alps, also on Cartoon Network, a title from the World Masterpiece Theater collection of anime. It was my first exposure to the work of many old masters, including Hayao Miyazaki. Then they started showing anime on the Toonami programming block, with Cardcaptors and Dragon Ball and all that stuff.

Animax was also a huge factor. I used to check out a lot of stuff on Animax before it finally went away. And then of course streaming services happened. But yeah, it was tough to get your hands on anime and manga back then. I remember that you would just chance upon secondhand manga in shops. That was procurement back in the day. But now it’s a different ballgame; one can just open up Netflix and find all kinds of different shows. Throughout the years there have been a lot of different shows that have influenced me, and all of that comes into the stuff that we are doing. I think this idea of doing an Indian anime was something I’ve had since my early teens to late teens.

So you decided pretty early on that you wanted to make an Indian anime, is that right?

Rajorshi: Yeah, this idea has been with me for roughly half my life. It's just that I actually knew how to do it after a whole lot of experiences. Especially after visiting Japan in 2013. I went there for a pop culture research program where we were actually given access to facilities that make Japanese entertainment, including animation.

So did you face any opposition in pursuing this path?

Rajorshi: We faced nothing but opposition, actually. In 2017 we’d put out a trailer on YouTube and, you know, it was just a sort of demo. It's not there anymore; we took it off. This was way before we brought out the actual trailer that you see right now. It was only after we took it to the quality that we wanted that people started thinking about the possibility of, you know, Indian anime. Especially after 2019, when the two movies (Weathering With You and Dragon Ball Super: Broly) were released in India. The community started considering the possibility that Indian anime can happen.

I think there are two main challenges. One challenge (which we’ve kind of got past) was finding the right people for the production because hand-drawn animation is a lost art and it's very tough to find people who pursue that. It was tough finding people, which is also why we are a very small team. We somehow managed, over a number of years, to finish the movie production.

The other challenge (one we are facing right now) is distribution. I think that’s because India does not have a proper distributor for anime. Of course, we see some anime on Netflix, Amazon Prime Video, and Crunchyroll. Disney+ Hotstar, which actually has the biggest reach in India, don't showcase any anime. There is a solid market and demand for anime in India but there's hardly any supply, which is why we thought we’d fill that gap in the market. It depends on what kind of channels you go through when it comes to distribution. I mean, we are in talks with Netflix and Amazon Prime Video, and we want to be in talks with Crunchyroll. But it's very hard to find people, to find the correct approach or routes through which you take this product. I think that's what matters. In terms of distribution, routes matter more than the product itself because if you are talking about Netflix or Amazon Prime, they are going to look at it as an independent movie and they are also going to want to see examples of such production that has made it in the market and things like that.

Obviously, there's a huge demand but there needs to be a distributor that recognizes the demand and what it means when something like our product (or anyone who is doing an animated film that is not for kids) gets licensed. Distribution is the final roadblock we are facing right now because when it comes to quality and production values, all of the people that we have talked to have appreciated our work. But when it comes to actually slating on an acquisition session, there's always some kind of discrepancy there. There's no one to handle animated movies when it comes to India, unless you’re talking about the kids’ market. That's a totally different topic.

You raise an important point about 2D animation being something of a lost art. In particular, the whole Japanese anime workflow is totally different from what most people are used to doing. So, how did you learn it, and how did you find people with this skill?

Rajorshi: So the current core team is a team of four people, including myself. I personally handle everything other than the actual drawing, because although I’ve studied design and art and all of those things, music and film production is what I have primarily been trained in and what I have experience in (the former of which I'd been recognized with a scholarship for from Berklee College of Music). Compositing — the final “look” of anime — is something that I learnt entirely on my own through observation and software/workflow research. So I know the process of anime production. There is hardly anyone who makes animation through this process in India. So I would say it is something very unique to our studio.

The people that I have, they were actually making the transition to college back when I hired them. They had considerable skill when it came to illustration and making animation, but it was this project that got everybody up to a certain level. The core team that I started with are still working together — basically the four of us, but we extend sometimes to 10 people. And if you’re talking about the total number of people involved in this project, it’s over 30. But finding the core team took a long time. I’d actually thought of starting a business with this around four or five years back, and since then it’s been about finding people to execute and help out in the process.

When it comes to hand-drawn animation, there is talent out there. There just needs to be a product that makes use of those talents. I wanted to create a forum where talented artists could join in and showcase their capabilities. It’s not that 2D animation is completely not there, it’s just that it’s not focused on by people as a career option because there are no outlets for it that are monetizable. I think that’s more of the problem. When you look at some talented students from NIDs [National Institutes of Design, India], you will find that they are very much capable of doing everything that we do. It’s just that there’s no forum or platform to create a product like this which makes use of both the anime production process as well as the hand-drawn aspect of it.

So if you look at, say, Chinese animation studios, the way they started off was by doing subcontract work for Japanese anime studios. They slowly built up their own base, their own talent pool, and then started to make originals of their own. So, why did you decide to start off with an original rather than go through this process?

Rajorshi: Chinese animation actually has a much richer history. They’ve been doing their own intellectual properties for longer than they’ve been outsourcing. But with India that is actually not the case. When it comes to 2D animation we’ve had collaborations with Japan in the past, whether it’s Ramayana or Batu Gaiden. But our main aim was to do something that was completely Indian-produced. I think that’s the main draw, so that we could call it India’s first anime.

Let’s talk a bit about outsourcing outside our realm of animation: when it comes to 3D animation and VFX. India is actually a world player in the market when it comes to 3D assets and VFX being outsourced to us. But when it comes to intellectual properties, there’s pockets of brilliance that surface from time to time, especially in the non-3D space, because the 3D space is a framework in itself, a framework that I personally have also been very connected with in the past, in all the projects that I’ve freelanced for (when it comes to music, editing, and the post-production side of things). When it comes to hand-drawn animation, I would say that there are these pockets of independent production which do not find the correct outlet or distribution platform. But they’re there; they’ve been there for a very long time. They’re not necessarily practicing the anime art style like we’re doing, but they’re doing hand-drawn animation nonetheless. And the quality and execution is something that’s worth showing to the world, it’s just that there’s no proper distribution channel as I was saying. Why anime? That’s because there’s huge demand for this particular art style. Since there was already a demand for it, as well as respect in the community for something that is a product made by India for India, that is where we came in and thought “this is a niche we want to fill.”

And look, most of the artists who worked on this project have already worked on commissions for foreign clients all of their lives. We don’t look at outsourcing as a route that we necessarily have to do first before we make our own intellectual property. Because we do that anyway: when it comes to making small animations for brands, or working for clients that are primarily non-Indian. The whole idea about this project is that it’s by India and for India. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a statement, but it is a specific niche that’s appealing to a lot of people, thankfully.

So let’s talk a bit more about Karmachakra itself. When I saw the trailer on YouTube, the art style stood out to me, and it reminded me of a couple of things. One was the works of Mamoru Hosoda, with his distinctive style of flat shading. The other was Shin Sekai Yori, which has sticker-like 2-dimensional character designs but with mood lighting and effects and appropriate color palettes to create an atmosphere. Were any of these your inspirations, or were there other influences?

Rajorshi: I mean, Mamoru Hosoda is an inspiration for any animation filmmaker. My personal inspiration, in terms of direction and in terms of storytelling, is Satoshi Kon. You know, works like Perfect Blue, Millennium Actress, Paranoia Agent: all these films and shows that are very loved, conceptually and thematically. My second influence would be the directorial signature of Tetsuro Araki (Death Note, Attack on Titan); I think that directorial signature is very alluring. In terms of how to tell a story through many characters, I’d say Durarara is an influence. I mainly chose to go with urban fantasy, inspired by the unique approach that light novels like Boogiepop or Nisio Isin's works take. Other than that, I think my all-time favorite director is Shinichiro Watanabe (Cowboy Bebop).

Some more important key influences that left a huge mark on my imagination of what the medium can be are:

Wolf's Rain, Black Lagoon, the Steins;Gate franchise, Terror in Resonance, Michiko and Hatchin, Barakamon, Mushi-Shi, Great Pretender

Spirit-world action-comedies like The Devil is a Part-Timer, Blood Lad, Hoozuki’s Coolheadedness, and Noragami

Mind Game from director Masaaki Yuasa

Any project involving character designer Yoshitoshi Abe, like Texhnolyze, Serial Experiments Lain, etc

There's also the noitaminA block stuff; short, offbeat 11-episode per cour series with a broader audience in mind. Brings to mind the makers of the noitaminA logo animation, Studio Rikka and their charming sci-fi works such as Time of Eve and the like.

In terms of manga:

The superlative, mind-game ridden works of Shinobu Kaitani

The out-of-this-world panelling in works by Keiichi Koike

The poignant interpersonal/social drama from folks like Shuzo Oshimi and Inio Asano

The artful, satirical guro manga from people like Shintaro Kago

The sprawling, epic series from the legendary Naoki Urasawa, such as Monster and the like

Brilliant food/drink manga such as Bartender and Sommeliere by Araki Joh, or even Oishinbo.

These are just names I can think of right now, but there’s actually plenty of influences for all of us here at Studio Durga.

Let’s talk about the OP. From Episode 0 of Karmachakra, what strikes me as its most "anime" element is its OP. From the song itself, with its “anime theme song” vibes, to the color palette reminiscent of the Psycho-Pass OP, to the character-focused cuts reminiscent of the Baccano and Durarara OPs, to the text on screen reminiscent of the Cowboy Bebop OP: this OP screams "anime." OPs usually are a studio's way of enticing viewers to watch an anime, so clearly, a lot of effort went into this OP. And it's a really attractive and alluring OP. What went into the making of this OP? How did you storyboard it, and how did you compose the opening song? How much more effort was it to animate, comparatively?

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Rajorshi: The OP song was composed, arranged, produced, and played by me more than six years ago. At the time, I was inspired to make a melody and instrumentation that sounds “classic anime.” It was a personal project back then, and I had no idea I was going to be using it for an anime production of my own in the future. So when it was time, my mom helped with the lyrics and I asked Tanisha (the singer who I've collaborated with on the ED as well) to sing out the lyrics composed for the song. It was a blast to make. Unlike the ED, which I composed much more recently, the OP arrangement is more busy than minimal, which was my style back then and which probably works better for the usual high-energy anime OP.

Unlike background scoring, which is set to edited bits of animation, the animation for the OP was set to the music instead. We were using a scratch track and timing every cut to whichever hit we wanted it to fall on. The choreography and transitions took more time than standard animation, as the entire thing was meant to seamlessly flow with non-stop fluid animation. The effort varies in anime production from shot to shot, but in the case of the OP, it was about tying together an entire string of money-shots. Apart from the animation, we had a lot of fun with the compositing as well. Doing MVs is the most enjoyable activity for us.

Let’s talk about the world of Karmachakra. What inspired it? Personal, lived experience or literature and other media?

Rajorshi: Karmachakra is a series of movies. The second and third are what we’re working on right now. The second is more of the action-thriller kind, and the third/finale is along the lines of philosophical sci-fi. But the first one is more of a mystery-drama. I’m a huge mystery buff; that’s a sort of personal favorite genre of mine. So thematically I think the first movie of Karmachakra is mostly a mystery-drama with certain supernatural elements and certain cultural elements to those supernatural elements. So there’s many different layers. I usually like to do something that is layered, something that is character-driven but layered not only in the histories of the characters but in the lore that ties it all together with a supernatural theme, and also the third layer that puts them in a cultural context. These are basically the three levels that we’re working on when it comes to Karmachakra.

When it comes to cultural influences, there’s me being a Bengali and hence making this in Bengali. That is something I had in mind from the beginning. Having connections to the Bengali film industry, getting some of the best names from there to do voice acting on this: that was definitely part of the plan.

For the script, I’ve had many, many different influences. My background is quite varied. Since I was a kid I’ve always been a music buff. I was very much into classic/prog rock and concept albums from the '70s and '80s, apart from my production and performance background in jazz, jazz fusion, RnB, soul, and funk. So storytelling is a huge part of music for me, whether it’s through film scoring or whether it’s through a concept album where you tell stories through music itself. Other than that, I graduated in English literature, which is a huge part of the general approach I take to things when it comes to layering and writing for film. For this production, between film, literary works, musical works, and anime, there’s a LOT of influences. I wanted to take all those influences and make something that was cohesive enough for someone who was watching, but at the same time wasn’t predictable or cookie-cutter like.

Are there any talented Indian animators you’d like to spotlight?

Rajorshi: I would like to talk about Ghost Animation. They’ve been working on little animated clips for Bollywood movies for a very long time, but recently they made a short film, Wade, set during a flood that happened in Bengal. They put it up on Kickstarter, promoted it, and successfully got it funded. I think it won an award at Annecy or something. And it’s all hand-drawn.

Apart from that, there’s a couple of guys who’ve been in the Indian anime community and illustrator community for a very long time. Their names are Krishna and Balram Bannerjee, but they’re informally called the Xong Bros. They’re primarily comic artists, so they don’t do a lot of animation, but they also work on animation for indie games made by foreign studios: they make some trailers and the like for them.

There was also this short film that was commissioned by Royal Stag Short Films, called Death of a Father. Entirely hand-drawn. Not the anime artstyle, but entirely hand-drawn.

Lastly, there’s Jazyl Homavazir. A long-time animator, illustrator, and coach in the Indian comics/animation scene in the art style of manga. Both him and the Xongs are dear friends of ours who support and appreciate our initiative.

Do you have any parting thoughts for our readers?

Rajorshi: I would say don’t make any compromises. If you know you’re capable of doing something, whether it is independently or whether you have backing or whatever it is, don’t make any compromises and do something that is only an approximation of what you actually want to do. If you have a vision, just go ahead and do it, and then see what happens. You might succeed, or you might fail, but that will be a learning experience. Just because something is tangentially related to whatever vision you might have, don’t settle for less.

Are you excited for Karmachakra? Let us know in the comments!

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Manas B. Sharma

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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