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thedo0zyslider · 1 year

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Long Forgotten But I'm Still Here - 4k words

Oli has some feelings about being thrown into Empires and forgotten by all his friends. And none of them are the good kind.

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This new world--Empires as Oli had begun to call it--was quite a rollercoaster, to say the least. Being thrown into a new world randomly, separated from all your friends, was not pleasant. Zero out of five stars, bad yelp review, unpleasant experience, would not recommend.

He’d declared himself the king of Afterlife, which is what he’d called the one before this one, because everyone else had died. They’d used up all their lives or disappeared, leaving him in an empty realm. Until he’d been shoved into heaven that was, to this day he still didn’t know what that was all about, only that once he’d gotten there he hadn’t been allowed to see Sausage; who he knew was up there, for the record. Miss Pearlescentmoon also made a great first impression, by promptly throwing him into some random wilderness, in a world that was decisively not his old one.

If Oli was being honest he’d fucked around for a little while, doing whatever stupid idea came to his little head. He’d settled on a beach, in a poorly built wooden house that he deemed a megabase, with a little wolf companion to keep himself company. It soon became him and this strange little dog he’d tamed, named Sausage in memory of his long gone friend, against the world. It had been them against the mobs, the elements, everything. Even the Warden, a fateful encounter that had killed his beloved pup and left Oli friendless and alone. Again. For a third time, but that was okay, that was fine, because he could do other stuff. He could do stuff that didn’t involve other people, like burying his late dog on some random patch of snow. Like killing the ender dragon, a creature he had once respected and revered, and stealing its unhatched egg.

He could do things like floating in an endless void for god knows how many years, a stolen baby dragon clutched close to his chest and listening to some vague murmurings of a poem about love and players and the end of some kind of game . He could do things like being spit back onto his beach, his house now missing and in a world clearly full of people. A world clearly full of his friends, if the ever familiar building styles said anything.

It was kinda jarring really, to see almost everyone you care about and have them not remember you. It was fine though, nothing Oli couldn't deal with. It was just a little weird, how all his friends were both different and the same at the same time. Well. the ones that were actually with him anyways.

Some people, he found out slowly and over time, weren't here. Callum was the most notable absentee, to Oli at least, though he doubted anyone else even knew there were people missing. The fox had always had such a presence in his lifetimes, even if could only remember a few. It felt like a big chunk of the blonde was missing, and he silently mourned the absence of his furry friend. Lauren, his fellow Enderian, wasn't here either. (They hadn’t been Enderian's for long, or at the same time, but Oli didn't care for those technicalities. They were still fellow Enderians.) Though he wasn't sure if Lauren would have fared too well in this world, she did have a tendency to fold like a wet paper towel. Meghan and Mika were missing as well, and it was frankly strange to see Shelby running around without them. At least she still had Joey, and Katherine, he guessed.

Oli had figured all that out from observation mostly, because he was not ready to interact with people after spending god knows how long in the void. So he’d wandered around as stealthy as he could, investigating the nearest tavern he saw. Said tavern seemed to belong to Gem, but before he could even process that Fwhip had showed up and was shoving him in jail. Apparently that ancient city his dog had died in was the one Gobland was built above, and stealing from it thousands of years ago, before anyone lived there, was a crime .

He’d ended up being stuck in that miserable cage for a month, a month ! It was honestly torture, admittedly a little (more like very) inhumane of Fwhip, and had probably given him a fear of enclosed spaces, so that was great. He’d been stuck in that stupid fucking cage, left with nothing but his horrible, horrible thoughts and rotten fucking cave pork. He hated pork after that, didn’t think he’d ever be able to stomach the damn meat again. Oli and Fwhip had been friends, friends , and the bard had just been shoved in a cage like that didn’t matter, just because the little goblin couldn’t remember.

While in the cage he’d wondered why no one remembered, and why they simply just couldn't. He wondered why Pearl couldn’t just snap her godly little fingers and make everyone remember who they’d been before, however many centuries ago that was. Then he wouldn’t be in a cage, then he wouldn’t be forgotten and he’d get his beloved friends back. It really didn’t feel like all that much to ask for, in Oli’s opinion anyways.

The blonde hadn’t paid much attention to whatever community service he had to do after being freed. All he cared about was the freedom from the cage and Fwhip’s horrible goddamn cave empire. All he’d paid attention to was that he could actually walk more than five paces again, and the fresh surface air blowing through his unkempt hair and making it windswept. He’d pay whatever fine he’d been taxed with later, when fwhip eventually came knocking at his door. For now he set out, back to the one place he knew best in this weird little world.

The blonde had returned back to his beach, which was apparently a little ways away from Gem. He had a feeling that Dawn’s princess was faking, and that she did remember him, but he wouldn’t press for details. He wasn’t even sure he could handle that knowledge emotionally, so Oli was very content with not knowing. It did bug him though, that she wouldn't at least drop the act when they were alone, if only to make the world feel a little less alien and isolating than it was turning out to be. Instead Gem just acted like she was an innocent little sun princess, and also dubbed him a bard.

He only focused on Gem’s little act for a day, before setting off to sea. Oli was a little sick of this world. He wanted to go back home to Afterlife, where his original friends had lived. He wanted to go back to the orb and his other builds, maybe even see if some people had returned from their disappearances. This world, the one he’d dubbed Empires, was weird, strange and hostile, and it wasn’t home .

He’d sailed and sailed for a few days, going decently far out. There was land he could see sure, but it was strange and uncharted, which was reassuring. It was away from people, and maybe that meant he was getting closer to home. Maybe he hadn’t been shoved into a different world at all, maybe this was just another corner of Afterlife’s vast, mostly unexplored world that he could leave and ignore for the rest of time.

As soon as Oli had gotten his hopes up he had to sail back, because there was something, some kind of force above the water stopping him from going further. Because of course there was, because of course he was stuck here and couldn’t go home. As he traveled back Oli bitterly wondered if this strange border was just a him thing, and if Joey and his other friends had ever found it during their times with sea bearing origins.

Oh, yeah actually, speaking of Joey , the man had bloody attacked him! The pirate man (because Joey was a pirate now for some reason, and with an empire that matched the whole theme as well) had been rambling about skeletons or something as he sank Oli's small boat. He'd been free in this world for five minutes and people were already trying to drown him!

From there he'd washed up on the shore of Sausage's empire, who had kindly nursed him back to health after his attempted murder. Sausage still looked the same since Oli had last seen him, helping the man ascend to the heavens. He could tell this was the same Sausage though. There wasn't really a reason, more of feeling than anything. Joey had possessed a different, oh what's the word? Vibe. That's it. He'd had a different general vibe to him. This pirate man was still Joey of course, just more....devious than the previous version Oli had encountered. More pirate-like, if you really must. Sausage however was the same, there was no doubt about it. Sausage still worshiped the same god, which made him a little more suspicious, and now he looked at the mural of Santa Pearl with more disdain than wonder than he had before.

Oli suspicions of reincarnation were confirmed when Sausage mentioned visions, but he couldn’t pry on that one because the man had thrown him at Katherine as soon as he was fully healed. Apparently he needed a new change of clothes, or something. Oli hadn’t been paying much attention to what he wore, so he didn't notice until it was pointed out. Being almost drowned by a friend will disorientate you like that.

And for some unfathomable reason Katherine had dressed him as a bard! A bard ! He wasn't a bloody bard ! Being musically inclined didn't make him a bard , but it was fine. Everything was fine and not weird. It was just like changing origins in Afterlife, wasn't it? Instead of regular old Oli, he was bard, just like how he'd been an Enderian and then had to adapt to being an axolotl. Oli could adapt, that was easy. Sure, he'd adapt to being a bard, just like he'd been adapting to new things his whole life.

(If part of him was tired of adapting; of losing friends, then he didn't think about)

Yet despite that he'd left Katherine's place feeling sour, yelling about how he wasn’t a bard. If there was one thing that didn't change, it was Oli's commitment to the bit.

The newly made bard wandered the land for a little while after that, which gave him plenty of time to get used to the versions of his friends he was now stuck with. Everyone was still the same deep down, even if they'd formed into slightly different people. Sausage was the exception though, because he was literally the same person. He was worried about running his mouth just a lil, as mentioning past lives didn’t tend to go very well. But Oli also had a need to be annoying in an endearing way, and that need always won over his anxiety. So he set off, newly obtained lute in tow, and walked around until he found signs of civilization.

The first person he encountered, Scott, was still full of sass and his hair stayed dyed a teal blue. Oli started to wonder if it was even dyed at some points and if he was just born with weird hair, but it had to be, because he'd been blonde before as an angel. He wouldn't be surprised if this Scott had dyed his hair either, he was a very colorful and creative man. It made for quite the pretty empire, Oli did have to admit. That man still knows how to make a good block palette.

Joel’s empire was very close to Scott, close enough that you could see it from the latter’s house. He’d heard Joel was a god and Oli had hoped he would be like Pearl and that someone would remember him. But no, the sky god was like everyone else, he had no memories of before. Which was just dandy , didn’t hurt that one of his closest friends forgot him. Nope

Instead of remembering Joel had just called him weird and then introduced him to his child. Because Joel having a kid was normal and not a shocking development. The kid, very creatively named Hermes, was apparently Joel’s and Sausage’s, and had been an armor stand before being brought to life by the two. Joel had a living armor stand for a son but sure, Oli was the weird one. That was totally normal.

There was also a new person, one Oli had never met before, their name wasn’t ringing any kind of bells. Her name was False, and she was setting up a little steampunk themed area near this world's Scott and Joel. He hadn’t paid this newcomer to much attention though, he could always meet her later. There was plenty of time, for now anyway. Never know when God's going to throw you into a strange new world after all. Plus, from what he’d heard, False tended to be skittish, suspicious of everyone, and was very good with a sword. The bard would meet her later if it meant avoiding another murder attempt.

Katherine still kept her usual love for pastels, but her kingdom was apparently corrupted and being taken over by a mysterious black substance. All of the builds were split, one side being the princess normal style of building, and the other decayed and ruined. Oli’s second visit hadn’t lasted long after learning that. He did not want to get involved with any sort of curse, nope, no thank you.

He’d avoided going to Fwhip again, because he’d seen enough of that damn cave, and headed up the mountain instead. There he met Lizzie, who was once again living life as a small, furry, mischievous little animal. This time she was a cat instead of a kangaroo or raccoon, and still acted the same as Oli remembered. It was a little reliving, to know that his friend was still her unique little self, even if she didn’t remember him. Though Lizzie did seem more inclined to go along with his seemingly nonsense ramblings of the past, so that was a plus.

The Mayor of Animalia had warned him of a witch though, and Oli immediately made it his goal to find this supposed dangerous and scary witch. The witch wasn’t scary in the end, because it was Shelby. She, like everyone else, didn’t remember him, and was just a little spookier than he last remembered; almost like her shadow origin at the very start of Afterlife.

From there he’d wandered to a mesa, where he found the second to last person he had yet to know. The hot and dusty biome was inhabited by Jimmy Solidarity himself, the very man who’d given him community service and freed him from his stupid little cage. Oli already did not have a high opinion of the man, because he was working closely with Fwhip; other than that he seemed fine. Except for a slightly different vibe, one more troubled than before, he was basically the same Jimmy the bard had used to know.

The last person he met was his favorite, one that hadn’t actually been in Afterlife. This guy, Pixlriffs, was his favorite instantly. The archaeologist was a stranger to him, someone he could look at without a thousand memories flying through his head. Pix listened to whatever he’d ramble about, be it his past of whatever random topic came to head. The man seemed to be genuinely listening as well, and Oli wouldn’t be surprised if he took mental notes every time. There was a connection there of some kind. He didn’t really know why, the bard could just tell this man was different, that he wasn’t what he seemed. It was nothing sinister, not in the slightest, just a feeling that Pix also knew more than he was maybe letting on.

It was these little encounters, his time on this server that the bard replayed over and over again in his head as he returned to his beach. He set up shop permanently this time, deciding to build tents as an empire, because they were easy and only really required him to collect wool. He went through the motions, gathering materials, building, sometimes socializing, thinking and letting all his emotions bubble up inside him. Oli didn’t want to deal with them, because he was adapting again, that all he had to do was adapt again and everything would work itself out like it always did.

Sure, it hurt that none of his friends remembered him. But he was fine, he was over it. He just masked whatever he felt with his normal comedic relief attitude. That always worked before, so why wouldn’t it work now? It definitely wasn’t unhealthy or anything, definitely wasn’t coming back to bite him. Nope , not at all.

He broke down when he next saw Sausage.

Oli sat there in Sausage’s arms, feeling pathetic as he sobbed his eyes out to a man he barely knew. But he did know this man, he knew him well, they’d been best friends and that was why he was crying. He was crying because no one remembered him, and it hurt and he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He barely heard Sausage’s comforting murmurs over the sound of his own sobs. Such a kind person Sausage was, to comfort Oli in such a moment. He was the one person who could maybe understand, with his visions and what not, but Oli wasn’t sure if he even would. How could he? The man didn’t even remember what his visions were about, which was arguably worse, but that wasn’t the point. The point was Oli remembered, and Sancuatry’s ruler didn’t, it wasn’t the same, it would never be the same.

Sausage shifted them both until Oli’s head was buried against his chest, dampening the nice fabric of his shirt. The bard felt bad about that, despite the fact Sausage had been the one to put his head there. It was a really nice shirt. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Sausage muttered quietly, hugging the bard to his chest more. Hands began to stroke his hair tenderly, Oli leaning into it. He didn’t want any of that to calm him but it did , because Sausage was apparently great at providing comfort.

Oli always hated crying. It made him feel stupid, his face all puffy, nose runny and his eyes red. So now on top of having a mental breakdown he felt stupid, and in response just tried to hide himself more in Sausage’s kind arms. The brunette just couldn’t sit there and let him suffer though, no matter how much he knew Oli wanted to do just that.

“Now, what has you so upset, querido ?” Sausage asked softly, tilting Oli’s head so the latter would make eye contact with him. The bard met his gaze hesitantly, hating how he kept leaning into Sausage’s soft touch. He didn’t want comfort, he had never wanted to cry in the first place. He wanted to go home, back to his beach and his multicolored tent to mope by himself. He wanted to go home and watch the rain that was currently falling from the back of said tent and let it lull him into a fitful sleep, as he’d done far too many times for his short residence in this world. But no, he was here, in Sanctuary, losing all his dignity in an empty town hall, to a man who didn’t remember what they were once before. At least no random citizen was here to see his sob fest.

Oli didn’t respond at first, just stared back at Sausage with still watering eyes. He cracked eventually though, only because he could tell Sausage wasn't going to let him go until he did.

"It's, it's like your visions or whatever…" Oli began, looking away. "Like how you remember things and you don't know where they're from? I do that, but I know what they are." He explained it slowly, taking a few pauses in between his words. He was lying, he was lying through his teeth to Sausage . Oli didn’t get visions, not even anything close to that, he just had to know everything ever. He hadn’t been blessed with reincarnation, he had to remember everything . But he wasn’t going to cry again no, he wasn’t, not if he just gave himself a chance to breathe. "Like your sunflowers? I knew who they were from as soon as I got here." He ignored how Sausage stiffened under him slightly, before forcing himself to relax again.

Sausage made a quiet humming sound, seemingly a little lost for words. "Do you…remember anything else? Like my sunflowers, I mean?"

"I remember bloody everything , Sausage!" Ah, there goes the dam he'd been trying so hard to build. Oli clutched the fabric of one of their shirts; he couldn’t tell who's due to hot tears running down his cheeks again. "No one else does!" He snapped. "They just think I spout nonsense!"

No one had told the bard that exactly, but just because he was comedic relief didn't mean he was stupid . He knew the certain look Scott had given behind his back when he talked about the latter's time as a vampire. He knew the face Joel made when he thought people were mad. Oli knew these people too well, he knew all their little cues and everything. They hadn’t needed to say he was crazy for him to understand.

Oli waved his hand in dismissal. "But it's fine," He continued. "I'm fine, I'm just a silly little bard getting worked up over silly little-"

Sausage's grip tightened on him, and it was the closest he came to being anything but gentle all night. "Stop deflecting, Oli!" He hissed. "It's not fine because you're not fine, because you're crying over this." Oli wanted to break again, but he wouldn’t. He'd listen to Sausage scold him and he wouldn’t cry, because he was better at hiding his emotions than this and wasn’t supposed to break in the first place. "It's not fine that you lost all your friends and it's not fine to pretend ignoring it is healthy!" Sanctuary's ruler squeezed him into a tighter hug as he finished speaking, clearly dead set on not letting the bard go.

"I know," He whispered, burying himself closer to Sausage's warmth again. It was really all he could think to say

"Then why ?" Sausage asked, sounding so worried and desperate it hurt.

"Because what else was I supposed to do? Act all sad and depressed and weird everyone out more?" Oli snorted, sarcasm and slight irritation dripping into his voice. There was nothing he could do but his usual unhealthy habits, nothing his brain would let him even attempt to try.

"You could’ve talked to someone!" The brunette hissed, grip tightening around the smaller in his arms just a little, but not enough to hurt; just enough to convey his concerned frustration.

"They wouldn't understand, Sausage. No one else but you could-"

Sausage cut him off quickly. "They’d at least listen. People here care about you, Oli, even if they don't remember who you were to them. I don't remember but I still care!" He said, and yeah maybe that was what got through Oli’s stupid, stubborn head. Maybe that was what made his damn break again and made him stop trying to fight with his friend’s perfectly reasonable solutions and kind words about his unique problem.

"You were my best friend," The bard muttered, almost too quiet to hear. Yet it seemed to echo throughout the otherwise empty town hall.

Sausage responded just as quietly, and the response echoed just as loudly. "And I'd like to be that again."

They sat in silence after that, only for a little while though. Oli shifted into a more comfortable position, silent tears dripping down his cheeks. Sausage kept his tight yet caring grip on the bard, not going to let go until Oli started to feel better, or told him to leave. Kind words and comforts were muttered into dyed blonde hair, and it reminded the bard of his time in the void. He was again surrounded by silence, feeling numb as words of kindness and care were mutated into empty air.

"Do you…wanna talk about it? That is, if there were people who didn't come here, could you talk about them? If that helps?" Sausage asked it slowly, carefully, almost hesitantly. Oli was just as slow in his response, only nodding after a minute of careful consideration. Hiding from the brunette seemed a little useless, especially with the chance he would remember their old home too one day.

"Well….there was Mika." Oli muttered, beginning to tell of people he shouldn’t know in this world. He told the tales of the missing, some of the dead, to a man who’d lived alongside these strangers once upon a time. Sausage just hummed every so often, an indication he was listening, and stayed as a steady comfort when more tears spilled down cheeks that were flushed red from crying.

Maybe this world wouldn’t suck so bad, with moments like these. Maybe this could be home, one day, and maybe it'd be a bit more permanent this time.

#ron.fic #oli theorionsound #empiresblr #empires smp #mythical sausage #theorionsound #empires sausage #empires oli #empires season two

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salora-rainriver · 2 years

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Its really funny and weird how, of all the european pagan mythologies, greek is the one white ppl know the most of by far.

Like, of course it makes sense, greco-romans were hailed as the peak of civilization by white european elites at least like, twice in history, but it’s still really wild like. We’ll know the names of every olympian and what exactly their deal is, know like 20 different random greek monsters who only appeared in like One Story,

but then u ask abt the british isles, site of a people who would eventually colonize the fucking world, and its like “uhhhhhh theres morrigan? Also some fairies. Is morrigan a fairy? I think there were some tree worshippers. Some dudes put blue paint on their body and had big shields i think?” and a book’s gonna claim there was an irish potato god and you’re going to believe them bcs you’ll be so wrapped up in the potato famine thing that you’ll forget potatos were IMPORTED FROM THE ANDES MOUNTAINS.

And then like folks will be familiar with like 4 norse gods maybe 5, know some words like asgard and ragnarok, but ask them who fenrir is and theyll be like “Is he important?”

Also if you ask them about germanic mythos they will draw a fucking blank bcs even tho the general public are familiar with at least a few germanic mythos things, we completely stripped out the germanic origins from them when we called them generic “fairy tales.” Same for france and the iberian penninsula i think. Also dont ask me which fairy tales come from where bcs i am a prime example of this, i do not fucking know, i just vaguely remember that they came from certain places and then spread from there.

Oh And absolutely FORGET about anything east of germany fucking forget about it. The slavic regions have a rich mythos and even ppl who are pretty knowledgable abt the stuff i said above won’t know shit about it, case in point, me! Go ahead! I know a bunch abt celtic stuff and norse stuff and a lill bit of german stuff, but ask me to bring up ONE slavic story! The only thing my brain is cookin up is that one about the lindwurm, and even that one i cant remember if its actually slavic!

Now Think abt how many white people claim heritage from places in europe that arent greece and italy. Think about how little those same ppl know abt their ancestor’s prechristian stories and beliefs. Im hispanic i know like one thing abt pre-christian spain and its that they had a funny word for fairies (i don’t even remember the name!), just as an example. Like isnt that fucking insane? You’d think a buncha colonizing douches competing with each other to take over the world would put a bit more effort into educating ppl abt the ancestral stories that set these guys apart from each other, but no, not really. And like dont get me wrong its not like this doesnt make sense. It does. The roman empire and later christianity overtook like all these myriad cultures years before colonialism and white supremacy was even a pipe dream, to say nothing about the internal strife that happened in the iberian peninsula and the british isles.

But at the same time, in recent years there’s been massive pushes to recover this lost culture (especially in those british isles places that arent england), and even with this effort, so much is unknown to a fuckton of people who, i repeat, claim heritage from these places. (In fact, one of those efforts probably set us back bcs it got caught up in bullshit ideology and mysticism and grabbed stuff from totally different people to support a bullshit point. Looking at you, nazis.) and it’s just kind of insane. Overall this is just a peak example to me of the hollowness and artificiality of the concept of whiteness. The master race can’t even remember their own ancestors, and ancient history had to be wiped away or made generic in order to support the notion that these people have something in common, and thus, something setting them apart from everyone else.

#mythology #race and ethnicity #this is a very broad strokes rant so i implore you to research the shit i casually referenced here fr yourself #also if ur wondering: this rant brought to you by a streamer who played the new god of war and didnt know who fenrir was #very amusing but also emblematic of a broader trend #YES THE POTATO GOD WAS AN ACTUAL THING THAT AN ACTUAL NEOPAGAN BOOK WROTE DOWN UNIRONICALLY #mainstream wicca has some Problems.#and for the record i think our understanding of greek mythology and religion is superficial #like yeah we know most of the stories but also only the biggest brain classicists comprehend the ideas and context of those stories #yeah its more than we know of Everyone Else but its still p lacking #like how many people know that Chaos is a person #how many ppl know abt all the cults and mysteries and how they had different takes on certain figures

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to-the-head-of-the-line · 2 years

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Part two!

TW: attempted suicide, suicide

When Hiu Yan closed her eyes to sleep on a warm summer evening, she knew this would be the last time that she was alive. She had tried to live out the rest of her life like Fai would’ve wanted her too, but she was just too tired to carry on. And she didn’t mind it. Cheng Hei was still working in America, and he had met a nice young lady there. He was happy, and she was happy for him. But there was nothing left for her, and so she breathed her last.

She found herself in a small room. Although it was quite cramped and a little chilly, this was too comfortable to be the afterlife. She looked around. Whoever the owner was, they weren’t quite fond of tidying. But everything else was mostly clean, from the bed sheets to the hanging clothes and the books on the desk.

She walked closer to the desk. The owner had been writing a letter, or had been trying to, judging by the amount of crumpled up paper balls around. It was rude, but she couldn’t help but peek at it.

“... I’m so sorry. I wish I could do more for you. I should’ve never left. I’m sorry. I love you I love you I love you-”

The door opened, and she tried to hide. A middle aged Chinese man walked inside and collapsed on the bed, sobbing.

“Sir?” she said. “Are you alright?”

The man didn’t hear her. She tried to touch him, but her hand passed right through him. She gasped. So she was dead after all. Was she a ghost or a spirit? But why was she with this man?

It took a while for the man to stop crying. He sat up and dried his eyes.

“Fai?” He was hardly twenty-one, but she knew it had to be him. There were wrinkles and bags under his red rimmed eyes, and his hair had streaks of grey. He stumbled over to a chair at the desk, and she noticed that his back was slightly bent. What had they done to you?

He grabbed a pen and began to write, but before she could see he’d already broken down again. She glanced around frantically before her eyes picked up on a newspaper on a bedside table. From her limited knowledge of English, she read that the date was September Twenty-third, 1882. This was six months after the Act had passed. He must have been trying to write that letter to her.

“Please don’t cry…” she mumbled even as tears started rolling down her face. As her vision blurred, the room faded, and the next thing she knew, it was night and all was silent save for the choppy waves crashing onto the shore.

While she was staring at the dark murky waters in amazement, a man climbed over the railing next to her. She stared at the haggard face of her husband in shock. It was clearly sometime later, as he had cut off his queue and was looking even more depressed than before. He closed his eyes and breathed heavily.

“No, no, no! Don’t do it! We’ll find a way out of this! Don’t- I- I love you!”

He opened his eyes and gasped. Hopping back onto flat ground, he crouched down and screamed. “I… I can’t do it… Goddammit…” he sobbed.

He spotted something a few feet away from him. A discarded newspaper, with an ol important-looking man’s face on it. “He did it…” Fai muttered. “He signed that piece of paper… he could’ve stopped it… he could’ve made life better for all of us. Instead…”

He tore the paper to sheds and threw them into the ocean. He stood up, his eyes filled with a rage and desperation she had never seen before. “It’s his fault…”

The scene faded to black. They were back in the tiny room. Fai checked his gun and pocketed it. Then he took out the photo of them, the one they took weeks before he left, the only one with the whole family together and gazed at it.

“Please don’t do it. It’s not the right way. It won’t change anything.” she begged, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

“Yan?” Fai said.

“Can you hear me?”

“No… must’ve been the voices again. This is for you, my love.” He kissed the picture and placed it in the drawer. Then he put on his hat and left.

She followed him to a grand building where a crowd was gathering, even though a light rain was beginning to fall. Her heart was pounding as she dreaded the upcoming events. She passed through the people as Fai slowly made his way to the stage.

Someone made an announcement, then everyone was clapping as the man in the photo walked to the podium. That must be the President. Fai glared at him as he continued to move forward, his right hand curled around the barrel of the gun.

“Hey, watch where you’re going-” another man said as Fai bumped into him. The man looked at Fai, then the shiny bit of metal in his hand. “He’s got a gun!”

In shock, Fai raised his arm and fired, missing the President completely. He pushed his way out and ran. The crowd erupted into chaos. Some people- police officers and civilians were running after him.

Fai reaches a dead end. He spots an open door and bolts in. He sprints up the stairs to the roof. A mob has gathered around the building and the police are breaking down the door.

“Oh no…” He glances around. There is no escape. His gaze turns towards his gun.

“Fai… please…” she tries to reach him. Her hand pulls at the coarse fabric of his coat.

“Yan?” He chokes up.

“I’m here… please stop…”

“No… they’ll kill me anyways… I thought… I really thought…”

“Open up!”

“Yan… Cheng Hei… I’m sorry…”

Bang. She covered her eyes and shrieked, but she could feel his blood on her face, hear the shouting of the people behind them-

Everything was white when she opened her eyes. Except Fai, who was looking around.

She shouted his name and ran towards him. His eyes lit up and he too started running, but when their fingers could just barely touch, the ground under them split up. She fell down as the earth on her side shifted backwards and away. Everything besides the ground turned dark.

The last thing she remembered was Fai reaching towards her, screaming her name…

To be continued

#assassins ocs #assassins musical ocs #leung cheng fai #things pat missed #this is where the Chinese Valentine's day theme comes in #so there's this folk tale about a guy and a fairy from heaven who were in love but the Jade Emperor said no #and he took her back to heaven but the guy went to find her #and the Queen Mother of the West drew the Milky Way to separate them #but a bunch of magpies were super moved by their love and they made a bridge of magpies for them to meet #and then the emperor was like fine you can meet on the bridge on the seventh day of the seventh month of the lunar calendar #also it's something about astrology #so the star Vega is the fairy and the star Altair is the guy and another star Deneb is the bridge between them #ancient people had nothing to do so they made this really vague stuff up from stars #cause the wives or gfs of our ocs are allowed to visit once a year and it's similar to the story #this has been Chinese culture lessons with Monica #I'm gonna sleep now

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thorraborinn · 2 years

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Do you have any info on the Ginfaxi symbol? Seen a heathen who had it tattooed on their throat and immediately had alarms go off in my head.

I'll post what I know about Ginfaxi, but it won't tell you anything more about the person you saw than you already know. I like thinking and writing about this stuff so I wrote a lot but, yeah, none of this is really going to narrow anything down for you. I'm trying to put the rest behind a break but Tumblr doesn't like breaks anymore, and keeps moving this one around, so we'll see what happens.

I assume that what you mean by "ginfaxi" is this:

This isn't the only symbol that gets called that (more on that below) but it is the most common, and it's what comes up when you Google it. I don't really know anything about how modern people are using ginfaxi but here are some off-the-cuff thoughts:

it's probably on its way into popularity because Ægishjálmur and Vegvísir are too well-known to be mysterious and cool anymore

while less common than those, it's been commercialized for just as long. You, anon, probably know this already, because you probably googled it before asking me, and turned up all the same tchotchke shit that every other "Ancient Viking Magic" symbol is slapped onto. That has more determination over how people relate to it than any 18th/19th century black book does.

there's higher-than-average risk of it being made into a symbol of "Viking warriors" or similar because of its actual historical association with glíma even though conceptually it's closer to staves for winning at chess (which do also exist) than it is to actual combat

yeah I do think it has potential to be a "swastika with plausible deniability" but I honestly don't know if people are doing that and if anything its touristification might be the thing that prevents it

it occurs to me that TikTok is probably a serious vector for how people are experiencing this stuff, and it's something I know absolutely nothing about other than that people like to put runes and stuff on their faces. So I dunno, that could be an influence here.

When you're trying to figure out what it means when you see a galdrastafur on someone, it doesn't necessarily do you any good to learn about its background and history if the person who got it inked didn't bother to research that themselves, and I'm disinclined to believe that someone who got a vaguely swastika-like symbol on their throat did that. I have no idea if the symbol has any more frequency among racists than it does among sorta "general population" heathen/viking-interested people who relate to the past basically through the lens of the tourist gift shop, who would have been getting "Celtic" symbols if it were still the 90's, which seems to be the majority of people involved with this stuff at all. A radically different group of people also comes to mind: in my experience in east coast US, some crusty gutter punk types also use symbols like Icelandic galdrastafir and runes, and they're also more likely to get a tattoo on their throat or face or whatever than the average viking enthusiast. I know a guy who used to put runes and stuff on his panhandling signs and claimed they did get him more cash, and whether it was magic or just drawing attention or what didn't really matter to him.

Anyway, the point is, I think that tattoo was a bad idea, makes someone look like a nazi, and you should side-eye them until you know better, but for better or worse there are other possible explanations for how that symbol got there. I'm not making excuses for anyone, just stating the blunt fact that there are non-nazis who attracted to this symbol and decorate itself with it without even thinking about any of this.

It shows up in that annoying graphic of "Norse" symbols with no context that occasionally makes the rounds (that manages not to include a single symbol from the actual Viking age), with an incorrect or at least misleading description:

And as much as this sucks that is probably the main way that people experience symbolism that is related (whether in a historical or a recently-contrived way) to "the Norse."

The version of the symbol I've been talking about is the most well-known because it comes from Íslenzkar þjóðsögur og æfintýri by Jón Árnason, the most important folklore and fairy tale collection from Iceland. I'm not sure where he got that particular image. When he was writing in the mid-19th century, he said that ginfaxi and gapaldur (which often accompanies ginfaxi) were among the most widespread symbols with the most variety of uses, and even mentions them before ægishjálmur. Ginfaxi was probably always used in glíma, and since that's the context it appears in in magic books while other uses seem not to have been recorded, the association with glíma became stronger over time. It was to be written on a piece of paper or wood-chip and put in the toe of the left show, while gapaldur was supposed to be under the heel in the right shoe (there is some variation in the procedure). According to Grunnavíkur-Jón Ólafsson (via Jón Árna) the two symbols together were also used for spookier things like going into hills (i.e. like huldufólk do, I guess, there's no additional context) and repel sendingar (sort of like ghosts raised by hostile wizards to harm someone) but I don't know where Grunnavíkur-Jón wrote about that or anything else about this. Here is a variant gapaldur from Jón Árnason:

According to Jón Árnason (link in Icelandic), it was rumored that the two staves were composed by hiding the names of different æsir in them. To me, that implies either a method of encoding that is totally opaque to me, or that belief pertained to an entirely different set of visual symbols (either of these are highly plausible). It seems the names ginfaxi and gapaldur (or gapandi) were better-known than the actual visual symbols themselves, and there are many variants that look hardly anything like the one in Jón Arna (this is not surprising -- there are also many symbols called ægishjálmur other than the one we all know). Probably many more people suspected others of having used symbols like these to gain advantage over them, than actually used symbols themselves, so that the idea of ginfaxi would precede anyone knowing how to actually draw it, and perhaps there never really was an original or fixed shape.

Jónas Jónasson (another folklore collector) identified this one from Lbs 977 4to as another ginfaxi although I don't know how he knows it's that and not gapaldur:

This one comes with a formula to recite that invokes Óðinn and Frigg and is specifically about winning at glíma.

These two are from the Galdrasýning á Ströndum website (only on the Icelandic version of the page for some reason), not sure where they got them either. With these you're supposed to carve them on a piece of turf when the moon is waxing and drop some of your own blood into them, then put them in your shoes and recite a verse.

I think it's worth showing what glíma is. True, when an Old Icelandic text refers to people doing an action that is uses the verb glíma to describe, it's talking about actual fighting, but this is the stuff that the glímugaldrar ('glíma-magic') that we have is about:

youtube

#ask #anon #galdrastafir #ginfaxi

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 3 years

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Request: Imagine being Lin Beifong’s daughter and having a crush on Iroh II

Tags: @tincdraws

Growing up as the daughter of Lin Beifong metal and earth bending were your whole life. You learnt to earth bend by the time you could walk and your mother had you in training from a young age so you graduated from the earth bending school at the top of your class with your eyes firmly set on following in your mother’s footsteps whilst also trying to emulate your grandmother’s success. You had a sharp focus and nothing else really caught your attention. You had friends but training came first and dating seemed something superficial you could live without. Republic city was your life and you would never dream of leaving it but your mother had other ideas.

Your mother thought you needed more worldly experience before you joined the police force so she sent you to the fire nation to gain some training as an officer. She claimed the fire nation had some of the best officers in the world and that they would help you learn invaluable real-life experience. You did not agree and protested the whole thing. All your training had revolved around the needs of Republic City specifically and you couldn’t see how you’d learn anything new about how to protect your city by travelling all the way to fire nation but your mother refused to change her mind and that was that.

So you were shipped off to the fire nation fresh out of the academy. Your mother had spoken to Firelord Izumi and it was agreed you’d be staying at the palace so not only would you be unfamiliar with the environment, you’d be in a place where every small look, word or action had large consequences. You didn’t know much about the fire nation and couldn’t really recall the royal family. You were aware your grandmother was very close with the late Firelord Zuko but since then things had changed. Although your grandmother’s friends (mainly Katara) had tried to keep the group close it was hard with everyone scattered across the four nations and so with each generation the group had drifted further and further apart. You knew Firelord Izumi had a daughter older than you and a son around your age called Iroh. You recalled meeting Iroh when you were younger at some event in the south pole but couldn’t remember much more than a serious fire nation child. So you arrived on the steps of the palace utterly out of your depth determined to see these three months through so you could return to your beloved city. You were shown into the palace immediately, your belongings taken by maids who refused to let you carry them yourself as you were a royal guest. You weren’t used to finery so proceeded through the palace partly in awe and partly in utter confusion why someone needed this many paintings of old men everywhere. You were finally shown into a large room. “Ah you must be y/n Beifong” a voice called and you turned to see someone who looked vaguely familiar. You knew he wasn’t Firelord Zuko or Firelord Izumi’s husband as he was too young so figured by his royal outfit this was Izumi’s second child the prince. “Prince Iroh, it’s an honour to see you again” you said bowing and he chuckled “I bet you thought that would be a winning line with any fire nation citizen didn’t you? Because we’re still all obsessed with honour like we were centuries ago?” Iroh asked and you hesitated. “If I caused any offence...” you started but Iroh cut you off breaking out in a large smile “no I was only kidding, it is a winning line we are still obsessed with honour”. You watched as Iroh laughed at his own joke surprised, you didn’t expect the prince of the fire nation to be like this. You figured royalty lacked the ability or the clearance to have a sense of humour but apparently not. “So have I really not changed since we were eight?” Iroh asked and when you frowned he elaborated “you recognised me but the last time we met was just over ten years ago”. You paused “ow no I didn’t actually recognise you, you were young, dressed in fine clothes with royal hairpins, not to mention you’re in the palace...you had to be the prince”. “Good deductions officer” Iroh said saluting you before he grinned “i’m in training too”. That piqued your interest “really? for the fire nation army?”. He nodded “yep! I’m an officer but my hope is to be general one day and to fully earn it, rather than just get it because of who my family is...hopefully in a few years i’ll get there”. “I’m sure you will” you agreed and Iroh led you into a large dining room. “Are we dining alone?” you asked confused and Iroh smirked. “Why? Not pleased with me?” he asked and you rushed to assure him that wasn’t the case when he laughed again “I’m joking again y/n, I know my grandfather told you the whole family would be dining with you in his letter to your mother but he, my parents and sister were all called away to an urgent matter and asked me to fill in as we’re similar ages”. “Ow” you nodded “that makes sense...is everything okay?”. Iroh nodded “everything’s fine just boring fire nation stuff...so shall we?” he asked holding out his arm to you. You weren’t sure if this was appropriate so averted your eyes and only took his arm lightly. Iroh smirked at your caution and led you into the room.

The meal with Iroh was nice. He was friendly, hard-working and interesting. You soon got used to his humour and learnt not to take him too seriously. You hadn’t met many other people your age who shared your passion for a military career and found it was nice, a sentiment Iroh apparently shared. He enquired what you were doing the rest of the week and when you replied nothing as training didn’t start for another week he soon had several of your days planned out with fire nation sights to show you. Iroh seemed to understand you didn’t know much about the fire nation so planned to take you to all the important sites as well as areas relevant to the army to peak both your interests. You enjoyed the prince’s tours greatly and even when training did start you continued meeting with Iroh regularly. You liked his company and were surprised that didn’t fade the more time you spent with him, if anything it grew more and more. You thought he’d be a spoilt entitled prince but he was kind and considerate pleasantly surprising you.

You didn’t become aware that you liked Iroh as anything more until one of your friends at the academy pointed it out. Since starting training you were progressing well, you achieved high grades and were held in high esteem by your fellow recruits. You had made some friends and often trained with them after the academy retired for the day. After a long training session you were heading to the palace when one of your friends called out to you “hey y/n some of us were going into town to celebrate our class’s good progress, do you want to come?”. You smiled pleased they wanted you to come when you remembered you couldn’t go “I’d love to Shani but sorry I can’t I have plans”. “Of course you do” she smirked as your other friend Aizori grinned “is it with Iroh by any chance”. “Actually it is” you said frowning at their shared look “why?”. “Ow nothing just it’s not every day your friend is dating the crowned prince”. “Me and Iroh are not dating!” you cried “our families are old friends that’s all”. “Uh...hu, if that’s true then what are your plans together may we ask?”. “We’re attending a party at the palace”. “Together?” Shani asked and you blushed “yes but he only asked me because it’s a formal event that’s apparently really boring so he wanted a friend there, trust me we’re not dating”. “But how can you resist?” Aizori asked “I’ve only seen the prince a handful of times but he seems to get better looking every single time! How don’t you get lost in those golden eyes and that chiselled jaw? The royal family has some amazing genes not even a Beifong can resist”. You paused considering it. For you looks weren’t very important so you didn’t tend to notice them. You held work ethic and determination as much higher priorities and Iroh scored very highly in both but in looks...you honestly couldn’t say. “I’m not sure I’ve noticed” you admitted and the girls rolled their eyes not believing you.

When you arrived back at the palace your friend’s words were ringing in your head and when you next saw Iroh something felt different. You took note of his looks and were surprised by what you’d found. Iroh was attractive, very attractive, how had you missed that? You stared at Iroh wondering if his eyes had always been that bright? Was his jaw always that sharp? His hair that good regularly when he frowned “why are you staring at me?”. “Nothing” you cried and he paused before shrugging “Are you ready to go?” he asked “the party has already started” offering you his arm. You nodded and took it cautiously following Iroh into the ballroom.

You could see why Iroh had wanted to invite you, everyone in the room was at least 60 years old or some stiff nobel person from an ancient line of fire nation families. All they seemed to want to discuss was old family bloodlines, territories or ancient traditions. After your fifth boring ambush by some old fire nation man Iroh pointedly headed for the gardens. You frowned as he exited discreetly, closing the door behind him, and headed away from the hall. “Iroh I’m pretty sure the party is inside” you commented and Iroh grinned “I know but I can’t take another second in there so humour me? One lap of the gardens then we’ll head back, please? I know you haven’t seen them properly yet so how about a tour?” Iroh holding out his hand to you. You rolled your eyes but took his hand happily.

Iroh led you around the gardens explaining the different flora to you and their history. “I spent so many parties hiding in here as a kid” he grinned “this place is so huge they couldn’t find me for hours”. You smiled at the thought “my mother would’ve killed me if I did that”. “Mine did” Iroh chuckled “but I’d honestly rather face her wrath than some boring commander who wants to lecture me about our family’s history and why it’s so important...they’re literally my own family and even I don’t care” Iroh cried making you smile. “I see why you escaped out here so often, I’m very grateful formal parties were not a part of my childhood”. Iroh smiled and went to comment when the smile was wiped from his face and he grabbed you, quickly pushing you behind a large fern. “Iroh what are you...”. “Shhh they’ve come for us” he hissed and you frowned when you heard a voice. “Prince Iroh?” a man you recognised as the palace coordinator called “Are you out here? You’re needed inside”. You smirked and Iroh rolled his eyes “they’re relentless”. “Master Iroh if you’re out there please return to the ballroom, your mother’s orders”. There was silence and then the sound of the butler coming closer. Your eyes widened and Iroh put a hand over your mouth pushing you further into the bushes. “Prince Iroh?” a voice called literally right beside you and Iroh smirked as you grabbed his arm in surprise. You heard a sigh and the sound of the man retreating. When the footsteps died away Iroh dropped his hold on you and you both burst into laughter. “I thought we were going to be caught and then royally punished...literally” you added and Iroh smirked “I wouldn’t let them punish you, it’s not your fault I dragged you out here”. “True but I didn’t try hard to stop you”. “You did encourage me” Iroh nodded thinking “okay it’s all your fault”. You gaped laughing “I never said that! You are such a liar” you cried pushing him and Iroh laughed grabbing your arm “okay okay maybe we share the blame 50:50?”. “No way” you smiled and Iroh paused “60:40?”. “I think 90:10?” you said grinning and Iroh sighed “fine, i’ll take 10% of the blame”. You shook your head at how wonderfully infuriating he was and smiled at him fondly. Iroh grinned back and you realised suddenly how close his face was to yours. Iroh seemed to notice too, he glanced down at your lips and you panicked moving away from him suddenly. There was an awkward tension in the air and you broke it with a cough “so want to show me more of the gardens then?”. Iroh nodded “right this way my lady” the awkwardness gone and led you further into the garden.

When you were safely hidden from the ballroom Iroh stopped walking, explaining this was one of his favourite spots in the whole garden and you gratefully took a break sitting down. “I can’t believe you’ve already been here a month” Iroh commented and you nodded “I know only 2 more to go then my mandatory 3 months work experience is done”. Iroh frowned “mandatory...so you could stay longer if you wanted to?”. “Hypothetically” you agreed and Iroh hesitated “do you think you’d extend it? Hypothetically?”. You paused “I’m not sure, I have enjoyed the fire nation far more than I thought I would but I’ve always wanted to complete my training as quickly as possible, I hope to be chief of police one day and I’ll need many years of service for that...”. Iroh frowned “isn’t the youngest chief like 41?”. You nodded “yeah so i’ve got time I guess, maybe i’ll stay for longer...is this just so you have someone to skirt your royal duties with?”. Iroh laughed “maybe...I like you being here, it’s nice not being the only person under 30 in every room”. You smiled “well i’m glad my presence isn’t displeasing to you...you’ve been pleasant as well” you added blushing and Iroh grinned. “Wait did I make a Beifong blush? That’s like a legendary occurrence, this is amazing!”. “Stop it” you cried but Iroh wouldn’t let you turn away “no, this will go down in history, Beifong blushes are rarer than dragons so I’m soaking up every second”. For the second time that day Iroh stared at you closely and you blushed more under his gaze but this time you didn’t move away. Iroh continued gazing at you before he lightly moved his hand to your cheek “y/n...” he said softly leaning in closer when a figure appeared. “There you are!” a voice cried and you both jumped away from one another. Your jaw dropped when you realised who it was and you dropped into a bow “Firelord Izumi...i’m so sorry I didn’t see you approach”. “Rise child you did nothing wrong” she said warmly “my son on the other hand...” she trailed off glancing at Iroh who paled. “Hey mom” he frowned and she raised an eyebrow “really? That’s all you have to say? No apology or grovelling”. “Erm I’m sorry for ditching?” Iroh offered and Izumi sighed. “Y/n would you please excuse us, I want to have a word with my son”. “Of course” you agreed bowing and you rushed away.

Iroh returned not long after with his mother and told you he had to stay in the ballroom for the rest of the party. You agreed to stay with him and he smiled gratefully at you making you blush and look away rapidly. The night passed and neither you nor Iroh spoke about what happened in the garden. How he’d almost kissed you and how you were going to let him. You couldn’t believe your own recklessness. What good did you think would come out of kissing the prince of the fire nation? You were obviously not an appropriate match and so there was nothing to be encouraged there. You resolved to never find yourself in that situation again and decided to just stay as friends no matter how much you got along or how attractive he was. Getting involved with a fire nation prince was not responsible behaviour. So after that night you made sure to put distance between you and Iroh. You didn’t stop seeing him you just made sure to emphasise it was a friendship. You didn’t let yourself get caught up in him the way you had in the gardens and always kept a level head. Iroh never tried anything or mentioned that night either and you supposed he picked up on your not so subtle hints. You carried on as before but there was definitely an unmentioned barrier between you which you never let fade.

You left the fire nation 2 months later. You didn’t extend your stay as with your feelings for Iroh you didn’t think it would be wise. Iroh saw you off and hugged you tightly before you got onto the airship. “It’s been nice having you around Beifong, I’ll miss you”. Iroh’s words made you hesitate and you hugged him tighter. For that time in Iroh’s arms you imagined what would have happened if you’d kissed him in the gardens that night. Iroh didn’t strike you as someone who flitted from person to person taking what he wanted, you think if he wanted to kiss you he must have felt something for you too and perhaps would have suggested dating. You imagined all the things you’d have done together but as a couple and wondered if you’d made a mistake, maybe you should have just gone for it? But then reality set in. If you really wanted to be chief of police then you couldn’t have short relationships with high ranking members of the fire nation. Other candidates could use it to show you had compromised morals and there was no way it would be a long term relationship due to your lack of fire nation heritage. Sure the fire nation was pretty progressive but that didn’t really apply to royalty. They had thousand-year-old traditions to uphold that couldn’t be broken easily so Iroh was never a long term option for you. Therefore all logical signs said you’d done the correct thing not persuing something with him...so why did it feel so shit? You finally pulled away from Iroh and he noticed your expression. “What’s wrong?” he asked and you shook your head looking away “nothing i’ll just miss it here...promise you’ll keep in touch?”. “Cross my heart” Iroh smiled “you’re not someone I intend to let slip away, expect a visit every time I come to republic city”. You pushed away the rational voice in your mind telling you to keep a distance from him and smiled “you’ll always be welcome and I’m very much looking forward to it”. Iroh blushed “thank you y/n” and you nodded back, just looking at him in admiration before catching yourself. “I should go...” and Iroh nodded “safe travels” and with a final look you walked away.

2 years later

After your departure you and Iroh stayed in regular contact and your letters only halted when he was deployed by the military but the second we was out he would write and arrange to come visit you in Republic City. You still thought about him and your feelings for him regularly and every time you saw him you knew your crush hadn’t lessened. You loved Iroh’s visits and soon they became the thing you cherished most. You told yourself all of this was fine because you’d never act on your feelings but sometimes you wondered if Iroh felt something too? You’d catch him staring at you or he’d blush if you smiled at him in a certain way. The very idea of Iroh liking you made you very excited but you also knew it would only lead to heartache. He wouldn’t be allowed to settle down with someone outside the fire nation so it didn’t matter if he liked you too. So you settled for his friendship which was more than enough for you. When Iroh was posted in republic city when he became general you were thrilled and you only continued to grow closer.

However republic city wasn’t as peaceful. There had been multiple attacks on the city from Amon’s chi blockers to Vaatu’s take over and you and Iroh were constantly pushed into the fray. Multiple times you’d faced staggering odds and every single time you wondered if you should confess your feelings to Iroh in case the unthinkable happened but every time you chickened out. You and Iroh had been safe every time but there was only so much you could push your luck.

You’d been wary of Kuvira’s take over of the earth kingdom from the very start. Your aunt Su Yin had told you all about her so you weren’t surprised when she set her sights on Republic City but that didn’t mean you weren’t terrified. The avatar and her friends informed you what you were facing and you weren’t sure how you could even think about facing a giant mecha suit with spirit cannons. Iroh shared your sentiment but as general of Republic City’s army he was forced by President Raiko to lead his troops out there. Watching Iroh take to the front line you were swept with the desire once again to be honest with him, to tell him how you felt before it was too late. You decided three was too many times to chance it and so decided to finally tell him how you felt. You made your way to the general’s tent and found Iroh with Korra discussing strategies. You greeted them both warmly before making your way to Iroh’s side “could we please talk? I have something to tell you”. You knew Iroh had a hundred things to do but he nodded warmly squeezing your hand “of course just give me one second to...” when the radio sprang into action. President Raiko had surendering to Kuvira’s demands. Republic City was hers.

The avatar was furious and you matched her sentiment. You and Iroh joined her as she met with other leaders in the city like Tenzin and your mother and they all agreed something had to be done to stop Kuvira. A plan was quickly assembled, it was agreed that airbenders would attack the suit from the sky and earth benders would attack from the ground. You didn’t actually expect to damage the suit, you only had to distract Kuvira long enough for Korra to get inside. You were agreeing fervently getting ready to leave with your cousins when Iroh grabbed your arm. “Wait Y/n are you sure you want to do this?” he asked nervously “that mecha suit is dangerous there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to stop it”. I know but it’s my home, I swore to protect it and I won’t break my oath. I have to try and help”. Iroh sighed thinking and you watched him wondering what he’d say. “I understand why you’re doing it and I want to come too”. You paused pleasantly surprised “You do...but I thought President Raiko told you to retreat and surrender?”. “He told me to surrender the army not that I couldn’t personally engage in fighting, i’m not fighting as a general but as plain old Iroh” he announced proudly and you smiled “there’s nothing plain about you even without your titles”. Iroh beamed at you “Does this mean you agree? We can fight this giant together!”. You nodded your head “okay let’s go meet up with the others”.

You and Iroh rushed after the others and found them all suiting up. “Finally” your mother said spotting you but she frowned when she saw Iroh with you “y/n tell me you didn’t bring the general who is also the prince of the fire nation into this”. “She didn’t, I volunteered” Iroh spoke up “I’m not here as a general or as a prince but as a civilian so, where can I help?”. “You know your mother won’t like this” Tenzin commented and Iroh nodded “I know but some things are worth facing her wrath for” he said shooting you a smile and you blushed.

So it was agreed Iroh would stay. Your mother thought it would be best to place him on the roof with the airbenders, she ordered him to shoot lightning at the joints to try and cause some malfunctioning. When you’d all suited up the teams said their goodbyes and Iroh appeared in front of you. You didn’t have long, Kuvira’s giant suit was already in view and the ground shook whenever it took a single step. Iroh stared at you and sighed heavily “Y/n...”. “Don’t say it like that, we don’t have time and we’re both going to be fine okay?” you said faking a smile but Iroh saw right through it. “What did you want to tell me earlier?”. You froze caught off guard and blushed “I...I just wanted to...it doesn’t matter”. The ground jumped and Iroh looked at it nervously before stepping closer to you “I think I can guess what you were going to say”. “You can?” you asked nervously and Iroh smiled “yeah...you had another Beifong blush moment and I’ve noticed you do them around me a lot”. You went bright red and Iroh chuckled “yeah like that...”. You looked down embarrassed but Iroh took your hand gently “don’t, I blush a lot around you too”. You smiled blushing more and Iroh chuckled softly. “Y/n are you ready?” your mom asked and Iroh gripped your hand tightly. “Wait I want to tell you everything before you leave” Iroh cried but you squeezed his hand gently. “It’ll be okay” you smiled “you can tell me everything later and I think I can guess too”. Iroh grinned blushing “later then...just got to get through this”. “We’ll be fine, this is what he trained for” you smiled confidently “I promise I’ll see you on the other side”. Iroh nodded and stared at your lips, he went to move in when your mother called “y/n are you coming or are we leaving you behind”. “I’m coming!” you yelled and stepped away from Iroh “mothers” you commented and he smiled “go, i’ll see you after” and with a last look you both rushed off to your assigned group.

The battle

The fight went about as good as could be expected. The suit swatted the air benders away like flies and your group’s earth, metal and even lava bending barely slowed it down. But it didn’t matter, all that mattered was the avatar and her team managed to find a way into that thing and your team cheered when you saw she’d done just that. Now the fight was Korra’s so you let your guard down when suddenly the machine began malfunctioning. Your mother yelled for you all to take cover but you were too far away from the building. The suit exploded with a blast and you saw a blinding light and then black.

After the suit exploded everyone assumed the battle won. Half the air benders went after Korra to help her with Kuvira and the other half went to the ground to make sure the others were okay, of course Iroh went with the latter. He saw Bolin, your aunt and cousins but no sign of you or your mother. They told him they were all searching for you and he rushed to join in. With each street he passed his heart began to sink when finally he spotted you! In the arms of your mother unconscious. Iroh ran forward dropping to his knees beside you. “What happened?” he cried and your mother clutched you desperately “that thing exploded and she was too far to get into cover, it hit her sending her flying through the street and now she’s...she’s...”. Iroh saw the blood seeping through your mother’s hands where she held them against you. “No” he said viciously “y/n won’t...she can’t! We need a medic” he yelled loudly before taking off his jacket to wrap around your wound. “Maybe I can cauterise the wound?” he asked “seal it to stop her losing so much blood?”. Lin paused “I think the wounds too big but it’s worth a shot”. Iroh nodded and Lin lifted the bottom of your uniform. Iroh saw a large gash across your stomach and winced. He lit his hand on fire and pressed his hands against the wound. You gasped suddenly and your eyes shot open. “Y/n” your mother and Iroh cried in unison and you blinked trying to make sense of the situation before you groaned in pain. You tensed trying to get away from the burning but your mother held onto you “please y/n just hang on Iroh is trying to cauterise your wound”. “It’s not working” you grimaced resisting the urge to scream “Iroh stop! Please!” you cried and he yelled in frustration moving his hands away from you. “No it has to work if it doesn’t then you’ll.....we need a medic down here” he yelled again but he knew everyone else was spread out and there were no healers in the group. “It’s okay” you said breathing heavily as the situation dawned on you “Iroh it’s alright”. “No it’s not” he cried sinking onto his knees beside you “it’s not y/n, you can’t...you have to fight this, you can’t leave me”. You nodded “trust me i’m trying but Iroh if I do...”. “No y/n don’t even think about it! I won’t let you go it’s not going to happen”. “I don’t think we have a choice” you admitted trying to smile but Iroh just shook his head “but we never got our shot, we never got to talk, I never got to tell you...I love you y/n” he said simply “I have for years, that’s why I never found anyone from the fire nation because the perfect person for me is you. I know there’s traditions and rules but I don’t care, I don’t want anyone else but you. I’d give up anything for you and we were finally heading in that direction and now that stupid spirit cannon”. Tears leaked down Iroh’s face and you reached out a hand to him shakily. He took it and you stroked his face “it’s okay, i’m sorry for being too scared and cautious, I’m sorry for wasting our time together but I love you too, I hope that’s enough”. Iroh nodded “It’s more than I ever hoped, you didn’t waste time you have nothing to be sorry for y/n Beifong, do you hear me?”. “I do” you smiled before coughing in pain and your mother clutched you tighter. “Y/n” your mother cried and you smiled up at her “it’s okay mom, don’t worry. It’s all going to be okay”. You clutched her hand against your chest and took Iroh’s other one. “I’m with the two people I love the most, I’m happy. This is the best way for it to...”. “Stop” Iroh said crying but you just gripped his hand tighter “Iroh look at me”. He blinked through the tears but looked at you. “It’s okay, I promise you everything will be okay”. Iroh just said your name softly and rested his head against yours. Your mother wrapped her arms around both of you and you held onto both of them the best you could when you felt the world fading away. You heard sobbing and your mother faintly saying your name until everything turned dark and it was over.

Epilogue

Following your death the fire nation, earth kingdom and republic city all paid their respects in their traditional fashions. A statue was raised by your mother in the spot of your death and every year on the anniversary of your death both her and Iroh would visit it. Iroh and your mother supported one another following your death being the only one’s who understood how monumental the loss of your life was. They managed to get through it together and although neither of them ever stopped loving you they found a way to carry on. Iroh never married, he couldn’t even consider the idea and his family never pushed him to. He still lived a long and happy life. He was very involved with his sister’s children who he loved dearly and his family never stopped supporting him. If he went quiet and got a teary look in his eye or if he struggled serving in the earth kingdom they understood. Your family also treated him like one of their own, with Lin even calling him her son on a few occasions, and he was invited to all your family’s events in recognition of your love for him. Your memory never faded and when Iroh’s life eventually ended he passed on to find you waiting for him. He knew all the suffering and heartache was over, you were finally together at last.

____

So initially I was going to write a happy ending as well but then I thought screw it, I want to cry so I killed off the reader...but I can release the happy ending as a part two if anyone wants it.

Edit: For the happy ending version click here

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Hi! I was reading a fanfic and it brought up Roy and Dick's fight, which I see a lot of in fics but never what they fought about and consequently why they don't talk. I thought it was a vague excuse/reason why Roy was Jason's friend not Dick's anymore but this fic brought up when Dick was batman so I was wondering if there was actually a fight between them? Btw I really enjoy your metas! They're v thought out and well articulated. Also it's v easy to separate what's your opinion and what's fact which is. Very helpful for me

Yeah this is one hundred percent a fanon thing that's kept deliberately vague to justify why Roy in his friendship with Jason seems to have no positive thoughts or concerns about Dick whatsoever. Now granted, Dick and Roy are not nearly as close in the New 52 as they were pre-Reboot. The lack of their friendship there is definitely one of the things I disliked most about the Reboot - and I actually don't care if Jason and Roy are friends tbh, its the total erasure of his history with Dick as if he can't be friends with both, that like, bugs most.

But so like, yeah, Roy and Dick aren't super close when they interact on the Titans in the New 52, but there's literally nothing in any of their interactions that explains the complete absence of him from Roy's life or a reason that Roy would like, hate him the way he tends to in a lot of Jason-centric fics.

When you factor in pre-Reboot stuff though, it starts to get a LOT more.....uh wyd? And this is why I have trouble buying that people just write Roy and Jason the way they do because its the only thing they know from recent comics. Like one, most fans talk about how they don't even read the source comics, so there's no reason their knowledge of the characters or events would be limited to just recent comics if they're going off wiki summaries and scans anyway. And second, most fans AREN'T limited in their knowledge to just recent comics.

Like, the second people start writing Roy and Jason and Kori but with their pre-52 characterizations and references to events from THAT timeline, it all gets very messy, the way they're like, completely antagonistic towards Dick a lot of the time. Because Roy and Dick were always solid. Yes, they fought. A lot. But they always, ALWAYS made up afterwards. They had conflict about Roy's drug addiction - it didn't stop Dick from being there to support him through rehab, or Dick being the first person Roy called to help him get Lian after he learned of her existence. Dick literally held Lian before Roy ever did? He's the one who first put her in Roy's arms for the first time.

(Which is the prime grudge I and most Dick Grayson fans have about Roy and Jason fics which make Jason like, the absolute apple of Lian's eye. If you want to expand Lian's circle of loved and trusted ones to include Jason as Roy's friend and thus her uncle, like go for it! But there's zero reason that should require invalidating and erasing the fact that Dick was this little girl's adored godfather and uncle for pretty much her entire life. And the way Dick is just shoved offstage from Lian's life entirely, to slot Jason into his place as though they're completely interchangeable, its like....THAT'S the kind of thing that gets people irey about how Jason 'steals' Dick's dynamics and character relationships.

Because there's nothing saying they both can't be major players in Roy and Lian's lives! But just that they're not interchangeable! You need to develop the specific role Jason plays there WITHOUT just overwriting everything Dick actually did in relation to the two of them pre-Flashpoint, which is what you're drawing from the second you write Lian, unless you're specifically going with the few appearances we've had of her within literally just the last year.

But I mean, when people just search and replace Dick Grayson in all Roy and Lian's pre-Reboot stories and act like Jason was the one doing all of that instead.....why wouldn't fans of the source material be annoyed by a character getting credit for interactions and things done for Lian and Roy that Jason literally NEVER DID, while at the EXACT SAME TIME, conjuring some mysterious, unnamed 'Falling Out' that Roy and Dick had, that was clearly all Dick's fault, and resulted from him being basically excised entirely from Roy and Lian's lives?

Same with Kori, for the record, and like despite being Dick's ex, she and Dick have NEVER been like, estranged? She and Dick have often been close even after their breakup. None of it makes any sense, and the fact that a lot of fans don't even try to make it make sense or justify it, and expect other fans to just be fine with settling for an inexplicable reversal of Dick's every actual dynamic with these characters while setting up Jason to occupy the exact same role Dick played in these other characters' lives, like.....lol. Its fun.)

Anyway, back to your question, like, there are fights you can go with pre-Reboot as the source of various conflicts between Dick and Roy - but again, I maintain its just as crucial that they're always written as getting past them. They have a very tempestuous relationship because they are the two people MOST likely to call each other on their shit, two of the two people WITH the most shit in common due to the parallels in their childhoods and the roles they've occupied in the Titans and the superhero community in general, and the two people most resistant to being called out on their shit by each other, lol. Mostly in that case because like, they do recognize that they have a lot in common and understand each other very well, so the second the other is calling them out for something, they're usually like "ugh, if HE'S saying this, its probably true and I am just not prepared yet to be wrong about this. I need more time being unjustifiably rawr about things." Its like that thing where they both look at each other doing something that feels familiar or calls back to their own reasons for doing something and they're like ugh I'm in this picture and I don't like it.

So they clash. A lot. But always with the implicit bedrock of like, there's nothing either of them can do or say to the other that will push the other away for good.

They fought over Roy replacing Dick as leader of the Titans when Dick's wedding fell apart, even though Roy actually didn't want to do it and was kinda pushed into it by the government, but again, Dick like, got over it and realized it was for the best and forgave Roy for it that very same issue. And on and on. It always went like that. So there's plenty of stuff that can be used or pointed at as a source of conflict between the two, but the part I'll always call unbelievable is the idea that they never make up after one of these fights. Why now? What fight, specifically, is so bad between them that despite everything else they've gone through AND gotten past, they can't get past this one? Y'know?

So yeah, that's my take on this. There is no definitive falling out between Dick and Roy as many fics like to point to in order to shove him offscreen and make room for Jason in Roy and Lian's lives, and personally, I just don't find it necessary and I actually think it makes Roy look REALLY bad. Because when you're not specifically detailing all the things that Dick has actually DONE for Roy, the lengths to which he's been there for his friend, and like, specifically invalidating each and every one of them as something that never happened in a particular fic, then literally anyone who reads that fic and has their own awareness of Dick and Roy's friendship is kiiiiiinda likely to be reading that and thinking wow what an ungrateful asshole, when Roy's just written as bitching about Dick with Jason and sandbagging him without any real explanation as to WHY, beyond just 'oh they had a fight years ago.'

(And coming up with some random awful thing that Dick did to justify Roy hating him now isn't like, a superior alternative, lmao, because again, its still just trashing one character for the sake of getting him out of the way of two other characters' friendship and people are going to think what they think about that).

Anyway, my now standard stock disclaimer that like, there doesn't actually need to be a canon fight obviously, for people to just write things this way and handwave that Dick and Roy had an epic falling out years ago and now they just hate one another or whatever, or just Roy hates him or vice versa. Obviously people are free to do what they want. They don't need a reason other than "I want to write it this way so Jason and Roy are friends and Jason doesn't have to 'share' him with Dick or have his friendship be overshadowed by their greater history together." That just happens to be a reason that no Dick Grayson fan is ever really going to be happy about, lol, for what should be perfectly obvious reasons, so it honestly shouldn't be surprising to people that fans of the source material often gripe about it.

Because yeah fanfic is a tremendous opportunity to transform the source material into something better, but if what's better for some fans actively takes away what was working perfectly well for other fans the original way, they're going to say that. Especially in a fandom where so many new fans take their view of the characters and their dynamics from fics rather than the source material - when fandom has that much of an influence on what new fans perceive to be 'canon,' fans are perfectly within their right to emphasize what is ACTUALLY canon and what isn't, so that new fans at least have the opportunity to determine for themselves what take they want to go with, instead of just accepting at face value that the nature of say, Dick and Roy's relationship is just that Roy hates Dick because of some mumble mumble ancient history vague mumble details not found mumble mumble fight.

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poisonouswritings · 2 years

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1, 10, 17, and 18 for the writer's ask game? :D

𝟙. 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕕𝕚𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘?

Around seven? First thing I remember doing was some little Pokémon fic with my little trainersona lol. I don't remember much of it but she had a Minun because (at the time) that was my favorite Pokémon lol.

Look at this little shit. 1000/10 would cuddle.

𝟙𝟘. 𝕀𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖?

One of my stories is centered in a world where angels and demons exist but they just, kinda,, vibe together. And everyone has different powers depending on their subspecies. Such as;

One Reaper character (Mizuki) has the ability to sense people's phobias and then create illusions of them. Partially to feed off their fear (one of the ways Reapers sustain themselves) but also just cause she finds it funny lol

A Cherub character (Tobias) has the ability to control the growth/decay rate of plants. He carries seeds in his pockets to use for emergencies.

Their child (Octavia) is a Reaper/Cherub hybrid, so she can both manipulate and travel through shadows and has an inherent charm ability so she can get away with her pranks and stuff.

Anyways I think it would be pretty cool to exist in a world like that! Provided it wasn't during the whole 'Ancient Gods Randomly Possess People To Commit Warfare On The Mortal Plane' period of time.

𝟙𝟟. 𝕋𝕖𝕝�� 𝕦𝕤 𝕒 𝕗𝕦𝕟 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕎𝕀ℙ

Hah I have so many WIPs it's not even funny. One of them (which I have not talked about on this blog) originally started as a crack fanfic I made about Tom Joad/Jim Casey from John Steinbeck's fucking Grapes of Wrath in English class because I was bored. That somehow branched into a fic about Cormac McCarthy's All The Pretty Horses, also thanks to English class, and then it kinda spiraled from there. Now I have two characters that were originally supposed to be modern versions of Tom and Casey but really aren't, another character that is basically Alejandra from AtPH but if she was slightly more unhinged, and two time travelers who kinda just ricochet around whenever I wanna make a joke. And that's not even mentioning the whole 'modern day M. Butterfly (by David Henry Hwang) where Song rants about how much he hates Panda Express and Rene simps for him while my OC is doing timetravel shit in the background' thing that I also wrote as a joke that somehow ended up just being thrown into the main story because I liked it. I was like,, 15 when I started this. I do a little bit every couple of months.

𝟙𝟠. 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕦𝕤 𝕒 𝕡𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖

I'm bad at writing dialogue 😅 but I have this little excerpt from my LL OC route-rewrite that I kinda like. So you can have it;

Context - Kit (my OC) has gotten into a massive fight with Sage wherein they both said horrible things to each other. Her angst over this causes the Astrolabe to 'freeze' her heart (she specializes in ice magic), numbing her emotions entirely and gradually pushing her into an apathetic state.

-----

the longer she sits like this the more shades of gray seem to slip out of her fingers. they separate into black and white. no nuance. no emotion. nothing to be confused by. nothing to be hurt by.

nothing…

nothing.

what's the point if all that exists is nothing. what's the point of anything at all. she seemed to know a few minutes ago. but now it's slipping away. away away away.

damnit.

She slides back on the crate enough to pick her legs up off the floor and pull her knees against her chest. Still nothing. Still sinking. If she closes her eyes it's like she doesn't exist. No pressure. No feeling. just nothing.

she should feel sick and tired of it.

"We'll come check in on ya in a bit. A'right, lass?"

She nods and waves a hand vaguely in Arkash's direction. For a second there's silence. Then soft footsteps. One set. Then another. Then another. Hesitant like they don't want to leave her alone. But they do. She tracks them out of the room. Hears the soft thump of the door closing behind them.

right then.

she's alone. loathe to admit it but her coworkers are right. there is a mess she has to clean up. objectively that's obvious. objectively. but subjectively there isn't. subjectively there's nothing. objectively she feels nothing subjective.

'what's happening to me?'

"̷̛̪̦̺̲̣̾̒͒͗͌̚Ȋ̷̧̤͍̣̺̜̀̓͒͑ ̸͉̗̺͖̙̓͆̽a̵͔͕̝̤̟͔͒l̵̡̡̢̤̞͎͛̈ͅr̶̗̙̖̓̏͂̌e̵͎̓͒̐̽̽̈́a̷̦͖͚͖͔͗̃̔̏̚͜ḍ̴̲̟̱̫̉͒̍̚y̵̡̨̼̟̮̼̽͝ͅ ̸̞͉̙̯̤́͆̄͠t̴̘̏̀̿̀o̴̧̿̔̇̑͠l̷͍̓d̵̡̥̯̠̰̄ ̷̛͈͉̗̰̖̏͆͋̈́̿̚y̵̫̏͒͐̈̓̀̕ọ̶̩̣͈͗́͒̔̓͝ǔ̶̩̜͓͑̚,̷̞͔̮̿͒͜ͅ ̵̨̪̊͑̿͛̄L̷͍̟̜̊̊̏̒̈̆̽u̵̧͖͎͗͠ͅl̴̲̒͂͑̂u̴̡̧̞̣͓̗̞̒̐̿̾.̷͉͓̳̏̿͂͑͛̃̓ ̷̛̤͓̻͒̀͝I̶͙͆t̴̢̊̑̍̔̇̓̆ ̴͍̫͉͕͔͂͊͛͜ḏ̷̿͒͗̿ȍ̴͓͛̋͘e̸̡̥̫̬̼͒̐̈́̋ş̸͙̥͂̉̏͑̚̚ͅn̵̨͋̚'̶̡̜͚͓͉͆ͅt̶̮͈͖̺͍̞͔̅̌ ̷̧̖̻̓̐́̀͒m̵͔̠̙͕̒̓̊ͅa̸̤̖̳͎̭̪̗͠ẗ̷̡͖́̐t̷̨̩͍͊̔͜e̵̯̹̽̉̇̾̉r̷̪̪̜̟̔̄́̅̔ͅ.̴̹͎̗͌̽͛

oh. right. nothing hurts. so nothing matters.

nothing hurts.

Nothing hurts.

#fren asks #ozzy answers #ozzy speaks #hi fren <3 #ask game

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bookishofalder · 4 years

Text

Joke of a Batman

Spencer Reid x Male!Reader

Request: @meowiemari Okie dokie!!! So Spencer x male reader where the reader is the driver for the robbers. They arrested him after finding him in a gas station getting snacks. While driving in his car with Morgan, Reid, and Hotch, the reader is in the passenger seat telling them the location because he was just there for the money. Hotch and Morgan went while Spencer stays to keep an eye on him. Reader’s playlist in his car plays old Justin Bieber songs and it’s gonna be me by NSYNC. Spencer sees his embarrassment and awkwardly sings a bit so he doesn’t feel shame. Later in absolute a few minuets the two started singing and as soon as Morgan comes back with Hotch, they both quickly turn off the playlist and exchange numbers. :)

Warnings: Swearing, implied SMUT (super brief)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I loved writing this, and hope I you enjoy. This was my first time writing the reader as male-so please tell me if I can improve! Tried to keep reader description as vague as possible. Thank you to @mermaidxatxheart for encouraging me to get writing :)

“That’ll be $11.75, please.” The bored gas station attendant droned, staring at you expectantly. You began to pull out a few bills from your wallet, ready to get home and eat your pint of ice cream in peace, but before you could count out what you needed, a voice behind you cut in.

“He’s no longer going to be making a purchase today, actually,” Spinning around in alarm, you find yourself face to face with two imposing men, one with a deep frown and overall authoritative air with his crisp suit, the other a handsome but tall and physically intimidating specimen.

With a gulp, you stuff the cash in your wallet. Who were these guys?

“Y/F/N?”

You nod as heat creeps up your neck, burning your face. Fucking Peter Robbins, you always knew, was going to be the death of you. And now it looked like your latest foray into his questionable life was going to land you in jail. These had to be cops.

You knew you should have ignored his call. You’d been telling yourself for years not to help him, he was just going to get himself in trouble again and call again, and you got nothing out of it. He used you because he knew you liked him. The two of you had been friends for years, and it didn’t take him long to realize the ways he could manipulate you because of how you felt.

It took you a lot longer to catch on to what he was doing.

But fuck, you still came running when he called, didn’t you? Like you were some joke of a Batman and he was shining his light into the sky calling for you. If only.

“That’s, yeah, that’s me.” You replied, slowly shoving your wallet into your front pocket before holding your hands in front of you in surrender. Whatever happened, you decide at this moment that you never want to see Peter again. Because giving that man a ride in hopes he’d one day say he was interested was not worth this.

“Mr. (Y/L/N), we’re placing you under arrest,” The frowning man held out his badge, showing you he was one Agent Hotchner from the fucking FBI. You tuned him out, your ears suddenly ringing, alarm shooting through you. Getting arrested was one thing, but the FBI? What in the living hell had Peter gotten into? Got you into?

He called you for a ride. It was just supposed to be a ride.

You were surprised when they didn’t cuff you, but you weren’t stupid enough to question them. They led you outside, where the gas station was quiet, only their large black SUV and your Honda Civic parked out front. You kept your eyes down, a sting threatening the corners but you were not going to cry. You needed to take this one step at a time, and not overreact. You surely didn’t fuck up that badly, did you? They’d said ‘suspicion of aiding a crime’, only suspicion.

“Listen, kid,” The bald Agent whose name you learned was Morgan turned and faced you, his expression serious. You bristled slightly at him calling you ‘kid’, but based on the crows' feet around his eyes, maybe he was older than he let on. “We know that you were just the driver today, and that you’d probably have no clue what’s going on right now.”

You raised your eyes to meet his, “Peter Robbins has ensured I fuck up my life at least once a year for nearly a decade. This is just...a new level for me.” You shrug, trying not to think of what your family was going to say when they found out. Would you lose your job?

“We’ve been watching Peter and his associates for a while now,” Agent Hotchner replied, and your brows raised in surprise. “Yes, he’s escalated from petty crimes that upset the local sheriff to armed robbery. Unfortunately, one of his partners happens to enjoy killing. Which is why we were called in.” He stops speaking abruptly when another Agent, you assume from the gun on his belt, steps around the SUV and up to your group.

For a moment, you’re caught off guard. This Agent is stunningly handsome, much younger than the other two. His eyes, which met yours for only a moment before flitting away, were a soft honey brown that sucked you right in. He had a bit of a shadow along his jaw, his wavy brown hair unkempt in the best kind of way, as though he’d just rolled out of bed looking that perfect. And you could tell he didn’t even realize the power he had. Standing next to two burly, thick muscled Agents, you could understand why. But in your brief assessment of this new man, you could see the lean strength of him, the muscles of his lower arms, veins in his hands. He was tall, too, taller than either of the other men, which was saying something.

“What’s up, Reid?” Morgan asked, and the new arrival-Reid-held up his phone.

“Garcia can’t pull anything from the Honda, it’s, her words, an ancient species.” He spoke quickly, almost as though the words couldn’t find their way off of his tongue quickly enough. You tried not to fixate on his mouth, because damn it, his lips were perfect.

Absentmindedly, you crossed your arms across your chest, feeling tense and tired. When Reid’s eyes followed the movement, you felt frozen under his gaze, watching with your breath held as it dragged slowly up to your face. His expression was unreadable, yet you still felt your cheeks grow warmer.

“Listen, (Y/N), we know you don’t have any real part in Peter’s crimes. We intercepted his calls and texts, we know he asked you to pick him up today, last minute.” Agent Hotchner said, his eyes burning into yours.

You looked away from the other men, shame flooding through you. “Peter always calls, and I always answer. But I really don’t know anything about what he does, I didn't know he was even with anyone else today. He asked me to pick him up right out front of the pharmacy, that’s all.” You couldn’t help the edge to your voice, the wordless plea that they understand you had no clue what was going on. And if innocent people were dying, you would do anything you could to help them put a stop to it.

Reid tilted his head slightly as he watched you, “We’ve seen the messages, (Y/N), we know how he treats you, giving you a little, yet taking a lot,” The tears almost threaten now, so you glance away, looking at the ground as you nod, “And he doesn’t even tell you what he’s taking, the danger he’s putting you in. He’s going to go away for a long time, but you don’t have to.”

At this, your head snaps up and you look between the three men, expecting them to laugh and finally cuff you. But they all wear the same neutral expression, all watching you.

“Like I said, I don’t know much abou-“

Reid shook his head, politely interjecting, “We understand. But you know where you took him today, right?” At your nod, Reid stepped a little closer, peering down at you, “We need you to take us to him. And tell us any other addresses you can remember picking him up from or taking him to in the last year. Can you help us? You won’t be under arrest if you can give us what we need to stop Peter and the men he’s working with.”

You almost wanted to laugh. Of course, you would help, regardless of whether you were still under arrest; you had no loyalty whatsoever to Peter. You only ever showed up for him because you hoped, each time, that it would be the time he would go beyond flirting. That the feelings were mutual. But if he was committing crimes-fuck, robbing people, working with a murderer, then you were done with him.

“I can tell you addresses, and I can show where he is now, I just,” You paused, closing your eyes briefly to pull in a breath, steadying yourself, “Please, don’t hurt him, if you don’t need to, I mean.”

Reid’s eyes, which you found the moment you opened yours, visibly softened at your words. He seemed a little surprised, you thought, though it was hard to tell. He was difficult to read, and you’d only just met him. He nodded reassuringly before looking to Agent Hotchner expectantly while you waited, your insides in knots.

“(Y/N), Spencer is going to go with you in your vehicle, and we’ll be following behind. Take us as close as you can without being obvious. Reid,” He turned to the handsome agent, “We’re going to check the car first, can you-“ He gestured wordlessly in your direction, which made you frown in confusion.

Reid nodded, and you watched as the two other agents moved to search your car, while he moved toward you. “I’m going to search you for weapons, okay?” He explained, holding his hands out as if waiting for your permission.

You stared, perhaps a beat too long, at his long-fingered hands. With a shy bob of your head, you looked to Reid, “Of course, I understand.” And the agent began to pat you down as you stood awkwardly.

It wasn’t as though the action was intimate or affectionate, but for whatever reason, you did feel his touch was hesitant. He was gentle, considerate...it surprised you. And then his hands slid up your back as he stood in front of you, and you became acutely aware of the thin cotton t-shirt your wore, instantly becoming self-conscious. You wondered what he thought of you, of your body.

Mind out of the gutter, you told yourself.

It was then, when Reid leaned back, his hands sliding from your back to your chest, that time seemed to stand still, just for a moment. They moved across your stomach briefly, and as they began to pull away, the search complete, you looked up. Reid was staring at you, his cheeks flushed, eyes heavy. You caught your breath, his gaze was so intense, but before you could even try to think of what to say, he was swiftly stepping back, breaking eye contact with a heavy swallow.

You were kind of relieved. That had been almost too intense, whatever that was. The relief lasted only moments until Agent Hotchner called out that your car was good to go, and you remembered you had a twenty-minute car ride alone with the Reid.

Fuck.

The first few minutes of the drive are bearable enough, Spencer takes the wheel as you give him directions to the subdivision where you had dropped Peter off. It’s when the silence starts to press in, and you don’t know what to say to fill it, that things swiftly change.

Sensing the tension, no doubt, Reid reaches out to the audio power button and hits your stereo on. With an internal groan, you suddenly wish you could just jump out of the moving vehicle when the song you’d been listening to picks back up.

'Cause I've had everything But no one's listening And that's just fucking lonely I'm so lonely Lonely

You had put on a playlist you considered your ‘sad songs’ compilation for whenever you were let down by Peter or any other man. You enjoyed wallowing in self-pity for just a little while after each encounter. But now, as Justin Bieber crooned sadly, you didn't feel sad, just humiliated. You were in your car with a fiercely hot FBI agent who had given you some kind of fucking bedroom eyes just minutes ago as he pats you down, and this song plays.

Your expression must have been obvious, as you saw Reid look at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, frowning somewhat. When the song ended, you didn’t get a chance to be relieved before ‘Somebody to Love” began playing. This time, you sighed aloud, sinking somewhat into your seat and wishing you could dissolve into a pile of goo like the Wicked Witch.

Until that is, you glanced up and saw Reid’s fingers tapping gently on the steering wheel to the beat. Surprised, you looked around to the agent and he was mouthing the words, singing along with the chorus. Stunned, you just watched him for a moment, quickly finding yourself enraptured by the way his plump lips moved around the words, how his tongue would wet them between lines, how his eyes-

Fuck, he was looking right at you. You smiled quickly but looked away, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You really had much bigger, more important shit to be concerned with right now, yet here you were wondering what the hell this perfect man, this FBI agent that was far too handsome for his own good, was doing singing along with the silly song, and why the look he gave you had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Not to mention, the guilt that accompanied those thoughts, brief as they were, of what the lips would feel like on yours. What they would feel like on your body. Wrapped around your cock. Fuck.

He hadn’t said anything, but his fingers continued to tap along with the beat with ease. Eventually, when you directed him to the final turn, you chanced another glance at him. As if expecting your gaze, he turned his head and smiled at you, “I’m Spencer, by the way, Dr. Spencer Reid.” You blinked. Doctor?

“Oh, uh. Wow. Nice to meet you, Dr-“

“You can call me Spencer,” He cut in, his expression somewhat amused.

You nodded, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. Though I wish it were under different circumstances, perhaps where I wasn’t a criminal piece of shit.”

He pulled the car over, stopped at the community mailbox you had described as the perfect place to park. Once he’d turned the engine off, he turned to face you, those warm eyes giving you a gentle look. “You aren’t a criminal piece of shit, (Y/N),” Oh, you loved the way your name sounded coming from him. “I’d go as far as to say you’re a victim in all of this.”

You scoffed, waving a hand in protest, “No, I really should have known better than to help Peter.”

But Spencer shook his head, “As I said earlier, we saw the messages. He manipulates you, and he doesn’t ever tell you what he’s actually doing. He just gets you to give him rides, acts like it’s a way to hang out when really he’s using you as a cover because, in reality, you’re a law-abiding, hardworking, kind man. Men like him don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, (Y/N).”

Letting out a breath, your mind went blank at Spencer’s words, failing you entirely. You believed every word he’d said, and you felt warm all over at the intense way he watched you, it was almost...protective.

Before your mind could reboot and you could trust yourself to open your mouth and not simply drool, a tap on the window drew your eyes beyond Spencer. Agent Hotchner stood there, waiting patiently with his arms crossed.

Spencer climbed out of your car, but you stayed put, glad for a moment to close your eyes and try to steady your beating heart. After this was over, you were climbing into your bathtub and staying there for the rest of the week. Maybe the rest of the month.

“Prentiss and JJ are parked at the North end, they’re going to come with us. Can you wait here, with (Y/N), and call Garcia and have him give her the other locations?”

You heard Spencer agree and bid his fellow agents goodbye before climbing back into your car. He smiled warmly at you, and you couldn’t help but return it, your own shy and uncertain. “You heard what our task is?” He asked you, his head tilted again, watching you curiously.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. But first, can you give me your phone, please?” He held his hand out expectantly. You handed it over, first pointing it towards your face to unlock it. His fingers brushed yours when he took the phone from you, and if you hadn’t been looking at him already, you wouldn’t have believed it was intentional. But it was because at the slight contact, your eyes had widened and Spencer...Spencer had smirked.

He clicked around on your phone for a moment, hit one final button and then passed it back to you, looking satisfied. When you took it back, his phone chimed in his pocket. Confused, you peered down at your screen to see he’d added his name to your contacts and sent himself a text from your phone. Well fuck.

He was watching you with an amused expression, “Once this case is over, (Y/N), I’d love it if you would allow me to take you to dinner.”

“I, wow,” You stammered, nervously running your hair through your hair. His eyes followed your movement, and you saw a glint behind the warmth, of desire. Hunger. You didn’t think twice. “I’d love to, Spencer.” He grinned at you.

And surprising even yourself, you reached out and squeezed his hand. And when he returned the pressure and ran his thumb softly across the back of your hand, all thoughts of Peter left your mind as *NSYNC played in the background and you didn’t feel lonely anymore.

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

✨Taglist: @mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711 @snitchthewitch

#reader insert #fanfic #fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #bau x reader #bau fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #fic request #reid x reader #feedback appreciated

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colinburbleswithhappiness · 2 years

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Moon Knight finale thoughts (negative-ish, spoilers obviously)

Oh man...I wanted to love it, I really did, but I just ended up feeling a little underwhelmed. Like don’t get me wrong, I’m overjoyed that Steven and Marc survived, because my worst case scenario was that the should would be like, “Marc has to get rid of both Steven and Jake and then he’ll be healed.” And I loved that Layla got to be so badass with the beautiful costume and the wings and all, and the two (well, three) of them fighting as a team was really cool. And it was cool to finally see Jake, though clearly not the huge twist it was supposed to be, like it’s honestly kind of hilarious that Steven and Marc still haven’t made any effort to figure out who the other alter is, because clearly there’s been someone for a while.

I just felt like...okay for one thing, it seemed like there were a lot of plot holes? Or just like...things where the rules weren’t clear, like wait, why could Layla see Khonshu when she wasn’t his avatar, or why did Ammit need to be bound to Harrow’s body instead of just going back into an ushabti, or like, where did Harrow get his powers from in the first place when Ammit was bound? Why were all the other gods’ avatars so easy to kill? Or why exactly did Steven suddenly know how to use Marc’s fighting skills? Like it just felt like they were fudging things for the sake of the plot.

Also yeah, a lot of people have said this, but it was kind of rushed. I wanted to see where things stood between Marc and Steven and Layla at the end, and I wanted to see the final battle that Jake fronted for, and just...it felt surface-y. Which, you know, it’s a Marvel show, what did I expect, but episode 5 was so completely what I wanted, it just blew me away, and this did...not do that.

Other stuff I liked and didn’t like:

The two fish in the tank at the end, very cute! And Marc complaining about Steven’s housekeeping. :)

I didn’t get why they tried to pull a “maybe it was all a dream” with us? Like it made sense when the Moon Knight system was dead and it was in their mind, but then to go back to the therapist stuff at the end, what was that about? Like clearly it wasn’t all a dream, so what was the point of that? I guess that bit with the therapist was an actual dream that they had after saving the world and then woke up from?

I did love Marc’s speech to Steven after he went back for him. That was a great moment.

I thought it was kind of ridiculous that no one even said anything about Marc ending up in an ancient Egyptian afterlife when he’s fucking Jewish. Like, nothing? Also it looked like a pretty crappy afterlife, what, you’re just alone forever in a vaguely pretty place?

I kind of laughed at giant Ammit slurping down souls, like it just looked kind of funny.

Jake: I was really hoping they’d try to give him at least a little bit of nuance, because it really did end up looking like the “evil alter” trope, and I was really hoping they’d do something to avoid that. But no, they didn’t even really try, and also having the apparently heartless killer alter be the only one who spoke Spanish, not a great look I don’t think? Also why did he kill that nurse? Like I 100% agreed that he should kill Harrow, I thought it was dumb that Marc refused to be honest, even if it was a nice way for him to reject his view of himself as a killer. Dude was going to kill like half the world! But some random nurse in the hospital, what was that about?

I am kind of relieved that Jake didn’t have a mustache though, lol. I’m not really into mustaches.

All in all, there were parts I liked a lot but it didn’t blow me away. I’m feeling a little less gung ho about a season two now, although I do think it would give them a chance to fix the Jake situation a little by showing that he’s not one-dimensionally evil. I’m just not sure they’re going to do it well. I’d still much rather have a season two than Moon Knight just randomly showing up in some movie.

#moon knight spoilers #moon knight

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nam-nam-joon · 4 years

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comptine d'un autre été, l'après-midi

or: yoongi's song

Pairing: yoongi x reader

Genre: meet-cute, slow born, fluff

Wordcount: 13.7k

Summary: when your favourite study spot is suddenly unavailable, a fit of annoyance and the tinkling of piano keys lead you to discover an entirely new space. and along with it, someone to keep company.

The library's secretary looked down her nose at you, standing half a step below the desk.

Her voice was notably cooler as she spoke again.

"The section you would like to access is closed for cleaning for the entire week from today on. We apologize for any inconveniences, but there's nothing to be done about it. You will have to go and study elsewhere, I'm afraid."

The old crone leaned back in her chair, her beady eyes fixated on the screen of her computer once more. The chain on her glasses jingled softly.

You turned away from her, staring into the rows of bookshelves accusingly while the fingers around a stack of papers holding it up to your chest tapped furiously.

No studying in the library today.

Great.

There was no other place as good to study in as that particular nook you'd found while one day idling between the rows; nowhere else could you focus so well, so thoroughly. Hours could pass while you were engrossed in the material, and the prospect of being robbed of that, today of all days - and furthermore, for the whole week?

The sun falling through the narrow, high windows suddenly didn't seem as bright and cheery anymore.

Briefly you debated just sitting at one of the long tables in the main area, with everyone else - but quickly scrapped that thought. There were more people than usual there, courtesy of the partial blockage no doubt, and you knew it just wouldn't work out.

Still steaming, you turned a corner and pushed through the first set of doors you could find, really needing some air after this monumental setback.

The fresh breeze hit your face. It slipped through your jacket and caused a shiver to run down your entire form.

Blinking against the light you tried to orientate yourself.

A few steps forward on the stones surrounding this entrance, green with moss here and there, didn't bring the expected clarity concerning your surroundings that you'd hoped for; but instead you realized this was simply a part of campus you apparently had never seen before.

The curiosity about this new, uncharted area grew into the hollow left by the frustration. If you wouldn't be able to study in your favourite spot, you could at least roam the area here and see what mysteries might be hidden.

There was a lot of grass between the occasional tree, on a long hill softly sloping down into the residential area across a street down below. Then there were the campus buildings with their windows. Most had their blinds drawn, and only those on the higher floors were cracked open to let some air in.

It was so quiet.

Somewhere almost out of hearing range was a tingling sound, like windchimes.

You took a deep breath.

There was nowhere specific to go.

Already the stress about meeting your deadlines, the library closing down, it began to lose its edge.

The tinkling came wafting over with the breeze again and you turned your face towards it, feet beginning to move before you'd fully settled on what to do, where to go next.

The stones forming the path around the building were barely visible under the encroaching greenery. They cushioned your steps and softened the ground. A corner lay ahead, and after turning you were presented with more green space between two buildings, eventually ending in a wall that was most likely part of the ancient university campus, overgrown with ivy but still standing strong against time.

The tinkling had shifted from vaguely sounding like windchimes to definitely piano tunes, but it was still nice.

About three quarters to the wall stood an old picnic table under a maple tree.

The surface was a bit uneven, the table was made out of wood and students and time alike had both carved into the soft material.

The seat was slightly damp as well - you remembered the few drops this morning on your way to your lecture - but with your jacket placed over the seat it was a nice spot.

Great, even, as soon as the sun peeked through the clouds again, bringing warmth into the still air of the secluded spot.

Whoever was playing piano was probably close by, you thought after working on the sheets you'd brought for a bit.

The tunes perfectly fit into the overall mood resting in this place, underlining the tranquil state lasting over it.

It was like you had stepped into a pocket universe, with the general buzz of campus being left behind.

The chiming of a bell tower roused you from your work pace. Not having fully arrived in the real world yet you reached for your phone to check the time after counting the rings of the bell - was it really 5pm already?

Apparently it was, and you hurried to collect everything and stuff it into your bag.

Shouldering it, you brushed off your jacket and looked over the place to make sure you hadn't left anything behind once more before it really was time to leave if you still wanted to catch your usual train home.

The music was silent as you took your leave, and you wondered for how long it had been like that already.

Pushing through the doors back into the library was like waking from a pleasant dream. Even though it was the library, and as such calmer than the rest of campus, there was still the usual ruckus. A myriad of voices whispering and creating the white noise backdrop for shoes squeaking, chairs dragging over the floor, doors closing and the occasional shout.

The big communal university spaces were almost too loud to bear and you squinted your eyes at the air saturated with sounds.

Once the entrance hall gave you free and you were hurrying towards the public transport stations it was better again, but there was still a lot more technical sounds digging into your ear drums. You resolved to plugging your headphones in and were able to breathe a little easier while on your commute home, even without music playing.

The next day was free, no lectures to attend, but you still returned to get some more work done.

For a while you were afraid you wouldn't be able to find the picnic table under the maple tree again; that it had all been a wonderful, too good to be true, dream - but your nook in the library was still closed off and there was the door you'd gone through yesterday.

The table was still there, as was the tree, and today the wood was fully dry and birds were chirping in the ivy on the wall.

With a drink in hand and happiness upon finding the wonderful small place again in your heart you sat down to work again, and even though it was tedious and required a lot of forced attention, it somehow felt a little better doing it out here.

Every once in a while you had to make a break and go for a toilet run, refilling your water bottle or simply eating a snack you'd brought.

Between yesterday and today you hadn't seen anyone else out here, and so had little qualms about leaving your stuff unattended. Safe your phone and wallet, of course.

The sun, blinking through the clouds now and then, slowly wandered over the sky.

It must have been early afternoon when you lifted your head after a particularly nasty paragraph and heard the piano play again.

A smile spread on your face as you stretched your arms and allowed yourself a break, sat back and just listened to the notes.

Whoever was playing was good.

Not that you were an expert, but your ears liked it and that was what primarily counted.

Occasionally there was a break in the flowing tune, when whoever was playing went back and redid a couple notes, sometimes once, sometimes needing two attempts, until they were satisfied and continued.

You smiled and let your thoughts wander, momentarily forgetting about your work.

The week of not having access to your library nook went by much faster than anticipated.

On the following monday you stood in the foyer, waiting for a friend, when the small sign "Library fully open again!" caught your eye.

You stared at it for a moment longer, suddenly remembering that you had only found the almost magical table away from the craze of reality solely because there had been cleaning business at work cutting you off your old favourite spot.

You were still mentally trying to puzzle everything out when Jin came floundering around the corner, steps wide and an easy smile spreading on his face at your sight.

"-to one~!"

"What?" You looked up, and the expression on the other's face fell a bit.

"Aha! So you weren't listening at all, after all."

"Sorry. Bit caught up in my thoughts. Was there something you wanted to say?"

"Will you be telling me your secret how you worked through the entire material to that first book we're reading, already? Like… That was inhumanely fast. I know you're good, but honestly. Tell me your secrets." He poked a finger into the soft area between ribcage and belt, and you swerved to the side and away from him to escape it.

"A brilliant work ethic and iron self-discipline!" You chirped and Jin rolled his eyes with an overly dramatic sigh. He hooked an arm around your shoulder and dragged you into his side.

"If the Prof is threatening to let me fail this course, will you tell me then?"

"Kim Seokjin you better not be deliberately slacking off."

"I wasn't!" He pouted, steering you into the right hallway. "Not before, anyways. But if there's a cool new drug like Why-Phy that you're taking to get done sooner, you'll tell me, right?"

"Of course. It's either Why-Phy or blue crystal meth, Jinnie, you know me too well."

The brunet laughed and pressed a kiss to your temple.

Three weeks since the library had reopened and you still had yet to return to the comfortable little chair next to the table with its small reading light.

You'd been lucky with the weather.

So far it had only rained or been too windy to sit outside longer on days you were too busy to get work done next to the lectures, or had to go early because of your job on the side.

Looking up through the leaves on the tree, blinking against the sun, you hoped it would continue to stay like this.

It felt so nice to be here, so private.

The windows leading into the yard were never not covered with blinds, at least the ones in the part of the building you were looking at frequently whenever your eyes needed a break.

The most noise was the wind in the tree or the ivy; occasionally students would sit on the other side of the wall and have a chat but that was about it.

That, and the piano music.

By now you were fairly certain it came from a room on the first floor, somewhere above the place you were sitting at, but there was no way to look into any of the rooms there.

As you turned and squinted up to them once more, not really seeing them but more wondering what might lay beyond the glass, something moving caught your eye.

Had it been an animal?

You blinked to clear your vision, but by then whatever had caused the disturbance had disappeared.

Maybe someone had looked down?

The uncomfortable feeling hadn't taken root fully before you shooed it away; surely it had been something else, a reflection of a passing bird, probably. And even if someone had looked out and seen you sitting here, so what? It wasn't illegal.

You ended your self-assigned break and went back to the material, but the thought of someone watching you, intruding on the privacy you'd enjoyed here, didn't fully leave your mind.

After finishing up early for the day you decided to go try and see if there was a way into the building you'd sat in front of so often now, and if, maybe, you'd be able to find the room the music was coming from every other day.

By the time you had bested the maze of hallways and never before used by you doors leading into other unknown parts of the campus, it was late already.

You tried some of the doors that you thought were on the right floor, but all of them were locked and there was no music coming from anywhere, either.

Disappointed, you went home.

It was the weekend afterwards, but on the next monday you were back, now finding your way to the remote, barely used building a little easier already. There was a nice long break before your next lecture and you were curious to explore more.

You held the door open after passing through as someone approached from the inside, and then went on. Silence lasted on the hallways here.

A window going out from the staircase showed the familiar corner, with the last bit of the library barely visible behind it, and you felt satisfied knowing this was where you'd wanted to go.

On the first floor you paused to catch your breath.

The lights were on overhead, but no other person was in sight.

The doors were locked as well, much like they had been on friday.

You had almost given up hope when a knob turned in your palm and you almost fell into the room behind it as the door gave away.

Dust danced in the spare light that fell through the windows.

Sheets of paper littered the floor. A few tables were pushed to the walls, there was an old cupboard missing its two front doors. More paper and empty binders were stacked in the exposed compartments.

What dominated the room though was the grand piano in its middle.

The shiny black surface beckoned to be touched by your fingertips, and you couldn't hold back from running them over the sleek paint.

It seemed old, if the slightly rusted wheels at the bottom of the pillars it was standing on were anything to go by, but it looked very well kept.

The cover lowered over the keys opened without sound. Black and white keys shared the space underneath it.

It felt wrong to push them, entice sound when you knew there were usually much more skilled hands at work here, and so you gently put the cover back and let your gaze explore the room more.

A big sheet covered a mixpult along one of the walls, several electric keyboards were stacked on the floor beside it.

The walls were a faded yellow which must've been nice once but now looked stale.

There was more paper around the piano, discarded sheet music, printed and self-written, you noticed with surprise as you bent down to inspect it.

Maybe a handful were pinned to the wall closest to the piano, exclusively hand written and, by the looks of it, self-composed.

Whoever was working their magic here so often really had a passion, it seemed, and it made you wonder why they weren't busy doing this over in the faculty for music.

Then again, you mused while stepping up to the window, this place was incredible in getting creative juices flowing. You'd experienced it yourself with work, could only guess at how it must be for someone so musically inclined.

Your picnic table under the maple tree was maybe three steps to the right underneath the window, in direct line of sight from where you stood.

It felt almost weird, knowing that if whoever was practicing here so often had even only once stood up and walked towards the window to look outside had most likely seen you sitting under the tree.

A moment longer you hung after your thoughts.

Then you blinked and remembered that you were probably not welcome here, with the expensive piano and the private compositions, and quickly and silently left the room again, making sure to close the door behind you.

You didn’t go back again in the afternoon, but as you sat down two days later, the tinkling of the keys was drifting down to your spot once more. Smiling about their company, you focused on your work.

It seemed like good things wouldn't last.

The professors heaped enormous amounts of extra essays, excerpts and transcriptions upon each of your heads, and caught between balancing your work and study life, along with having to prep multiple presentations, you were left yearning for the calm spot beneath the tree.

Namjoon had managed to get you to admit where you'd been vanishing off to over the past weeks; after loudly proclaiming that even though the library had been squeaky clean for weeks now he had yet to see you return to your spot.

"Well maybe I found a better spot!" You defended your absence, over lunch in the cafeteria.

"Aha!" Jin yelled, making everyone in a five meter radius around him flinch. "So you have been hiding! I knew it."

"It's just a tiny spot under a tree, outside the old Uni's wall. Stumbled upon it by accident, but a total good find."

“I see.” Namjoon was too intelligent to not notice you didn’t really want to talk about this and soon after dropped the topic.

Rain ran down the windows in streams and you sighed at its presence.

Like this there was no way to get out to the table, and even if it would have cleared up instantly - the wood would need at least several hours in direct sunshine to dry.

Seemed like the last of your luck had run out.

With the lighting from inside the hallways the world outside was hardly recognizable.

You loved the library, and especially the little nook, but there was just something about that table and the tree out among the downpour that was a lot more appealing now than your old favourite spot.

Sitting down anywhere else seemed impossible. Especially, you dimly thought to yourself, especially because the music would be missing.

It was ten times better than listening to your own stuff, because you didn't have to choose what to hear and couldn't simply skip tracks. A little like radio; you could just hear what was given to you, but unlike radio there were no ads.

You found yourself on ground level of the deserted building, hand on the railing and foot on the first step of the stairs before you realized - you could just sit down somewhere close to the room, listen if someone was playing today and do your work there.

Fuelled by this revelation you took the steps two at once and arrived in the hallway a little out of breath, with your heart pounding not only from the exercise.

There it was. The music.

Inexplicably content about the recent developments you picked a clean enough looking spot on the floor, opened your bag and pulled out your notes.

It wasn't as nice as sitting outside, you came to see. Natural light was a lot better to read and work alongside texts with, and the artificial kind provided here could simply not compete.

Still, with the musical undertones, you were able to cross at least some of the workload off before you allowed yourself to sit back against the wall, ignore the stupid pages in front of you and simply listen to what was being played.

It had shifted in the last days. Had it been pieces vaguely familiar to you at the start had the melodies become more and more unrecognizable over time, and now you sat a few steps from the door, eyes closed and listening, thoughts drifting further from the sheets surrounding you by the minute.

The melody was low, subdued but still driving. It sounded like something that would play at the start of a movie, a car ride maybe, with the glowing lights of a city pouring through the windows but no sound audible but this song.

It felt like the car was on its way somewhere, somewhere important, and the people inside the car knew of the importance of this destiny but were too overwhelmed to talk about it.

Maybe the scene would end at the sea, the viewer expecting to hear the ocean's waves crash against the cliff, the gulls crying overhead, but the song would continue playing.

Softly, the tune changed, and you furrowed your brows.

The melody gradually lightened until the great weight was fully lifted from it and the scene with the car and the lights and the muted ocean seemed entirely unfitting. This was more like spring, breathing in the warming air, seeing the sun again after months, that kind of stuff.

You were still drifting, trying to think of what else it reminded you of when the silence became more pronounced. Whoever it was had stopped playing, and you opened your eyes, falling from the small clouds of dreaming back into the shabby hallway.

Steps rang out behind the door, a window closed and you stared at your bag and the spread out work in horror. There was no time to pack it all up.

The door clicked open.

A pair of dark eyes stared into yours, the look of surprise at so unexpectedly seeing the other on both your faces.

Black hair reached over eyebrows, barely visible through a split in the strands.

A hand clutched what looked like a set of keys, the sleeve of the dark hoodie almost slipping over it.

He was first to break the moment of pure surprise. Clearing his throat he stepped out of the room fully, pulled the door shut behind him.

By then you'd managed to look down on the orderly mess you'd made and back up.

"I really like your music." You attempted a smile. The guy, likely not much older than you, pressed his lips into a line.

"Thanks."

It sounded softer than his expression had led you to believe. His eyes flitted over the floor for a bit before he spoke again, not having moved much more than a step. "You really shouldn't be sitting around here, I don't know when it got cleaned last."

"Ah." You twirled your pen. "Well…"

The dark haired stranger sniffed and buried his hands in his pants’ pockets, squaring his shoulders in a way that made him look incredibly uncomfortable.

"Did I interrupt something? Do you need me to move or-" You trailed off.

"No! No, no." He was quick to interrupt, one hand stretched out to halt your beginning frenzy of packing up. "No, it's alright, you weren't- doing… anything." He coughed and rubbed his neck with the free hand. "You… You usually sit outside, under the tree, right?"

You met his gaze, saw his eyes glinting once before he looked away, scuffing a used Vans sneaker on the floor.

"-Yeah, that's true. Couldn't really, today…" Gesturing towards the rain-streaked window, the other followed your line of sight and huffed.

"Yeah, weather's been shit all day. The library's probably chock full, too." He trailed off, and you observed with interest how he seemed to build himself up to the next thing to say.

"I've been… seeing you. Not wanting to sound like… a creep or so, I just- I noticed you sat outside quite often."

You smiled, and his shoulders relaxed a bit.

"Yeah! I wandered around after the library was closed for cleaning the other day, and came across this place. It's amazing. So quiet and basically nobody around… and the background music is great, too."

He looked down on his shoes at your words but you could see how one corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

"This was by the way a major factor for coming here today. It's just- Quiet, void of any people? Very few distractions? Plus free music? There's just no other place where I can get all that."

He rolled his eyes but the smile on his lips broadened. When he moved his head you could see the tips of his ears peeking through his hair, both a healthy shade of red.

"Min Yoongi." He held out his hand after studying you for a moment. "Resident ambience dealer, apparently."

Grinning, you took his larger palm, feeling the bones in his thin fingers as you told him your own name. "-Resident study freak and avid listener to Min Yoongi's compositions."

He grumbled at that. "You listen to piano a lot?"

"Not really. Only when I come here."

This time his eyes stayed on you for longer, and he leaned his back against the opposite wall while slowly easing closer to the ground.

"Then how did you know it was my own stuff I was playing?"

You tugged some papers closer by their corners, beginning to shepherd them together.

"I was in there some time ago, when you weren't there. Wanted to know where the music was coming from, took me ages to even find a way into this place. Your room is really messy, you know that?"

His face was halfway turned away again but at the humour in your voice he looked back, pout on his features.

"I never meant for anyone else to see in the first place! You don't get to complain!" He huffed, glancing at where you were chuckling across from him at his indignant outcry.

"Okay okay, I promise I won't go back inside. But that what you played last today, that was really good. Is that one of yours, too?"

He bit on his bottom lip and nodded, fingers rubbing over the fabric of his pants stretching over his knees.

“What’s your major? Music?”

“Something in that direction, yeah.” Then, after a pause in which he seemed to realize it would be the polite thing to do, he asked: “You?”

The rain continued to run down the glass as you spoke, telling the other about your plans with studying, and the hopes you had. He listened intently and only rose his voice after it was obvious you had ended, and it created a nice back and forth. Thunder clapped outside, growling and forcing him to speak up a little more.

You sighed.

"Guess I better head back if I still wanna make it home today." You swept the last of the sheets together and put them into their binder, shoving the concoction unceremoniously back into your bag.

You brushed a bit of dust off your pants and quietly pulled a face as you peeled a long hair with cobwebs off your pants.

When you met Yoongi's eyes he looked off to the side, softly shrugging. "Told you…"

"Are you heading back, too?" Now it was him looking up at you, hands linked over his knees.

"Yeah?"

You held out your hand, and after mustering it for a moment, he took it.

Either he had a lot of self-control over his body or he wasn't weighting much; either way you pulled him up and then he was towering over you once more.

"You have a car?" You asked him on the way down, looking up from the keys in his hand.

"Hm? Oh. Oh yeah. Just- It’s a hand me-down from my brother."

He cleared his throat.

"Aren't you afraid someone's gonna steal your stuff?"

He turned his head towards you, his eyebrows creasing the skin between them.

"Because you don't lock the room?" You elaborated. Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, focusing on the steps down.

"Not really. As far as I know it's only us knowing of these rooms even being here, and most of them are locked, so…"

"But you keep copies of your songs, right? Photos or some app to write it down with?" He looked at you like you had just proposed to assassinate the Dean.

"No?" He held the door open for you and then you were out in the main part of campus again.

Part of you had wondered if Yoongi would just straight up disappear as soon as you crossed the threshold, but it appeared he was very much real as he fell into step alongside you.

"Then what if someone does get in? And steals them? Or you forget to close the window and rain gets in and ruins the sheets?"

He shrugged, and the way he seemed to care so little frustrated you.

"But it's such great music!"

He shrugged again but looked on his shoes while doing so.

For a moment you were quiet, staring straight ahead while the thoughts were racing behind your forehead.

"-"

"No."

"I haven't said anything!"

He glared at you from the corner of his eyes. "But you were going to. Whatever it is, no. If anything happens to my music, that's my business, okay? Don't worry about it."

His resolute tone halted every attempt at clapping back in its core, and the few minutes it took until you were out in the entrance hall that was swimming with how many students came in and went you spent in silence.

Yoongi half turned towards you when you were already beaming up at him. "I'll hear you around?"

"-Fuck me." He covered his face with a hand and you laughed at his exasperated groan at your joke.

"Bye Yoongi!"

"Honestly, get lost..."

You were on your way to the table again, binder under your arm. Rounding the corner and you would have almost slipped on the moss growing over the path; you stared back and silently cursed while being glad you didn't actually fall.

The surface of the desk was wet when you reached it.

"It's been like, an entire day, why are you not dry." You said lowly, feeling the top down. Definitely too wet for anything paper related.

"You're late."

You looked up at the drawl, only needing a moment until your eyes fixed on the mop of hair peeking out of the window.

"Oh, yeah?" You looked down on the table, not really knowing what else to say. "Well... your ass is late, too."

"The fuck."

The confusion on Yoongi's face was a delight to see. A moment longer you stayed rooted to the spot next to the table, then his voice came again.

"You wanna come up here now or what. That desk won't dry up until tomorrow. If you're lucky."

Squinting up you shielded your eyes against the glare of the bright clouds overhead.

"You won't mind?"

Yoongi seemed to momentarily contemplate it, looking straight ahead. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Look, you can either get your ass wet sitting outside, or get it dirty sitting in the hallway, but if you enjoy my music really that much it'll be a total experience sitting in the same room while i play. Your choice."

He vanished from the open window and closed it, only leaving a crack open.

Your fingers tapped on the binder.

Five minutes later you knocked on the blank door, waiting patiently in your spot until steps sounded out and Yoongi opened.

He was sporting the same dark hoodie today, fidgeting with the sleeves of it.

"May I come in?" You inquired, and he wordlessly stepped aside.

Together with Yoongi's help you pulled one of the overturned tables right way up, found a suitable chair and then wiped the surfaces off. There was a small sink in the adjacent storage room, with running water and all, and eventually your new desk was in a condition you deemed okay.

You sat down on your chair and Yoongi, who'd been brooding over his sheet music since you'd shooed him off to clean everything by your standards, looked back down on the floor. He perched on the run down piano stool, elbows on his knees, and peered on the papers strewn across the ground.

Occasionally he'd bend down to pick one up but you had too much to do to really watch him for longer.

At one point he turned and you allowed yourself a moment of rest. He pushed the hoodie up his arms, almost to his elbows, before his fingers placed themselves on the keys and he started to play.

He had been right. It was something entirely else to sit in the same room with him while he played.

Like this the music drowned out any other sound that may have sailed in from outside; whether it be the call of bird or bell.

It was nice.

Your thoughts calmed down until they ran smooth, circling around topics once or twice before moving on.

The world existed only in this room, the music filled your ears and the shabby lighting overhead concealed the darkening sky outside.

At one point Yoongi stood in front of your table, fingers curled around the hem of his hoodie once more. His knuckles pushed at his skin. The edge of one sleeve was beginning to fray.

Mildly irritated, you looked up and met his eyes.

"What?"

"Uh isn't this the time you usually leave?"

You held contact a moment longer before looking down on your watch and tsking disapprovingly. Yoongi's shoulders twitched up.

"Shit, it is."

Ripped out of the peaceful mood you began to collect pages and close books, mentally going through the timetable and if you’d still make the train. "Are you heading out, too?"

He nodded and, growing braver again, stacked a few materials while you shoved everything in your bag. "Thanks." You hurried.

It'd be a bit tight, time-wise, but Yoongi's long legs effortlessly kept pace with your quick steps.

"How'd you know this was my time to leave, anyways?" You narrowed your eyes at him, not hiding the smile on your lips. "Have you been stalking me?"

Yoongi opened and closed his mouth without saying anything once or twice before he looked ahead and said "It was the time you left, last time." His shoulders were still drawn up as he peeked at you from the side. "I'd never-"

"I was kidding." You took half a step to the side and bumped your elbow into the general area of his arm. His hand reflexively came up and clutched the spot.

“I'm a creature of habit. If I miss this train I'll have to wait forever until the next one comes and that's always a huge pain."

He nodded, and shortly after, bid you farewell before you parted behind the front doors.

It had rained the entire weekend long and you didn't bother to go outside to the table, instead turning left before the library even came into view and headed straight for Yoongi's hideaway.

He didn't open when you knocked and you found the room empty after peeking inside.

He came in half an hour after you, in a dark blue hoodie this time, and looked a bit startled at seeing you there.

"Hi!" You smiled at him, over the backrest of the chair. "I hope you don't mind, it rained again and I-"

He shrugged and shuffled past you, heavily slumping down in front of the piano.

He didn't say anything and his melodies today were slow and deep.

Before you could turn to leave after the clock had well advanced, his back straightened and, anticipating him speaking up, you paused; jacket already on and bag in hand.

"Thanks for not asking me what's wrong."

He was talking to the piano, but you still smiled a bit.

"Of course."

"I don't know, if, I said it already but, you're very- welcome to come here if, you know, the weather…"

You looked down on your shoes. Only after it didn't seem like he was going to finish his sentence did you raise your voice.

"I don't think you did, but I really appreciate it. Thank you. Will you stay a little longer today?"

His gaze fled your face for his piano again after you raised your head.

"Yeah."

"Take it easy, Yoongi."

"Whatever."

You smiled at him even though you didn't know if he'd see, and then headed out.

You'd gotten ahead of homework and so could ease a little during your work sessions in Yoongi's piano room now, and during one of those easier days decided to finally ask the question that had been bouncing around your head for a while now.

"How'd you get the piano tuned? And isn't it really old?"

He didn't look up from his sheet, brows still furrowed at something he'd probably written down a few days ago and now wasn't satisfied with anymore.

"I watched a few Youtube tutorials."

You put your chin in one of your hands and grinned, but Yoongi broke eye-contact quickly after glancing your way.

"You did it yourself?"

"Yeah? Wasn't. Wasn't that hard."

Your grin widened and his glare intensified at its presence. "Min Yoongi. Musical Genius."

"Shut up."

His ears coloured red and gave him away, and you'd have loved to go over and give him a quick hug.

You didn't know how many other people got to appreciate him, but if his hideout here was anything to go by it weren't many. Probably.

He was adorable.

Even when the sun was shining outside and it had been dry for several days you wouldn't go to the little desk, favouring the clear sound of Yoongi playing and his occasional comment, mumbled to himself. It was far too cold now, anyways. Winter was fast advancing as November went on.

He had a way to be in the same space with you while not demanding any of your attention - which made it incredibly pleasant to have him around.

If you weren’t spending time together in amicable silence he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Most of his answers were short, or mumbled sounds, and yet you never got the impression he was fed-up or annoyed. He asked things too, occasionally; and though objectively you hadn’t known him that long, it still felt weird to remember there had been a time without him in your life.

Once, after you'd struggled with a particularly boring part of a required text that your brain just wouldn't process at all, he'd quietly asked if you could come over and take a look at something he'd been working on.

You stared at him, the skin between your eyebrows creased.

"Yoongi I don't know anything about music. Do you really-"

"Please?"

"...Fine."

You were standing next to him already, preparing to sit, when he parted his lips and looked up at you.

"Could you… sit with your back to the keys? It's just, I…"

It wasn't his fault, you were frustrated by the text; but you couldn't help the forced exhale of air that left your nose.

Yoongi's shoulders twitched. You hesitated, wanted to say something, didn’t find the words and then made an effort to move as calmly and quietly as possible to not upset him further.

"Sorry. Long day.” You said in a low voice, feeling strangely raw. “Play, if you… if you want?"

You could see him looking at you, through the corners of your eyes, and part of the tension left his form again at your words, underlying tone asking for forgiveness.

"S'alright." He breathed, just before clearing his throat and placing his hands on the keys.

As he played, the tight knit ball of jumbled thoughts behind your forehead stopped growing.

The longer you listened, the more tension left your brain; the cramped thoughts and need-to-do’s losing their alarming vibrant colours.

You felt yourself calm down.

He broke off playing and coughed nervously.

"So that- was version one. This is version two."

And he began to play again, the same piece, though slightly different, and this time you reminded yourself to pay more attention and really listen.

After he'd finished, the frustration over your text had thinned out and you were fully focused on the task at hand.

"So?" He asked, nervously rubbing his hands together.

"Can you play the first one again? Just for comparison?"

He nodded and went back to it.

"I think I like the first one better.” You decided. “The second one… implies something darker lurking beneath, and, I guess if that's what you intended it's executed well but the rest sounds lighter and so-"

He huffed out a laugh and dropped his head, hands sandwiched between his thighs.

"Hm? Not good? What I said?"

"No, no," He hurried to reassure, eyes gleaming under his fringe. "No, it's… I was hoping you'd say that, I guess. Gives me a reason to scratch this part. Didn't even like it much, I just felt- Yeah. Thanks."

At the almost-grin spreading on his lips you had to smile as well.

Had your shoulders touched during the entire time you'd sat here?

He broke the eye-contact first, looking back towards the keys once before meeting your gaze again.

"Rough day hm?"

"Yeah." You looked ahead, not really seeing the wall there. "Yeah, you could say that…"

Another sigh and then you were feeling the exhaustion more and more.

It was a spur of the moment thing, really, and you asked before you could hold yourself back.

"Are you okay with touches?"

"Ha? What do you-"

"Can I put my head on your shoulder?"

"Oh. Uh-"

"It's- It's fine if you don't want that," You hurried to backpedal, already mentally chiding yourself. "I'll be o-"

"No, it's, uh, you, ah, you can! Put your head on… yeah. I don't mind."

His voice got quieter and quieter until he was mumbling the last sentence.

His shoulder, although cushioned by his hoodie, was bonier than you'd thought. But it was nice, to rest for a moment, and you closed your eyes, exhaling slowly.

Yoongi's breathing had his shoulders rising and falling, and unconsciously, you adapted your rhythm to his, until you were breathing in synch.

"Thank you." You mumbled, adjusting your head and feeling your forehead brush his hood.

"Don't worry about it." This up close his voice was even deeper, and the low tone soothed the rawness your ears had suffered under for the past days in crowded lecture halls and hallways.

Ever so softly his cheek came to rest against the top of your head as he gave into the shy touch.

"Do you sing, Yoongi?"

You still had your eyes closed, listening to Yoongi's breathing and the sound his clothes made when they rubbed against themselves, against his skin.

"Sometimes." He answered after a pause. "More rap than… singing lullabies."

"I bet you sound good doing either."

He snorted, which pretty clearly gave away how little he thought of your compliment.

A moment long neither of you spoke.

Then he let out a heavy sigh.

"Why exactly do you think that?"

Your left arm was slightly pushed forward as he moved his left arm, from where the backs of your forearms were pressed against each other.

"You have a very nice voice, deep, and steady, and- It has that ring to it, you know, the same undertone. Some people speak and you can't really make out the tone or… colour… of their speech, but your voice doesn't jump around. You could probably read a phone book and make it sound nice."

"Okay that just ruined everything you said before."

"Oh fuck off! You asked!" There was a laugh in your voice as you lifted your head to look at him exasperatedly. He blinked, looking a bit sleepy, as if he had rested his eyes a little, too.

At your expression he hollowed out his cheeks.

"Jeez, don't behead me. I'll take it, okay? Happy now?"

"Yes. Thank you."

You pursed your lips and waited, until Yoongi would break eye-contact, but he didn’t surrender as quickly. He blinked and kept looking, and everything in you wanted to put your head back down, back on his shoulder, and stay like that a little longer, talk a bit more.

But this small break had gone for a bit too long already and you knew you should get back to work. That text sadly wouldn't read itself.

An unfamiliar touch on your arm held you back.

"Can you stay a bit longer?"

Half standing above him already he had to tilt his head so he could look at you.

"I really should-" You began, and then sighed, admitting that you really didn't want to move to yourself, and sat back down. "...Screw that text."

Yoongi's shoulder bumped yours, almost like an invitation, and you gave in without much thought.

You felt the bones shift as Yoongi lifted his hands and began to press single keys, filling the silence of the room with tunes.

"That text got you all worked up, hm." He spoke again after a while.

You frowned at nothing.

"It's just so dull. The professor said it serves as an example of what not to write, so it's basically just- we're just supposed to read it and mark all the mistakes, to avoid doing the same mistakes, but honestly… I know how and what I have to write, I shouldn't- Ugh. See? It's annoying me again already."

You huffed, leaning a bit more on Yoongi.

His cheek found your hair again and he chuckled.

"What's that idiot done wrong in his writing then?"

You weren't so sure afterwards, if he really had wanted to know or if this was just Yoongi's way of getting you to review the material differently, but you supposed it had worked out.

It was a lot easier to read and complain aloud while he sat next to you and listened to you rant, even though the finer nuances were surely lost on him since he wasn't studying the same thing.

On your way back to your flat you held your left arm with your right until you saw yourself in a reflection and noticed it.

Sitting next to Yoongi like that had only further proved how comforting his presence was, and now, without anything like that to be repeated in the foreseeable future, the missing touch felt a lot worse than where you had been before.

Technically you'd see him again tomorrow, or the very least Thursday.

But who was to say he'd ask you to sit with him again?

You ran into him during lunch the next week after not making it back to his room before that.

He was looking off to the side, in the direction of the lousy holiday decorations that had popped up in the major community spaces - You needed a moment to recognize him as the same guy who was playing piano while you studied. His bare arms, sticking out of a black shirt that hung from his shoulders, were almost shocking. That, and the surroundings clashing so harshly with what you were used to see him surrounded by.

“Hey, Yoongi!” You called out after the realization had sunk in, and turned with the tray in your hand.

His shoulders jerked up, but as his searching gaze connected with yours he relaxed.

“Hi.” He rubbed over his neck. “What are you…” His eyes fell on the food you were balancing in your hands. “Right. Lunch.”

“Are you headed somewhere?” You shifted your weight from one leg to the other. Yoongi shook his head slowly, hands clenching around his hoodie he carried in them.

“Wanna sit with my friends and me? They’re just over there, next to the pillar.”

“Uh-”

“They’re all really friendly and don’t bite, I promise.”

“...Fine.” He sighed and trudged after you as you turned.

Whenever he agreed to do something you had proposed to him he made it out to seem like it was a decision that had taken him weeks to arrive to, or if it was something incredibly heavyweight he couldn’t just agree to, but whenever you offered him to go back on saying yes, or reminding him he could opt out any moment, he was always vehement to defend his point. It almost looked like he did things purely out of spite even when you’d meant well to second-guess his willingness to cooperate.

It was the same today, as he followed you through the rows, and then pulled out a chair next to yours as you put the tray down.

“Friends, this is Yoongi. He plays piano.”

“My most defining feature, apparently.” He grumbled in response and sat down, not after shimmying into his hoodie.

“Oh hey Yoongles!” Jin perked up, the burrito in his hands falling apart. “You two know each other?!”

“That does surprise me, I agree.” Hoseok added, stealing bits of the filling of Jin’s food that fell to the plate below. The quirky guy had one day invited himself into your circle of friends and nobody had had a heart to kick him out, but apparently he did know other people on campus save your group.

“You know him?” You retorted, pulling out your water bottle before starting on the food.

“Some people socialize, my dear friend.” Jin said, swatting at Hoseok’s hand.

“Yeah I know, I wasn’t aware Yoongi did that.”

“Ouch?” The black haired guy next to you said and got a round of laughs back.

“Sorry.” You apologized. He stole the small package of chips from your tray and opened it.

“I mean, it’s kind of true, I suppose.” He relented.

“Did you write down what the Prof wrote on the blackboard last Monday?” Jin had given up on his burrito and was furiously wiping at his hands while a happy Hoseok gleefully dug into the scattered remains. Jimin next to him made grabby hands and the plate got pushed over so he’d reach it too. Jin pursed his lips.

“Yeah. You need them or what?” Yoongi dropped a chip in his mouth and chewed slowly.

Jin turned his head and a more up-beat expression settled on his features. “Pretty please!”

Yoongi groaned.

Around half an hour later the cafeteria filled up as more and more students took their break, and soon enough your group rose to make room for the people who actually needed the space to sit down.

“You going to practice today?” You asked Yoongi as your group made its way towards the exit. He nodded absentmindedly.

“Oh, can I come?” Hobi suddenly appeared by Yoongi’s other side, apparently having overheard the conversation.

Yoongi glared.

“And have you leave prints on all my shit? No thank you.”

“Excuse you these sneakers are brand new! Not a single speck of du- Hey!”

To your utter delight Yoongi had stepped on the brilliant white of Hobi’s new shoe and left a dusty brown mark.

The sputtering outcry got the attention of Namjoon and Jin who’d been walking ahead, and after placating words and a glare from Yoongi you all parted ways, Hobi notably not tagging along with you.

“That was mean.” You told him, still laughing over Hoseok’s exasperation.

Yoongi shrugged, hands in his pockets, but you saw the smile on his lips just before he angled his face in a way that didn’t allow you to observe his features any longer.

The days until the short christmas break were counting down.

One weekend you spent baking with Jimin and Rose, and were left with so many cookies you put a good amount in a box, wrapped it in newspaper and brought it with you to give to Yoongi as an early present.

You could pinpoint the exact moment he saw the gift sitting on his chair after he had come in, because he stopped dead in his tracks.

“What?” He asked, and you looked up from the transcribing exercise.

“What what?”

“That.” He pointed, as if a motion detection sensor would go off if he took only a step closer.

You clasped your hands under your chin and looked from the chair to Yoongi.

“Didn’t you see the elf that came in and dropped this off?”

His eyebrows drew together and he glared at you.

“I have a feeling I’m looking at this ‘elf’ right now.” He crossed his arms. You shrugged.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll find someone else to give it to.” That cute first-semester from Jimin’s Survey of Linguistics and Languages class maybe, Jungkook.

“No.” Yoongi grumbled, and you mentally scratched having to rehome the box of cookies. Although, come to think of it, there were probably enough cookies left at home to pack another box. Maybe you’d ask Jimin if he could ask Jungkook if he’d like some.

He sat after picking the present up, hesitantly, and weighted it in his hands.

“What’s in it?” He turned to you.

You lifted an eyebrow. “Wait until the evening of the 24th and find out. Or abandon all social norms and just tear into it now, I wouldn’t judge.”

“Like fuck you would.” He huffed and then looked from the patched up paper to you. It seemed like he wanted to say something, and then decided against it, only placing the gift on top of the piano, in a spot where it wouldn’t be in the way.

You got up earlier than usual, wanting to get a bit of shopping done before leaving for your parent’s home for the holidays.

Yoongi’s head jerked up, and the pencil he’d twirled in his fingers clattered to the ground.

“Is it five already?” He asked, hands reaching for his phone.

“Nah,” You slung your scarf around your neck. “I’ll run some errands.”

“Oh okay.”

To your surprise, Yoongi started grabbing his things as well.

You paused.

“Yoongi, what…?”

His gift under his arm, the other froze.

“Huh? Didn’t you ask if I could drive you today?”

You blinked.

Dim, very dim was the memory, of having asked him, a week ago. You hadn’t decided to do the shopping today, back then.

“You- You don’t have to. Sorry, I forgot, my bad-” You bit in your lip. “You, uh, you stay, and… Compose a while longer. I’ll be fine.”

In the silence between you, you could hear the wind whistling around the corners of the building.

It was dark outside already.

Yoongi was still looking at you, and though you’d come to understand his expressions a bit, this one was undecipherable.

“So you… Don’t want me to drive you?”

He looked weird, the newspaper wrapped box under his arm, his jacket slung over the other. Ready to go, at your convenience.

It twisted your heart a little.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t remember you saying yes, and my shopping-”

“I could still drive you. It’s faster than the train?” His eyebrows twitched upwards in the middle, just a tiny bit.

“-Okay.” You agreed, and his posture relaxed at last.

His car smelled new, even though everything in it was carrying marks of the years it had been used.

You stayed silent, unsure how to proceed, and as the lights of downtown illuminated the inside of his car, you turned your head to look at him.

“Would you like to come do the shopping with me?”

The car rolled to a stop at the next red light, and in the low light, Yoongi’s eyes glinted as he looked over.

“If you want me to?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.”

"I bought an iPad."

"You what?" You looked up from your work, across the room and met his eyes over the piano. He was glaring.

"You heard me."

"I did. Why though?"

January was almost over by now, but it would take a while longer until the sun would win back her intensity, and not let the daylight fade this early in the afternoon. Though, clouds littered the sky today, which was probably the main cause why the lights overhead reflected in the glass already at this hour.

Yoongi looked down on the keys, his hands rubbing over his thighs.

"You won't stop nagging me about losing the sheets or forgetting the tunes, so I thought… I could record some of the songs. Scan the sheets. That kinda stuff."

You smiled, unashamed and wide, and Yoongi's glare intensified.

"You're gonna come have a look or what."

He sounded a little pressed and without any more words you left your desk and crossed the room.

He shuffled aside so you could fit yourself next to him.

The tablet wasn't the latest model - which would have really surprised you, otherwise - but there was something like a microphone plugged into the lightning port and clipped to the edge.

"Is that a mic?" You leaned forward, having had half the mind to sit on your hands to not accidentally touch anything and ignite Yoongi's wrath.

"Yes." He grumbled, still a bit more fidgety than usual. "Cost almost as much as the damn thing so I hope you're happy."

The grin stole into the wonder and awe that had captured your expression before.

"I am. Very. Recorded anything yet?"

You'd arrived a bit later today, courtesy to an extended lunch with Namjoon and Jin.

Yoongi's eyes glinted when he looked from the keys to you.

"And have you chewing my ear off for not letting you be there? Fuck no. Was gonna wait until you got here. -Shut! It."

You bit your lip to keep the cooing at bay, opting to gently nudge his shoulder with yours instead.

"I appreciate it. Wanna play now?"

The nervosity was back, the way he bounced his leg so uncharacteristically agitated for him. He was more like a pond usually, calm and undisturbed.

"Keep quiet alright?"

You nodded.

He sighed and rubbed his hands one last time. Then he extended one, woke the screen and unlocked the tablet. The recording program was already open.

He clicked the red button and instantly a flat line appeared, only beginning to curve up and down as he shifted and began to play.

Keeping your breathing flat was probably unnecessary and yet you couldn't help it.

Yoongi's hands danced over the keys, pushing down and lifting in such rapid succession you could hardly keep up with. It was mesmerizing to observe, but not only that.

With his eyes closed and his head angled he gave himself to the music completely, feeling every note.

There was a small pulling in your chest, from the area around your heart, at his sight.

It must feel good to be able to zone out this much doing something you loved and were good at.

Only after he'd repeated the chorus did you notice what he was playing - the melody that had initially drawn you in and led you to the table outside.

Your heart in your chest grew with every beat, until it felt like it pressed against your ribcage from the inside.

Yoongi slowed down, the notes came a little wider apart, and then he let the last chord ring out. Fingertips still resting on the keys, you looked between them, waiting if he'd play another song.

When he slid them down on his pants it became clear he didn't intend to.

Silence enveloped you.

"That's my favourite song. That one. I only found you because of it."

Your eyes went back to his face and caught him already looking. His eyebrows drew together.

He tapped the little square and the program stopped recording.

"Now you ruined the first ever song I played for the record, idiot."

You scoffed.

"I only spoke up after it was all done, you can easily cut that out, genius."

He huffed and you rolled your eyes.

"Not everything has to be perfect first try. Thought someone like you would know that."

He just shook his head, still frowning.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'll keep quiet now." Thinking he was honestly upset, you apologized, hoping it'd sooth his temper.

But it didn't seem to be the right call as he buried his face in his hands, shoulders rolling forward.

"Just… Nevermind."

"Do you want me to get out of your hair?"

Your butt had already lifted from the chair when his reply came, mumbled through his hands.

"No."

You sat back down.

Dark eyes glinted at you through his fingers, then he combed through his hair and pushed it back from his face.

It was the first time you could really see his eyebrows well, and the expanse of his forehead.

You'd known he had one, of course, but seeing it was something else.

He woke the tablet again and started a new recording.

You smiled.

You didn’t get any work done that afternoon, but then again listening to a fraction of the repertoire that Yoongi had to offer was phenomenal compensation.

Still he looked a bit rueful, standing next to your desk while you packed your stuff, the iPad with its closed cover and Mic securely stored in the small bag over his shoulder.

“Sorry I… Kept you from your studying.”

You looked up while zipping your pencil case shut.

“It’s okay. Think I needed that, anyways. A break from all those words. It’s me who should thank you, really.”

He wrinkled his nose and kicked at a speck of dust, following you out the room once you were done.

“Still. Can I… Do you want a ride home? I know you missed the bus you usually take.”

“You’d do that?”

“It’s the least, really…”

A smile spread on your face. “Who am I to say no to such a gracious offer, why yes, thank you Yoongi.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” He grumbled, pushing ahead with a frown on his features.

"Play for me, Min, please." You sat next to him on the stool, hands underneath your thighs and gaze swimming from exhaustion.

Yoongi's shoulder softly bumped into yours as he repositioned himself.

"You okay."

"Yeah. Just. Please play."

"Alright." He looked at the keys, fingers caressing them but not pressing down hard enough to evoke the notes. "Anything in particular?"

"Can you play my favourite piece?"

His eyes stayed on yours and you grew almost uncomfortable by their scrutiny.

And then he blinked and turned back towards the keys, rolling his wrists once and setting his fingers down.

"As you wish."

As he played you watched his fingers move, trying to lean away whenever he came near you to avoid bumping into his arm. His skin looked healthier now, now that the temperatures were rising again and there were no angry, painful red cracks lining the back of his hands anymore.

It was like his body had its own gravitational field, drawing you in.

When he ended, your side was leaned against his, your heavy head teetering on the edge just before dropping to his shoulder.

The arm he wrapped around you would have come as a surprise, eliciting at least a twitch out of you, had you been a little more coherent.

As it was, your body sighed and curled into his, head tucked into his shoulder, while his hand pulled you closer by your side.

"Long day."

It wasn't a question, but you understood the offer he was making.

"Yeah." You sighed, the hoodie-clad shoulder pleasantly soft under your cheek. "Finals will kick my ass. Didn't want to do an all-nighter ever again but got peer-pressured into it anyways… Sucks."

Yoongi hummed, playing this and that note with the free hand.

"Didn't peg you for someone giving into that kind of thing."

You grumbled.

The impending doom of the next test hung low over your head, and still you couldn’t peel away from your spot next to Yoongi, wedged on the chair, with his arm around you. Didn’t want to. Felt like maybe if you’d made an attempt to get up, he might even have pulled you down again.

"Want me to drive you home?" He mumbled, an indefinite amount of time later.

"You're really nice today. Or is that just me being tired."

He chuckled, and you felt his cheek come to rest against your head.

"Don't tell anyone, okay."

"Okay."

You adjusted in your spot and snaked both of your arms around his torso.

He didn't flinch.

It was quiet for a moment.

"Hm?"

He hummed.

"What?" You lifted your head. He glanced at you from the corners of his eyes.

"Didn't answer my question."

"Which one?"

"If you want me to drive you home."

He jostled your shoulder.

You debated it for a moment.

"Alright. Yeah, okay.”

You put a hand to his shoulder that quickly morphed from a gentle pat into holding on for support as your quick standing up led to some instability in your legs.

He looked up at you.

"Okay then. Let's go." You repeated.

It was like the world was wrapped in cotton.

It was silent in the car. The radio didn't look broken, but Yoongi slapped your hand away as you wanted to poke it and see if you could turn it on.

"Nu-uh. No touchy." His eyes never strayed from the street.

"Next one left." You informed him, pouting.

"I know." He said.

Your hand was on the handle even before his shabby car rolled to a stop in front of your place.

It was unusually warm for the month, and you’d rolled the window on the passenger side down to breathe in the mellow spring breeze.

Now outside, you leaned your arms through it.

A grin spread on your face.

"Say, isn't it weird that you know where I live and I still haven't gotten your number?"

A rare, gummy smile appeared on his face, slowly.

"Please?" You jutted out your bottom lip.

"...Fine." He reached into the back, patting his jacket down.

He pulled his phone out of one of the pockets, handing it to you after unlocking it.

"'Musical Genius #1 Fan’?" He read out the contact name you’d given yourself. He glared at you.

You shrugged.

"If you don't like it, change it, genius."

He snorted and gripped the steering wheel tighter with his left hand.

The world was beginning to get very fuzzy beyond a two step radius around you, and you took that as a sign you should definitely head into your room now.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“Always.” He smiled again, his usual, small one.

You patted the hood of his car twice after leaning back.

Texting Yoongi was almost alarmingly normal.

Despite the fantastical circumstances of meeting him, you found he was very much engaged in normal life on campus, too. Occasionally.

He wasn’t much for the polite small talk to start a day, rather than just sending a text saying ‘There’s a lizard by the parking lot and ppl r clogging the way, will be late’ first thing.

You hadn’t believed him when he’d said he wasn’t much into memes, but send him a couple vine compilations anyways.

By now he was fully fluent in both them and most current memes floating around, further adding to you not really believing he hadn’t had a speck of an idea before.

The definite end of the semester came into view, but it meant every final was crammed into the space between then and now, which resulted in more studying and less listening to Yoongi playing.

You were brushing teeth one evening when your phone’s screen lit up with an incoming video call from him.

Placing it on a slightly elevated spot inside the small cabinet above the sink, you accepted it.

“...Oh wow look at that, who is that raccoon?”

Your reply telling him to fuck off came warbled by the white foam spilling over your chin. He smiled, wide and easy.

“Wanted to ask what you were up to this evening but I guess I don’t have to anymore, huh.”

You cleared your mouth and dabbed a towel around it afterwards.

“Not really. I’m super tired, so I think I’ll just go to bed, honestly. Did you want to do something? In that case I’m sorry, but no.”

He rolled around, and only then did you see he was in bed, with the covers drawn up already and all.

“Uhh, no… Just wanted to check in. But now that you mention it… How about some music to help you relax?”

You took him from his spot on the shelf and flicked the light off before moving into your bedroom.

“I think I have enough music here, thanks…” Distracted by the device, you almost forgot to take your refilled water bottle. When you looked at the screen next, you could see Yoongi with his arms on his keyboard, phone propped up in a way that allowed you to look down the length of the keys. He was pouting.

“Not even a personalized little concert?”

You sat back on your bed and smiled at the screen.

“Okay. Just this once. And only because it’s you.”

“Yes!” He punched the air and grinned down at the camera. Lying on your side with the screen being the only thing illuminating the room, you watched and listened to him play, allowing yourself to breathe slowly and let go of the troubles that were plaguing you during the day.

You were almost gone, eyelids heavy and grasp on your phone slipping, when Yoongi picked his own device up.

“Sleep well.” He mumbled.

You hummed in response, eyes shut.

It was the last day of school before the semester ended. Technically it had ended already; The clock on the wall read something around two in the evening, and in any other case you’d be furious as to why you were still stuck here. As it was, you were sat next to Yoongi once more, in front of the piano, one last time before the break.

The window was wide open, letting in the chirps of birds and rustling of leaves.

"I'm not so good. With words." He looked up after a moment, the tips of this pointer and middle finger gently running up and down a crack between the keys.

The world outside was sunny and looked much warmer than it was, but in here, out of direct sunshine, it was still cool. Yoongi’s body next to yours was the only source of immediate warmth in the almost clammy air.

"I can speak better through the music. I think that's why… I think that's why you say my songs are expressive." His voice died down, but his eyes, glued to yours, won in intensity.

Even this close up you couldn’t tell where his iris ended and his pupil began. "Sometimes I wish I could be better with words. At least a little bit."

He looked down, where your hand lay on your thigh, with the fingers curled in and under the palm, to prevent from reaching out and touching the piano while he was playing it. Touching the piano or him.

With bated breath you watched him move, slip his hand from the keys, to then, lightly, as if you'd break at the slightest of pressure, cover yours.

Not taking your eyes off the palms, you turned your own around until you could slip your fingers between his.

You heard him swallow thickly when you squeezed your conjoined hands. Were acutely aware of how his thigh felt pressed against yours, him next to you.

Your eyes met again, but not for long. He looked away again, oddly reminding you of the first times you’d seen each other; him unable to look at your for longer than a second.

His tongue swept over his bottom lip before his teeth got a hold of it and he stared down on the piano. When you readjusted in your spot his fingers flexed and squeezed your palm, as if to prevent you from letting go. You saw his jaw ticking as he continued to avoid your eyes, the way his eyebrows furrowed, a tell-tale sign for the inner turmoil.

“Sometimes you don’t have to say much, you know. Sometimes… Sometimes I think I understand you just like that.”

“Oh yeah?” It would’ve sounded condescending if you hadn’t been able to filter out the self-deprecating downtilt of his words by now.

He glanced up at you before shuffling in his spot, twisting as best as he managed to be able to look at you without getting up. His knee dug into the dent in your leg just above your own, but you ignored the slight discomfort.

He lifted your joined hands briefly, letting them fall on his own thigh before his whole body calmed down and his eyes finally steadied on yours.

“Tell me, then. What am I trying to say?”

You let your eyes rise from his, into the mussed hair, to the one strand that was still sticking up from where he’d exasperated ran his hand against the growth earlier.

His eyebrows were still furrowed minimally, and only under your watchful gaze did he stop chewing on the inside of his cheek.

For several minutes you looked him over, observed the uneven rise and fall of his chest, in that old black shirt - it span over his chest now, its fit almost snug when it had been loose before. He’d really filled it out.

Eventually you sandwiched his hand between the both of yours, looking down on his fingers between yours.

“I have no idea.”

It was the truth. No matter how hard you looked, no matter how many clues you believed to see, it was impossible to tell just where his mind had taken him this time.

He swallowed and looked down, nodding once.

“Right. A-”

“If-” You interrupted him, looking up through your lashes. His shoulders were still rising along with his breathing, but now you had his undivided attention. “-you’re going to say something mean now, against you or me, don’t. Please.”

He bit on his lip and ducked his head to the side, obviously displeased.

“See?” He leaned back, balling his free hand into a fist. “You can do it after all! Somehow you got into my head. Don’t do that.”

“So?” You ignored the interruption, tone having shifted in the slightest. “Tell me. What...?

Two heavy breaths in which he kept squinting at you, attempted to speak up and then averted his gaze again.

When his eyes came back down from the ceiling his hold on your hand tightened.

“A hug.”

You were sure, if you hadn’t been holding his hand, he would’ve backed off as soon as the words had left his lips. But he couldn’t and so he stayed in the same spot, leaned back as far as he could, blinking and looking at you like you would start smacking him any moment.

“Please.” He added, and it had been almost too quiet to hear.

With only a nod as an answer, he relaxed a little, but the tension wouldn’t leave his shoulders.

“Here?” You asked, and he nodded, eyes flitting around. His left leg started jiggling, but before the nervosity could take more hold on him you disentangled your hands and opened your arms. He hesitated a moment longer but you didn’t rush him, waited, let him take his time. Let him come to you.

And he did.

With slow, careful hands that touched the lower part of your ribs cautiously before they slid around to your back, one upwards between your shoulder blades, the other down to the small of your back.

It was like someone that had been starved of water being allowed near a clean river - someone that had been deprived for so long that the madness of thirst had subsided into tired resignation already. When faced with the thing he’d been hungering for most, he didn’t run in blindly and submerged himself at once.

It was more like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to, was able to touch you sat next to him, that you let him close his arms around you.

His chin bumped into your collarbone as you lifted your own arms a little to lay them over his shoulders and hug him back, and he whispered a small “Sorry” before his head nestled into place next to yours.

He had to bend down and you stretched up a bit, and for the first moment you felt how uncomfortable he seemed with everything.

With a single, long sigh, he relaxed.

Gave into the hug, completely, and without holding back anymore.

Every breath he took you felt, were made aware how he drew his breath in several steps, as if he didn’t possess the strength to do it at once.

There was no more room between you but you felt his hold tighten, drawing you in closer.

This wasn’t a quick hello-or-goodbye hug, and it wasn’t a bear-hug, either. It was something entirely new and yet you felt incredibly safe.

There was no clock anywhere in sight and you closed your eyes.

Minutes passed. Eventually the desperateness fled his system, and then you were just holding the other.

At half past four, the bell rang again.

The sound drifted over the campus and reached you just as you entered the deserted lot, where only Yoongi’s shabby car still stood, under the trees, half hidden by bushes.

His thumb slid over the back of your hand as he lightly tugged on your connection.

“Can I come visit your place?” You asked, once you’d sat down. He’d been to your tiny flat a few times now, but had never asked if you would like to see his.

“Are you sure?” He turned the key and glanced at you before backing out of the spot.

“Of course! I want to see the musical genius’ living space. Pretty please.”

“Don’t remind me of that dumb nickname…” He groaned, and you laughed, turning the radio up and the window down.

Warm air came rushing in, and together with the upbeat song currently playing, it felt a lot like a scene from a movie.

For the first time in weeks you felt fully free. Able to smile at the wind touching your face, knowing Yoongi was there with you.

You sat on his couch together, scrolling your phones aimlessly after thoroughly inspecting his space.

The pizza he ordered in the evening was fluffy and sated your hunger, and afterwards you were too tired to move much.

“I think… I’ll just stay here.” You gesticulated around the room, stretching and placing your legs across his lap.

He wiped his hands clean of the last grease and tugged on your shins.

“Here? You sure? I can always-”

He pressed a hand against his mouth and burped. Afterwards he groaned and fell back against the backrest.

“No, you’ll have to stay. There’s no way I’m leaving this flat again today.”

You grinned and made grabby hands for the pack of cherry gummies.

Your head was buzzing with how late it was, and how tired you’d become.

With teeth brushed, the sweet taste of cherries was long gone, but in the dark of the room, it wasn’t unwelcome.

Yoongi was lying just a little away from you, head half buried in one of his many pillows.

“Is this weird?” He asked. You heard his palm slipping over the mattress, before his fingertips touched your arm and he momentarily pulled back.

Until you put your hand out, and he curled his pinky around yours.

“Hm?”

You asked.

“I mean this… We… We’re not…” He trailed off, his other hand covering yours as he rolled over. In the darkness you could only make out his eyes by the reflection of what little light there still was, in them. “Other people our age have been partying since noon, and we…”

“Is that bad?” You asked, turning on your side to fully face him.

“No, don’t think so.”

“Do you want it, any other way?”

He shook his head.

“I just wonder… Jin asked me if we were dating the other day. I didn’t know what to say. It doesn’t feel like we are, but I also… don’t feel like we’re not doing that. It. Something. I mean we’re not doing that, either, which I never thought about, and-”

He huffed. “It feels weird, to lie here, with you, and not do anything. But I’m glad. About it. In a way.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Then that’s enough for us. Isn’t it?”

He hummed, and slowly leaned his forehead against your joined hands.

Your phone binged with an incoming message from Yoongi.

It was two weeks into the break, and after staying over at his place, you hadn’t heard or seen too much of him.

His message read 'I uploaded it.', and a link to Spotify.

You clicked on it.

A playlist opened, and you bit on your lip at the name - He'd titled it 'Your Playlist'.

While you cleaned out your notes and organized your room, you listened.

It was a mix of his self-composed piano pieces, acoustic, or electric, with mixed other instruments and occasionally his voice.

The melodies came easy and wound their way in your ears, and it brought a smile to your face at the warmth you felt at their sound.

The last one was titled “My Favourite”.

You watched as the song’s covers changed, and sat back on your rug.

What unfolded in front of your ears was different than the rest - it was a blend of sounds, playing to support your favourite song of his, but a remix version. The beat slowly wound up higher, coming faster, until it dropped - to your voice, filtered and a little tuned, to fit the short space.

‘My favourite’, you heard yourself say, and then the whisper of Yoongi’s voice answered, ‘Just for you’, and you bit down on your lip.

He sung and rapped more, and you needed at least five listens before you’d caught it all.

‘Can I come over?’ You texted him, burning with energy and the deeply rooted wish to see him.

‘ofc’ came his answer, and you were out of the door.

Not much later, halfway across town, you hugged your arms around him as tight as you could, smiling so wide it had your cheeks hurting, and yet not able to keep the tears escaping your eyes.

“I love you, too.” You mumbled into his shoulder, feeling him tense a little.

“I’m so glad you understood.” He whispered, and leaned his head against yours. “I’m so glad you understand. Me. I’m so glad you. Found me.”

notes: for alex, who i send an ask wondering if she might know how to title a story i was writing and if she'd ever heard of this weirdly specific song i could not name? and then told me i should check out this song (the title of this fic) - which ended up being the very one i'd been searching for for four days. thank you.

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