#the comedy of cloud clowning him i love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lizardrosen · 7 months

Text

How Is It that the Clouds Still Hang on You

Bridgertons performing Hamlet, part one! This wouldn't have been possible without @glintglimmergleam!

Pre-play, Anthony’s Hamlet is the eternal student, the idle rich somewhere between seventeen and thirty who still doesn’t know what he wants to be when he grows up. First sons really only have one job, and that’s to someday be their fathers; and Hamlet, like Anthony, is sure he’s getting it wrong no matter what he does. Anthony at least has the estate and his younger siblings to look after, but Hamlet only has the vague notion of someday being king, and looking through the script for hints of who Hamlet used to be, Anthony thinks for the first time that the prince must have been lonely even before his father died.

His only recourse was to take nothing seriously and sell himself as the clown of any group, and he usually managed to believe what he was selling and even enjoy himself. When Claudius popped in between the election and his hopes, those hopes curdled inside of him and he started putting up firmer, spikier walls, where before there was only wordplay and multi-layered classics references. (Anthony is actually hopeless at this kind of thing; he had to ask Benedict about “When Roscius was an actor in Rome” and “Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!” but what was he going to do, not make Hamlet a classics nerd??)

Gregory memorizes the roles with the most lines first, of course, so he’s already gotten the bantering rhythm down for playing both halves of a comedy duo attempting to be spies. “My lord, you once did love me” is regret for the distance in age with his oldest brother, and the distance in social status for Rosencrantz and Hamlet. Osric, he unlocks when he decides this vain and silly courtier idolizes both Laertes and Hamlet in much the same way that Gregory looks up to his oldest brothers, so he and Benedict talk about it and come to the conclusion that Laertes might trust Osric enough to ask him to help kill Hamlet, but Osric would never go along with it, which means that in this production Laertes didn’t tell him what he was getting Hamlet into.

Now he has to bring the soldiers on the watchtower to life. He whirls as if to face an unexpected noise, and answers himself rapid-fire.

— Who’s there! — Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold thyself! — Long live the king! — Barnardo? — He.

It’s almost a knock-knock joke but the truth is that no one in this play really knows who’s there or if they can be trusted, and it’s an uncertainty hidden in plain sight right from the opening lines. For this dialogue to work, it has to be two people meeting in the dark and he can’t just play both roles like he does for Ros and Guil.

“Hey, Daphne, my favorite sister, how would you like the second speaking role in Hamlet?”

“Hold still, your collar’s askew, I need to fix it. Only the second role?” she asks. “Not the first?”

“Daaaph, cut it out, my shirt is fine! And Barnardo can pretty much be combined with Marcellus and not much will change because they’re both there to back up Horatio’s story, and he’s there to back up theirs. Francisco’s more like Gertrude, he never gets to see the ghost.”

“Not a mouse stirring,” she quotes. “But he’s wrong about that and so is the queen — there’s so much more stirring in her kingdom than she’ll allow herself to see. Yes, I think you’re right about giving me Francisco. You’ll make a good director for next year’s play.”

“Titus Andronicus?” he asks with a bloodthirsty grin.

“Well, we’ll talk about it.”

At first Francesca has trouble deciding how to distinguish Claudius from his dead brother — are they more alike or more different? No face paint for the ghost, she decides, and in fact they should have almost the exact same costume with perhaps a different colored sash, and it’ll depend on how she carries herself.

Claudius is personable and popular except when he’s alone and the thought of his own sin wraps around his neck, while King Hamlet has forgotten everything but the purgation of his sins, and the vengeance he must see visited on his killer before he may rest. The ghost is not all there, still half in the fires of hell, but he also has a supernatural gravity that snaps all the attention in a room to him. It’s a kind of authority Claudius wishes he could project, but as good at public speaking as he is, he always seems a little bit desperate and out of his depth, so he turns up the charm even more.

Francesca finds what they have in common, too, more than either would care to admit. “Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatched” says one; “my crown, mine own ambition, and my queen,” says the other. Both kings save Gertrude for last, which could either mean that she’s an afterthought or that she was the most important thing to lose or gain.

Francesca is a Bridgerton which means she’s a romantic, so she decides it’s the latter. They both just really love their wife, enough to kill a man, enough to tell Hamlet not to contrive against his mother aught, enough to come back from the dead for a few more moments in her bedchamber, enough to send Hamlet away to be executed in England instead of imprisoned in Denmark simply because Gertrude asked.

By the time Claudius gives his speech about marrying Gertrude, Hamlet has a permanent clench to his jaw whenever he’s in public or in the same room as Claudius — that shouldn’t be too hard, says Eloise, since that’s his default expression, and Benedict, who’s probably seen Anthony laugh more than anyone else, has to agree with her. But when he’s left alone, though forbidden to go to Wittenberg, he can at least relax enough to stop trying to hold back the things he shouldn’t say in front of the nobles. “How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, seem to me all the uses of the world!” is just full of bitter laughter, giving in to the cosmic joke that Nothing Matters. But his aspect changes completely when he sees Horatio, and he picks Hyacinth up to spin her around, even though she’s almost gotten too heavy for that.

Hamlet cannot believe that Horatio would lie to him about a ghost, or tell him anything until he’s sure of what he’s seen, but he still warns himself not to hope too hard, in case nothing comes of it, it’s something he wishes he had not seen. And despite the dull but persistent heartbeat of “nothing matters, nothing matters,” always singing at the back of his head, his father’s spirit does appear, and when Hamlet follows, he learns that there is a meaning — an awful, perfidious one, but still.

So what if he has to kill a man (so what if Anthony had to decide, eleven years ago whether they should try to save his mother or his sister), at least it’s a purpose, and when he wipes clean the tables of his memory he can fall backwards into his prior persona of taking nothing seriously, but now with the bitter armor of actually not caring what happens next.

#my writing #bridgerton #hamlet #osric #claudius #the viscount's men #<- i now have a tag for them and added it to my previous posts on the subject :D #this goes up to the end of act one; part two will be all about ophelia

7 notes · View notes

asteroidkatja · 10 months

Text

Omnipotent Youth Society (2010) English Lyrics

Source: https://lyricstranslate.com

1 狗尿馆

2 不万能的喜剧 The Less Than Omnipotent Comedy

Alas, all happy souls,

I am just like you.

Just a foolish, ensnared bird

who continues to sing.

Alas, all mournful souls,

I am just like you.

Just a clown who kept drunk

and singing.

3 揪心的玩笑与漫长的白日梦 A Heart Wrenching Joke and a Long Daydream

Fleeing from the back door of Century Bank

Tearing night's curtain and desolate plains

Transcending the fallow spell, the forest and the storm

Leading our clouded hearts

In hope's final season

Dissolving the dawn and the dusk

In hope's final season

I recall the dagger I have been concealing.

Those who come from mountains, streams, lakes and seas

are now confined to the night, the kitchen and to sex.

Arriving at the boundaries of my consciousness

I see my father seated on a cloud's rim, smoking.

He says "Son, go make your peace with yesterday,

just as before."

Employ methods of infinite application

in exchange for the universe within you

Employ methods of infinite application

love the birds, now flocking together, now dispersing.

Those who come from mountains, streams, lakes and seas

are now confined to the night, the kitchen and to sex.

In a moment's time

clasping tightly my conflicted hand.

4 大石碎胸口 The Boulder That Crushes the Breast

The Fisher King wishes to remain the fisher King

but no one knows where the harbor has gone.

Now, he fails drunkenly into the bath house,

into a dream with no tides.

His bosom is decrepit with twilight.

Tho corpulent city extends to him

a traditional means of conquering anxiety:

"The sale of your weapons, your gales, and your voice

in exchange for food and drink.

Self-deceit can buy you freedom."

When the power is down

the backward-flowing river of this rigid age halts for a time.

The corpulent city

drives a herd of people who refuse to sink,

and that wild chantey resounds again.

The lights are extinguished.

Matter is transformed and the heavens have shifted.

Clay figures vanish into the sea.

The darkness is like a boulder pressing down upon the breast.

The one-legged pirate and the millionaire fumble and grope on their bellies.

The darkness is like a boulder pressing down upon the breast

5 洋鸟消夏录

6 秦皇岛 Qinhuangdao

Standing on a bridge that can divide the world

we still cannot see clearly

what, exactly, shrouded our hearts during those moments.

The oh so lonesome sea monster dwelling in my heart,

the king of sorrow,

begins to tire of the gloom and still current of the deep waters.

Standing on a bridge that can see the lamplight

we still cannot see

what, exactly, brightened our dark hearts on those blacked nights.

Therefore, he silently follows

the youth braving the channel

watching them proudly extinguish themselves

in pursuit of the far shore.

7 十万嬉皮 Ten Thousand Hippies

Dong ErQian of the lofty dreams

pushes open the window and raises the spyglass.

His eye reflects a cloud of thick smoke.

The road ahead is closed and that leading back is lost from light.

Resenting reality and fictionalizing the far side.

Gazing East and West, he finds no mastery of his own.

His limbs find no labor, he cannot differentiate the grains.

In literature, he cannot analyze words, in combat, he cannot defend hinself.

He fancies raising dogs, but dislikes washing his hair.

Not devoting himself to any task, he enjoys no fruition.

He despises argument and is unskilled at conversation.

He finds himself the accomplice of silence.

He seeks to quell his worries with alcohol, but finds he cannot drink.

He can inspire others, but numbs his own heart.

Pouring on gasoline smoothes his knitted brow.

A young pyromaniac pressed by time.

Dong ErQian of the lofty dreams

pushes open the window and raises the spyglass.

His eye reflects a cloud of thick smoke.

The road ahead is closed and that leading back is lost from light.

8 在这颗行星所有的酒馆 Throughout the Drinkeries of This Planet

Those of extraordinary intellect

believe they have already

acquainted themselves with the disposition of cloud and lighting,

and thus shall be puzzled no longer

and thus need not comprehend themselves,

the world, or their fellow man.

Their daily concerns are reduced to

the caresses from breezes and the flirtations with bestial things.

They require no stair,

but only a window,

and consign their worlds to dreamscape

and to the resplendent tide.

Throughout all the drinkeries of this planet

youth and freedom are all but taken for granted;

Facing the haphazard future,

singing only love songs, they do not see the tanks.

On a night when neither science nor drinks is of consolation

they are disembodies from the seasons,

and commence an uneasy journey.

Throughout all the drinkeries of planet

the far away call cannot be heard.

The ambitious lamplight

suddenly swallows the sullen faces

9 杀死那个石家庄人 Kill That Man from Shijiazhuang

Shift ends at six in the evening

Takes off the uniform of the pharmaceutical factory

Wife is preparing porridge

I go ahead to drink some beer

Such a life for thirty years

Until the house falls apart

Oh, darkness deep inside the cloud

Submerges the view inside the heart

At the octagonal counter

In the People's Market gone wild

With a forged note

Buy a fake gun

As to defend her way of living

Until the house falls apart

Nightfall engulfs the North China Plain

Sadness drenches her cheeks

Hebei Normal Uni High School

The Ping-pong youth with his back towards me

Silently he gazes

In the classroom not to leave

Living with experience

Until the house falls apart

Ten thousand horses unleashed

Galloping in his mind

Such a life for thirty years

Until the house falls apart

Ten thousand horses unleashed

Galloping in his mind

Such a life for thirty years

Until the house falls apart

Oh, darkness deep inside the cloud

Submerges the view inside the heart

#indie music #rock music #omnipoent youth society #Spotify

5 notes · View notes

marisoft-paint-adventures · 2 years

Text

Pgs. 138-213

Blue John.

look at him smile. little guy.

Serious Business is the best social media app, the hub for all businessmen to give advice about their nice attire. however, best guy fedorafreak has not appeared yet.

in which Rose Lalonde exhibits her incredible therapist bullshit, and also a really good line is dropped.

EB: ok, if that will satisfy your weird ocd complex then go ahead. TT: My Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder complex? TT: Can a disorder also be a complex? EB: in your case, probably!

John you fucking FOOLISH BOY you’re going to BLIND YOURSELF.

TT: Whoops.

comedy gold to think about Rose grabbing and ripping a fucking toilet from the pipes only to then consciously type into Pesterchum “whoops” like she’s a fucking cartoon character.

JADE.

HI JADE.

TT: Oh fuck.

again, cartoonish.

SAY THE LINE, JOHN.

EB: you can see me, right. EB: tell me what is wrong with this picture.

TT: I would look for a stronger signal in another part of the house, but I'd rather not risk an encounter with my mother. TT: I battled through her cloud of gin and derision once already this evening. EB: haha, yeah I hear you. TT: Yes. Cake, jesters, unfaltering love and support. TT: Quite a road to hoe there. TT: Though I suppose I'm complicit for not informing Social Services about your situation.

this is the shit I’m talking about when imagining talking about parents with John, Rose is here talking about she can’t stand her alcoholic weirdo housewife mother and John’s just out here like “haha yeah, reminds me of my dad and his cakes.” John someone has a drinking problem and all you can think about is how much you hate clown people.

TT: I've been looking at the GameFAQ walkthroughs to figure some of this stuff out.

it’s very interesting how GameFAQs remains as 1 of the only real world online platforms to ever be reference in the early comic, yet to me, it doesn’t stick out that much. I’m a big fan of how Homestuck utilizes its own programs and sites as close analogs to tools at the time, Pesterchum, Serious Business, the fake browsers and OSes, and so on. these original clients allow for the comic to not drag itself down and let it age horribly by shoving in very specific styles of social sites or apps. at the same time, I can say something like GameFAQs or YouTube being shown on-screen in a casual manner doesn’t take me out of the story because they’re only there to serve their functions and they’re still adding to Homestuck as a period piece. character needs a walkthrough? well everyone at the time would go to GameFAQs for a walkthrough. character wants to share a video? people at the time would use YouTube to share videos. it also helps that GameFAQs is an unchanging monolithic beast that remains the exact same as it was decades ago. not YouTube, I miss the old YouTube designs.

I say this now because later on the comic introduces more direct social media analogues (sometimes even outright naming them), with more attention drawn to the fact that said social media is being parodied, this all ending with said parodies feeling very dated and way too contemporary. I’m looking at you Tumblr, Instagram, Snapchat, fuckin Vine. yeah, remember when Vine was in the comic???

Seizure Ball.

your fate is sealed.

and then the doll gets prototyped with the kernelsprite and...

youtube

I LOVE clown music!!!

I don’t know if you can tell by the clownsona in my main blog, or the fact that I literally said this beforehand,

but

I like

jesters.

evil jesters to be specific.

jesters are looked down as fucking fools and little funny idiots, but the moment you make 1 a villain they become terrifying, maddening, and a destructive force of nature.

so of course, I have to say that Homestuck directly appealed to me by introducing a major jester-esque character, as well as having these jester aesthetics permeate throughout the rest of the comic and informing the designs of other characters, mostly villains.

it worked so well I was inspired by pre-Bec Jack Noir’s transformation for this sona.

who up speaking in Fleur de Lis.

these are the symbols of Homestuck, not the Slimer shirt, not the Sburb house, none of the fucking trolls, no. these, the perfectly generic objects, green fuck-off cubes that are entirely useless and are canonically the physical representation of jackshit. they are a craft.

AH SHIT, IT’S A FUCKING THING.

You figure you've left him hanging long enough.

this simple bit that happens within the 1st 200 pages of this comic both introduces a really good running gag but also fucks up an entire late-game, like, end of the fucking comic late-game, writing decision that I still maintain makes no fucking sense and had no reason to exist, especially being randomly introduced at the very end.

but that writing contradiction also spawned Alternate Session which is a really cool fanventure that you should read.

I ate Gushers as a kid, I never had them in years afterwards, but now they’re sold at my college and they’re both tangy candy thingies and fucking disgusting processed trash.

still buy em though.

oh my god it’s this fucking pesterlog oh my god this is it.

TG: like the size of texas TG: or just rhode island TG: theyre always throwing around these geographical comparisons to give us a sense of scale like it really means anything to us TG: but its like it doesnt matter its always just like: WOW THATS PRETTY FUCKING BIG TG: like mr president theres a meteor coming sir. oh yeah, how big is it? its the size of texas sir TG: OH SHIT TG: or, how big is it? its the size of new york city sir TG: OH SHIT TG: sir im afraid the comet is the size of your moms dick TG: OH SNAP TG: sir are you familiar with jupiter TG: you mean like the planet? TG: yeah TG: well its that big sir TG: hmm that sounds pretty big TG: i have a question TG: is it jupiter? TG: yes sir, earth is literally under seige by planet fucking jupiter TG: OH SHIT

Dave, Daaaave. this is my boy. this rambling fucking nonsense is what I think of when I think Dave Strider, it’s so fucking good. planet fucking Jupiter.

and then Rose Lalonde happens.

#homestuck liveblog #hs liveblog #hs reread #liveblog #reread #live read #liveread #homestuck #hs1 #hs #home22tuck #Act 1 #Flash

10 notes · View notes

avigellar · 5 months

Text

fiiiinally freeing up some time to work on more of my muse intros—phew! hey, everyone—it's just me, ryan (h/h, 25+) back with an intro for another favorite of mine: avi gellar-cho! he's a muse i've picked up, dusted off, and reworked for this space, and i'm actually really stoked to dive into him. in my opinion, he's really cool. he's a voice actor and now podcast host whose based in korea solely because of his husband—it's complicated, but he's really happy!—and though it's taking him some getting used to, he's stoked to learn more about his husband's culture/home!

avi gellar was born and raised in new york city. his parents operate a kosher bakery that's well-loved in their neck of the woods, and he grew up learning all of the family recipes. while it was never exactly a passion of his, he understood why his mom and pop loved to bake so much. he can taste the love in everything they prepare, and although he's over thirty now, he still feels their love, and they definitely still view him as their blue-eyed baby boy.

as a kid, he learned that he did extremely good impressions of his favorite cartoon characters, a skill that he spent far too much time honing, but it kept him out of trouble, so his parents didn't think much of it. that, and he often made them laugh with his impersonations, so they weren't complaining much either. they thought he was quite the character, and so did his peers at school, who revered him as something of a class clown. he dodged bullying by making everyone laugh instead.

it was a fluke chance, but when his dad saw a listing for an open call looking for voice talent for a new series to be launched on a kid's tv network, he told avi about it and avi auditioned, and out of hundred of others, he landed the leading role in the show—marking the start of his career. (side-note: canonically, i'm claiming that he was the og voice actor for aang of atla. why? because i can. 😆)

he's done tons of voice work over the years, and now, he hosts a podcast about voice work; one where he often has other voice actors from all over the world as guests to talk about their shared craft. as of now, he's living in south korea with his husband, who he met along the way after a previous engagement of his failed dramatically. it's daunting to be in a new place, especially one that's more socially conservative than new york, but he's excited to learn more.

avi gellar is funny. that's something that everyone who meets him can say about him. even those who hate him can't deny that his quick wit and comedic timing aren't near-flawless. some say he could've genuinely gone into a career in comedy, but he refrained from that. he never wanted to be a comedian, and he doesn't like being in the spotlight that much. hiding behind animated characters is more his speed.

he's not only funny, but he's also a rock. he's solid. he works hard. he's someone who works within the realm of fantasy lands and animation, but in real life, he's got a practical edge about him that prevents his head from floating into the clouds too often. since he's been involved in the entertainment industry since childhood, he's got great business sense—typical capricorn sun—and makes strategic financial decisions. it's why his fortune from his youth is still supporting him. he's used it wisely.

avi is a work-horse. his willingness to work is immense, and he'll do all he can to ensure that he and his family are supported. he's not the type to sit idly by and hope other people make change in the world. no, he's someone who gets up and gets shit done. he can be a bit hard on those who don't choose to get up and do the work, but it's only because he genuinely doesn't understand that mindset.

want dad advice? avi's your man. he's still young, but there's a way about him that makes him feel genuinely wise beyond his years. that, and he's not afraid to be a critic; to be more stern with people he thinks can use a bit of a wake-up call. his paternal instincts are rather strong, to be honest, and so is his propensity toward using dad jokes.

i'd love any and all plots for him, idk. i'm much easier to brainstorm with than lay out ideas, so let's work something out together! 🥰

#JONGNO:HELLO #( hellooooo! 🥰

1 note · View note

dwaeki · 3 years

Text

beomgyu as ur bf ! (random headcanons)

pairing: beomgyu x gn!reader

genre: fluff, comedy

warnings: none other than poorly written fluff, intended lower case and maybe some spelling errors :D

a/n: YET AGAIN I WENT WITH THE FLOW SO SORRY IF IT'S KINDA BAD- keep in mind that english isnt my first language thank you <3

another one of my ults nfakjnglkejngr

you're dating a clown-

honestly, how do u even survive because he's actually so annoying

but he loves you though, i promise <3

an actual brat.

teases you a LOT !!! but never in a mean way.

if you trip over your own feet and fall, he's probably going to laugh at you, offering his hand to help you up but then quickly pulling it back to mess with you!

or if you accidentally drop your phone, spill some water on yourself, etc. he's going to tease you,

"y/n, what are you? a 3 year old?? you can't even walk without tripping, HAH, DUMMY!!!!"

loves to push your buttons to get different reactions out of you :D

he's quite empathetic though, so it's never his intention to hurt your feelings by poking fun at you.

if he notices that his teasing is making you uncomfortable or insecure he will not hesitate to stop,

making you feel loved and appreciated is his number one priority <3

he's determined to make you laugh, because when he hears you giggle... phew he's on cloud 9,

knowing the fact that he's the reason you're grinning from ear to ear is just such an ego boost :(

he will do anything to make you smile and i mean anything...

even if it results in him looking like a fool 😞

you two go grocery shopping together <3

honestly, he sometimes embarrasses you to the point where you regret bringing him with you in the first place 😐

like you've literally just entered the store and he's already whining, asking if you're done yet so you can finally go home and cuddle at once !! :/

it's usually just you doing all the shopping while he follows you around,

he's just there to assist you when you can't reach the high shelves‼️

the store you go to is pretty small and very close to your neighborhood, so you're basically familiar with everyone who visits it.

there's this one sweet lady with a kid around the age of 10, and beomgyu swears that "the child is a devil!!"

he has already made enemies... with a 10 year old-

you had to apologize to his mom multiple times because your 20 year old boyfriend couldn't stop bickering with her son.

he also helps you do your chores !!

he's very playful, hence anything can be fun if beomgyu's around :D even boring things like washing the dishes or cleaning your room (no offense to whoever likes it)

he turns everything into a game, a competition to be more precise...

"whoever finishes washing the dishes last has to buy the winner their favorite snack 😋😋"

even if he wins, he still ends up buying you the food of your choice, not letting you spend a single penny on him!!

he competes with you just to rile you up, making bets such as the one mentioned above to keep you determined, not because he actually wants you to do anything for him.

except giving him your undying love and affection of course :D

he's literally so clingy

you usually visit him at the dorms when he's not busy

the second he hears you knock on the door he's quite literally sprinting towards you

you can hear the members complain that he almost pushed them over

once your boyfriend opens the door, he engulfs you in a tight, bear hug™, picking you up and spinning you around, making sure he crushed every single bone in your body <3

the others just watch you get the air knocked out of your lungs in amusement.

speaking of the members, beomgyu always dreamed of you getting along with his best friends,

but once his dream came true he kinda wished it never did </3

you get along a little too well for his liking :/

how come you just laughed at one of yeonjun's jokes right in front of your toddler boyfriend?!?!??!

unacceptable!!

the entire night he either tries to crack as many jokes as possible to "redeem himself", glaring at an oblivious (and also mildly concerned) yeonjun from time to time

or he starts being poutier and clingier than usual, asking for a kiss every 5 minutes or straight up just dragging you to his bedroom and not letting you go until you cuddle for at least an hour

but in all honesty, he's so relieved that you and the boys are bonding !!

you having a good relationship with his friends is very important to him <3

he's not jealous at all because he knows that you love him and him only :)

he babies you to no end !! (even if you're older than him)

you do something as simple as drink water and he just coos at you

"AWW !!! you look so cute when you drink water like that :("

your number one fan!!!!!

hypes you up and brags about you to everyone <3

if you're wearing a new outfit he will notice right away and just stare at you in awe the second he sees you, won't forget to comment on how gorgeous/handsome you look ;)

also likes it when u compliment him back, it really means a lot <3

please keep feeding his ego he loves it when you notice small details, it makes his heart flutter

you two nap together a lot

if you're not the one for naps you just lay there, next to him, his arms wrapped around your frame tightly as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, sleeping peacefully.

he looks so peaceful and cute when he's not annoying the hell out of you <333

you sometimes snap pictures of his sleeping state and then set it as your wallpaper/lockscreen :D

once gyu found out about your little antics he got extremely cocky

if you ever changed your lock screen to anything but him, he'd get all whiney, begging for you to change it back

also snaps a few pics of you sleeping/just existing peacefully and puts it as his so you two can have "matching wallpapers" <33

he also lends you his jacket if you're ever feeling cold

lives for how cute you look basically buried in his jacket, sighing in content as you're finally warming up a little

if you get tired from walking he's going to give you a piggyback ride <333

laughs and giggles as he lifts you up from the ground, your chest flushed against his back as he carries you to your destination :)

if you did something that upset him and he's scolding you he's just gonna:

"y/n, you're such a dummy!" *holds your hand* "that was very careless of you," *kisses your forehead* "i want you to know that i am very angry at you." *cuddles you aggressively*

while most of your dates are at home,

amusement park dates are very common as well :D

you go on various roller coasters, circular rides, take a few breaks in between and get ice cream or cotton candy

but your favorite ride by far are the bumper cars!

you just race, crash into each other at full speed or get into the same car and absolutely destroy your competition !! (the competition in question are just a bunch of 7 year old kids trying to have fun)

he seranades you :(

learns a bunch of love songs that remind him of you on guitar and sings them to you whenever you're able to hang out <3

he has a playlist full of love songs dedicated to you

offers to give you some free guitar lessons, if you ever want to learn how to play yourself :)

you both also have a collaborative playlist on spotify, along with playlists for each other you update regularly <33

when he's sleepy he's so soft with you :(

he's looking at you with hooded eyes full of love and adoration, you can tell that he's trying his best to stay awake for a little longer, but his eyelids are getting heavier by the second, his voice lower than before

"hey, y/n... you know i love you right? i love you so much that my heart aches whenever i look at you..."

pulls you in closer, if that's even possible, and holds you gently as if you were going to break if he wasn't careful enough,

probably leaves feather kisses all over your collarbone before whispering a one last "i love you" for the night and falls asleep.

yeah... thoughts are being thunk right now y'all-

he really loves you to the moon and back :(

overall your relationship is very chaotic and just.. weird in general.

good luck dealing w/his bs <3

1K notes · View notes

zipperzoo · 2 years

Text

FIGHT TO MAKE IT UP

The Batman (2022) bruce wayne x f!reader

Word count: - 3.7k

Masterlist / AO3 / Playlist

Themes: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Crime Family, Thriller, Noire, Heist, Action, Comedy, Crime.

Warning: Graphic descriptions of bodily harm and hallucinations.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter! Inspired by the infamous artwork by Hieronymus Bosch!

Chapter five part 2:

The Garden of Earthly Delights

An erupt applause shook from the far tent. A crowd cheered as the main performance was about to take place after the warm up. Now the audience had an appetizer, they were ready for the main meal. The Flying Graysons!

A woman, beautiful in every aspect stood by the entrance of the tent tapping her foot furiously. Frantically looking around, between and around those who were left outside wandering around. The Technicolor lights from the inside illuminated her silhouette while she smoked a cigarette. Clouding her vision with smoke that danced from the tip.

“Got pre show jitters?” Asked a man, emerging from within the tent behind her. He carefully places both of his hands either side of her arms, cocking his head around to catch her beautiful face.

Dropping her head to let a smile grow, she exhaled a laugh before lifting her head back up and leaning into his touch. “Not now, with you here with me.”

“Well- good to know I’m of some use to you.”

“You’ve got many good uses.” she teased turning around to be face to face with him. “Your reach perfectly matches my flexibility and it has been very useful” she stuck her tongue out at him intertwining her fingers with his. “Oh and you make a spine chilling-” pausing for anticipation, keeping him hanging on her word.

“Spine chilling-?” He whispered, desperate for her to finish.

“Spine chilling…” Inching closer, letting her lips linger over his. Her eyes lingered within his sight. Relishing in the pull. “...homemade spicy fajitas which I want later!” She busted out into a loud and deep laughter that even a snort came and said hello.

“Oh you tease.”

“And I’ll have some of those turkey dinosaurs! The ones you keep sneaking for Richard to eat when he doesn't eat his dinner!”

Tipping his head to the side, relaxing his pose as he lazily grinned at his wife. “I can't help it, he wont eat your cooking but eats mine… and freezer mystery meat in the shape of a lizard?”

She gasped. “You know that's a lie- he LOVES my shortbread!”

“You can bake, but you can't cook. There is a difference.”

“Oh yeah? Want to push your luck and sleep on the floor tonight and tell me the difference between that and the bed?” Dripped in sarcasm.

A single chuckle left him. “You're not nervous anymore.” His words are soft, reassuring and comforting, bringing attention to what she had forgotten and what she was even nervous about. She shook her head and sighed in response.

Standing in front of him, staring at her feet. The wet grass strands stuck to her black heels in clumps. She kicked small amounts of it off while pondering something that was sitting in her mind, weighing heavily on her nerves and her husband could tell but he waited patiently for her to speak. “Do you think Richard is going to be okay?” Her voice cracked.

“What do you mean? He’s never done a bad show before, why worry now?”

“That's not what I mean. With his internship in Gotham, he’ll be all alone at that fancy prep school. He is only twelve John.”

“Is that what you were worried about?” Clasping her hand in his “Our little robin will do just fine. He has your wit and my humour.”

“I love how you complimented me as smart but I am also funny I'll have you know!” staring up at him with big old puppy eyes, batting her long lashes.

“Debatable.” Her attempt was a complete failure. He was immune to her charms but he couldn't help but give her a lopsided grin.

Whacking her hand playfully at his chest “Hey! Don’t be mean!”

“Um- Mary? John?” Right behind them, inside the tent popped out the head of a clown. Her voice was high and shy like a mouse. “Are you both ready? You're on in three.” smiling, two giant red circles sat on her cheeks.

Mary tucked a stray hair behind her ear, nodded towards the clown then looked up at her husband John. The couple decided to put an end to their conversation and make their way into the tent, following behind the clown.

Opening the tent’s flap wider the technicolour's and rowdy crowd was as clear as sunlight. Children running around hoping over the wires and around under the bleachers that held the seats.

Inside the tent’s display was a bowl seating area. Gathered around for a Greek chorus that was about to take place unbeknownst to them it would be a tragedy. Pieces of peanuts flew across the air as the couple cut through the back of the tent’s layout to the ladder that they were to ascend up to the top of. Where they’d be doing their magnificent jumps and spins.

On the outskirts of the inner circle that held the stage were cannons; confetti cannons. They were being turned towards the crowd. Preparing to shoot colorful paper to encourage a positive reaction and experience.

“Wait.” Mary paused climbing up the ladder. Looking down at her husband who was confused at the delay. “Where’s Richard?”

The sudden realization on John’s face. He had gone out to see his wife to check if Dick was with her as he wasn't in their caravan or by the changing room tent. He had forgotten in an attempt to comfort his wife what his true intentions were. To see if Richard was with her as he had just vanished after being given a candied apple by one of the staff members.

Cutting his gaze from his wife to then scan the ground. He wasn't within the set up team or the clowns of the last performance. Scanning his eyes towards the crowd, He noticed there were too many children to really pick out dick. It was hard to tell, especially when they were all running around and moving. A hard game of where's waldo.

It was hopeless. The crowd was too lively and time was ticking. They had to perform, Cobblepot made it clear that they had to start the performance as soon as the confetti cannons went off. They’ll have to perform without Dick and go looking for him after if they are unable to locate him currently.

John looked over at the clown from earlier, waving to grab her attention. “Dizzy! Where's my son? Richard?”

“What?”

“Where is Richard!”

Mishearing him because of the over stimulating visuals and sounds from within the tent. She heard something along the lines of “are there going to be pictures?” Confused by this, she thought he was referring to the photographer for the newspaper. There was obviously going to be photographs taken for the press.

“Oh! In the changing room tent!” She yelled back up at them.

“Should we wait?”

“No Cobblepot said earlier to go ahead without him.”

“Why are we just now hearing about this?” John was muddled, Dizzy shrugged. She was just as clueless as him. With Dizzy’s lack of worry, John felt a little at ease. She most likely saw him in there herself otherwise she would be in a hysterical state.

“John?” Mary asked John, hoping for some reassurance on where their child is or if he will even be showing up. Mary let one hand dangle beside her as she looked down at her husband awaiting for a reply.

“He is fine, we’ve been told to go on without him.”

“What? Changing the show last minute?”

“It’s fine, we’ll do an old performance.” He patted her ankle, signalling for her to go ahead and climb up.

Hesitating, she slowly started to climb up but her motherly instinct was detecting something was off. Stopping again she looked down at John. “No, something feels wrong.”

John looked at her then at the audience. They had to perform now. Cobblepot had given them very strict instructions, it would be easy to be more free with it if he hadn’t paid upfront and worse they had taken that money upfront.

“I promise, once the show is over we’ll go and check on him.”

Looking back at her husband as he desperately tried to persuade her, convince her that everything is okay so they can proceed with the slow. She desperately searched for any betrayal on his face but it prevailed.

“And finally, what you’ve all been waiting for! The Flying Graysons!” Following the announcement of the ring leader, the crowd rose from the seats to throw their arms up in the air and cheer. Some jumped up in their seats, others waved at the couple standing at the platform.

John squeezed Mary’s hand. She squeezed back in return, glancing down at his hand. She didn't look confident, she was worrying as a mother would, something felt really off but Mary just couldn't put her finger on it.

The canons went off letting confetti rain down on the stage and the audience. Glittering just like the rain outside but with primary colors letting light from the stage lights bounce off them crafting reflections on everyone's faces.

“He’ll be fine Mary. We’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

^v^

The protective urge kicked in and from a rush of adrenaline, Bruce snatched up the child from under his arms and darted out of the tent. Everything went by like a flash before Dick could even take into account what was happening as he was on the ground besides Y/N.

Dick noticed the cloud that lingered over the top of the tent. Now only processing the blood curdling screeching with the sight of one of the twins skinning himself came to mind. Squeezing his eyes shut, mumbling to try and comfort himself while desperately pleading for his mother.

The sweet comforting sound of the large tent along with heavy pants from the three grounded them all, they weren’t in a nightmare this was reality.

Sausages crawled out on his hands and knees, flopping to his side. The mushrooms had heightened the effect of the gas- he was falling in and out of consciousness.

Collapsing on the mud in front of Y/N, Bruce wheezed and coughed, every attempt his body would go through to evict the gas out of his system. However In Front of Y/N wasn’t Bruce. To her It was a beast with tall demonic black horns and piercing white eyes. His cold and stern stare pierced through her, seeing all her truths and lies that she betrayed in her fear. She was seeing the one thing worse than a dead man that haunted her in the crowd. She was seeing the man that made her fear the shadows.

Batman.

The heavy sense of inebriation was quickly followed by powerful disorientating visuals. Y/N felt herself tense up as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her shoulders squared.

Staring into those empty dark eyes that looked back with a kubrick stare- she wished to see those strangely comforting blue ones she encountered earlier. To see the specks of green stars in Bruce’s.

Bruce glowered, confused at her gawking glare at him. She looked- scared? Terrified even.

Scuttling back, kicking up grass and mud, Y/N even grabbed Dick and used him as a shoulder. Any desperate attempt to get away from her boogeyman.

Dick tried to push away but her tight grip made it hard for him to break free. Bruce watched, as Y/N freely offered this child to him as a sacrifice- thinking Bruce was something that terrified her. His mind rattled on what it could be that had her so startled.

“B-Batman- ha… ha” she stuttered. He got his answer, she was seeing him as his true self. “Its fucking batman-”

“Batman?” yelled Dick, whacking Y/N as she held him hostage. He managed to slip out of her strong grip to stagger next to Bruce. Catching her line of sight, Dick saw she was looking at Bruce. He didn't see it. He just saw Bruce, a brooding man on his knees in the mud with his hand to his chest.

Pained from the gas, Bruce needed a moment to clear his airways and swallowed. It felt like a nerve exploded.

The loud cheer from the main large tent suddenly died letting an uncomfortable quietness invade. It quickly caught Dick’s attention as he took a step towards its location patting Bruce on the shoulder.

“Did everyone else hear that?” Dick asked, honestly too petrified to know the answer. “What happened to the cheering?” Dick muttered.

Too wrapped up with a demon in front of her, Y/N wasn’t paying attention to a single word that was verbal.

A pin could drop on the carpet and it could be heard. It was like an entire audience, the entire population of the circus has just vanished. Crickets sang as the distant cars on the highway swooshes by.

Then a sudden crash of screams evicted from the large tent as a tsunami of people rushed out. The sight was unexpected, so sudden, so violent.

A re-enactment of Hieronymus borsch's rendering of hell. The garden of Earthly delights- a vast landscape of human kind lavishing in sin, hell ascended from the tent onto the circus grounds. Civilians ran out chaotically and hazardously with rage, fear and greedy eyes. Bumping into one another aggressively patting themselves down. The tent from the outside looked unharmed- but how the people who ran from it, it might as well have been on fire or home to a plane crash.

It was like a scene from a zombie movie, growling and drooling people tripping and trampling over one another. A man had knocked over someone and punched them aggressively in the face until their face was nothing more than a stain in the grass.

A clown had picked up a person like a rag doll and lobbed them into a car causing the car to slightly move from impact.

No doubt about it, it was the gas. There was no other explanation, it mirrored the panic that Bruce saw within the tent that was behind him. Cobblepot had planned to gas the audience. Of fucking course he had planned to gas the audience. It was the perfect cover. It explained why he was here, why his tent was a safe distance. It also explained why everyone was acting so strange.

Overcast the tents, further above the towering buildings of Gotham, shined the beacon that birthed fear in the locals of the city. Gordon was signalling Batman- calling for him. It looked down at those falling and jumping out of the tent like a god itself who inflicted the night terrors into the sinners.

With the eruption of sudden chaos, Y/N diverted her attention from Batman who was captivated by the sky to the tent. At a loss of words of how to even describe the scene. The mass hysteria was animalistic. She needed to get out of here, flee, run. Anything to get away from this nightmare.

Finding it hard to think with distant yelling and screams of the gas taking hostage its victims of the circus and with Y/N crawling towards the limp body on the floor that was her friend, frantically shaking Sausages and howling for him to wake up.

Dick Nudged Bruce, breaking him out of his deep desperate thoughts. “What do we do?!” The child looked lost, horror-struck.

Instantaneously Bruce let melt away all human emotions and thoughts. He might not have his mask but right now he needed to be his true self, needed to be Batman. He rose up and carefully pushed Dick aside.

Bruce pulled Y/N up from the ground by one arm, raising her to her feet weakly. He stared into her eyes, he was taking charge and had a comforting and reassuring stillness in his gaze. He wasn't attacking her, wasn’t pinning her up by her neck, treating her like an obstacle in the way. His eyes were softer.

Blue with a ring of earth green around the pupil. Little specks of dark blue sprayed across the palette.

Y/N wasn’t seeing Batman anymore. She was seeing Bruce.

Although Bruce might not know it himself, he was trying his best to be reassuring. An alien emotion to Bruce brewed thin him while doing something that felt unlike him but it's what needed to be done at this moment. He reflected back to when he first saw Y/N. The woman stood there in the field looking down at Bruce as he laid there in the trunk of the car. Her eyes were swollen and cheeks were tear stained. She was just like that right now.

“I need you to take the child and run.” Bruce whispered only for her to hear. “I’ll take care of your friend.”

“But-”

“Y/N.” She almost melted in his touch but a fire burnt in her breast. Frowning, she trembled to hold Bruce’s hands that held her forearm. Instead she shoved them off her to stand in one action. The rain drenching her- sticking strands of hair to her face. She looked like an art nouveau painting. Bruce was briefly in awe of her desire to be stubbornly distant and in control whenever Bruce attempted to show some humanity towards her.

Reaching over and snatching Dick’s wrist. Y/N Glared down at Bruce with heavy eyes. “We aren't friends.” she directed towards Bruce. “You don't get to make demands of me.” She swallowed. “Or touch me.” He had not realized until she mentioned it, he had touched her a lot- from pinning her up by her neck, by holding her wrist, by holding her down in the mud. Even in the tent he had grabbed her in an attempt to help her.

Drawing in a sharp breath through her teeth, seeing the dead man flicker between blinks besides Bruce. She’d have to suck up her fear of seeing him in her car but at the time being he was a welcomed guest compared to Batman.

Dragging the child behind her, Y/N ran through the crowd, near dodging those who frantically charged away from the tent, hallucinating sounds and visuals.

“Where are we going? We can't just leave?”

“Shut up.”

Tugging on her grip, Dick watched people scream and run around the circus grounds. Unable to find Bruce, Sausages or his parents.

Just realizing his parents, who would have been in that tent that exploded with activity, Dick yelled out “Stop! We need to find my parents!” he dug his heel into the mud, yanking Y/N back. She whipped her head back to him to jerk him forward. The ire in her chest sparked from the embers of annoyance. Now was not the time to be a brat she thought through gritted teeth.

“We’ll come back for them later!.”

“What about Bruce Wayne?!” He could handle himself, she saw it herself, the man could hold his own, but the child wanted to help him, wanting to help anyone in any way.

“Screw him!”

“What about your friend?”

She didn't even stop at the mention of Sausages. She contemplated on it, “We will come back later!” She lied, she had no intentions of coming back. She planned on just jumping into her car and dropping the kid off at some corner shop for some sad passer byer. Then get out of Gotham city, this night was the last fucking straw.

^v^

Gordon stood at the top of the constructional abandoned building. The rain poured endlessly as he stood for a few minutes mesmerized by the signal in the sky.

Hands in his pocket, fiddling with loose change and receipts. The last time he was here was before the flood, from when he and Batman had been working on that case. The case that rippled through Gotham still now, and the civilians were now the ones paying the price.

Exhaling, his breath was visible in front of him. Thinking of Christmas with his family, Gordon imagined Batman in a little Santa Claus hat and a beard. Chucking to himself, he couldn't help it. He would have to draw it on a post it note and leave it on the signal for the guy, to let him know he is thought of even on the holidays.

A buzz cracked through on the radio. Gordon wet his lips, turning to look at the elevator. No one was coming yet. He reached over and pressed the button on the radio.

The first sound he heard was Riley’s voice in manic. “Woah woah Rivers- slow down I can't make out anything you're saying?”

“Gordon-” Many people were using the channel buzzing in and talking, cutting off Rivers.

“We need back up, a scene has broken out at-”

“Several casualties, We need air patrol and-”

“Need paramedics and police backup ASAP.”

“We need backup!”

“Negative. Several officers are MIA-”

Gordon was paralyzed. So much info was buzzing through suddenly. He inhaled a sharp breath. And buzzed through. Beads of sweat forming and trailing down his face. “What's happening? Over.”

Silence. The signal radiated heat next to him, making him impatient and increase anticipation.

“Gordon!” It was Riley Rivers again- their voice alive with fear. “We need you- there has been a -” They abruptly paused. Gordon’s eyes burnt into Gotham city. In the distance he saw a flood of lights in a field/ A trail of police lights heading that way.

Rivers buzzed back in “Gordon it's horrible- people are running into the roads, jumping in front of cars!”

“What?”

“Gordon no one knows what's happening there's just mass amounts of suicide! We need you now!” Rivers screeched. The background commotion was just audible to pick up over the radio. Several alarms and distant blood chilling screams could be picked up.

“You're not at Wayne tower?”

“No! They called everyone out!-”

He turned to look at the signal back at the sky. His mind ran empty. Darting his eyes to the elevator as his heart pounded in his chest. Where is he?

Hesitating to leave- in case at any moment he would show up- the elevator doors would open up and he would just walk out. The longer Gordon waited the more lives were piling up- the more he felt responsible for the death toll rising. This was just like the floods. Maybe even worse than the floods. That was a political terrorist act but this- it sounded like a direct attack on the citizens. Or- god, he just didn't know.

“Gordon?”

Gordon took a step forward towards the elevator to leave but his mind pulled back.

Where is Batman?

“I’m on my way.”

#The Batman #Robert Pattinson #Battinson #batman x reader #Battinson x reader #fanfiction #battinson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #DC

32 notes · View notes

folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

🍒Cherry Ice Cream🍒

A/N: Happy July! I planned this almost a year ago and finally got around to writing it...I hope you like it! As always, I appreaciate feedback a lot! Hope everyone has a lovely day <3

pairing: optional bias (male) x reader (gn)

words: ~ 3.7 k

genre: fluff, comedy, lifeguard!bias, reader is the most awkward and chaotic person ever (are we at the public pool or the circus?? seriously I’m so second hand embarrassed for her lmao), bias is the hottest man in existence, the universe has something against the reader apparently (rip)

PART 2 (nsfw, both parts can be read independently)

You approached the front entrance of the public swimming pool. Everything was still going by plan. Ever since the weather had gotten warmer, you’d had swimming on your mind. And every single person in your life had been made aware of it. Despite the friendly asking and the occasional begging, you still hadn’t found anyone to accompany you to the public swimming pool. You had heard all the reasons: Work, already planned vacations, a sick pet, a hatred of water, a hatred of people, you name it. After all the searching you had come to the conclusion that you were tired of waiting. Nothing could possibly rob you of your excitement about swimming pools. You’d go alone and have a wonderful time. It would be a relaxing day with loads of time just for you. So you had told yourself. But let’s face it, nothing could have prepared you for the utter chaos you were about to walk into.

It began before you had even set both feet into the facility. Your steps were light, and you beamed, ready to enter after you had paid. The strap of your sports bag had caught in the turnstile in the entrance area. Stubborn as you were, you yanked on it, instead of turning around and manually freeing the fabric from the steel contraption. You had put your entire weight on the line, tugging and pulling, when the strap finally came loose from the turnstile. As expected from such antics, you tripped and struggled in your flip-flops, blundering into the compound like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. By the time you tried to compose yourself to look cool and relaxed after such a mistake, you noticed him.

He, who looked like a Greek god blessing you with a visit on earth. He was all tan skin, red life-guard swim trunks, perfectly sculped shoulders, pushed back hair, a smile that put the sun to shame and sunglasses sitting on top of his head. Instantly you thanked yourself for not seriously injuring yourself. The young godman crossed the lawn, presumably to take his seat by the pool, watching out for the visitors. Only he made it look like he was strutting on a runway at Paris fashion week. All you could do was pray that he hadn’t seen you entering his workplace headfirst like some impatient six-year-old.

As people passed you, you realized you were standing in the same spot where you had almost fallen a minute ago. Manifesting that this was just the silly beginning to a perfect day, you paraded into the shaded grassy area to find a spot to set up your things. Countless groups of friends, families, and lone visitors like yourself had already settled down, but you managed to find a fine spot. It was the superb balance between sunny and shady and not too far from the swimming pools and water slides. In seconds you had shed off your clothes to reveal your swimsuit underneath. Although you could barely keep yourself waiting, you decided it was best to stay there a short while before you threw yourself into the waves. Just until the sunscreen had absorbed into your skin. Meanwhile, you would unpack the catchy book you had recently begun to read.

Now and then you raised your head and peeked at the cute lifeguard. You seriously had no intentions of coming across like a creep, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The way he patrolled the side of the large pool had more coolness than the prettiest shot of a hot movie star in a film. You allowed yourself a few seconds, then you’d go back to your novel. The sounds of summer floated through the air – children laughing, water splashing, birds chirping above you – and the scent of the sunscreen catapulted you straight on cloud 9. It felt like your own small piece of paradise. Little did you know, the universe had so much more in store for you.

You hadn’t been buried in your book for even 10 minutes when a group of kids ran by. They were passing a water ball from one to the other and giggling uncontrollably. You saw it coming in your peripheral vision but had no time to react. As they had reached your level, one of them punched the ball especially hard. And instead of catching it, the dark blue ball bounced off one child’s hands and straight into the side of your face. It knocked your sunglasses off the bridge of your nose, but more importantly gave you the fright of your life. You dropped your book while the children’s mother scolded them from the side. After the initial surprise you couldn’t accept their apologies quickly enough. Anything if it could spare you from even more attention from random guests around you. Impulsively, your eyes searched for the cute lifeguard. But he was looking into the opposite direction. At least fate had saved you from embarrassing you in front of him. The last thing you wanted was to look like more of a clown than you had when entering the facility earlier. But against your expectations, the train of unfortunate events was only beginning.

Surely things would be more peaceful in the water, you had thought. When you finally entered the cool pool, it felt like heaven on earth. Fearing a case of recurrence, you avoided the shallower areas, where the children crowded and went straight for the deeper waters. Finally experiencing some form of relaxation, you swam and dived a few laps around the pool. Now and then you caught a glimpse of the lifeguard on the far end of the pool. Just to make sure he was still there. Just to make sure he’s still as handsome as when you first spotted him. And you weren’t disappointed. Gesturing kindly, he helped an elderly woman find directions to the restaurant on the far end of the site. From up closer, his smile and his jaw were even prettier – even though it had seemed impossible for him to become even more perfect.

After a while, your limbs became tired and you retracted into less busy waters, close to the exit and entrance area of the swimming pool. As you paddled your way through bodies, a bug startled you. It had by all appearances chosen you as its victim, as it took direct flight into your face. Even when you swat it away and turned around to change directions, it kept chasing you and only you. Like some crazy, obsessed stalker, it followed you to the edge of the pool. Eventually, you became tired of running and turned to it. If some random flying beetle wanted to fight you, so be it. To the untrained eye, you might have appeared like a lunatic, fanning the air, and squinting against the bright sunlight. But it was war, and you would square up against the most annoying of bugs. After a while, you realized that you were waving off the air – no more bug in sight. Only then you noted the little girl laughing in your direction from the poolside. You were way too mortified to turn into his direction at first, but when you found the lifeguard, he was conversing with one of his co-workers. Once again, you were safe.

Your next approach at a good time was the colorful waterslide close by. Certainly, these heights would not include micro-aggressive bugs. Instead, they included something far more unsettling. Considering there were toddlers going down the waterslide, you deemed it safe and fun. Your mind changed in the first sharp turn, when you tumbled over and hit your elbow from the sudden change of direction. Maybe you should have just stayed in the ring with the bug instead of choosing this more than violent escape. But it was too late. Once on the slide, you had to make it through to the finish line – more or less in one piece. Your grand finale composed of a semi-somersault off the edge of the waterslide into the pool. Although it wasn’t intentional, you still hoped it looked somewhat graceful to the audience at the bottom. Hint: No, it didn’t. You looked like a baby monkey that had been sent down a self-constructed-waterslide in someone’s backyard. It was a disaster.

Feeling over-heated and exhausted from the sun and your embarrassing antics, you found a drinking fountain by the showers to refresh yourself. Patiently, you waited in the short line until it was your turn. As fate wanted it, the next messy incident wasn’t long in the coming. In fact, it only took four sips of water before you accidentally inhaled some of it. You stepped back, choking, coughing, and gasping for air all at once. A helpful woman showed mercy with you and your awkward behavior and softly pat your back. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked. Unable to speak just yet, you smiled and nodded gratefully. Great. Maybe you should add “clown” onto your previous professions in your CT. By now, half the visitors probably knew who you were – a walking safety hazard to yourself.

After retreating to your bath towel set-up in the shade for a while, you had almost found new hope that the universe wasn’t against you that day. You managed to lie there, for a whole hour, without any issues. But then, slowly, another idea crept up on you. After all, what was summer without ice cream? By chance, you happened to know the little ice cream truck next to the yellow waterslide sold your favorite brand of ice lolly. So off you went, money in hands and wild determination in your head. The visual of the handsome lifeguard lingered in your mind even after you had passed the chair he was sitting on by the poolside. You acquired your ice lolly successfully and ripped the wrapper right away. It tasted like summer in food format, and you reveled in the cold treat for a while, as you strolled back in the direction of your bath towel.

Fully aware that you would have to walk by the insanely cute lifeguard again, you tried your best to look cool, next to the large pool. In your imagination, you were glowing in the sun, hair slightly flowing in the warm breeze and steps bouncing happily. You were the personification of summer bloom and radiating everything good about the season. For a moment, you closed your eyes and actually indulged in the warmth on your face. That was when the next mishap struck.

You didn’t even understand what was happening at first. Someone accidentally bumped into you – or did you bump into them? Upon the impact, you opened your eyes. Your ice-cream had vanished from your hands. Turns out, you had dropped it and it had landed only two feet from you. Out of balance, you stumbled ahead even after the impact. And of course, only a second later your foot stepped directly onto the ice lolly. Inevitably, you skidded and struggled to stay on your feet by means of flinging and waving your arms in the air. As if you were some stranger, trying to attract the attention of an aircraft whilst stranded on a desert island. One thing was for sure, you had everyone’s observance tied to you. With an involuntary but comedic performance of theatrical extent, you fell and hit the water surface.

The cool hit you so suddenly, you had swallowed a gulp of water before your instincts had time to set in. Quickly, your limbs began paddling to get you back to the surface. At that instant, a pair of arms suddenly linked under your armpits and swooped you up from underwater. Your brain processed what was going on. Without a doubt, someone had jumped after you and was pulling you out of the water. Stubbornly, you tried to avoid the idea of the cute lifeguard helping you out. Christ, that would really be the peak of all your embarrassing moments. No, it was probably the person you had run into, or someone who had already been in the water.

When you were placed by the poolside and blinked against the blending sun, your worst concerns came to pass. There he was, so close you could have touched his face. His worried expression changed when you opened your eyes, and he smiled, relieved. “Is everything alright?” he asked. You’d think this would make you into the most shamefaced person on the planet. And yet, all you could wonder was how two people’s genes could combine so flawlessly, so beautifully, to create such a man. When he got no answer from your moonstruck figure, he furrowed his eyebrows in alarm.

“Oh my- my god,” you stammered. “Yes! I’m fine, I’m sorry!”

You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. For worrying him? For inconveniencing him? For causing another scene? Either way, he grinned, and you felt your cheeks heat up terribly. You had to get away from there before something cringy came out of your mouth. Although you weren’t sure there was any way you could have made this more awkward than it already was.

“Make sure you have no injuries, okay?” he asked, helping you up. “If you need any medical assistance, just let me or one of the other lifeguards know.”

“Um…okay,” you said. Wow. That was no way to flirt with the most attractive person you had ever met. With all this drama you had gone through on that day, the universe could have at least blessed you with a romantic, your-life-savior-realizes-he-just-met-the-love-of-his-life moment. But no. The movies really were one massive hoax.

“It’s probably best you take a little break from the surprise, before you go back into the water,” he advised you. “And don’t hesitate to ask, if you need any more help.”

If only he knew how many times you had already tried to take a break from the surprise after everything on that day. You stood on your feet safely but felt like a cat that had fallen into the bathtub. At last, you managed a smile in the lifeguard’s direction. “Thank you.”

Funny enough, the stares people gave you bothered you only slightly as you walked back to your spot under the trees. Maybe you had used up all your embarrassment for the day. Nothing could intimidate you anymore. That meant, whatever happened from now on, it couldn’t get worse. Somehow after the pinnacle of chaos, you finally felt some inner tranquility. You went back to your novel, now and then keeping an eye out for potential water balls coming your way. But everything was calm. As time went on, you lost yourself completely in the story line and forgot about everything around you. Maybe this was all meant to happen. Perhaps it was a message, that you should have waited for your family to have a free day, or for your friend to come back from vacation. Would the same things have happened? There was no way to tell. Just as you reached a specifically exciting scene in the novel, a figure suddenly appeared in front of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Hey,” the handsome lifeguard stood there, smiling kindly. Wide-eyed, you straightened up and greeted him shyly.

“I couldn’t help but notice how happy you were about that ice cream earlier,” he said. “But then you…lost your ice cream.”

“What an interesting way of saying I stomped on it and made an absolute fool of myself,” you smirked. He chuckled.

“However you want to put it, I thought maybe you could use some cheering up,” he went on. “So I got you a new one.”

He pulled two ice-lollies from behind his back. “One for you, one for me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You bought me this? I don’t want to sound rude… but aren’t you supposed to be looking out for the next victim to repeat my foolery?”

“I’m on my break,” he laughed. His eyes crinkled up cutely when he smiled, and it only made your stomach flutter more. “If you want me to leave, I will. I’m not trying to be weird or obtruding. Just making sure you’re okay, because I noticed you’re here alone.”

“Oh. No! Feel free to stay here for as long as you want!” you said, and now maybe you were the one sounding obtrusive. You scooted over and let him take a spot on your bathmat. You thanked him for the ice cream and gleefully unwrapped it. “My friends and family weren’t available today. But I really, really wanted to come here today. Maybe not my brightest idea.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen way worse plunges than yours. You were lucky, really. You got away with a small shock and nothing more. It was pretty impressive, actually.”

“I’m glad I have entertaining qualities, at least.”

“I’m just messing with you,” he laughed. “I’m glad you’re fine. This place gets a little wild during the afternoon, especially on weekends.”

“You don’t say,” you chuckled.

“I recommend coming here in the mornings or late evenings, if you want a little more peace and quiet.”

“Thanks, I’ll probably consider it. Do you work here full time?” you asked.

“No, this is just a summer job,” he said. “It’s great. I get to swim for free and be outside a lot. Not to mention this is one of my favorite places in town.”

“You love swimming too?” you asked and regretted it right away. A lifeguard who hated swimming made no sense, after all. But he didn’t seem to think your words were silly.

“I do! I come here a lot to swim, when it’s not as busy and I don’t have to work,” he said. The thought of seeing him again when you came back in a few days – which you already knew you would – made you feel some sort of way. You had been embarrassed, but his sweet words had appeased you. You could definitely get used to seeing his face all summer long. The two of you talked for some time, while you both finished your ice cream. You learned his name, which was just as beautiful as its owner, and that he thought you had actually looked pretty cute (!) when you fell into the pool. You swore he wasn’t even real. Perhaps he was merely a hallucination, a product of your imagination, to cheer yourself up after your messy day. Either way, your head was up in the clouds as long as he was sitting there, next to you, with his perfect shoulders and charming voice. Soon, he had to excuse himself, though. His break was over and as he had put it, he needed to prevent any more ice cream-murders from happening.

After your conversation, the universe had apparently shifted in your favor. You spent the entire rest of your day without any more misfortunes. Like you had talked to a lucky charm who had done miracles for you, you had a fantastic time. You were even brave enough to face a few more go’s down the ever-so-threatening waterslide. As it got later, more people went home, and just as he had predicted, things calmed down. And you were convinced you would stay until the bitter end. Only when a female voice announced over the speakers that the swimming pool would close in 30 minutes, you slowly started to pack up your things.

As you approached the exit, you scanned the area for your favorite lifeguard. But he was nowhere to be found. You assumed he had already finished his shift and gone home. But as luck would have it, as you neared the bicycle stands to retrieve your bike, you saw him already there. His eyes beamed when he noticed you.

“Wow, you held out a long time,” he said. “Had fun?”

“I did,” you said. You could only be grateful your ice-cream massacre was the sole of your antics he had witnessed that afternoon. Who knew how he would look at you if he had experienced your full chaotic capacity? “Thank you again, for making sure I was fine. And for the ice cream.”

“It was no big deal,” he said. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“To buy random girls ice cream?” you teased.

“No, only the special ones get the ice cream.”

“Define special.”

“To be honest? I was genuinely concerned you would feel down. I’ve seen you almost trip over when you first came in, you got hit in the face by a ball, I’ve witnessed your little quarrel with that bug and your somersault from the waterslide looked pretty rough. After all that you choked on water and then ended up falling into the pool and losing your ice cream. I supposed you could need some serious cheering up.”

Oh my god. If only you could have opened a portal straight to hell, you would have taken the chance on the spot. All this time he had been watching you? It couldn’t get more mortifying than this.

“Sorry, I sound like some creepy stalker,” he said. “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just you-“

“I looked like a clown in a neon suit?”

“You’re really pretty,” he said. Your cheeks warmed up and you could have yelled out loud.

“But you have to admit, at least the clown part is true.”

“Maybe,” he joked. “Don’t be embarrassed. I thought you were – are – adorable.”

“Thank you,” you managed to say. What the hell were you doing? The most handsome guy was complimenting you. You had to take your chance. “Maybe sometime I could buy you some ice cream too? If you feel like it-“

“I’d love that,” he smiled. It was only the beginning of summer, but it was a glorious one. You already knew it could only get better. Instead of cursing the universe, you had to say your thank you’s now. Without your string of bad luck, things would have never led this way. Perhaps fortune was on your side, after all.

231 notes · View notes

cto10121 · 3 years

Text

review of romeu e julieta (2012) at the globe. thanks to @ariel-seagull-wings for the tag!

so this was a performance by a brazilian troupe in london’s globe itself! i’m shocked that this was even a thing and had the devil of a time wondering if the audience could even understand (conclusion: they did, as they laughed at key lines. surtitles it is). what a treat. so i regret to say that this is one of the worst productions i’ve seen of r&j in awhile. yeah, it was bad. i’ll hugo montenegro-it some more

the good:

portuguese!!!!! tão lindo, always so nice to hear, and the translation of the shakespeare sounded consistently good. the deliveries were fine. this production decided to add in superfluous original lines by the chorus figure to explain the story better. might as well

um. juliet had some elegance? very swan lake-swan.

the friar playing the nino rota love theme from the ‘68 film. made me long to see that movie again

there was a speech in english by the chorus that sounded pretty good. well-written, actually.

that’s it

the bad:

no prologue, even though there was a freakin’ chorus they used substantially. at least in the other globe production there were three choruses—not ideal, but better than nothing

no fight scene (no, i don’t count whatever the hell that was in the beginning). tybalt’s role was so diminished it was painful

romeo on stilts half the time for no reason. at first i thought it was a ~metaphor for how he is so in-the-clouds in his false love over rosaline and how juliet’s love grounds him back to earth. but nope. that’s apparently giving this vacuous production too much credit. after meeting juliet he is back on those damn stilts.

the interpretations were bad. romeo looked mostly pained, juliet just would not stop smiling up until the second half, (she could not do drama, period) benvolio is just whatever about romeo’s pining for rosaline, the nurse insufferable, the friar is a goofy hipster, (?) and tybalt and mercutio nigh non-entities

the endless songs. part of a larger trend, i know (the english-language productions do as much), but in this production it was nigh insufferable. the production really had to use the chorus as the figurative glue because they cut out swaths of text and filled at least a quarter with songs. romeo consistently sang and it was awful. if i hear flor, minha flor one more goddamn time, i’m going to lose it. you want romeu e julieta the musical? do presgurvic in portuguese. or just hit up br0adwaybaby1, she has it in the bag.

yet another production that plays the first half as a comedy and the other half a tragedy. no, no, and no. for one thing, the comic bits weren’t even entertaining, but excruciating and cringey. thanks to this need to entertain or else wrap everything in ironic self-detachment, the black satire of the first half is entirely missed, the romance devoid of passion and therefore reason, and even the feud was not well-established at all.

the ugly:

the short length. i had a feeling this wouldn’t be a great production when i saw the runtime. good r&j productions are never under 2 hours. the globe did an abridged version that was barely adequate, but it also had problems with emotion. probably that filmed live theater version was the only okay abridged version.

the whole beginning sequence. i nearly hit the back arrow, but fortunately i am made of sterner stuff. i lived through weirder r&j stuff before and it has made me strong, you hear?

costumes, sets, the works. this was obviously a minimalist production, but the choices they made went way in the clown direction, literally. there was a car on stage and the nurse had sack boobs. enough saidq

apart from its ubiquity, the music was horrible. par de course for the globe, but still. there was one song r&j sang during their parting scene that wasn’t too bad. but i don’t especially remember it either

one of the most unbelievable r&js i’ve seen in awhile, probably even more so than the other globe production. no gravitas, no passion, not even sweetness. they got better towards the end, but it was way too late. the best i can say about these two is that they didn’t play r&j as caricatures of horny teens, nor did they clown their way through the balcony. small miracles

so i’m completely baffled if pleased that foreign-language productions are apparently a thing in london. but this ain’t it. in short, this version did nothing new with the material; if anything, it took all the worst ideas of most english-language productions (it’s a comedy and then a tragedy! no prologue! tons of music for no good reason! short runtime! excessive clownery!) and performed it in portuguese. this could have been an english-language production and no one would have batted an eye. the critics must have seen worse. i’ve been reading the reviews of some stage r&js in the guardian and even the worst-sounding of them have gotten positive reviews, the critics have gotten so craven.

you want r&j but done differently with contemporary resonance and tons of music? again, broken record here…do. gerard. presgurvic’s musical!!!!!! you fiends

#romeo and juliet #romeu e julieta #the globe theatre #cristina reviews #sorry if it sounds harsh #but there is only so much more of this that i can take #oh and the chorus figure is supposedly shakespeare #but well he didn’t act like shakespeare so #cristina watches

5 notes · View notes

hypnomicimagines · 4 years

Text

☂️Rainy Day Blues☂️[Nurude Sasara]☂️

Oh, how tragedy loved to strike Sasara when he least expected it.

He had been walking to your house with an extra pep in his step, the fresh bouquet he’d picked up along the way only lifting his mood. He was stuck in daydreams even before he reached you, thinking about how lovely you’d look that night and how he couldn’t wait to do the little things like hold your hand as you were on the way to your date destination. He thought that nothing could possibly dampen his happiness, that him finally confessing after years of being in relationship purgatory had made him see the brighter side of any situation, but it seemed he still had blinders on in some aspects. His parade was about to be rained on.

Literally.

Sasara didn’t know where the icy rain had come from but it hit him like a sack of bricks, goosebumps rising on his skin as his leisurely walk turned into a marathon run as he made his way to your apartment complex. He hadn’t checked the weather forecast, who did that anymore? Clearly Sasara’s hubris had upset the weather Gods as he caught sight of himself in a window, no longer looking like your handsome suitor but a sad clown that had just walked through a door with a bucket of water precariously balanced on top of it. The bouquet is just as pathetic as he is, and hey, aren’t flowers supposed to like water? Why were they drooping like that? You’d probably laugh in his face when you saw them.

You did.

He had to get you back somehow for laughing at his plight despite the fact your laughter had quickly washed away every negative emotion he’d previously been feeling. He had to get you back somehow and decided to show you his best ‘wet dog’ impersonation, shaking his hair out in your doorway and giving you a little preview of what it was like outside. The rain had only started to come down harder, thunder and lightning being added to the mix, meaning it was unlikely the date would continue as planned. Not to mention his hair which he had spent an entire three minutes and seven seconds on was now a poofed out mess due to how he chose to dry out his hair, not that you seemed to mind. You laughed again at his saggy bouquet, telling him you loved it no matter how pathetic it looked (he hoped that was the last time he ever heard that).

“We can just spend the night in. Why do you look so excited that I said that? Did you think I’d tell you to walk home?”

“I’d never accuse you of something so cold-hearted!”

“Good, I’m glad to see the rain hasn’t washed away your remaining brain cell. Come in and change your clothes, too, as much as I love seeing you be a complete eyesore, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Shouldn’t you stripping me of my clothes wait until after dinner? Not that I mind.”

“You know what… Maybe walking home in the rain is just what you need. Maybe you’ll get struck by lightning and have some sort of epiphany that’ll make you funny.”

“Now you really sound like Rosho,” Sasara sighed out, fighting the smile that wanted to break out on his face so he could keep up the ‘hurt’ façade he was putting on, “To think that the person I love most would say such things to me… I’ll go back outside to hide my tears!”

“Bye.”

You closed the door behind him as he stepped into your apartment, heading straight to your bedroom and thinking about how he had essentially done a speed run of the date. He hadn’t suspected he’d be here until a little bit later but he couldn’t say he was complaining as you joined him, digging through your drawers for some spare clothes that he had left behind the various other times he’d stayed over on a whim. He purposely left his clothes with you just so you’d always have something to remember him by, weaseling his way into your heart first and now your home, hoping that he might even get a whole draw just for his stuff one day. His apartment was certainly the winner with its scenic view but since you had yet to talk about the whole ‘moving in’ thing, he decided he’d get you used to the idea by leaving random things of his behind so you were used to it when it finally did happen.

“Here you go.” You set the clothes down on the counter, taking a second to admire how cute he looked with a wet mop of hair on his head, reaching over to run your fingers through it just for good measure, “I’d say take a shower but I don’t actually want you struck by lightning.”

“But you seem to like my hair so much… It could become a permanent fixture with the help of electricity.”

“I do like it,” You confirmed, smiling as you stroked his hair fondly, Sasara’s heart pounding loudly in his chest, “Almost as much as I like you. Get changed while I try to find some candles. I can’t imagine we’re going to have power too long so…”

You spoke the unfortunate lightning strike into existence that completely knocked out anything electrical in the apartment building and part of Sasara wonders if you had spoken the rain into existence, too. Had this been your plan all along? Had you wanted to just trap him in your room from the get-go, using him for your own needs and then discarding him afterward? Sasara considered suggesting that type of supervillain roleplay on a less romantic night but for now his head was still in the clouds, wanting to do simple things like hold your hand and cuddle against you, sucking the warmth out of you as he had no spare warmth to give at this point.

“Y-You’re cold!” Sasara had reached out to touch you when the lights had first gone out, wanting to assure you were still there and okay first, “Just be careful as you get changed! I’ll be right back!”

You’re only gone about ten minutes but it’s so painfully lonely in the bathroom without you, Sasara already thinking about the letter he’d write to you if you had gone off to war. He would be the lonely maiden waiting by the window, longing to see their love again, dramatically falling to the ground as he received the news that you had passed away. He was already thinking about how he’d meet your ghost in the afterlife to confirm he never fell in love again when you entered the bathroom, face highlighted by a small candle that he’s almost positive he had gifted you.

“Come on, come on! It’s a little better in the living room and the blankets are all out.” You moved the candle to one hand and reached down to grab his, fingers lacing together without words having to even be exchanged. “I don’t want you getting lost.”

“The only place I’ll get lost is in your eyes, beautiful.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re lucky you’re cute? Because you’re sooo lucky you’re cute!” He can tell from your tone that there’s a wide smile on your face, the one that made him feel like the most successful comedian in the world. Getting you to laugh was no easy task and you had never been one to show him even a dollop of mercy when it came to his material but it made it all the more worth it when he got to hear you laugh. Every time you laughed an angel grew its wings, that’s how the saying went, right? It doesn’t matter as his brain is entirely centered around you and only you, especially as the two of you seat yourselves on your ridiculously comfortable couch.

“I don’t know what we’ll eat… It’s gonna be cold and sad.”

“As long as we’re not cold and sad, it’s fine, right?”

“Fair enough.”

His arm wrapped around you as you threw your legs across his lap, the blanket quickly following suit as you curled up into his side. You wondered how many people would be surprised that Mr. Tragic Comedy was not only a total romantic but a stage five clinger, unlikely to give you a moment alone now that you had both finally settled in together. Sasara valued his privacy from time to time but when it came to you, it seemed his social battery could never run out; he wanted to be around you, to be with you, to be touching you and talking to you as much as he possibly could.

“What should we do?” Sasara quickly grew uncomfortable with the silence and you felt bad for your boyfriend, knowing his anxiety tended to spike in the silence. You wished you had something to act as white noise in the background but it seemed all you could do to distract him was talk, or listen to a slew of jokes that would have you standing in the rain rather than being in your own apartment if they were on par with the normal puns he liked to deliver.

“Tell me about your day before you got here. Did you talk to Rosho about your birthday plans?”

Sasara is grateful for the conversation starter as once he’s begun to talk, he’s adept at not shutting up again.

It was going to be a long, rainy night, but at least you got to spend it together.

#Nurude Sasara #Sasara Nurude #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypmic #Hypnomic #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Hypnosis Microphone x Reader #Hypmic x Reader #hypnomic x reader #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypmic Imagines #Hypnomic Imagines #Nurude Sasara x Reader #Sasara Nurude x Reader #Scenario

106 notes · View notes

itsapapisongo · 3 years

Text

Soul Nemeses! | WINWIN

Starring: Winwin ft. Hendery

Genre: Comedy | Superhero

Concept: Supervillain!Winwin (The Lobe) | Superhero!Hendery (Freakazoid)

Word Count: 2,786

Prompts: “Stop screaming, it’s just me.” + “I don’t think that’s legal, but we can work around it.”

Notes: The following is (1) an absurd short-story for the @ficscafe’s dialogue prompt event and (2) a writing exercise to get into a headspace where I can be as silly as possible. Freak Out! is a story I’m very excited for and this was a way to explore the characters and their dynamic. So, without further ado, I genuinely hope you enjoy this VERY SPECIAL EPISODE of Freak Out!

Taglist: @stayinzencity @mother-hyucker @lebrookestore @doievoir @du0tine @naptaemed

All is well in Way City.

Which is to say it’s really not and something is about to happen to disrupt that all-is-well feeling across town. Because a day can’t go by without some burglar, mad scientist, or supervillain indulging in their burglary, mad science, or super-evil shenanigans.

Thus we turn our attention to a deserted, discolored, and depressing city landmark: The Daebak Fair. Once it used to be the kind of place that burst with laughter and excitement, where money flowed every weekend and kept the owners’ pockets heavy and full. People couldn’t get enough of it until, well, they got enough of it.

So much so that it became free real estate for any villain that felt like using the abandoned fair as their lair. This changed, however, when Winwin decided he didn’t feel like sharing. He bought the place, and officially made it his holiday lair. And it’s here that our story takes place.

What once used to be a house of mirrors is now a workplace where a plethora of patented inventions specifically designed for destruction are built, reserved-engineered, dismantled, and kept out of his rivals’ hands.

With all the bells and whistles removed, the lair is quite spacious. Having decorated the place himself, Winwin has hung stolen paintings all over the walls and set tables for dissection, welding, engineering, and even, if he was ever in the mood, arts and crafts. The whole thing has Mad Scientist meets Bob Ross vibes and it’s both odd and endearing.

Winwin is currently dismantling his latest invention—a large crane-looking thingie fitted on the roof a modified golf-cart—out of boredom and frustration after being foiled once again by that red-wearing, annoying, ne’er-do-well freak of a nemesis.

“I can’t believe him,” Winwin grumbles, shaking his head for the nth time. Seeing as he’s alone, he says this to no one in particular. “I craft the perfect plan and he finds a way to thwart it!”

Who would have thought that Freakazoid would have convinced him that creating a gas capable of turning people into clown zombies to do his bidding would be the stupidest masterplan ever? Winwin felt like he was failing as a villain, not challenging his nemesis enough. He had wondered then and still wonders now if he’s losing it, if he’s gone soft yet he knows he’s not, knows he hasn’t.

So why does this recent defeat grind his gears? Why has Freakazoid gotten to him? Though Winwin knew not to take their rivalry seriously, he sometimes did. It’s standard hero-villain stuff—to hurl insults and humiliate one another—yet something felt off.

He stops working and thinks back to their encounter.

CUT TO: HOURS AGO, IN A COLD, TALL, AND VAGUELY EUROPEAN MOUNTAIN

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Freakazoid had said, hanging off the side of a snowy cliff, for their confrontation had taken place in a cold, tall, and vaguely European mountain. With an impressive leap and a landing, he stood in front of Winwin and pointed a finger at him. “That’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard of! People don’t like clowns, dummy! People are terrified of clowns! Ever heard of It?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—’tis a good plan!”

Freakazoid rolled his eyes, scoffing.“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh,” Winwin replied, feeling instant regret for lowering himself to his nemesis’ childish argumentative skills. “It’s a brilliant plan!”

“No, it’s dumb, dumb, dumb!”

And then they debated like adults for a minute or two—

(“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”)

—until Freakazoid clicked his tongue and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Pack it up, big brain,” he told him, not unkindly but definitely disappointed.

“Why should I? I already have a small zombie army at my disposal.”

“Small clown zombie army at your disposal.”

Winwin groaned in exasperation. “Yes, yes, that.”

“You’re doing this out here in the middle of nowhere. There aren’t even that many people around so I wouldn’t call it an army. I’d call it a small terrifying crowd.”

“Oh.”

Freakazoid nodded and crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side. “Did you even think this through?”

Winwin suddenly found himself speechless. Genuinely and anxiously speechless. He didn’t have an answer other than “I don’t know” and he hated resorting to admitting he didn’t know anything. He was the most brilliant supervillain in all of Way City—the Lobe, some called him—and admitting ignorance was (1) not on brand for him and (2) his worst nightmare.

“I don’t—I’m not sure—I—”

“Alright, you.” Freakazoid shook his head and gently guided him away by his elbow. “Pack it up. Get out of here.”

“But—”

“No butts, not tiddies, not ding-a-lings,” said the hero, his pout a judgemental feature in his face. “I expected a lot more from you. Clown zombies? Aiya.”

“I—” Winwin’s eyes widened and he felt them welling up with tears. “You’re right. I think I’m overdoing it. I might be overtired. It’s the best I could do on such short notice.”

“Turn off the cloud.”

And so he did. Winwin turned to see Freakazoid—lean, clad in red, black domino mask concealing his identity, his insignia that of F and an exclamation point on his chest, his black hair, slicked back as always, haswhite streak in the shape of a bolt across it—grimacing back at him. For a second, Winwin thought he could hear the world’s tiniest violin play a sad tune for himself as he pouted and got on the modified golf-cart he’d driven around the mountain to spread the gas around.

“Hey, big brain,” he heard Freakazoid call after him, the hero’s voice distant. He noticed it had softened somewhat. “It’s a dumb plan but I know you can do better.”

“Thanks, Freakazoid,” Winwin mumbled as his nemesis gave him a thumbs-up.

The moment was ruined the moment the idiot in red opened his mouth again—

“Now, git!”

CUT TO: NOW, BACK TO WINWIN’S LAIR

“Can’t believe I cried in front of him,” Winwin says, cringing.

“Yeah, me neither,” says a familiar voice.

Startled, Winwin squeals then yelps. A wrench flies off his hand as he falls off four feet to the ground and lands squarely on his bottom. He groans, and feels the back of his head throbbing. Opening his eyes, he blinks once, twice, thrice until he makes out the unmistakable silhouette of his nemesis looking down at him. Freakazoid couches and leans in so close, Winwin can feel his breath against his forehead.

“Stop screaming,” the hero says, “it’s just me.”

“Stop scream—are you serious? You nearly gave me a heart attack, you imbecile!”

“I know but that’s no reason to scream your lungs out.” Freakazoid offers his right hand and a half-smile. “Time to go upsies, big brain.”

Winwin glares, refusing the offer for help. “I don’t need your—” he begins but is cut off when he’s lifted off the floor. It’s both rough and gentle, in that he feels he’s taken several tight turns in a roller coaster without whiplash and is suddenly standing upright without imbalance. “Thank you.”

Freakazoid waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t mention it.”

“I won’t.” Winwin scoffs then wags a firm finger in a gesture of warning. “Nor shall you mention that I cried all the way up there in those cold, tall, and vaguely European mountains.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Freakazoid raises a hand, making a gesture that’s supposed to imply his discretion. He frowns then tilts his head with a shrug. “I mean I would dream of it so I might come up. Like, cards on the table, I might tell some of my dream friends about it.”

A beat as Winwin glares, turns to a camera that’s not there, and rolls his eyes.

“Are you quite finished?”

“No, not really—”

Winwin sighs and turns, picking up the wrench he dropped and returning to his work. “Why are you here, Freakazoid?” he asks, his voice laced with despondency.

“Oh,” is all Freakazoid manages to say. Winwin hears him clear his throat and take a step forward. “About that. I came to apologize, big brain. Didn’t mean to be, well, mean to you. It’s just that—” he pauses and the villain can practically see him shrugging. “—I think I’ve been a bit overworked too.”

“Was it your idea to apologize or was it Sgt. Qian’s?”

“That’s neither near or far.”

Winwin groans, doing his best to not roll his eyes or rub his face. “Neither here or there,” he corrects him.

“Exactamundo!”

“Did you come here to aggravate me?”

Freakazoid deflates, looking forlorn for a second before he clears his throat and the usual and insufferable aura of confidence that encompasses his very being returns. He smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck.

“Come on, big brain, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s just that—” Freakazoid groans, throwing his head back like a teeanger not wanting to admit he’s responsible for some wrongdoing. “—it was such a good plan!”

Winwin’s eyes widen as he takes a step forward and squeezes Freakazoid’s shoulders. “Come again?” he queries. “It was a good plan?”

“I mean—duh!—zombies I can handle but clowns? Geez. Ugh. No. Nightmare fuel.”

“So you did like it?”

“Like it? No, bud, I absolutely, definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, love it. Let me tell you, Lobe, it’s—” Freakazoid motions he’s kissing his fingers then wiggles his left hand as if to say mamma mia. “— diabolical.”

Winwin feels warmth spread across his cheeks and immediately clears his throat, looking away to avoid giving Freakazoid any satisfaction or a glimpse at his embarrassment. He laser-focuses on taking apart a component from the machine, cautious not to tinker much with the cylinder that contains the clown zombie gas, and pretends he’s not giddy with excitement and validation.

Then, just as he’s going to turn and give him his thanks, Freakazoid open his mouth and yet again ruins the moment—

“It’s diabolical, but stupid.”

Winwin mutters angrily under his breath, every fiber of his being urging him to reach for that knock-out gas he’d been working on for the past few days—or, perhaps, that disintegrating rifle that has been gathering dust for God knows how long—yet relents when he sees the look of concentration in Freakazoid’s face. The hero looks like he’s seriously considering why he feels Winwin’s plan was, in his words, diabolical but stupid.

And the villain, overwhelmed with both anger and vile curiosity, crosses his arms, taps his foot, and grits his teeth.

“Go on . . .”

“It’s—how to put this lightly?—immensely stupid yet awesomely evil in that you didn’t think it through but it has potential to really ruin my day if done correctly.” Freakazoid throws his arm around Winwin’s shoulder, pulling him close. “See what I mean, old chump?”

“You and I are not chumps.”

Freakazoid gasps and pouts, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. “And here I was thinking you were my nemesis,” he whispers in a low, wheezing voice. “I thought we were soul-nemeses.”

“I mean—” Winwin blushes again and his eyes widen the second he realizes Freakazoid notices his blushing. “We are nemeses, yes, but we are definitely not chumps.”

“Could we ever be chumps?”

Winwin sighs, rolling his eyes. “I believe so.”

“Ah, big brain, I knew you cared!”

“Yes, yes, caring.” The villain nods and pushes his nemesis off himself, “You’ve apologized, insulted me yet again, and tried to be my, as you say, chump. I believe that’s enough banter for a day.”

“Touché.” Freakazoid smiles. “I’ve made plenty of shameless jokes at your expense today.”

“And I’m certain they won’t be the last.”

“You know me,” the hero blinks, pointing a thumb at himself. He glances at the contraption built on the roof of the modified golf-cart and a glint of curiosity and mischief appears in his eyes. Despite wearing a domino mask, Freakazoid could be inexplicably expressive. “Whatcha up to?”

“Dismantling this heap of scrap metal.” Winwin turns so fast that it’s impossible for Freakazoid not to notice the frustration apparent in his face. He smacks the wrench against the roof of the cart and winces when it slips out of his hand. “Damn it.”

“Here, let me help,” Freakazoid offers, guiding Winwin away from the cart. “I need some space.”

Before Winwin can protest, a gust of wind pushes him back. He blinks to see nothing but a blur of motion and a shower of white sparks moving around the golf cart. It’s so fast that he glimpses at Freakazoid’s silhouette twice before the hero stands next to him, wiping his hands with a dirty rag. It reminds Winwin of a mechanic finishing up a check-up on a car in desperate need of maintenance.

“There.” The hero throws the rag over his shoulder. “Doneso.”

“How did you—” Winwin blabbers, flabbergasted at how thorough Freakazoid had been. Every piece is laid on a table that hadn’t previously been there, each component perfectly classified, and all the parts that were supposed to be tossed away neatly put on a trash bag. “How’s that possible?”

“Come on, brainy,” Freakzaoid scoffs, clapping Winwin in the back and making him yelp and glare at him. “We’ve been at this for a while now. If I can think of it, I can do it.”

“That’s not a very reassuring thought.”

For a second, Freakazoid’s smile disappears and a haunted look passes through his eyes. “I know,” he whispers ominously. Then he’s flashing that bright and infuriating smile of his as nothing has happened. “Anyways, I gots to get going.”

That stops Winwin dead on his tracks. Usually, after some crime-spree or being foiled and getting away, Freakazoid would burst in wherever Winwin was currently laying low on, say his cheesy heroic lines, and promptly deliver him to the authorities—which was always, without fail, to Sgt. Qian—and they would call it a night.

Here he is, apologizing, acting like Winwin hadn’t enacted yet another brilliant and evil plan—even though he had deemed it dumb—and being overall far more obnoxious than usual. Yeah, something’s definitely off tonight.

“Whoa, whoa, aren’t you going to take me in?” Winwin protests and instantly groans when he notices his hand on Freakazoid’s forearm, like a lover begging their other half not to leave. He lets go and sheepishly clears his throat. “You might have thwarted me today but I still turned a couple of people into clown zombies. That has to be a crime somewhere.”

“Definitely a crime somewhere, but they’re all good now. All they needed was some fresh-air. No harm, no foul.” Freakazoid shrugs then grimaces. “Although, no, not really. A couple of people were traumatized so there was some harm involved.”

“You see?” Winwin cackles and offers his hand, waiting to be handcuffed. “Take me in!”

“Not tonight, brainy. I’m all tuckered out and Kun invented me out for ice-cream. We can do that tomorrow, though.”

Winwin opens his mouth then closes it, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. “That seems awfully irresponsible.”

“Oh, it is.” Freakazoid snorts, turning to leave. “But I’m getting some ice-cream and Kun’s paying.”

“If you don’t take me in now, Freakazoid, I’ll come up with a worse plan tomorrow and enact it without mercy.” Winwin poses, raising his hands above to display his collection of inventions and devices solely designed for destruction and chaos. “For I live to oppose you. So it is written. So it shall be done.”

The hero blinks, holds his chin, looking pensive for a second, hums, then shrugs with an impassive expression. “I don’t think that’s legal, but we can work around it.”

“I—” Winwin raises and lowers a finger, deflated.

He could reschedule, postpone some things, advance others before he unleashed absolute chaos on the city. He knows can make it work. It would be business as usual.

With a mental note to not start his rampage before dinner time, he slowly and painfully rolls his eyes and huffs, “Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow then.”

“Goodie!” Freakazoid claps, pulling Winwin close for a hug. “Ice cream today. Possible disaster tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Winwin replies through gritted teeth.

“Okey-doke, brainy. See you tomorrow.”

One second, Freakazoid is there. The other, he’s gone in a blinding flash of light and a gust of wind that vaguely smells of chocolate. Winwin is left alone, despondent, and secretly impressed. He sighs and rubs the back of his head, feeling the area bruised and sensitive to touch.

Giving his lair the once-over, he slumps on a chair and pops his lips.

“This is my most humiliating defeat,” he grumbles.

A minute later, he decides to call it a night.

And, for the first time this week, all remains well in Way City.

34 notes · View notes

lightupmyass · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Professor! Namjoon x College Student! Reader

Genre: smut, slight angst, comedy and some fluff I think?

Warnings: unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, mentions of masturbation, slight soft dom Joonie, semi public sex, cream pie

Summary: Being the class clown is all fun and games, until you take things a little too far...

Word Count: 4218

You’ve been waiting for this for months. After a boring summer back home, you finally get to come back to school. Most people dread going back, but you loved it. Your hometown was so boring. You loved being at school, seeing your friends, meeting new people. It was exhilarating to you. You fix your hair one more time before grabbing your bag and heading to your very first class of the semester.

As you walk in, you smile wide when you notice a familiar face, and when you catch his eyes, he does the very same. “Yooo, no fucking waaaay.” You laugh, going up to your friend and high fiving him. “That’s my bitch! You didn’t tell me you had this class.” Taehyung laughs, pulling the chair next to him out for you. “Well you didn’t tell me either, man. Bro this is gonna be fucking great.” You smile. Taehyung has been one of your best friends since you started uni, sharing your sense of humor. He was the class clown everywhere he went, and you thrived together. You looked around, seeing a few other familiar faces, but no one you really talked to.

As you and Taehyung caught up, telling each other all about your summers, something else caught your eye. A man walked into the room, his blonde hair slicked back with a small strand falling onto his forehead, round glasses perched perfectly on his nose, and a dark blue button up shirt tucked into black slacks. He looked young, older than any other student, but too young to be the professor. You Tried to ignore him, but watched him out of the corner of your eye, seeing him set his things on the teacher’s desk and grab a marker from the white board.

“Alright, good morning everybody.” He turned to face the class, a small smile on his face, his dimples prominent, giving him an even more youthful look. “My name is Mr. Kim.” He says, writing it on the board. “I am your professor for English 3. Are their any questions before we get started?” He asks. One of the girls raises her hand, and he points at her. “Sorry if I’m being too forward, Professor, but how old are you?” She asks, smiling at him. “Ah,” he chuckles, “I’m actually 27. I just graduated last year actually so this is my first year teaching.” He explains. Damn, he’s pretty young. “Any other questions?” When he asks that, you get an idea. You nudge Taehyung, smiling as you raise your hand. “Yes?” Mr. Kim asks, pointing at you. “Um yes, I have a question. Do you think busses in medieval times were just very long carriages, Sir?” You ask, Taehyung bursting with laughter the second you stopped talking, a few of the other students chuckling as well. Mr. Kim raised an eyebrow at you, putting his hands behind his back. “Do we have anymore questions about this class?” “Ooh, I have one Sir!” Taehyung raises his hand, a big, wicked smile on his face. “Can we do magic tricks in here?” Mr. Kim looked at him, a small part of his soul leaving his body as he realized what he had gotten himself into. Why did he become a professor? He may never know the truth. “Yes, you can absolutely do magic. In fact, if you keep asking me questions that waste my time and the class's, I’ll do one myself and make you disappear.” A round of ooohs echoed off the walls, Taehyung slumping down in his seat. For once in his life, Taehyung might’ve met his match. This made the young, handsome teacher all the more intriguing to you.

Over the next month you and Taehyung had stuck your claim as the class clowns, as you’ve been doing since the two of my met. You were a chaotic duo that made the best out of any boring lecture. You did ask a few more stupid questions in Mr. Kim's class, but he never acted upon that little “threat" he made on the first day. In all honesty, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. He was funny, sweet, and still super attractive. He was also very philosophical, always bringing up discussions in the classroom that were open for debate, which you gladly joined with complete seriousness. His face when you first spoke without making some joke for comic relief was one of shock, to say the least.

You enjoyed his class very much, but it wasn’t until one night that you really saw Mr. Kim for who he was. It was a night where you and Tae had decided to go out to a little bar that was off campus you two found during your second semester of school. It was quiet, relaxing, and intimate. Not many people from your school come in, so you don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of fellow classmates (which you never worry about anyway but, you know). Tae had left you alone in favor of going home with a girl he had met, meaning that you were sitting at the bar, alone and bored. As you wave the bartender over to ask for another drink, you see a familiar, tall figure slouched on the bar, a big difference from his usual perfect posture, his normally slick blonde hair falling onto his forehead, looking as soft as a cloud.

Curious, you get down from your stool, making your way over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Kim?” You ask, grabbing his attention. He turns on his stool, his cheeks slightly pink as he straightens himself up. “Ah, Y/N. Didn’t expect I’d see anyone from school here.” He mumbles a bit, a slight slur in his voice. He must’ve been here for a while. “Yeah, uh, Tae and I come here a lot. Mind if I sit?” You ask, Mr. Kim nodding. Taking the seat next to him, the bartender brings you your drink. “Are you alright, Mr. Kim? You don’t look like yourself.” You ask. He stiffens up a bit, running his fingers through his hair, the action making his button up shirt tighten around his biceps and back. “Yes, I’m fine. Just kinda, drowning away the work week, you know?” He answers. “I’m sure being a professor isn’t easy. Especially with idiots like Tae and I.” You chuckle, Mr. Kim doing the same. “Nah, you guys aren’t that bad. I actually enjoy some of the things you two come up with. I mean, ‘who would win in a fight between a manatee and a praying mantis?’ like what?” He laughs loudly, making you feel good at the question you asked him just last week.

“I thought we annoyed you. You’re always so serious in class.” You admitted. “On the contrary, you guys brighten my day. Since this is my first year of teaching, I have to try and maintain a strict classroom in order to feel as if I’m actually doing a good job, but its always good to have a laugh every now and then.” He smiles at you, his dimples making your heart flutter. “Why did you become a teacher so early?” The question sneaks up on you, and you’re not sure if it was a good one or not, but you’re curious. “Honestly, I just needed something that would give me money while I wrote my book.” He answers. “Book? You’re writing a book?” He chuckles a bit, taking another sip of his drink. “Of course I’m writing a book. I’m an English major, its not like I can go get a CEO position in a big business with a paper that says ‘I know how to read and write good'.” He jokes, putting a smile on your face. “Well, Mr. Kim, I never expected you to be such a jokester.” You chuckle. “Please, we’re off campus. Call me Namjoon.”

For the rest of the night you both sat there, talking about his book, your childhood, pretty much anything that came up until the bartender called last round and you realized it was almost 4 am. “Oh, wow, I guess we should be heading out.” You giggle, the alcohol definitely running rampant through your system. You take your card out to pay your tab when Namjoon pushes your hand away. “Its okay. I got it.” You thank him, smiling warmly at him. “Are you okay to go home? Do you want me to walk you? Or call you an Uber?” He asks. “Well, we’re going back to campus, so I feel that an Uber would be better. Don’t want anyone to see us and get the wrong impression.” You point out, him nodding in agreement. He walks you outside, waiting with you. “You know, I have always wondered something about you, Y/N.” He says, catching you a bit off guard. “What’s that?” He stiffens a bit, putting his hands in his pockets as he props himself up against the brick wall. “You’re an amazing student, always turn in exceptional work, so why do you act out? Why not just go through school like normal and be great? Let your work and your character match?” The question actually surprises you a bit. “Well, I assume it could be related to the constant need for attention due to the lack of it from my parents, growing up as a middle child in a family of five kids.” You give him your honest answer. “That makes sense.” There’s a bit of a silence for a moment before he speaks again. “Tonight turned out a lot better than I expected. I normally drink alone, but having company was nice.” He smiles. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Kim. I had a lot of fun too. I saw you as an actual person for once.” You respond. There’s a moment when you turn to face him, his cheeks still tinged pink from the alcohol and his eyes hazy, his body leaning lazily against the wall. There’s a moment when your eyes meet, and the sounds of the last few people leaving the bar fades away, where its just the two of you, and you can’t help the way your heart races, an urge so strong you want to act upon. However, you don’t even need to, because before you know it, his lips are on yours, heat radiating between you in this moment, this moment of passion, where you forget who he is, what he is to you, where all you can think about is how soft his lips are, how his strong hands grip your waist, and how his chest feels pressed against yours. Before you know it, the moment is over, he pulls away with heavy breaths, leaving you cold with his taste still on your lips. “I-I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. God I’m such a fucking idiot.” He steps back, putting his hand on his forehead as he leans back against the wall. “No, no its okay. I didn’t mind-" You stop when you see him looking behind you, the light from headlights flooding where you were standing. “That’s the Uber.” He clears his throat, straightening himself up again. “Have a good night, Y/N. I’ll see you in class on Monday.” He says, and just like that, he’s gone, walking alone in the shadows in the opposite direction.

Another month passes by. You have to admit, there’s a lot of tension between the two of you ever since that night. However, the kiss has somehow made you even more dangerous to him. Not that he was afraid you’d tell someone, because for someone who was a loud mouth in class, you assured him you knew how to keep a secret. Yet the knowledge that he was attracted to you gave you more power in other ways. You started to dress a little different in class, hoping to tease him a little bit, the kiss making you crave more from him. Short skirts and sundresses were now your typical outfit, and you could tell that he enjoyed seeing them without him needing to tell you anything. Even after your chat that night though, you never slowed down with your stupid questions or remarks, keeping your title in the class. You liked pushing him a bit, trying to see where he’d draw the line. No matter how hard you pushed, he didn’t seem to waver at all.

Class started normally, just like any other day, Mr. Kim calling roll call and Taehyung answering with something stupid. It all changed when Mr. Kim asked “Does anyone have any questions before we start?” and oh boy did you have a great one for today. You raise your hand, the look of false annoyance already washing over his face. You know he loves your jokes, he just has to act like he doesn’t. “Yes, Miss Y/N?” Now is your time to shine. Maybe this’ll be his limit. “Ah yes, Sir, I would like to know, where do babies come from?” You ask, Taehyung immediately erupting with laughter as a few other student giggle, a few others groaning, sick of your bullshit. Mr. Kim nods a bit before responding. “Y/N, I need you to stay after so we can discuss your behavior in my class.” The seriousness in his voice scares you, the only thing able to come out of your mouth is a small “Yes Sir".

The rest of class drags on, the fear of what will happen after class making your stomach hurt. You wonder if you really did it this time, if you pushed him past his breaking point. The moment he dismisses everyone is the moment your heart drops into your stomach, Taehyung patting you on the back before leaving the classroom, leaving you and Mr. Kim alone. “Mr. Kim, I-" “Namjoon. Call me Namjoon now, Y/N. Its just us.” He corrects you, a bit of your worry fading away at the calm tone of his voice. “Namjoon, I’m sorry if I took it too far. I really am.” You apologize, and for once in your life its genuine. “Its alright, Y/N. Come up here.” He says, coaxing you to the front of the room with two fingers. You move quickly, something about the dominance he radiates right now overwhelming you. He gets up out of his chair, walking slowly to the door. “You know how much I enjoy your jokes,” he starts, locking the door, “but there is a limit. However, I do strive to be the best teacher I can be, Miss Y/N, and if one of my students needs help in a certain area of learning, I am willing to teach them.” He says, making his way towards you, the bottom of your ass already resting on his desk. “W-What do you mean?” You stutter, hoping that you understood him right. “Well, you asked me a question, darling. Do you want me to teach you?” He asks, his body now right in front of yours, towering over you as he presses himself against you. You can’t believe this is actually happening. All the tension between you two is at an all time high. You feel dizzy, the need for him to touch you in any way growing with every inhale of his scent, his cologne overpowering your senses. “Yes. Please, Sir.” You whisper.

Without hesitation, his lips find yours, the passion and hunger greater than that night, a newfound ferocity taking over as you wrap your arms around his neck, his hands gripping your thighs to lift you onto the desk. His hips nuzzle their way between your legs, your sundress riding up, making it easier for him to press against your core, your thin panties doing very little to conceal it. Small moans leave your throat, instantly swallowed by him, the kiss growing deeper and deeper by the second. Its not until he places his hands on your lower back, pulling you towards him to grind you against his growing bulge that you gasp loudly, tipping your head back and giving him access to your neck, which he gladly accepts, leaving wet, sloppy kisses all over he expanse of soft skin. You whine, moving your hips on your own in hopes of getting his attention. He hums against your neck, his hand moving from your back to your front moving your dress to cup your heat and rubbing you through your already slick panties. You’re speechless, the only response you’re capable of being whines and moans as he uses his knuckle to trace over your slit, pressing against your clit every now and then. Finally, you manage to form words, a small “please" escaping your lips. He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours as he looks down at your legs, slowly moving your dress up your thighs, your panties on full display for him. “And you’re absolutely sure this is okay?” He asks softly, tilting your head up by your chin to look him in the eyes, his other hand still rubbing your thigh gently. “Please, Namjoon. I need you. I’ve been craving you ever since you kissed me. I need you so bad.” You beg him.

“I know, baby. Me too. Seeing you in class every day dressed like this, wanting to taste your lips again, feel you on me, wanting to hold you and touch you and please you. Do you know what I’ve imagined? Hm?” His whispers in your ear, his fingers gently moving your panties to the side. “I've sat in this chair, teaching you and your classmates, just imagining how you feel. How you taste. Been dying to feel you around my cock, beautiful.” You gasp at his words, pure sin dripping from his lips. You can’t deny that you’ve thought about him too, your hand deep in your panties late at night as his name fumbled from your lips, imagining how nicely he’d stretch you out, how his soft lips would feel on your dripping cunt. Yet, as he slowly slide a finger inside of you, nibbling on your earlobe as he does, nothing could’ve prepared you for the feeling of intimacy you felt from him, the way he carefully pumps his finger in and out of you, twirling it around to make you feel all of it as he kisses your neck softly. This wasn’t the normal fucking you were used to. Even though it wasn’t the most ideal setting, you could tell there was something more. He leaned forward a bit, pushing you down to lay on the empty desk, your back arching as his finger reaches a new depth inside of you. His free hand roams your body, pulling the top of your dress down to expose your breasts, the lack of a bra delighting him. Another finger slips inside of you, his pace quickening as he grabs your breast, occasionally pinching your nipple, earning a needy mewl from you.

The way he curls his fingers in you has you losing your mind, your toes curling as your hips squirm, the slick sound of his movements making your cheeks red. His touch is driving you crazy, but you still crave more, the need to be stretched out even more unbearable. “Namjoon.” You moan, reaching down to grip his wrist. He stops, pulling his hand away from as he leans over your body, his clean hand ousting the strands of your hair out of your face. “What is it, baby?” He asks, concern laced in his voice. You sit up, running your hands over his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt under your fingertips, the rigid lines of muscles hidden underneath tempting you. Curiosity takes over, your fingers moving to unbutton his shirt, his torso being revealed to you with every button. He stays silent, watching your movements as he rubs your thigh again, eager to figure out your next move. As you reach the last button, you pull the hem of his shirt out of his pants, now seeing the bulge in them properly, your mouth watering in anticipation. You’d love to have it in your mouth, but at the moment, you’re not sure if you have the patience for that. There’s always next time, right? “Need you.” You mumble, unbuckling his belt. A groan rumbles in his throat as you cup him through his trousers, his package a lot bigger than you had anticipated. “Well, I did promise to teach you where babies came from, didn’t I? What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t follow through?” He chuckles, moving your hand away so he could pull his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free, the large appendage bouncing as its released from its tight confines. You gulp, wondering if it’ll actually fit inside of you. You’re glad that you’ve been on birth control since you were 15, because right now you need to feel him inside of you.

He kisses you again as he grips himself, positioning himself at your entrance. “Are you ready, beautiful?” He asks, you nodding in response. The second he pushes into you is nothing like you’ve ever experienced. He moves slowly, the burn of your walls stretching around him making you lightheaded, but for him it was completely worth it. You wanted to be consumed by him, happy to let him claim you as his and not caring who knew. He groaned loudly into your ear, gripping the side of the desk as he fully sheathed himself inside of you. You’ve never felt like this before, never been so full in your life, and when he moves to pull back out, you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning loudly. “Ah fuck, you feel so good baby. Better than I ever imagined. Fuck.” He almost growled, pushing back into you as you gripped his shoulders, trying to steady yourself. As he starts to set a steady pace, you can already feel yourself losing control. He wraps his arms tightly around you, holding you as he pistons in and out of you, his gentle demeanor now gone as he fucks into you hard, leaving marks from his nails into your skin as you bite his shoulder, trying not to scream. “Fuck. So fucking tight and perfect. So fucking beautiful. Like you were -mmph- fucking made for me.” He groans in your ear, your whole body jolting with each hard thrust of his hips. “Mm, fuck Namjoon. Feel so fucking good. Fucking me so good.” You moan into his ear, each sinful word giving him more bravado to give you exactly what you two have been craving since the bar. “Yeah? You like how I fuck you? What do you want, baby? Want me fuck you so hard you stumble out of this class room, huh? Want me to cum inside you so everyone can see the little trail of my cum dripping out of your dirty little pussy?” Holy fuck. You have never imagined that your uptight teacher was capable of such words, yet here he was, moaning them in your ear as if you were the only girl in the world as he fucked you senseless. “Oh, shit, please. I want it so bad. Wanna feel your cum. Fuck, Joonie.’ You whimper, your fingernails scrapping against his back. He lets out a loud moan, the nickname not going unnoticed as he grips your hips, pulling you onto his cock as he continues to destroy your insides. You can feel the heat building inside of you, his cock hitting your sweet spot perfectly. All you need is the small push over the edge. You lean back, reaching down between your bodies to feel your clit, rubbing it as he thrusts into you, the contact making you absolutely lose it. “Ah, shit, ah fuuuuck!” You whine, coming undone. It was powerful, washing over and making you see white. “Shit shit shit shit!” Namjoon grunted, pushing into you once more as you felt a warmth spread through you, his hips stuttering as he released into you. There was so much that with every slow thrust, small drips spilled out of you, leaving you a creamy, sticky mess.

You laid back on the desk, putting your hands above your head as you smiled, chuckling a bit at how good you felt. He leaned over you, resting his upper half on top of you as his cock softened inside of you. You wrap your arms around him, placing a kiss on the top of his head as he uses your breasts as a pillow, completely worn out. “Oh my god. That was, holy fuck.” He said between deep breaths, earning a giggle from you. “I know. Fucking amazing. Can’t believe I ever thought my own fingers could compare to that.” You joke, but he straightens up a bit, leaning on his hands, hovering above you. “Miss Y/N, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?” He asks, a cocky smirk on his face. “Maybe.” You tease, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Well then, I think next time you’ll have to show me how you did it so I can guide you properly on how to do it correctly.”

“Yes Sir.”

#bts smut #bts #bts rm #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #namjoon scenarios #kpop #kpop smut #bts au #bts au fic

131 notes · View notes