#my point is I love them and will fight the industry w my bare hands for more sapphic rep | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gukyi · 4 years

Text

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur.

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks.

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all.

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode.

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments.

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did.

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself.

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half.

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you.

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off.

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything.

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong.

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds.

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you.

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated.

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly.

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly.

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you.

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years.

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost.

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about.

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless.

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together.

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest.

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you.

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement.

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows.

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click.

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why.

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair.

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems.

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you.

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship.

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it.

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio.

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic.

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since.

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have.

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows.

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in.

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once.

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this.

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right?

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins.

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing.

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention.

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind.

Another voice breaks you from your trance.

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide.

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes.

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to.

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you.

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you.

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you?

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence.

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them?

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met.

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor.

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook.

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date.

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this.

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you.

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief.

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it.

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it.

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory.

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away.

You wonder what he sees.

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders.

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door.

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door.

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left.

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind.

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet.

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side.

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet.

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive.

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist.

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him.

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them.

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted.

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing.

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter.

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash.

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them.

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him.

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card.

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black.

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure.

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body.

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is.

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you.

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown.

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back.

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further.

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you.

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him.

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet.

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment.

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester.

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there.

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that.

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk.

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room.

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind.

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world.

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well.

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen.

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written.

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page…

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling.

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed.

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom.

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else.

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head.

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease.

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart.

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you.

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving.

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless.

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?”

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating.

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him.

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain.

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing.

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure.

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth.

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about.

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out.

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process.

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world.

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious.

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side.

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her.

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #w: the love project #yes i am finishing this at 6am on the day its meant to be posted... MIND UR OWN BUSINESS

4K notes · View notes

bumackerman · 3 years

Text

warnings: sfw, comfort, light cursing, slight angst, and it’s a little cheesy at the end, sorry lol.

@anonymous asked:

ur amazing at writing monoma. i just really need some cuddles with him, him being insecure and thinking he isn’t good enough for us so we just cover his face w/ kisses and play with his hair, saying sweet nothings and telling him about how he’s perfect.

a/n: thank you! i really appreciate it! ♡ as i was writing this, i forgot to re-read the request, so this is much more depressing than intended... i accidentally misread a crutial part, and had to adapt to what i had already written. i’m sorry! i hope you don’t mind!

monoma’s warmth pressed against your chest as he listened to the gentle beating of your heart. it soothed him, sort of like a natural lullaby. the slow rise and fall of your chest, and the gentle brushing of your fingers through his hair gradually lulled his mind toward a quiet slumber.

the single thing preventing him from succumbing to his exhaustion, were his very own intrusive thoughts. the same ones that had been inching their way into his head for days. his insecurities had been piling up for a while, and you’d failed to notice their affect on him sooner.

it was hard to blame yourself, though. the two of you were working your life away as pro-heroes. with crime rates dramatically increasing, the work load increased for all heroes as a result. it was starting to overwhelming the industry, and therefore overwhelming the hard working, dedicated people like the two of you.

it had already been over two weeks since the initial spike, and at this point, there wasn’t one person who wasn’t utterly worn out. everyone was running on empty, including the two of you.

especially monoma. everything was just piling up on him. as if his self-esteem wasn’t low enough, he began to question the efficiency of his own abilities. he thought that he couldn’t be self-sufficient, even if he tried, and it was slowly ripping away at his confidence.

over the span of fifteen days, he was forced to face this realization in a brutal way, when he was unable to save some people from harm. with all of the other pro-heroes busy, he was forced to fight on his own. while he is capable in general, the circumstance he was in felt like every single aspect was set to be against him.

the villain wasn’t even all that strong, but since it was a mutation quirk, he couldn’t copy it. nor was he able to get close enough to them to begin with, resulting in a couple people getting injured. if another hero hadn’t come at the last second, there most likely would’ve been casualties, and he couldn’t seem to get over that fact. how was he supposed to protect you if he couldn’t even protect a couple civilians?

thankfully, the abnormal rise in crime, and villain activity had plummeted just as quickly as it came. almost over-night, in fact. after a few days, everyone could finally catch a much-needed break.

this was the first time in two weeks that the two of you were home at the same time, and immediately after seeing neito, you noticed the change in his demeanor. you brushed it off as exhaustion, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more. the both of you had worked your asses off, pretty much non-stop for weeks, but this was a different type of fatigue.

monoma was finally able to catch a tiny break, thinking that cuddling with his one true-love would make him feel better about himself, and he was right. partially. he felt much better in your arms, but he still felt the insecurities scratching at the back of his mind as he tried to rest.

there was something very calming about his body laying still in your arms. the weight of him on top of you wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest. in fact, it was pleasant. like a big teddy bear. of course, he’d squirm every now and then trying to adjust himself, but even that wasn’t a bother.

the chilling air brushed swiftly over your exposed arms, causing goosebumps to emerge from your skin. you continued to run your fingers through the strands of neito’s blonde hair, soothing both him, and yourself. you liked the feeling of his steady breathing pattern battling with yours.

“who’s your favorite hero?” monoma asked, breaking the silence. your heart jumped. his ear was pressed to your chest, catching the sound of your pounding of your heart. he uttered a quick apology for startling you. “hm... out of every pro-hero that has ever existed?” he nodded.

tapping the tip of his nose, you continued. “you.” monoma took a deep breath as he sat up, facing you. seeing the sad look in his eyes broke your heart. it was physical pain, too. “neito?” your body shot up immediately, desperately wanting to comfort your husband.

“how can i be your favorite hero if i can’t even protect you?” he asked. neito’s genuine tone struck you like dagger. the pain and honesty in his voice hurt to hear, especially coming from the most precious person in the world.

you let out a deep sigh as you sat in his lap. you situated yourself, brushing the hair away from his face. “look at me.” you made eye contact with him, exposing the vulnerability behind his ocean-colored eyes. you cupped his cheeks in your hands, caressing the soft skin with the pads of your thumbs. “honey, there will never be an instance where you can’t protect me.” he leaned his forehead against yours.

“you are fully capable of saving me if need be. you’re strong. i trust you with my life. please don’t doubt yourself.” you started, “…but if it came down to it, i’d rather be the one protecting you. nothing would hurt me more than seeing you in pain. it may be selfish, but there is nothing in this world i wouldn’t do for you…”

neito didn’t respond. thinking you said something wrong, you sighed. “nothing you wouldn’t do for me, huh?” the energy in the room completely shifted. he smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist, and leaning back onto the bed. “how about a kiss, then?” neito’s smirk spread wider into a smile.

you giggled quietly, peppering kisses all over his face without hesitation. with every kiss, his insecurities dissipated. “here too?” he pointed to his lips, pouting a little bit. “there too.” you say, leaning in.

there was nothing like the feeling of neito’s soft lips connecting with yours. it was comforting, and for some reason, it felt like your first kiss all over again. the blush on his face was just barely visible in the moonlight, but it was there, and it was beautiful. upon pulling away, you couldn’t help but stare into the mesmerizing blue of his eyes, the moonlight only accentuating their color, like ocean waves.

“you’re so perfect, you know that?” you stated, causing the redness in monoma’s face to flare up more. his cheeks burned to the touch. “i know.” his response made you smile, happy to have a part of him back. “so perfect.” you repeated under your breath, leaning in for another kiss.

the two of you resumed your previous position. neito’s head was once again, situated on your chest. this time, his body was a lot warmer, and with every brush of your fingers through his hair, he drifted further and further to sleep. the burden of his conscience just barely lingered, and you were just thankful to have your favorite cocky bastard back.

“i love you.” you whisper, kissing his forehead. “i love you more.”

“…impossible.”

@ultimate-astridwriting here u go simp

1/18/21

309 notes · View notes

jeontaehui · 3 years

Text

TAEHEE WITH SUPERM

baekhyun baekhee

there was this tension at the start. you wouldn’t notice it at first glance but when you really pay attention to how the both of them act around each other ,,, you’ll just wonder how they are off-cam.

taehee mentioned during wgu era baekhyun was one of her role models when it came to the entertainment industry ,, so some fans wondered maybe there was still this senior-junior relationship between them while the rest were getting close with her.

but baekhyun hates awkward. luckily, they were roommates when they came to the states for their debut.

he figured he could get closer to taehee by making her laugh a lot, and he succeeded !!! it was easy since they basically shared the same humor.

he also took her out to eat when they came back to korea ,, discovered her love for playing video games and that they had a lot more in common

taehee enjoys playing hard to get when it comes to baekhyun.

(superm midterm exam ep. 1) “but you said i was your role model!!!” “when it came to being funny, yes...?” “W H A T !!!!”

as much as possible, baekhyun wants taehee to show off or be given attention to. whether that came to lines on the script or bragging about what she can do, not only does he do this as a leader but as someone who wants to show that taehee is as capable as them.

(200913 vlive) taehee comes up to the camera and nervously laughs, “yah, how do i do this?!” she turns around to face the rest of the boys who have challenged her into doing taemin’s killing part in the ‘criminal’ mv. “just do it like you would usually do!” baekhyun encourages cheerfully. “don’t act shy! you know you can do it.”

iconic moment (mtopia ep. 11-2) "whoever competes with baekhyun hyung is likely to lose,” kai says, watching as the eldest prep himself for the game. hearing this, taehee instantly shot up from her seat and moved to the red square opposite of baekhyun. though determined, she lets out a casual remark, “i’ll fight him,” and the others laugh.

ever since the first game of the night, baekhyun and taehee teased each other back and forth, trying to get the other off their game. the scoreboard between the two of them was currently 2:1, with taehee having won the paper cup game and the team game with mark and the others. baekhyun glances to the side nervously, until an idea pops in his head.

he lights up her candle shortly and hands it to her, “here.” taehee accepts the candle without protest as she sat down, until kai says, “he gave you the weaker candle.” her head snaps up to see baekhyun dead set on making his flame stronger than hers, his fierce expression making all of them crack up. “oppa!” taehee complains but she laughs. “yah, baekhyun hyung, that’s unfair!” taeyong backs the maknae up, well aware of the feeling of losing quickly to their leader. “jeon taehee, you better win this,” taeyong tells her, his tone was laced with seriousness yet his pout said otherwise. “avenge me,” and taehee gives him a salute and a wink in return.

not sooner than later, their match begins. their hot battle keeping the members on their toes, they too were aware of their rivalry from earlier. “jeon taehee, let’s go!” mark cheers. although taehee could barely see with the water getting in her eyes and hair, she moved her candle in all directions in defense to her opponent’s shooting (at this point, taehee figured baekhyun was just trying to shoot at her face but she’s not complaining... that much). with a sharp aim, taehee was able to distinguish baekhyun’s candle in just less than a minute.

“i think water went into my nose,” taehee giggles as she lowers her candle down, removing any excess water from her eyes once her other hand was free. meanwhile baekhyun looked shell-shocked, taemin and the others laughing more at the result. “hyung, you looked like you won!” kai teases him further. “i won,” baekhyun jokingly seethes, “I WON!”

taehee laughs, “알았어, loser.” the team breaks off into a louder fit while baekhyun smiles in disbelief. taehee sure was different.

song falling by trevor daniel

taemin 2tae

despite both of them being the most quiet during the first meeting, the both of them got closer the quickest !!!!

first day they were like ‘hi hello annyeong’. next day, they’re sharing recipes, having inside jokes, mini-handshake (courtesy of taehee), play-fighting, making funny faces at each other whenever they make eye contact during dance practices ....

dance prodigies !!! amazing, talented, remarkable dance prodigies !!! aces at everything !!!! their stage presence !!!!

(superm reveal which member has the best hair and who is the funniest of the group | billboard) “these two,” taeyong gestures to taehee and to taemin, “how do i say this? they look immoral on stage.” the others chuckle at his bluntness, “i think that would be the best term for it.”

taehee finds taemin very cute and would willingly watch his aegyo.

(’one’ dance practice behind) “hyung, you are honestly so cute,” taehee centers the camera to taemin, “times like these, i wish you were my younger brother.” he laughs.

meanwhile, taemin finds himself laughing at taehee’s antics most of the time (totally didn’t expect the chaotic energy coming from this one).

taehee always manages to find her place next to taemin somehow, and when taemin turns to find out she was beside him this whole time, he’d smile at her and pat the top of her head.

taemin became one of taehee’s comfort people !!!! from having a senior-junior relationship to being one of taehee’s most trusted friends, they grew really close after time and related well with each other.

iconic moment (’one’ dance practice behind) “woah, oppa you look really pretty from this angle,” taehee tilts the camera to the sides until taemin starts doing aegyo, causing laughter to bubble from the girl. “hey! hyung, why are you seriously so cute?”

taemin recalls the other day he and taehee hung out together, and he sits up straight before telling the story. “you know what taehee did the other day?” his lips break into a wide smile, his tone piquing interest from ten and mark. “what did she say?” mark said.

“she said, ‘hyung, it think it would be nice if you were my dongsaeng.’ and i haven’t said anything yet and she said, ‘yaja time? start. taeminnie, what do you want to do?’”

mark and ten burst out laughing, taehee feigns ignorance. “what? when was that? i don’t remember that.”

taemin chuckles, “taehee is really so precious.”

song it’s tricky by run d.m.c

kai kaihee

kai was a bit awkward with taehee too at first.

he was very cautious around her, even if it was just standing close to her during photoshoots.

kai, keeping his distance: “is this okay?”

director: “closer!!!!”

kai: fuck

but now he teases the hell out of her you’d probably mistake them for being friends for a long time.

(superm on knowing bros) “baekhyun hyung? baekhyun . hyung???? you seriously find him the most attractive out of all of us?????” “BEAUTY IS IN THE EYES OF THE BEHOLDER!!!!!!” “YOU NEED TO GET YOUR EYES CHECKED THEN”

he makes fun of her accent (jokingly ofc) but also loves it.

“how do you say ‘귤’ in english?” “tangerine” “ahh you are so cute !!!!!!”

also teases her by wrapping his arm around her shoulders and proceeding to shake her aggressively.

before superm, kai already found taehee super cool .... he was probably intimidated by her.

when kai is not teasing taehee, they’re both teasing mark.

in the end, there is an i-will-tease-the-heck-out-of-you-until-your-ears-turn-red kai and a im-her-father-no-one-touch-her kai

iconic moment (mtopia ep. 11-1) “i feel like taehee would get this though,” baekhyun says and the others agree with him, taehee’s agile. they all watch as she puts her hands on each side of the toaster, preparing herself by biting on thin air. “okay, i’ll start now!”

using her left thumb, she pushed the press handle down and released. but instead of catching the piece of bread, she caught her tongue in between her teeth. she immediately pulled back and brought her hands to her mouth, walking away the pain as the members pointed out she wasn’t able to succeed. kai was the first to notice her, “what’s wrong, taehee?”

“i bit my tongue and it hurts so much,” she winces. kai cackles, “바보! taehee!”

“it was an accident!” she exclaims. “i know but you don’t put your tongue out like that!”

taehee grumbles at kai’s remark as she sat beside him. the latter pulls her close by the shoulder and ruffles her hair, laughing as she poked her cheek. “you want to eat bread?” kai smiles at her, already reaching out for the plate of extras.

“i’m gonna eat bread.”

song mambo no. 5 (a little bit of ....) by lou bega

taeyong yonghee

taehee’s all up for the ‘taeyong babie’ agenda since it’s so cute to see the older members tease and baby taeyong.

knowing that baekhyun likes to poke the fun out of these two, taeyong and taehee would team up against him.

(superm mtopia ep. 1) “taehee, let’s make baekhyun hyung out,” taeyong tells her, taehee mirroring the determined look on his face. “we got this.”

taeyong hypes taehee up like a stage dad or something lol he’d go like, “WOOOO!!! THAT’S MY BABY,” and taehee would find herself smiling before resuming to whatever she was doing.

taehee had to stop herself from clowning taeyong when they went surfing for mtopia and instead gave him tips and all. of course, she tries to bite her lip from laughing while doing so.

(mtopia ep. 3) taehee goes to sit beside a nervous taeyong on the dock as he waits for his turn. chuckling, she says, “hyung, just pace yourself, alright? don’t rush—“ but then kai cuts her off, also noticing the scared look on the rapper’s expression, “you won’t die anyways.” taehee whips her head back to glare at kai, though it was clear she was trying to hold in her laughs. “HEY!”

iconic moment (mtopia ep. 2) taehee was the first to pick out of the eight of them. whether she’ll start shedding tears or not, her fate relies on the fifth sushi she had chosen, hoping that it wasn’t the one with wasabi. “it’s the one. she lost it,” baekhyun says as he tries to throw taehee off guard. “it’s not,” she replies, though her eyes said otherwise.

once she grabs the piece of sushi in between her chopsticks, she takes a tentative glance towards the staff and keeps her eyes on them as she took it in whole. taehee knew she was doomed on the first chew, the spiciness of the paste burns her tongue and brings tears to her face. she laughs dryly as a few tears slipped down her face and sniffs, “i never knew wasabi was this spicy.” the boys behind her laugh at the crack in her voice, the staff handing her a tissue as she staggered back to her place beside taeyong who immediately wrapped his arms around her to comfort her. “taehee can’t handle spicy foods well,” taeyong chuckles, “are you okay?”

“yeah, my mouth just feels like it’s burning!,” taehee exclaims, her wild gestures adding humor to her expression. taeyong lets out a hearty laugh as he gave her water, “have this.” he watches her down the water in one go, though there were still tears in her eyes, “taehee, you are too cute. i’m serious.” taehee laughs as she wiped her eyes, and they continue with the game.

song train wreck by james arthur

ten tnt

they are literal geniuses !!!! but... they have their moments.

(200930 live) “he’s the main character in ‘aladdin’, right?,” and with knowing smiles, the others nod at ten’s question. clueless, ten decides to ask more, “what was his name? a whole new world~” and baekhyun and mark tell him he’s right, but ten has literally no clue. chuckling at his cuteness, taehee speaks up, “hyung! he’s the main character in ‘aladdin’! aladdin!” mark and kai laugh loudly at her hint, she was already giving him an answer. kai notices that, like ten, taehee hadn’t got her question correct yet with all the obvious hints they were giving her, and so he laughs harder. “taehee! don’t act like you’ve got you’re question correct!,” the said girl shrugs exaggeratedly, bringing her hands up in the air as if to question the heavens. “you told me he was powerful! so is he like a superhero or something? thor?,” she exclaims, and the others began laughing at her guess, the maknae unaware of the large ‘LEE SOOMAN’ on her cap. “who is it?!”

their banter that goes back and forth are one of the things that make the members’ stomachs hurt from laughing.

(superm: ready to fly in la) “the three maknaes are my babies,” ten tells the camera, tilting his head to look taehee into the eye before continuing, “but then you’d be my least favorite.”

taehee knows that ten secretly has her as the favorite loves her too, so she always makes it a point to call him cute or something to throw him off guard.

iconic moment (superm as we wish ep. 1) it was very obvious how taehee felt about ten’s drama. she tried to hold back her smiles but ten was just too cute, it made her heart run in circles. when his drama ended, the boys praised ten’s performance, but baekhyun noticed how much taehee liked it. he calls her out, “taehee-ssi, you seem to like this very much.”

a surprised ‘really?’ comes from ten while taehee spoke. “ten oppa just looked so.... natural while doing it,” taehee says, her words and expressions assuring ten he really did a great job. “my heart is doing flips right now?”

the boys laughed, “did you fall for him?” and before taehee got to answer their leader’s question, ten said, “i’ll date you based on your performance.”

“i didn’t even say yes!”

song positions by ariana grande

lucas luhee

lucas took one look at him, mark, and taehee and just went, “you know if someone took a look at us, they’d think taehee was the oldest.” (taehee had punched him on the shoulder while mark hit the table, laughing)

but then he clarified that it was just because taehee had this motherly aura around her and that she takes care of him and mark really well.

from then on, lucas would accidentally call taehee ‘noona’; sometimes, he would call her that intentionally when asking for the snacks that were kept in her bag, or teasing her.

(superm as we wish ep. 2) “unnie,” they hear taehee say from the monitor. while the boys accompanied each other in different work environments, taehee went alone to a little café to try out the experience herself. she found herself well acquainted with one of the staff members that had showed her around, and she found herself asking, “how old are you?” the boys erupted into choruses of ‘ooh’s’ when they heard her, baekhyun jokingly asking if she was there to find a date. taehee shakes her head shyly, but she busts out laughing when lucas shouts, “NOONA, FIGHTING!”

we see more of taehee being a baby with lucas in superm :(

he’d give her piggyback rides or ask her if she’s eaten yet, and if she says no, lucas would be like, “come on, man! the last time i saw you eat was breakfast but you only ate a sandwich. wait for me here, i’ll get you a plate.”

iconic moment (mtopia ep. 11-2) as mark and kai shoot each other’s candles out with their water guns, taehee leans into lucas’ side as she laughs with her head buried into his shoulder. it was an endearing sight to see them comparing hand sizes, both of their eyes widening at the size difference. “you’re hand is so small!,” lucas says. “well, duh. your hand is like the size of my face!”

song rather be by clean bandit (ft. jess glynne)

mark markhee

taehee knows so well that superm mark lee is a different breed

(the story of ‘jopping’) “you look so handsome these days,” taehee said to mark as she took in his appearance, causing the latter to become shy and flustered, “really?”

but mark caught onto it this year and ‘complained’ that taehee had favoritism .... to superm mark

“you’re cute in 127 and dream!!!! you’re different here, what’s wrong with that?”

taehee LOVED ‘talk about’. she posted a video of her jamming to it in her manager’s car on twitter.

in mtopia, taehee literally took a glance at mark’s quiz in the first episode and said, “ahh you should get this one the first try, it’s easy.” cue a pouty mark

during games, mark knows taehee in and out so it comes off as an advantage to him and a disadvantage to her.

(mtopia ep. 6) “it’s taehee. taehee is the liar.”

mark and taehee are roommates most of the time and their nightly routines just consist of putting face masks on each other and listening to music while waiting!

iconic moment (mtopia ep. 11-2) “sleepover!!!!,” taehee says excitedly as she sat on the bed with mark. she had just finished brushing her teeth while mark brought out facemasks from his bag. “you wanna put them on each other?,” mark asks, tearing one of the packets open already.

he turns his head to his right and giggles. taehee had her bangs tied up in a short ponytail, her eyebrows arched in a cheery smile. “you look like 뚱이!,” mark laughs, “dude, seriously. you’re so cute.”

“whatever, just put it on,” taehee rolls her eyes playfully as she hit mark’s shoulder. she closes her eyes but hears mark chuckle again. opening only her left eye, she says, “what’s wrong?”

“you’re really cute,” mark repeats, both of taehee’s eyes now wide open at his compliment. she goes to say something but chooses against it, closing her eyes back again when mark begins putting the mask on her face.

song until the last falling star by matthew perryman jones

185 notes · View notes

firebrands · 5 years

Text

stevetony fic recs

BUCKLE UP MY DUDES THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG ONE

here are my recs for steve/tony fics that i seriously think need a ton more love! (aka, have less than a 1k kudos lol)

starts w angsty recs, then fluff, then pwps

Pyriscence by @nostalgicatsea, 6.9k, MCU

written pre-release of endgame, but damn. so good. i cried.

She also knows this: Tony handed over his heart to Steve—to all of them but most of all to Steve—along with the keys to his house the day he recruited them.

Even if Steve knew that, Natasha isn’t sure he would keep it anyway. She knows he thinks himself undeserving.

She knows it’s because he loves Tony.

A Long, Lonely Time by asktheravens, 58.5k, MCU

holy SHIT, this was a WILD FUCKING RIDE. totally unique.

Author’s summary: Steve returned from the war injured in body and mind- and able to see the dead. At loose ends and desperate to get out of New York City, he accepts a fellowship through the Stark Foundation and retreats to a quiet lake house on the grounds of the Stark Mansion. He's supposed to be there to paint, but he quickly realizes that the house is more than he bargained for. Anthony Stark died here a decade ago, but was it an accident? A suicide? Or a murder? Obadiah Stane still lives in the main house just up the hill, and the past casts a long shadow.

A Cabin in the Woods by nightwalker @onemuseleft, 26.7k, MCU I really don't want to spoil this but this fic has it ALL - fluff, funny dialogue, and ELDRITCH HORRORS

Author’s summary: It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, a chance for them to spend some time as a couple and work out some of the kinks in their relationship. That was before everything got weird.

Steve Rogers is a Tactical Genius by @swankyo0, 2.6k, MCU

I love when Steve is assertive and knows what he’s doing (in terms of romancing Tony)

“What’s up, Cap?” Tony’s voice is light but Steve can tell it’s forced.

“Tony Stark, you and I are going out,” Steve starts, his voice a bit more commanding than he had planned. “We are going to get dinner at a nice place, and I’m going to open doors for you and let you pay because you are a stubborn ass. I’m going to bring you a gift and you are going to accept it because I am a stubborn ass. And at the end of the night I am going to walk you to your door and there will be a kiss good night, because I’m gonna do this right, damn it.”

when i run out of road, you bring me home by @quidhitch, 18.4k, MCU

Tony buys a farm. Steve lives in the farm beside Tony's. (Featuring: Riri Williams!)

“It’s no use trying to keep him out, Tony supposes. He learned a long time ago that he could plaster his whole body with signage declaring ‘WARNING: HAZARDOUS MATERIAL’, and it would only further tempt Steve Rogers’ self-immolating tendencies.”

call me, maybe by ohmyloki @bootycap, 1.8k, MCU

Tony hums, bouncing up to the balls of his feet for a second as he looks around the gallery. “I’ve got an idea.”

Steve narrows his eyes at him. “I’ve only just met you but I get the feeling that phrase tends to get you in trouble.”

Tony laughs, and Steve’s heart does what feels like a little pirouette in his chest.

“You have no idea how right you are, Steve.”

There’s a deep sense of satisfaction in the way Tony says his name. He wants to hear it again. Which is partly why he can’t be blamed for what comes out of his mouth next.

let me be the one (who never leaves you all alone) by ohmyloki @bootycap, 11.7k, MCU

It was Tony’s wide, brilliant eyes, the rare full-blown smile when he’d accomplished something he’d struggled with, the way he couldn’t seem to stop himself from talking when he came up with a new idea and wanted to show off. Like an excited little kid, ever at odds with the man who drank too much and thought too little of himself. These thoughts of Tony’s kindness, generosity and brilliant mind ran an undercurrent beneath the fantasy of Tony’s slick, tanned skin, and perfectly shaped upper lip. That was when it struck Steve.

Maybe he could have this. Maybe he could have Tony... if Tony would have him.

Get Down On Your Knees And Tell Me You Love Me by @heartsandmuses, 5.1k, MCU

Author’s summary: When Steve opens the page to this month’s calendar, he freezes as he catches sight of a reminder in the space for next Friday, exactly a week from now. PROPOSAL!

Motherlode by nanasekei @elcorhamletlive, 6.8k, MCU

Author’s summary: After Steve returns, though they've made up, his relationship with Tony remains distant.

“Great,” Steve says, smiling brightly, and Tony can’t, he just can’t handle that smile. It makes him want to float and giggle and dance and do all sorts of crazy things. It makes him want to kiss Steve.

He clutches his hands, giving in to one indulgence over the insane, dangerous other. “Awesome. That’s, that’s awesome.” Then, out of sheer despair, he reaches for another salmon roll, popping it in his mouth.

On the plus side, it gives something to busy his mouth with that isn’t, you know, Steve’s lips. On the down side, he’s now awkwardly chewing with a full mouth in front of Steve.

That seems to remind Steve of the forgotten pig-in-a-blanket on his hand, and he hurriedly eats it, cheeks flushing a little.

So now they’re both chewing. It’s great.

if I time it right, the thunder breaks (when I open my mouth) by nanasekei @elcorhamletlive, 11.9k, MCU

Or: Five Times Steve told Tony he loved him, and one time he didn't need to.

“That is the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever done for me.” He pauses for a moment, winded, and Tony looks at him now, mouth curling to fight back what Steve knows would be a self-satisfied smile. “I love you.”

Tony freezes.

Steve… Steve wonders for a second what the best course of action would be, going through all the options, including running to the garden and asking Thor to drown him in the pool for good. He has no idea why it slips out now, exactly, but at this point he has no idea what tiny thing Tony is going to do that’s going to cause a fluttering feeling in his chest.

Strategic Thinking: Armor Wars Edition by Annie D (scaramouche) @no-gorms, 1.8k, Avengers Academy

Tony tries to pull his hand away, but it’s half-hearted. Tony’s neck is flushed pink, which Steve finds far more charming that he probably should. But that’s all right – it’s Tony, who makes Steve think all sorts of things he’d never before.

Every True Thing by @dirigibleplumbing, 3.9k, MCU

Author’s summary: After escaping captivity, Steve and Tony go to a safe house. Ordinarily, it would just be boring. But they’ve both been dosed with truth serum…

“You like it, then?”

“Of course I like it, it’s you.”

“But, I don’t want you to like it just because it’s me, I want you to like it because I’m good at it. You’re good at it, you—know what you’re doing.” Steve blurts this into Tony’s neck, glad that he doesn’t have to look Tony in the face while he speaks.

Mission: Improbable by @cptxrogers, 5.6k, Avengers Assemble Author's summary: Tony is called on to investigate strange events which have been occurring in the upper echelons of society recently. There's just one small issue - he needs Steve to pose as his date for the evening.

Tony glanced around. “I think they’ve moved on. We can get back to work now.” “Are you sure?” Steve asked, a little too quickly. Perhaps the men might still be around. Perhaps might come back. Perhaps they’d need to hide by kissing some more.

Steve Rogers Does (Not Do) Marriage Counseling by Neverever @captainneverever , 6.4k, MCU

Tony stared incredulously at Steve. “Are you that dense?” “No,” Steve replied miserably. “Basically, you’re telling me that you wouldn’t know what to do if someone made a pass at you.” “I wouldn’t know what a pass is or was. That’s what I’m saying.” “So you wouldn’t call shoving your hand on my ass a pass?”

The Fear of Consequences by @keptein, 4.5k, MCU Author's summary: It really isn't a problem. Then one day, Tony looks at Steve and thinks, shit. It might be mutual.

“Cap,” Tony says helplessly. The tomatoes roll around on the brown tile, barely visible in the tower's automatic night light settings.

Steve looks angry, and Tony's suddenly reminded that shit, this guy fought in World War II. It's not usually something you can see on his face. “Why are you avoiding me?” he asks, without preamble, eyes never leaving Tony's face.

“I.. haven't been?” It comes out a question, which really wasn't what Tony wanted at all. “I mean, I haven't been avoiding you, of course I haven't. I've just been busy, you know, Iron Man maintenance, and just because Pepper's CEO of Stark Industries now doesn't mean I don't have to do shit, unfortunately.“ He bends down to avoid Steve's stare and starts to pick up the tomatoes, until he feels Steve's large, warm hand on his shoulder. It startles him into looking up, still bent down with his hand reaching for a tomato. “Cap,” Tony says, and is absurdly proud when the name doesn't lose its warning tint.

Together, At Dawn by RoseGoldAmpersand, 8.1k, MCU

Lingering in his past and missed opportunities, Steve was overcome with the urge to check in on his teammate. As team captain, it was the right thing to do. Nobody would know he had taken a detour. Nobody would suspect he lingered because he ached to see Tony look at him again with eyes bright with friendship. If he couldn't help his Tony, he was making damn sure this Tony knew that Steve Rogers would always be there for him.

a properly scholarly attitude by goodmorningbeloved, 2.9k, college AU

“You were thinking of something. I knew that look, what was—”

“You,” he answers without hesitation. “I was thinking of you. How good you look with those on, how—” He bites his own lip hard, angling his head away from Tony’s kiss in shame. “I— Tony, you’re tired, and we’re in the library—”

Wash That Man (right out of my hair) by @mizzy2k, 7k, comics - 616, sorta pwp?

Holy shit. Holy shit. He'd assumed when Tony said he had a brand new body that it was a metaphor, a dramatic exaggeration, not a completely new unrecognizable-as-Tony-Stark body.

“Hey, Cap!” Tony beams widely at him, his mustache twitching with the smile. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Haha,” Steve says, “yeah.” Smooth. That’s Steve Rogers for you. Eloquent under pressure.

Nicotine Hit by @festiveferret, 7.5k, MCU, pwp

The idea of Steve smoking in secret wormed its way into Tony’s brain and wouldn’t let go. It was the worst kind of craving, vague and misdirected, because it came in the shape of Steve instead of the nicotine hit he knew he really wanted. He associated Steve with the ritual of smoking and it got so bad he couldn’t look at the man without starting to feel antsy and wound up.

voglio sentirti by lackluster_lexicon @usenecessaryforce , 4.2k, MCU, bdsm

Tony closed the distance between them, unwound his arms to grab hold of the front of Steve’s shirt. Steve hissed in surprise, wrapped his hands around Tony’s wrists, but when Tony put the full force of his body into pulling Steve forward, Steve willingly dropped to his knees. Tony released Steve’s shirt, moved one hand to Steve’s shoulder and grasped Steve’s hair with the other, pulled Steve’s head back and forced him to look up at Tony.

“You’re going to beg,” Tony growled.

Side Effects by @elimymoons , 29.2k, comics - ultimates, bdsm

"You… what?" Steve's breath caught. He felt off-kilter, out of time, like he'd just woken up again and found everything flipped on its axis, but this time it felt good and right, and he just wanted to take Tony in his arms and never let go. "You love me?" he asked, soft, reverent almost. Tony Stark loved him, Steve Rogers, who— who swore too much, whose best friend wore dentures because his teeth all fell out, who talked better with his fists than his words most days. Steve Rogers, a ham-handed, bumbling oaf a man, and sweet, suave, wonderful Tony Stark loved him. "You love me?" he asked again, and Steve could feel his lips pulling back into a wide, beaming grin.

#fic recs #fanfic writer appreciation day #stevetony #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony fanfiction #stevetony fanfic #i tried my best to find everyone's tumblrs!#THANK YOU ALL YOU HAVE BROUGHT SUCH JOY TO MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#fic rec list

1K notes · View notes

waejinyoung · 3 years

Text

Can’t Swim - EP . 8

Can’t Swim 8

word count: 3.2k+

a/n: you might be questioning where I have been for the past couple of months. I have one word to say that should be a good enough answer. College. I’ve been studying none stop and found no time to write the next episode after university started. The posts will no longer be regular so just keep yourselves updated. Hopefully I will have another 2 episodes up between now and the end of the year at least but don’t quote me on that. I hope you enjoy!

I’m deeply sorry for my absence again x

warnings: nothing

EP . 1 , EP . 2 , EP . 3 , EP . 4 , EP . 5 , EP . 6 , EP . 7 , EP . 8 , EP . 9

THIRD PERSON POV

The afternoon continued with Y/N and Jinyoung discussing life and getting to know one another whilst Y/N replied to her emails.

“It’s mind b-boggling how you and J-Jackson may have crossed paths back in 2012…” Y/N had just mentioned how she was training for the London 2012 Olympics to compete for swimming.

“Similar to Jackson, I switched career paths and decided to study architecture. Dad wasn’t the biggest fan until he saw the passion and success I had gained in the industry. He soon came to terms with everything.”

“Wow… do you r-regret it at all?” The clock marked 10:30 pm. You guys had been talking for the past 90 mins, getting to know each other.

“I think I regretted not swimming after deciding to study architecture. I didn’t choose to not compete in the Olympics because I no longer liked swimming so I do regret not continuing although I must say, studying architecture might be the most time consuming degree out there. That’s why later on I decided to apply to become a licensed swimming teacher to undergo lessons. I’d be teaching people how to swim whilst fulfilling my love for swimming.”

“Best of both w-worlds, r-right?”

“Exactly.” Y/N had now placed all her work to aside with her back against the wall, legs crossed enveloped into the conversation.

Some seconds went by and Y/N wanted to know about Jinyoung’s initial dreams.

“What about you? Did you always want to be a singer?”

“Always. I took up d-dance lessons when I was around 15. Then went to a-audition and got in to JYPE. That was when I met J-Jaebeom. We actually d-debuted together as a d-duo group called JJProject to later on d-debut with the r-rest of the g-guys as GOT7. Since t-then they’ve been my f-family rather than just my m-members. I think it’s g-getting to the p-point where I might have spent m-more years of my l-life with them then I did without. Time flies…”

“I could definitely sense the brotherly love you guys all have for each other. So how did becoming an actor happen?”

“I r-requested from the c-company to find roles I could take part in a couple years b-back. First it was small roles in small d-dramas and then being c-casted by more known d-directors to p-play bigger roles. All of that has l-led me to play s-second male lead for ‘When My Love Blooms’.”

“When do the episodes start airing?” Y/N had grown eager about Jinyoung’s talents.

“Hold your h-horses… we haven’t e-even started f-filming yet and won’t be until I r-recover… The original airing d-dates will probably be p-pushed f-further.” Jinyoung’s words drifted into a sudden realisation for his career.

“If only-“ Y/N was about to blame herself again.

“We’ve been through this m-multiple times Y/N. None of this is your f-fault so s-stop blaming yourself for t-things you have no c-control over.”

Y/N had her mouth open ready to retaliate but if she had to be honest… she couldn’t be bothered to fight back considering it was now coming up to 11:00 pm.

“Fine.” Y/N yawned and covered her mouth. Work had been extremely busy today especially with all the news floating around now.

“S-someone’s tired.” Jinyoung eyed Y/N’s tired state and decided to call it a night.

“I still have so much to do. I can’t fall asleep now.”

“C-could you n-not spare an e-early n-night just for t-today?” Y/N recollected her thoughts weighing up if she could possibly sleep early tonight and get all the work done tomorrow.

“I could…”

“Problem s-solved then. Clear up your b-bed and get your pjs on. I d-don’t want to f-face a t-tired Y/N tomorrow m-morning.” Y/N eyed your mean comment and huffed to your orders.

“Yes, sir.”

2 WEEKS LATER

Y/N’s POV

“Miss, Jinyoung has been recovering quicker than expected. He should be perfectly fine to attend the event. If anything unsettling happens you can give me a direct phone call.”

“Thank you so much Doc.” You gave the doctor a large smile and she reciprocated a reassuring smile.

You entered Jinyoung’s room with your outfit for the architecture awards festival along with you.

“Am I allowed to come?” Jinyoung asked as soon as you entered the room. You gave him a nod.

Jinyoung’s voice was more or less back to 100% and his eye had completed healed by the end of last week. There wasn’t much left until being fully recovered. Possibly parting from the hospital quicker than the original 2 months the doctor had estimated.

“I knew I’d get the green light. I even prepared my outfit because I was so sure I’d be able to come.” You hadn’t seen someone so ecstatic for an awards festival.

“As expected… I’m not even surprised. Will you be able to get dressed? Need any of my help?” Jinyoung was still a little instable since he’s been lying in bed for the past 2 weeks. His legs tend to give out for the first 30 mins.

“I think I can manage. I’ll get dressed quickly and then the bathroom is all yours.” You chuckled at his assumption that you’ll take really long in the bathroom for the event.

Jinyoung heads towards the bathroom and you are left there practising a speech you’ve written for all the awards you and your company have been nominated. This isn’t because you knew you were going to win any of them but… the unprofessional scenes if you guys were to win an award and to not have a speech ready daunted you. There was nothing wrong with being prepared.

15 MINUTES LATER

You must say… I don’t think you had ever laid eyes on someone so handsome in your life before. You could swear that this man was carved by God himself.

“How much deeper are you going to fall into my looks?” You hadn’t realised but you had been staring Jinyoung up and down for the past 30 seconds of him leaving the bathroom. Hair all styled. The suit was literally made for him. His cute bow tie was a little wonky leading you to let out a chuckle.

“What?” Jinyoung’s face turned serious thinking something was wrong with how he looked.

“Your bowtie is wonky.” You stood up from your seat and reached out to fix his bowtie. Your eyes were fixated in straightening the bowtie and all Jinyoung could do was analyse your face and how focussed you were.

“There you go. Looks better now.” You lightly let go off the tie and looked up at Jinyoung who was already staring right back at you. Those bambi eyes were going to be the death of you.

“Thank you. Now go and get yourself ready.” He pinched your nose and then you entered the bathroom with your dress, makeup bag and accessories.

20 MINUTES LATER

“Jinyoung~~” You called out for Jinyoung. You were done with everything but couldn’t reach the zipper on the back of your dress. You had been procrastinating on what to do and just gave up. There’s no way you could zip the dress up alone.

“Yes, Y/N. Is everything alright?” You could hear his footsteps come closer to the bathroom door.

“In a bit of sticky situation… could I ask you to do a favour?”

“Sure, what is it?” You went ahead and unlocked the door for him. He took a step back and couldn’t contain the sight in front of him. You were in a red bandeau strapless dress which had a structured skirt that was shorter at the front and longer at the back with. A very slight trail. Unsurprisingly your makeup was the bare minimum and you had left your natural hair out. His mouth was agape as you stepped out of the bathroom.

“How much longer are you going to stare for Mr Park?” He had been in the same awe you was when he had stepped out of the bathroom earlier on.

“Yes…right… the favour?” His soul re-entered his body trying to compose himself. You could only smile on the effect you had on the prince himself.

“I can’t reach my zipper, could you zip up the back of my dress for me?” You saw his cheeks blush a light pink below the thin layer of bb cream he had on. Without the zip done neither of you were going anywhere so he had to do it.

He wasn’t able to give a verbal response and just nodded. You turned around to have your back facing Jinyoung. He moved your hair to aside exposing half of your back to him. He was blushing so hard right now and was happy to have you facing away from him even though in a matter of seconds you’d be facing him seeing the shades of red planted on his cheeks. Jinyoung gently placed one hand on the zipper and the other hand on your back holding the fabric of your dress still. His fingers grazed your skin and they were a little cold leading you to jolt a little by the surprising cool touch. He notices.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice was a little worried. The slightest worrying reaction you make, and he’s so concerned. He’s too sweet.

“Nope, your hands are just a little cold that’s all.” You say whilst you chuckle.

He apologises with his soothing voice and zips up the dress, letting out a quiet done when finished.

You turn back round and thank him for his kind gesture. You also noticed the flush of his cheeks. He’s so cute, you thought. You quickly put your heels on and left Jinyoung’s patient room and entered the hall of the hospital. Expectedly, you guys received some stares and some whistles by the old women sitting outside their patient rooms. The event manager had organised a limousine to pick up each nominee for the awards hence why there was a lovely jet black limousine parked at the entrance of the hospital. The driver spotted you two and guided you the way and kept the door open for you two to enter the fancy vehicle. He ran back to the wheel and started driving towards the venue.

“Anything I need to know beforehand? Who should I present myself as?” Jinyoung had started with the questions during the car drive.

“Who’d you like to present yourself as Jinyoung?” You wanted to fish out his intentions from him.

“Preferably your boyfriend in order to stop those punks from hitting on you but I’d never want to force you into a relationship with me…” He side eyed you as he kept looking out the window. You so wanted him to be your boyfriend.

“Logical. Agreed. If anyone asks, you’re my boyfriend.”

“What an honour.” You slap his thigh due to his sarcastic tone.

“Whatttt? I’m serious. I’m going to be the boyfriend of an amazingly talented architect who’s bound to receive an award tonight. It’s a genuine privilege.” You could only look at him in awe as he described the so called ‘privilege’ he was taking part of.

“If you say so…”

The humming noise from the motor of the limousine was really calming but Jinyoung broke the silence once again.

“Are you nervous?” His tone was much deeper and serious compared to how he was a second ago.

“A little. These awards happen once a year and we’ve progressed so much as a company but so has everyone else in the industry. It’s hard to tell if we’ll be receiving the major validation from the institute. With or without the award tonight I’m so pleased with my company, but it would be nice to get a recognisable achievement for all our hard work.” Jinyoung listened to you as you let out your insecurities for the upcoming night.

“In the little amount of time I’ve met you, I think you’re the only person who deserves all the awards you’ve been nominated for this year. No one can change my thoughts and it’s going to be a pleasure to witness your achievement first hand. I can’t wait.” He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles trying to calm your nerves down. It was going to be a long night.

30 MINUTES LATER

Your limousine had rocked up to the red carpet laid out on the floor outside of the venue of the awards. You took a deep breath as the driver ran around to Jinyoung’s side of the limousine to let him out. Jinyoung agreed to open your door for you so he exited the vehicle first. Like he had planned, he went around to your side and opened the door for you to step out. The cameras started capturing every single moment as you wrapped your arm around Jinyoungs, and he gave you a reassuring nod. You gave him a smile and the two of you walked towards the entrance of the building slowly as you waved to the cameras and press greeting the two of you. The cameras were close to blinding, but you pulled through until reaching the entrance where the bodyguard escorted the two of you to your spaces in the main hall.

The building was full of white and gold decorations. You could definitely tell that the theme was highly influenced by Greek culture. The budget of the awards keep growing as the number of sponsors increase. The bodyguard escorted you to the table that Beck was already sat at with his fiancé. Beck realised your presence as well as Jinyoung. He stood up to give you a hug and shook Jinyoung’s hand. Beck’s fiancé shook both of your hands too and took your seats.

“The famous Mr Park. It’s nice to meet you in person. I’m Beck, the other shareholder.” Beck gave Jinyoung a warm smile.

“It’s nice to meet you to Beck. It seems like you already know of my name, but I’ll reiterate for the norm. My name is Park Jinyoung, you can call me just Jinyoung.” You let out a scoff because of how formal Jinyoung was being with Beck.

“He’s younger than you so you can ignore the formalities.” You said to Jinyoung and then Beck and him opened the conversation about age and their Chinese zodiac signs.

The evening began at 7:30 pm with the award winners due to be announced at 9:00 pm. Until then there was butterflies in your stomach ready to be set free any minute now.

Jinyoung came closer to your ear and whispered, “Loosen up a little. There’s no need to be this tense. Here hold my hand.”

Jinyoung offered his hand and you took it immediately as he gestured his open palm. Your hands were tiny compared to his manly hands. They encompassed all your digits giving you’re a sigh of relief because of the security they exerted. You let out a large sigh and continued with the discussions on your table with the new clients that were interested in your company. Having Jinyoung at the event really helped scare away the useless men who would only be interested in your physique and nothing more. His presence filtered out all the nonsense that would usually be taking place at the table.

The clock finally struck 9:00 pm and everyone went back to their designated seats in order for the awards to be presented. The event holder went through all the minor rookie awards to then move onto the company categories.

“Here are the nominees for Best Project of the Year.” The event holder signalled to the larger screen behind him as the nominees including your company are mentioned in no specific order.

“I was personally really fond of this project myself too. The meaning behind the design and the immense detail put into the façade really makes me excited for the future of this company. I’ll stop blabbing on and open the envelope.” You looked at Beck and then back at Jinyoung who was really eager to know the result.

“The award for Best Project of the Year goes to…” The event holder lifts the flap of the envelope and takes out the white sheet of paper inside. You hold your breath waiting for the result to be spoken.

“The Chamberlain project, designed and constructed by Chevrel Architects.” The whole community around your table started roaring and cheering for you and Beck to claim the award. That was one award written down in the books for Chevrel Architects, a company you and Beck had started years back. You and Beck had decided that if this award was given to you guys then he’d give the speech for it. Beck was the reason for the Chamberlain project happening and hands down you could state it was because of him the project turned out well. You, Jinyoung and everyone else in the hall stood up clapping as Beck walked up to the stage and shook hands with the event holder along with receiving the award. He then walked up to the mic and started his speech.

“I’d like to first start off with a large thank you to everyone at Chevrel Architects. The amount of hard work that was put into the Chamberlain project is indescribable, without everyone’s help it wouldn’t have been possible to achieve such a great outcome. I’d like to also thank Y/N for coming on this journey with me and trusting in me when I said that this company will create its own legacy. This is only the beginning…” Beck continued to thank more or less everyone he knew and came to an end with another roaring applause by everyone.

He jogged back to your table and you admired the award he placed on the table. You felt Jinyoung squeeze your hand in encouragement for you to realise how much you guys are capable of although he still knew you were a little iffy because the individual architect awards hadn’t been announced yet. You couldn’t help but smile at the gleaming object right before your eyes. Having received this award you doubted that another award would be given to someone of the same company.

Minutes went by and the event holder had reached the most awaited award of the night. Architect of the Year. You were surprised that you hadn’t left to use the restroom to throw up all this anxiety already. You were so ready to go home and relax. You wanted your normal heart rate back. You looked at Jinyoung and he gave you a look that melted your heart in seconds. He started massaging your knuckles with his thumb again and you could feel your body ease into his touch. The event holder for the last time of the night directs our attention to the screen for the listing of the nominees. Beck unfortunately wasn’t nominated so he was rooting for you to win the award.

“I know for many of you this is probably the most important part of the night. I’d like to first mention that to be able to be nominated for this award is ana achievement in itself so, you architects should all be proud of yourselves. It was a very hard decision that the committee made but we were able to make a decision. The award for Architect of the Year goes to…”

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

I think it was mean of me to have ended this episode here, but it is 2:30 am right now as I write this episode. I hope you guys liked this episode. I shall be back somewhat soon so make sure to come back to check if an episode has been uploaded. Like always let me know your opinions on the story line and check out the other episodes if you haven’t. It would be nice to get some feedback :)

See you next time

writer-nim x

8 notes · View notes

fanficimagery · 5 years

Text

Imagine being someone who developed powers when you were just a mere child. The government rounded up every child/teenager who showed inhuman abilities under the guise they were going to help them, but the reality was much darker. Director Fury took you in when he realized your capabilities and couldn't let the government put you down. Instead, he hands you over to a group of individuals who can protect you- the Avengers.

Gen Fic X Reader

Sitting in the tallest Tower in New York, you pull your hoodie closed and hug yourself when the stares become too much. Keeping your head down, you let Director Fury talk to the group he claimed would be able to keep you safe- the Avengers.

"So let me get this straight," Tony Stark says, pouring himself a drink. "The government wants her dead. Her. A kid?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Natasha Romanoff asks.

"Lets just say Miss Y/L/N is a valuable asset." You cringe at his words, hugging yourself tighter. "She is of no harm to you so long as you don't touch her. She doesn't like to be touched." Fury pointedly admits. "The program Y/N was in is top secret. So secret that it was above even my clearance level until they wanted my opinion on something."

Clint Barton huffs. "She's just a kid though."

"I don't like this," Steve Rogers admits, expression tight with concealed anger.

"Neither did I," Fury says, "hence the reason for me springing her loose and dropping her off here. They're already searching for her, so I trust I can count on you all to keep her safe until I figure out my next move?"

"Of course," Pepper Potts tells him. "Y/N is more than welcomed here."

"Good." Director Fury nudges your knee with his own, you having become fascinated with your green clinical pants as they talked about you as if you weren't even in the room. "I'll be back for you as soon as I can. You're safe here."

You hesitantly meet his gaze and when you see nothing but complete honestly you nod. The corner of Fury's lips twitch, but he quickly masks it and stands, leaving with a dramatic twirl of his long coat.

Fury's exit prompts a lingering silence and it's only broken once you gather enough courage to look up and meet everyone's gaze. Everyone seems to be watching you with caution, but it's the pretty strawberry blonde, Miss Potts, that approaches you.

"Welcome to the Tower, Y/N. I'm terribly sorry about the ordeal you've been through, but if you follow me I can take you to your new room and get you settled in."

"T-Thank you," you stammer quietly. "All of you," you then say, glancing quickly around at everyone. "This means a lot to me." Your first words since you've set foot in the tower seem to put most of them at ease and it seems like they're all breathing a little easier.

"Hey, kid?" Tony then says. "Do you even know who we are? Did Fury tell you what we do?"

"Yeah. He m-made me read your files." Several people cringe and you immediately feel like you crossed an invisible line you hadn’t realized was there. "Don't worry. I won't say a w-word and I'll try to stay out of your way as much as p-possible."

"Aw, kid, no," Clint Barton frowns. "We didn't mean to make you feel bad. We just needed to know you knew about our abilities. Just in case."

"What he means is just in case the Hulk makes an appearance," Doctor Banner says, sheepishly fiddling with his glasses. "Things tend to get.. smashed when he comes out."

"Oh."

"Well now that that's out of the way," Pepper muses, "we can go now and get you some clothes made for kids your age." You hesitantly smile, but when Pepper reaches for you she immediately stalls and apologizes.

"It's f-fine," you tell her. "As long as it's not skin and skin, you can touch."

"Oh." Pepper cautiously reaches out and places her hand in the middle of your clothed covered back to guide you, and you flash her a small smile. She returns it, sighing in relief. "Well okay then."

A week in and you're completely gobsmacked with your new rooms and clothing Pepper Potts had bestowed upon you. The CEO of Stark Industries had even gone out of the way to purchase you cotton, elbow length gloves to make you feel more comfortable and you adored her for it.

The Avengers and those associated with them took Fury's words to heart and were careful about not touching skin when you wore a short sleeve shirt or a tank top with your gloves, but they never ceased being curious about why the government wanted you dead. Fury had told you to be careful with what you said, so you never said anything other than that you were an asset who didn't want to do their bidding.

Their personal gym proved to be useful and you found yourself visiting there more often than not. Running on the treadmills was one of your favorite things to do when you felt cooped up and taking a swing at the punching bags was a close second.

One day, however, things take a turn.

Punching one of the bags in the gym, you flinch when you feel a twinge in your left wrist. Hissing, you immediately stop and then startle when a voice says, "You need more tape."

A hand touches your bare bicep and you pull away with a gasp. When you turn around you see Bucky Barnes standing there, wide eyed and sheepish with his hands held up. Steve Rogers is at his side, frowning.

"I'm sorry," Bucky says. "I forget people are afraid of the metal."

When his words sink in, your gaze darts to his metal hand and.. and you realize you didn't see anything. Your own eyes subtly widen and you step forward in awe, feeling immensely guilty at his saddened expression. "No. I didn't- I-I'm sorry. I-" You reach out, stopping before you can touch him. "Can I?" You ask, then gesturing to his metal arm. "I didn't flinch because of that."

Bucky frowns and lowers his hands. "You didn't?"

"No." He hesitantly holds his hand out and you cautiously take his metal hand in your own, tears filling your eyes as you trail your fingertips over him. Sniffling, you let him go and wipe at your eyes.

"Y/N?" Steve says. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah.” Then laughing wetly, you say, "I don't mean to freak you guys out. It's just- well I haven't touched anyone since I was ten. It's.. nice." Suddenly feeling overwhelmed and idiotic under their pitying stares, you make an excuse to leave and flee the gym.

Later that night you're invited to movie night and go. And since you were in a tank top and pajama pants when Clint stopped by to drag you upstairs if need be, you merely pull on a pair of gloves before leaving for the communal floor. You take a seat on one of the available love seats and are momentarily shocked when Bucky asks to sit next to you. Usually everyone let you sit by yourself, but not tonight.

Just as snacks are being passed around, you feel Bucky nudge your knee with his own. Glancing at him, he shrugs his metal shoulder and grins, and when you realize what he's doing you smile at him. Taking off your gloves, much to everyone's surprise, you hesitantly scoot as close as you can to Bucky and practically hug his metal arm. You lay your cheek against his shoulder, snuggling in for the movie.

Tony gapes, Natasha grins, and Steve smothers his laughter by shoving popcorn in his mouth. The others stare briefly before just going with it and all seems to be forgotten for the time being.

After it seemed that you were more than comfortable to cuddle Bucky's arm, people made it a point to always seat Bucky to your right so his metal arm was right next to you. Tony was the only one who thought it was weird, but it gave you a sense of relief to be able to touch someone without being thrown into one of their memories.

But of course, secrets never remain a secret for long.

With Steve and Natasha away on a mission, Bucky found his way to your apartment. You had let him in and the two of you were going to start watching movies from a list he'd been compiling. And with how comfortable you and Bucky had become around each other, it's no shock that a mistake was made.

Bucky holds out two glasses of soda for you to take and you immediately reach for them without even realizing you don't have your gloves on. Your finger tips brush Bucky's flesh hand and your thrown into a memory of his. The memory is hazy around the edges and Bucky with shorter, cropped and styled hair can be seen panting heavily against a wall. His blue uniform is one from a different time and you watch as he leaves the safety of his hiding spot to engage in a fight. He uses Captain America's shield to deflect bullets being shot at him and then he's falling out the side of the train car. Steve jumps in to save him, but Bucky can't quite reach and then you watch in horror as he's falling, falling, falling..

You pull back from Bucky with a shout, soda splattering your feet and his. Bucky reaches for you as you bump into the couch, but you pull away, hugging yourself tightly and crying.

"Y/N? Shit. I'm sorry. I forgot-"

"You fell. You fell and Steve had to watch and oh my god. Oh my god, Bucky, you fell."

"What?"

Your babbling immediately ceases and when you glance up at Bucky you see he's gone pale. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to see," you tell him. He still seems tense and you gulp down a sob. "It's why I don't like skin on skin contact. I see things I'm not supposed to."

Bucky takes a moment and then he seems to lose the tension in his frame. "So you see things? That's why the government wants you dead?"

Tersely nodding, you then gesture to the sofas in the lounge. "Can you stay so I can explain? I'll understand if you want to leave. It's just.. Fury cautioned me about who I tell this to."

"Yeah, kid, I'll stay. Just let me pick this up."

As Bucky cleans up the mess you'd made by dropping the glasses of soda, you take a seat on the sofa. Then picking up your feet, you bend your knees and hug your legs as you wait for Bucky to take a seat of his own. When's he's seated across from you, you finally explain what's going on. "Several years ago, there was this world wide phenomena where kids between the ages of five and seventeen suddenly inherited powers. Some kids died, others survived the event, and some weren't even affected."

"But you were?"

"I was. It happened on the night of my tenth birthday and the next day I was being picked up by the government and bused to a secret camp where they tested each and every one of us before separating us into factions- green, blue, gold, red, and orange. Reds and orange were considered lethal and to be killed on sight."

Bucky frowns. "When you first got here, you were wearing a green uniform."

You nod. "I was, but I wasn't supposed to be a green," you quietly admit. "When I realized what the doctor was going to do after he realized what my color was, there was a brief struggle before I got my hand around his wrist. It was like he froze and then I told him that I was safe. That I was green and he was going to change my status from orange to green. So he did. And I got away with it until Director Fury showed up and we were given new tests, and they figured out I was lying."

"What do the colors even mean?" He then wonders.

"Greens were the safest people, the ones whose ability was super intelligence. Blue had telekinesis and gold had electrokinesis. But reds usually became volatile what with their pyrokinesis. However, oranges such as myself, were considered the most dangerous."

"Why?"

"Because oranges can control the mind." Bucky tenses and you hug your legs tighter. You know his history with HYDRA and you figured he'd be the most uncomfortable with what you could do. "When my powers first manifested, I was laying in bed next to my mother. I told her to not worry about me, that everything would be okay and I touched her the exact moment my powers kicked in. The following morning my mother didn't even know who I was and called the government to pick me up because powered children had been all over the news for a couple months by then and she was scared."

"You told your mother not to worry.. and she woke up with no memory of a child to worry about. You erased yourself from her memory?"

"I did. I don't even know how I did it, but I did. There were rumors that oranges could do so much more with their powers, but the government had all oranges and reds killed so it's not like anyone knows for sure."

"Jesus Christ," Bucky mutters. Smoothing his flesh hand over his face, he then asks, "How did the government get away with rounding all of you up? How do they explain killing children?"

You shrug. "They were a secret organization with the backing of the President. Families were bribed with money to forget their children and if they couldn't be bribed then they were blackmailed. The phenomena never happened again after that one year, but there are still so many kids in captivity. I'm not sure what the purpose of them keeping us was for since all we did was practically work in a sweatshop."

"Kid, you have to tell someone."

"I just did. And Fury knows as well," you say. "And besides, what's anyone doing to do? They're being backed by the President, Bucky. Most of the world already forgot about us."

"Jesus," he swears again.

The two of you lapse into silence and then you tell him, "You can't say anything. I was most scared of you to find out because of your history, but I still don't want the others to know. Not yet."

He doesn't acknowledge anything you've just said, but he does seem to light up with a realization. "Wait.. if you erased yourself from someone's memory, is it possible you can erase words from a person's mind?"

"I- it's possible?" You admit with some confusion. "But like I said, I have no training. There's no one to train me, so I wouldn't know what the hell I'm doing."

"I have words in my mind- triggers," he says. "If someone comes a long and recites them in a specific order, it triggers the Winter Soldier programming," he says. "I need them removed, but so far we've found no one. But you-"

"Bucky," you say, quietly. "I'm not sure it's possible."

"But there is a chance."

He looks so happy that you can't bear to refuse him. "If we were to try, I'd see everything," you say."

His expression falters. "Would it hurt?"

"You wouldn't even feel me."

"Then I want you to try."

He scoots forward in his seat and your eyes widen. "Not now! I need to meditate.. or something. Fury showed me some things, but then I was dropped here."

"Fine. Next week?"

"I- uh, sure."

Bucky seems upbeat for the rest of the night and you know you're going to have a long week of mediating and figuring out your powers so you don't accidentally screw your friend over.

When the day comes, you and Bucky wait until everyone has gone to bed. He makes his way to your apartment in the early hours and puts his complete trust with you.

As you sit on the floor across from one another, you hesitantly reach up to cradle his face in your bare hands. When you stop just shy of actually touching him, he smiles and grabs your hands to place on his face. Your eyes flicker orange and Bucky closes his eyes.

Swimming in the memories of Bucky Barnes, you struggle to find the memories of his captivity. Watching what he went through and all the electroshock therapy to condition his brain to certain words breaks your heart, and you take glee in grasping onto those memories and watching as they fade. You make sure to leave everything else in tact so he knows he was brainwashed to commit the crimes he did, but you completely erase the the words longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak, seventeen, benign, nine, homecoming, one, and freight car every time they were mentioned in Russian along with every memory of the shocks to his mind.

It feels like you've been swimming in Bucky's mind for hours since you had to find every memory of when he woken from his cryo tank or when the words were said to him, like that one time he was held in captivity by the US government as he had warned you about, but you get it done. And when you finally open your eyes and settle your hands in your lap, Bucky's smile is from ear to ear.

That is until your eyes roll into the back of your head and you pass out.

When you eventually woke up from fixing Bucky, it was to find that you were in the medical wing. Apparently Bucky had freaked out and called for help, but he kept your secret and only told them that he had found you unconscious. The medical staff hadn't thought anything of Bucky's explanation, but the Avengers were suspicious. Thankfully, Bucky stuck to his story.

It was Tony who made the insinuation that something romantically was going on between you and your new friend, but when you were visibly upset and crying and defended Bucky as the older brother you never had, apologies were made and Pepper banned Tony from your room.

All you had needed was rest and food to get back on your feet, and when you felt better you got back into the groove of mediation and figuring your powers out.

Bucky seemed much more confident in himself that it started freaking people out, but Steve was just happy to have his friend back. Then when it seemed like things were going great, HYDRA made a surprise visit.

Everyone is congregated on the common floor for a family dinner and you are only waiting on Pepper. When half an hour passes, Tony gets frustrated and calls out for JARVIS to see where Pepper is at. Only.. JARVIS never answers.

Almost immediately everyone is on alert. Natasha and Clint pull out guns and knives from their hiding spots while Tony immediately starts tapping away on a small tablet.

"What's going on?" You ask, stepping around the table and coming next to Bucky and Steve.

"Nothing good," Steve says. "If JARVIS is down, someone is planning an attack."

"Goddammit," Tony grumbles. "Who the hell hacked my AI?!"

The elevator dings and everyone is on their feet and moving towards the center of the room. As they round the corner, there are several men in business suits marching onto the floor and using Pepper as a shield with a blade to her throat.

Tony immediately deploys gauntlets on just his arms, but the douche bag holding Pepper tuts at him, digging the blade harder into her throat. Weapons are raised all around and Bucky takes a protective stance in front of you.

"We're here for our asset," one of them says, his accent obviously Russian. "He comes with us and your CEO remains unharmed."

"Like hell," Steve mumbles, he taking a step in front of Bucky.

One of the Russians grins and starts citing the words all the Avengers feared. "Longing. Rusted."

Steve freezes. "No. Don't!"

Clint and Natasha raise their guns higher, but the enemies merely threaten Pepper's safety even more. Tony starts cursing, trying to be louder than the Russian words being said, but it's no use.

"Homecoming. One. Freight car."

Everyone goes quiet.

"Soldat?"

Natasha and Clint immediately swivel on the heel of their feet, aiming their weapons on Bucky now. But instead of the stoic Winter Soldier everyone was expecting, all they have is a chuckling Bucky Barnes. "That's Sarge to you, pal." The Russians lose their smug, victorious expressions and when you stealthily take Bucky's flesh hand into your own bare hand you mentally ask him, “want me to help?” Bucky glances down at you, ignoring everyone's baffled expressions and nods once. "If you're ready to show 'em what you're made of, have at it, kid."

Eyes blazing orange, you smile up at Bucky before darting your gaze to the Russians. Pepper's eyes widen, but for the time being you ignore it. Instead you concentrate on taking hold of the bad guys’ conscious minds all at once. "Drop your weapons." Weapons immediately drop and Pepper doesn't waste the moment. She drives her elbow into the face of the guy holding her and she lunges for Tony who readily puts himself in front of her. "Get down on your knees and put your hands in the air."

As the Russians all drop to their knees with their hands in the air, the Avengers and Pepper all stare at you in shock.

"What do I do with them?" You ask the room at large, keeping your concentration mostly on the bad guys.

"Y/N?"

"Not now, punk," Bucky says, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "There are more pressing matters at hand. All you need to know is that Y/N is one of the good ones. I'm proof of that."

"What?" Steve stares incredulously at Bucky, then at you. "You’re the reason the words didn’t work? How?"

"Stevie," Bucky chuckles. "Not now. What's the kid supposed to do with the bad guys."

Natasha steps forward, holstering her weapon. "If you can make it so it's easier to tie these guys up, I'd really appreciate it."

Concentrating on the men once more, you say one word. "Sleep." As the men fall unconscious, Clint whistles appreciatively before joining Natasha in tying them all up. "They'll wake up in a couple of hours," you say, eyes flickering back to their normal color.

After everything is said and done, Bucky leads you to the couches and gestures for to sit. You do and he takes a seat on the arm rest next to you, daring anyone to say anything negative.

The others approach cautiously.

"Buck?" Steve wonders. "Care to fill us in on what's going on?"

Under all the stares, you pick up your feet and bend your knees so you could hug your legs and make yourself as small as possible. "Not my story to tell, punk."

Every gaze lands on you and you sigh. "Way to throw me under the bus, loser." Bucky chuckles and ruffles your hair, and you swat at him with your bare hand. Everyone sees how freely you are touching now and once settled down you tell them. Everything.

When you're finished, everyone seems livid but are keeping a lid on their anger.

"But you can control it now. Right?" Clint asks. After Bucky, Clint was the other person you were worried about hating you.

"Mostly." You shrug. "I had to give myself a crash course. What I did earlier with those men? That was new, but the anger at them hurting Pepper made me hone it some. Before I had to touch someone to get them to do what I wanted. It's why I was grateful for all the gloves Pepper got me."

"You touch Bucky now though," Natasha says. "Without the gloves."

"If I concentrate, I can block it out," you say while letting the back of your hand touch the flesh of Bucky's arm. "I only got comfortable without the gloves around Bucky because I saw a lot when I erased the conditioning words. If I slip, Bucky says it's okay." Bucky smiles down at you and when you look back out to everyone else, your own smile falters. "I'll continue to wear the gloves until I completely have a lid on it. I don't want you guys to be nervous around me."

The room falls silent and your heart sinks. You'd spent a couple of months with these people and you were good with them, but now.. now not so much.

Just when the tension really feels suffocating, Steve stands and makes his way towards you. Without hesitation, he holds his hand out as if waiting to shake yours. Bucky nudges you and you reach forward, concentrating on not slipping into Steve's mind when the two of you grasp hands.

"It's okay," he says.

Your bottom lip wobbles and you momentarily lose control, your eyes flickering orange. Steve grins and you wipe at your eyes with your other hand. You're pretty sure your voice will crack if you attempt to talk, so you do the only thing you can think of. You push your thought into Steve's mind. Thank you.

Steve chuckles. "No problem, kid."

As Steve steps aside, Pepper is next. She completely bypasses a handshake and reaches down to hug you, and you cry as you return her embrace, ignoring the flashes of her memories that quickly pop up.

"You're too young to know what's going on up here," Tony says, tapping his temple when Pepper steps away. "I'll keep my distance for now, but welcome to the team. You are going to join the team. Right?"

"A secret organization within the government is trying to kill me, Mr. Stark. I'll be stuck in this tower for quite some time that you might as well start calling me Rapunzel."

Bruce quietly groans. "Please don't encourage his nicknames."

You chuckle wetly, nodding when Bruce smiles at you while keeping his distance. Then glancing at Natasha and Clint, you smile sadly. "I don't expect the two of you to be comfortable with me, so I'll be sure to wear gloves around you." Natasha nods and Clint sheepishly smiles. "It's okay, Barton. I figured you and Bucky were going to be the ones most wary of me. It's no biggie."

"It's just-"

"No explanations. I understand."

He opens his mouth to retort, but Natasha elbows him. "Shut up, Clint. She knows. Walk away on good terms and go call Fury so he can send a team to pick up the HYDRA men."

Everyone is suddenly moving and finding something to do, but Bucky stays by your side. When they're a good distance away, he nudges you again. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you say. "I think I'm going to be just fine."

Inspired by The Darkest Minds. I fell in love with that movie!

#fanficimagery #marvel gen fic x reader #marvel gen fic #marvel gen fic imagine #marvel imagine #gen fic imagine #nick fury #bucky barnes #steve rogers #tony stark #pepper potts #natasha romanoff #clint barton #bruce banner #marvel #imagine

754 notes · View notes

joon-bugs · 5 years

Text

Erupt

“So you’re done talking. I point you out on your bullshit and you decide you don’t want to talk anymore!” You yell down the hallway after him. This is ridiculous. All of it was bullshit. When you two first started dating your arguments consisted of what flavor Doritos to buy or if you were going to watch Dragon Ball Z or Naruto. After spending so much time apart it was hard to relate to each other’s ways. He’d grown so much as a person and as an idol and you stayed your college student self, going with the flow but now you felt like you were in a constant battle to see who was more mature than the other.”

word count: 3333

pairing: Namjoon/ fem reader

genre: angst and smut

warnings: profanity, dom!fem reader, face sitting, fem riding, sex (lol), alcohol

“Namjoon get the fuck out of my face.”

The bass of the speakers consumed your anger, making you that much closer to erupting.

“I just don’t understand why you’re mad at me.”

“Will you ever Namjoon? If you want to talk we aren’t doing it in here.” You turned around taking another drag of your four loko, but before you could walk away he yanked your wrist turning you to face him.

“We’re talking now come on.”

“Kim fucking Namjoon I didn't come here to kiss and makeup. If you want to make an appointment with me later you’re more than welcome. Now if you can get in that's a different conversation but you know where to find me Joonie.” You whisper-yelled at him, gently smacking his cheek and leaving the potent trail of sour green apple in your place as you walked away.

You finished off your drink, letting the negativity soak away and the music come back to your senses and take over your body. You grabbed the neck of some random suitor, grinding into his pelvis. You could feel his eyes burning holes into your body as you danced but who gives a damn because drunk you sure didn’t. Three dancing partners later the lights in the apartment were turned on and sweaty bodies filed out the apartment. You pulled out your phone and pulled a successful drunken attempt to dial your little brother's number.

“Jeong-in can you pleaseeeeeee come get me?”

“What happened to Namjoon?”

“Ugh fuck that dude can you come get me please?” Before he could answer your phone was snatched out your hand.

“It’s cool Jeongin I got her. A sober and pissed off Namjoon hung up your phone and led you outside the humid apartment.

“Namjoon WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT. Leave. Me. Alone.”

“Calm down.”

“You’re taking me to my house.”

“Not like this, I’m not. Your parents don’t care if you’re 23 they’ll still be pissed if you come home like this.”

“Like what exactly?”

“Y/N you look and smell like a hot ass mess.”

“And you wonder why I’m mad at you all the time.”

“Come on the Lyft is here.” It wasn’t long before you were stuffed into the back seat of a musty Hyundai Sonata. The long ride opted you to fall asleep.

You woke up in a familiar bed in your routine pajamas: a t-shirt and boxers. Of course, you’d end up at Namjoon’s after telling yourself you were done with his bullshit. To hide in his bed or to face the bitch. That was the question. You threw the duvet off of your body in anger and placed your bare feet on the cold hardwood. You stretched and shook out your disheveled hair and walked out to the kitchen where Namjoon sat at the counter, working on his laptop while sipping on his coffee. His honey blonde hair fell flat on his forehead nearly dangling in front of his eyes.

“You ready to act like the adults we are?” He asked, most likely noticing your footsteps coming down the hallway. His annoying attitude caused you to throw a silent fit behind him. All you wanted was to have a free weekend but now the cheapness of the four loko god’s got the best of you once again. You answered him with the sound of the suction releasing from the fridge and grabbed the unfinished gallon apple juice you left there and chugged it, relieving you of the cottonmouth you woke up with.

“Oh so you want to treat me like an adult now?” you finally responded after wiping your mouth clean of apple juice.

“If you act like a kid I’m going to treat you as such.” Namjoon was still irritatingly deep into his laptop.

“See that’s where you’re wrong, I’m not childish you’re just a control freak trying to hang on to any last bit you can.” You rummaged through his cabinets on the hunt for good hangover snacks. He must have moved them since last week what an ass. You thought sourly.

“I haven’t been grocery shopping since Monday so I ordered our breakfast.”

“Ugh, my savior what would I do without you?” Every bit of sarcasm was laced in your response as you fake fainted against his broad back.

The constant arguing had just happened last month when he came back home for a break. Your free-spirited personality wasn’t as much of a turn on for him anymore and something changed as he felt like he needed to be more controlling. At first, you understood the fact that he didn’t have control of much in his life being that he’s a kpop idol, but as soon as it became a constant routine for him to father you around (and not in a good way), the more you grew irritated. Age wasn’t even an excuse for him you were a normal twenty-three-year-old adult with somewhat of a nine to five job and grad school to take care of. So what if you still thrived within the college night-life, you were a grown woman.

“You’re so fucking irritating.” Namjoon murmured under his breath.

“Then why’d you bring me here? Jeong-in could’ve driven me to my apartment and I would’ve been fine.”

“Because we need to talk Y/N, ignoring me for a week doesn’t solve anything.”

“I know it doesn’t but I needed space and last time I checked I’m a grown ass woman and I don’t need a helicopter parent.”

“A helicopter parent? So you think me making sure you don’t make stupid mistakes because I love you is me being a helicopter parent.”

“Namjoon it’s not just that it’s you telling me to take off “all that makeup”, I’m a business marketing major I work in the makeup industry everyone looks like this at work. Or when you wake me up an hour before my alarm because you don’t want me to be late to work which I never am. Or is it when you try and to take my drinks from me the one night I let loose because you think I’ve had too much when I know my limits. I’ve known my fucking limits since I was 17 Namjoon. OR WAIT is it when you-” Your rant got cut off by a buzz at the door.

“Food’s here.” Namjoon calmly said before getting up from his almost monumented position. After a quick exchange with the delivery guy, he placed a giant brown bag and drink holder on the kitchen counter and started sorting things out.

“Sweet and creamy iced coffee and two cinnamon bagels with extra cream cheese… your favorite.” He gently slid your breakfast across the granite countertop. A ping of guilt drifted across your body.

“Thanks, Joon.” You two ate in silence kept company by the sounds of knives against bagels and spoons against bowls.

“You know I act like this because I care about you right?”

“I know Joon, but I don’t need a manager”

“Oh and I do?”

“Namjoon you’re a fucking kpop idol of course you do. There’s a difference between your fame and my normal lifestyle.”

“I just don’t understand how I’m controlling.”

“There’s a fine line between being a caring boyfriend and a controlling boyfriend and you’ve been wearing the fuck out of it. Joon I’m an adult I can take care of myself. Half of these responsibilities you think you have in our relationship you took on yourself because you’re so used to being a leader that you don’t even rest when you get home. There’s two of us in this relationship you don’t need to do everything.”

“So in order for you to get this off of your chest, you had to get drunk at a house party and dance on four random guys?”

“Jesus, Namjoon you are impossible. Dancing doesn’t mean anything if you were paying attention which I know you were, I didn’t even let them touch me. It was just dancing. I’m sorry it wasn’t the most mature way to react.”

“Whatever.” He quickly collected the trash off of the counter and walked away to his bedroom.

“Namjoon we aren’t done talking.” You pushed open the bedroom door to find him at the edge of the bed with his face in the palms of his hands.

“Namjoon come on. I know we both have stuff to work on. We need to talk about it.” The bed sank under as you sat next to him.

“I’m tired of fighting.”

“I am too. I hate fighting with you.”

“Than stop being so petty.”

“You stop being so damn controlling and we got a deal.”

“See Y/N its shit like that. The way you respond is childish.”

You could feel the anger in you start to rise, it wasn’t long before you erupted into a profanity-filled rant. He knew more than anyone else how to piss you off. He was like a constantly nagging mom that you could never make happy anymore.

“What part of we both have things to work on did you not get?” You threw your anguish filled body on the bed.

“So guys aren’t the only thing you throw yourself on. I’ll take note.”

With those words that left his mouth the last straw was placed on the camel's back. The yell that was about to burst out of your body was a new level of pissed off he had never seen. After being together for two years. Two years of teaching each other how to not only love yourselves but each other. Two years of learning how he likes certain things, things not even the craziest of fans would know. Two years of what must have been the honeymoon stage were about to break into a madhouse. The boy you loved had your blood boiling deep within. And finally, you snapped.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, I’M THE CHILDISH ONE BUT YOU WANT TO BRING UP OLD SHIT I APOLOGIZED FOR. HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING TO ME THIS WHOLE TIME OR DID YOU TUNE ME OUT BECAUSE IT’S NOT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR?!” You reached back and grabbed the dense decorative pillow from behind you and threw it at the back of his head.

“HUH NAMJOON? HAVE YOU?!”

As soon as the pillow made contact with his skin, he had you pinned underneath him. You could feel the temperature of his wrath radiating off of him, his face centimeters from yours. The sweet scent of his coffee breath flowed into your nostrils.

“Throw something one more time and see what happens.” He nearly growled at you. Your contracted pupils met his, neither of you had ever been this angry with each other before.

“Get off of me.” Your once angry and emotion-filled voice was calm and still.

“You know what?” Namjoon said as he flipped himself off of your body

“Leave.”

“LEAVE? If you want me to leave, tell me you don’t want me anymore and I’ll go.”

Silence filled the room as his body was angled away from you, he was staring blankly at the wall before him. You sat up and waited for his response still in his shirt and boxers. You could hear the occupants of the apartment above you rummaged around. The silence turned into a countdown and it went off once again.

“Great answer Namjoon, I’ll leave!” You grabbed your dress and heels off the nightstand and stormed through the bedroom door.

“I didn’t even say anything!” He said chasing after you. “Well, you didn't answer either. Communicate.” You turned around to face him and argued back, poking him in the chest with every syllable. “Y/N…. stop.” You continued antagonizing him. “You want me to stop because you want two years to go in the trash right? You want me to leave right?” “STOP.” He finally gave in and raised his voice, shocking you when he firmly grasped your upper arms.

“Just fucking stop. Stop jumping to conclusions.” “You were thinking it.” His hands slid up to your face and he brought his forehead to yours.

It felt like the sound of birds chirping after a storm. Emotions didn't subside and evidence of the storm was still there. A new blanket of calm fell in the room.

“No, I wasn’t... I’m sorry I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to change. I don’t want to throw us in the trash. I’ll stop.” His lips grazed yours and as he pulled you into a passionate kiss you could feel him towering over you, power still in his stance. You broke away from the kiss.

“You don’t get to be in charge anymore.” You pulled his hands off your face and pushed him against the door returning your lips to his.

“Pick me up.” You managed to get out in between breaths. He groaned into the kiss picking you up. Now it was you that towered over him. Using his neck as support you ground your body onto his abs before giving him more directions. Trying to get any sense of affection he could, he placed sloppy kisses on your neck, causing you to throw your head back as your body was taken over by lust.

“I didn’t- say- you could do that.” You grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck pulling him away and bringing yourself back.

“Walk to the couch.”

Namjoon walked over to the couch with you still in his arms. He stopped in front of the furniture, waiting for his instructions. You slowly moved your mouth along his collarbone up to his ear, trailing your hot breath along the way.

“You’re so good, baby… now sit.” Your bodies fell against the black suede couch. You pulled the giant shirt off of your body and went back to kissing any of his exposed skin you could. Large hands began to dance across the waistband of your borrowed boxers. Coming to a harsh stop your dark eyes met Namjoon’s as you yanked his hands off your body.

“Shirt off. Now.” You watched in awe as his long torso was exposed. You slid off of his lap and began kissing along his waistband, his legs opening in response. Teasing him you moved up his chest, leaving the area that needed your attention the most. You could feel his hard-on against your exposed breast as you left hickeys on his chest. Noticing that, you stood up and bent over so your face was back in front of his.

“Odd of you to assume that you would get some before I got mine. Oh, my sweet boy.” You clutched his jaw in your hand bringing him nose to nose.

“Namjoon baby? Lay down.”

He shifted his body on the couch barely fitting but it was good enough. You began to strip yourself of the boxers, realizing that you didn’t even have your own underwear on.

“Look at Joon doing my work for me.” You taunted, before randomly tossing the boxers somewhere in the living room. The cool air hit your core making you notice how aroused you actually were.

“Mmm Namjoon baby I need you to show me how fast your mouth can actually move. Can you do that for me?”

Not even giving you a chance to say the last word he answered in an instant.

“Of course baby.”

“Good.” You crawled on top of his face planting each knee on the sides of his head lowering yourself onto his mouth. The relief of tension was instant as he moved his mouth harmoniously against your heat, his tongue painting stripes across your folds and his lips sucking on your sweet spot.

“Hold me.” You commanded and his hands gripped your thick thighs bringing you down further on to his mouth. His face was completely buried inside you as you rocked on top of him begging for more. You grabbed onto his honey locks, as the pleasure was so intense you knew it wouldn't be long before you’d try and run from it.

“How do I taste baby? Am I good?” You asked tauntingly. His response was lost, muffling against you, causing vibrations to push you further.

Closer and closer to the edge you were pushed as he showed off his talented mouth.

“Keep going baby I’m so close.” You whimpered, praising his talents. His fingers dug into your thighs as he quickened his pace. A shock was delivered throughout your body suddenly, sending you to an enamored release.

You slid off of him your legs shaking as you stood.

“Baby you’re so hard. Want to take these off?” You pulled at the waistband off his sweatpants, knowing they were the only thing he had on. He nodded, a look of intense need in his eyes.

“Okay. Strip.” His body slithered as he shimmied off his pants not getting off of the couch. His dick sprang free as he rid himself of the pants, precum already dripping down the head.

“You got that turned on from me riding your face baby? Oh, c’mere.” You sat on his lap ignoring his hard-on, but bringing him into a sloppy open-mouthed kiss, not caring if he touched you with or without permission at this point. Lost in the moment you forgot that you never even relieved him. Not that you cared. Dry humping his pelvis you felt his dick brush against your ass reminding you that he was still hard.

“Stop.” You commanded sternly before getting off of him.

You held on to his broad shoulder as you climbed on top of him once again hovering above his dick. Digging your nails into his shoulder you stabilized yourself controlling your speed as you slid onto him agonizingly slow.

“Mmm you feel so good inside of me Joon.” You rotated your hips on him even slower than before, offering him the slightest amount of pleasure.

“Faster, please.” He groaned into your neck.

“Anything for you baby.” Picking up your pace your thighs began to burn, knowing you were going to cum again. How could you not? His hands slid from your thighs up to your back pulling your body closer to his, pressing you chest to chest. The close proximity caused your bouncing to slow down to a grind, pushing you both higher than before. You felt the absence of one of his hands from your back but soon felt it in between your thighs, his thumb massaging your clit causing you to lose focus. He took over and flipped you on to your back, switching positions to pound into you from behind.

“Make me cum again Namjoon.” You cried out, gripping the suede under you in tight fists. He quickened his pace, going at a much better rhythm than you were at. It wasn’t long before you were a moaning mess underneath him, quickly falling apart with him following suit seconds after you releasing into you. He released a long drawn out groan before twitching inside of you. His body weight fell on top of you as he collapsed, his sweaty skin flush with yours. Your hands moved up to his hair combing through it.

“See what happens when you let go and let me take charge Namjoon?”

Written by Jo

168 notes · View notes

thevividgreenmoss · 5 years

Link

Let’s remember what the left critique of Obama’s administration is. Leftists argue, roughly, that while Obama came in with lofty promises of “hope” and “change,” the change was largely symbolic rather than substantive, and he failed to stand up for progressive values or fight for serious shifts in U.S. policy. He deported staggering numbers of immigrants, let Wall Street criminals off the hook, failed to take on (and now proudly boasts of his support for) the fossil fuel industry, sold over $100 billion in arms to the brutal Saudi government, killed American citizens with drones (and then made sickening jokes about it), killed lots more non-American citizens with drones (including Yemenis going to a wedding) and then misled the public about it, promised “the most transparent administration ever” and then was “worse than Nixon” in his paranoia about leakers, pushed a market-friendly healthcare plan based on conservative premises instead of aiming for single-payer, and showered Israel with both public support and military aid even as it systematically violated the human rights of Palestinians (Here, for example, is Haaretz: “Unlike [George W.] Bush, who gave Israel’s Iron Dome system a frosty response, Obama has led the way in funding and supporting the research, development and production of the Iron Dome”). Obama’s defenders responded to every single criticism by insisting that Obama had his hands tied by a Republican congress, but many of the things Obama did were freely chosen. In education policy, he hired charterization advocate Arne Duncan and pushed a horrible “dog-eat-dog” funding system called “Race To The Top.” Nobody forced him to hire Friedmanite economists like Larry Summers, or actual Republicans like Robert Gates, or to select middle-of-the-road judicial appointees like Elena Kagan and Merrick Garland. Who on Earth picks Rahm Emanuel, out of every person in the world, to be their chief of staff?

Centrism and compromise were central to Obama’s personal philosophy from the start. The speech that put him on the map in 2004 was famous for its declaration that there was no such thing as “blue” and “red” America, just the United States of America. A 2007 New Yorker profile said that “in his skepticism that the world can be changed any way but very, very slowly, Obama is deeply conservative.” Obama spoke of being “postpartisan,” praised Ronald Reagan, gave culturally conservative lectures about how Black people supposedly needed to stop wearing gold chains and feeding their children fried chicken for breakfast. From his first days in office, there simply didn’t seem to be much of a “fighting” spirit in Obama. Whenever he said something daring and controversial (and correct), he would fail to stand by it. For example, when he publicly noted that the Cambridge police force acted “stupidly” in arresting Henry Louis Gates Jr. for trying to break into his own home, he followed up by inviting the police officer and Gates to sit down and talk things out over a beer. A disgusted Van Jones has characterized this as the “low point” of the Obama presidency, but the desire to be “all things to all people” had always been central to the Obama image. Matt Taibbi described him during his first campaign as:

…an ingeniously crafted human cipher… a sort of ideological Universalist… who spends a great deal of rhetorical energy showing that he recognizes the validity of all points of view, and conversely emphasizes that when he does take hard positions on issues, he often does so reluctantly… You can’t run against him on issues because you can’t even find him on the ideological spectrum.

Adolph Reed, Jr., who as early as 1996 had described the politics of “form over substance” being practiced by a certain “smooth Harvard lawyer with impeccable do-good credentials and vacuous-to-repressive neoliberal politics,” warned in 2008 that “Obama’s empty claims to being a candidate of progressive change and to embodying a ‘movement’ that exists only as a brand will dissolve into disillusionment,” and his presidency would “continue the politics he’s practiced his entire career.” Reed saw the devotion Obama inspired as a kind of “faddish, utterly uninformed exuberance” and said that Obama’s “miraculous ability to inspire and engage the young replaced specific content in his patter of Hope and Change.” (When Obama did get specific, Reed said, he often “relies on nasty, victim-blaming stereotypes about black poor people to convey tough-minded honesty about race and poverty,” talking frequently about “alleged behavioral pathologies in poor black communities.”)

Obama supporters think all of this is deeply cynical and unfair. But those who want to argue that Obama was the proponent of a genuinely transformational progressive politics, his ambitions tragically stifled by the ideological hostility of reactionaries, have to contend with a few damning pieces of evidence: the books of Pfeiffer, Rhodes, and Litt.

Granted, these men are all devoted admirers of Obama who set out to defend his legacy. But in telling stories intended to make Obama and his staff look good, they end up affirming that the left’s cynicism was fully warranted. Litt, for instance, seems to have been a man with almost no actual political beliefs. Recently graduated from Yale when he joined the campaign, he was never much of an “activist.” Litt was drawn to Obama not because he felt that Obama would actually bring particular changes that he wanted to see happen, but because he developed an emotional obsession with Barack Obama as an individual person. Pfeiffer feels similarly—he fell in “platonic political love.” Litt’s book begins:

On January 3, 2008, I pledged my heart and soul to Barack Obama… My transformation was immediate and all-consuming. One moment I was a typical college senior, barely interested in politics. The next moment I would have done anything, literally anything, for a freshman senator from Illinois.

He describes the beginning of his brainless infatuation: “[Obama] spoke like presidents in movies. He looked younger than my dad. I didn’t have time for a second thought, or even a first one. I simply believed.”

Litt’s memoir is remarkable for its lack of interest in actual policy. He mentions climate change in one or two sentences (p. 111), but seems to have spent most of his White House years preparing jokes for various black tie events like the Alfalfa Club Dinner and the Al Smith Dinner. (Litt’s rule for writing speeches for dinners of rich donors: “Jokes about money are acceptable… Jokes about power are not.”) Litt helped the president record videos for BuzzFeed (to get in touch with millennials), and Between Two Ferns (to plug the floundering healthcare.gov website), and to tape a birthday message for Betty White. But he was particularly in his element in preparing Obama’s annual comedy monologue for the White House Correspondents’ Dinner (WHCD). The WHCD, now thankfully gutted of its significance, was mocked outside Washington for the icky chumminess shown between political elites and the press corps. But Litt obsessed over it, and anecdotes about it take up page after page of his book. (An incident in which one of the president’s comedy PowerPoint slides failed to display correctly is told with dramatic flair over two full pages.)

This is the Washington of the Turkey Pardon and the Easter Egg Roll, where photo ops and symbolic gestures matter far more than such comparative trivialities as “what the actual policies of the administration are.” In fact, Litt even says that during the second term, he felt as if he was being given “the political equivalent of a vegan cookie” because the speeches he was writing focused on things that were “all nutrition, no taste” like “help[ing] more students pay off loans” and “insur[ing] more people.” He wanted to make jokes about Republicans, not try to talk to the American public about housing policy. In fact, Litt, Rhodes, and Pfeiffer all subscribe to a politics of gesture, where if you want to address some crisis you give a grand speech about it. One of Rhodes’ proudest moments is writing “the Middle East speech,” and describing a moment of political difficulty, Litt writes: “We needed something to break through. That something was a speech.” These three men are speechwriters, so we can forgive them for being preoccupied with descriptions of things rather than the things themselves. But this tendency to prioritize “getting the words right” over the actual experiences of human beings ran through the whole Obama presidency. Ordinary people were a kind of alien species—Litt says they referred to them as “real people (RPs)” and tried to litter speeches with “RP stories” to make them relatable. “In Washington you never stop hearing about the details of policy but you rarely see its effects.” This is only true if you rarely bother to examine the effects.

There may not have been much Change, but there were plenty of speeches about it. The economic situation of the average Black family may have been catastrophic under Obama, but he did give “the historic race speech.” The United States may have bombed an Afghan hospital, burning dozens of patients alive in their beds (their families each received $6,000 in compensation), but Obama gave a very powerful Nobel Peace Prize speech about how the pacifism of Martin Luther King needed to be balanced with a recognition that using force can be morally necessary.

…My colleague Luke Savage has analyzed how pernicious the influence of The West Wing was on a generation of young Democratic politicos, and sure enough Litt says that “like nearly every Democrat under the age of thirty-five, I was raised, in part, by Aaron Sorkin.” (More accurately, of course, is “nearly every wealthy white male Democrat who worked in Washington.” The near total absence of women and people of color in top positions on The West Wing may give more viewing pleasure to a certain audience demographic over others.) Litt says in college he “watched West WingDVDs on an endless loop,” and Pfeiffer too describes “watching The West Wing on a loop.”

Luke describes the kind of mentality this leads to: a belief that “doing politics” means that smart, virtuous people in charge make good decisions for the people, who themselves are rarely seen. Social movements don’t exist, even voters don’t exist. Instead, the political ideal is a PhD economist president (Jed Bartlet) consulting with a crack team of Ivy League underlings and challenging the ill-informed (but well-intended) Republicans with superior logic and wit. During the West Wing’s seven seasons, the Bartlet administration has very few substantive political accomplishments, though as Luke points out it “warmly embraces the military-industrial complex, cuts Social Security, and puts a hard-right justice on the Supreme Court in the interests of bipartisan ‘balance.’” It has always struck me as funny that Sorkin’s signature West Wing shot is the “walk and talk,” in which characters strut down hallways having intense conversations but do not actually appear to be going anywhere. What better metaphor could there be for a politics that consists of looking knowledgeable and committed without any sense of what you’re aiming at or how to get there? Litt says of Obama that “he spoke like presidents in movies.” Surely we can all see the problem here: Presidents in movies do not pass and implement single-payer healthcare. (They mostly bomb nameless Middle Eastern countries.)

Their West Wing-ism meant that the Obama staffers completely lacked an understanding of how political interests operate, and were blindsided when it turned out Republicans wanted to destroy them rather than collaborate to enact Reasonable Bipartisan Compromises. Jim Messina, Obama’s deputy chief of staff and reelection campaign manager, spoke to a key Republican staffer after the 2008 election and was shocked when she told him: “We’re not going to compromise with you on anything. We’re going to fight Obama on everything.” Messina replied “That’s not what we did for Bush.” Said the Republican: “We don’t care.” Rhodes and Pfeiffer, in particular, are shocked and appalled when Republicans turn out to be more interested in their own political standing than advancing the objective well-being of the country. Rhodes nearly has a breakdown when he is dragged through the conservative press over some Benghazi nonsense. He found himself in “an alternate reality that was insane,” and can’t believe Mitch McConnell turns out to be so “staggeringly partisan and unpatriotic” that he doesn’t care about Russian hacking.

The Obama Democrats, guided by the “let’s just all sit down in a room together and work out our differences” temperament of Obama himself, seemed desperate for Republican approval and shocked when the right proved unreasonable. In 2012, long after Messina had been told explicitly that Republicans were not going to be friendly under any circumstances, Obama invited congressional Republicans to the White House for a screening of Spielberg’s Lincoln, in order to show how political adversaries can cooperate for the common good. “Not one of them came,” Rhodes laments. Obama held out hope that a party willing to destroy the entire planet in order to preserve the privileges of the super-wealthy would come to his movie nights and work things out amicably.

The Obama administration bent over backwards to show that it was pragmatic and moderate and sensible, even inflicting cruel harm on families to show their toughness. Here is Tyler Moran, who was a deputy immigration policy director on Obama’s White House policy council:

There was a feeling that [the White House] needed to show the American public that you believed in enforcement, and that [we weren’t pushing for] open borders. But in hindsight I was like, what did we get for that? We deported more people than ever before. All these families separated, and Republicans didn’t give him one ounce of credit. There may as well have been open borders for five years.

We deported tons of people and separated families, and Republicans wouldn’t praise us!

This same bizarre naivete is evident in Obama’s dealings with Benjamin Netanyahu, as recounted by Ben Rhodes. Rhodes says it was obvious that “Netanyahu wasn’t going to negotiate seriously” about a just resolution to the Israel-Palestine conflict, and that Netanyahu “rejected any effort at peace.” Israeli settlements continued to be constructed in brazen violation of international law. Yet, Rhodes says, “despite Netanyahu’s intransigence, [Obama] would always side with Israel when push came to shove.” In 2011, the Obama administration vetoed a UN Security Council resolution declaring the settlements illegal, even though they plainly were and Obama himself had previously acknowledged as much.** Rhodes says the Palestinians were finding “little more than rhetorical support from us.” They barely received even that. Rhodes relates a stunning anecdote in which Obama meets with a group of Palestinian youth. One nervous boy summons the courage to tell the president that his people are being treated as Black Americans were once treated. Obama does not know what to say in reply. Incapable of directly criticizing Israel, he mutters something about how he believes in opportunity for all. But moved by the boy’s testimony, he decides later to act. What does he do? He adds a line to a speech he gives to Israelis, in which he tells them that Palestinian families love their children just as much as Israelis love theirs. Does he condemn the racist Israeli state? He does not. Does he actually do anything for the boy? Of course not.

Rhodes and Obama are frustrated, then, at criticism “for not being sufficiently pro-Israel, which ignored the fact that he wasn’t doing anything tangible for the Palestinians.” They gave Israel billions of dollars in military equipment, they refrained from tangibly aiding the people Israel oppresses, and Obama went before AIPAC in 2012 to say absolutely nothing in support of Palestinian rights and instead declare:

In the United States, our support for Israel is bipartisan, and that is how it should stay…. I have kept my commitments to the state of Israel. At every crucial juncture – at every fork in the road – we have been there for Israel. Every single time. … Despite a tough budget environment, our security assistance has increased every single year… We’re providing Israel with more advanced technology – the types of products and systems that only go to our closest friends and allies. And make no mistake: We will do what it takes to preserve Israel’s qualitative military edge – because Israel must always have the ability to defend itself, by itself, against any threat… No American president has made such a clear statement about our support for Israel at the United Nations.

Obama swore to AIPAC that he will always fund Israeli missiles before the Detroit school system (if this isn’t “declaring allegiance to Israel”—which Ilhan Omar has been called anti-Semitic for talking about—then pray tell, what would be?) As with the Republicans, Rhodes cannot understand how Democrats can give in on everything and yet still be rejected. How do they not understand? They’re being played for suckers. Of course they’ll still call you anti-Semitic even if you would give the lives of your children to protect Israel’s right to an apartheid state. Of coursethey’re not going to stop building settlements just because you have declined to challenge them on anything. That’s how political power works: If the other party senses you’re weak and won’t do anything to pressure them, they’ll walk all over you! Throughout the Obama staffers’ books, you can hear them crying: But it’s not FAIR! We played nice and they took advantage of it! Gentlemen, that’s how this game works!

…The left can learn a few important lessons from examining Pfeiffer, Rhodes, and Litt. First, these are not the sort of people you want in government. You need people who (1) have clear moral vision (2) have thick skins and (3) do not care about the goddamn White House Correspondents’ Dinner. You need people who understand that politics is about gaining power and then using it to make people’s lives better, not about giving uplifting but empty speeches and walking with purpose down Washington hallways. They also need to avoid accepting political reality as “fixed.” The people who defend Obama suggest that his hands were tied—power was arranged in such a way that he could not act. But the question is: How are you going to change that arrangement of power? If it’s true that “X bill will never pass this Congress,” then how are we going to get a different Congress? The Obama administration was reactive. They played the hand they were given, they had a very narrow sense of the boundaries of the “possible.” They did not understand that being uncompromisingly radical is actually more pragmatic.It’s essential to stop fetishizing credentials. Obama wanted to “hire the best qualified people no matter their politics, and send a message of unity.” That led to him hiring actual Republicans. Unless you’re a Republican, don’t do this. “No matter their politics”? No, politics matter. Your politics are the sum of your vision of what ought to be done. If a president wants to get something done, they need a team of people who also want to get that thing done. That should be elementary, but there just wasn’t that much politics to the Obama movement. Everything was about a guy.And I suppose that’s the final lesson here: Cults of personality are bad. Movements need to be about the people, not a person. The West Wing view of politics is that you just need to get the smartest, most competent, most qualified, most virtuous people into government. But that means nothing without a substantive vision for change and an understanding of how you mobilize an authentic popular movement to make it happen.

#yes to all of this #*#essays

41 notes · View notes

crystallized-iron · 5 years

Text

Bite Me - Chapter Fourteen

Please read the tags on the Masterlist! Masterlist

***** ***** *****

The winter sky was a pale gray. Snow covered the cold, hard ground. Stark Industries looked far less inviting than Tony had ever seen.

Rhodey drove up to the building, stopping near the front doors. “Tony, are you sure you want to go in there? Want me to come with?”

“No, I… I need to do this alone.” He looked to his friend, wishing he could fill Rhodey in on what was going on, but felt he wouldn’t be believed. After all, it wasn’t every day someone fell in love with a literal vampire that informed them their father had been studying aliens, vampires, and who knows what else. “I just need to see Obie about a few things, maybe start going through dad’s things.”

“You’re sure you need to go alone?” Rhodey tried again. “You really don’t want me coming along?”

“I’m sure, honeybear. But thank you.”

“Alright. Call us later, Tones.”

“I will,” he promised.

Tony got out of the car and looked up at the building. It was a strange feeling knowing he would never see his father here again. Howard had built Stark Industries up from a small, one-office company pretty much by himself over the years.

And now everything was going to Stane.

What if he -

No. That couldn’t be right. This was a temporary thing. The man he wished had been his father couldn’t possibly have wanted Howard dead. Besides, it was the work of a vampire, and Stane had no connection to him, right?

Right?

He prayed he was right as he finally shut the car door and gave Rhodey a wave before watching his friend drive away. Once the car was out of sight, Tony headed to the building. Nerves bubbled inside him. His hand grasped the door handle and he froze as he felt the telltale signs of fear and dread.

It felt like Bucky. He knew it wasn’t… but…

There’s a vampire in there.

Tony took an anxious gulp and opened the door. The metallic stench of blood struck and he froze, thoughts of his mother leaping to the surface. So cold, so cold, mom… So much blood.

So much… blood.

Nausea rose and gurgled in his stomach, but he swallowed the urge down and shook the memories away before walking in.

The deserted halls were smeared red from top to bottom with a disturbing trail that dragged across the floor.

A cold, gray body lay beyond the island and he imagined lifeless eyes staring back.

Always staring.

Always staring back.

Mother, mother, why?

“Tony, what are you doing here?” Stane’s voice suddenly broke through Tony’s thoughts. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“O-Obie, the… the blood.”

Stane gave the gory mess a casual observance. To Tony’s eye, it looked like something out of a torture chamber the way it was coated with so much blood, but the old man merely said, “It’s nothing. Someone injured themselves on a piece of machinery. You know how it can be.”

Tony let out a high-pitched laugh. “Y-yeah? Just, just that?” How many people got injured for this, Obie? Did they lose their head? Did they explode?

He kept his questions to himself as Stane tried to assure him. “Yes, just that.” The man gave the gruesome sight a calm gaze as though nothing beyond a possible work-related accident had occurred.

But Tony knew that couldn’t be true.

“What did you think happened, boy?” Stane was watching him with a keen eye as he stepped closer.

Tony subconsciously backed away, wanting, no, needing to keep distance between them. “I… I don’t know. Maybe another murder?”

“Ah, yes,” Stane said with a thoughtful tone and stopped his advancement with a nod. “Yes, I can understand that given what you’ve recently been through.”

“Yeah.” Tony wrapped his arms around himself. It was a lie, he knew it was. But why? His body felt cold. A vampire was nearby. He could feel it. Why didn’t Stane react? Shouldn’t he feel the same terror Tony did?

“Obie, I… I-I need to get into my father’s office,” Tony nervously rushed after remembering why he came in the first place.

“His office? Why?”

Stane approached again, forcing Tony another step back. Am I… a-am I afraid of Obie?

“I can have his things sent to your home,” Stane finished.

Tony could feel his body trembling. “Are you trying to keep me out?” His voice was shaking.

“You were rarely allowed in there when Howard was alive,” Stane reminded him. “There are some things you just aren’t meant to see.”

“I think, I think that I have more right than, than you.” Every human instinct in him told him to run, to get out because danger was nearby, but he needed to see his father’s files.

He needed to know the truth.

“You do, do you? Why not stay in your place a little bit longer? A top designer doesn’t need to know much else other than how to make beautiful work.”

Tony shook his head as his eyes narrowed. No, that didn’t sound right. “You said… you said I might be ready for management.”

“In time. We can’t just rush these things, you know.”

“No.” That’s not what you said. “Obie, what’s going on?” he finally asked. “What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything, son.”

“No! You’re lying, Obie! Why?”

“Boy -”

“W-what did that?” he exclaimed as he pointed at the blood all over the corridors. “Obie, what the hell happened here?”

Stane sighed, once again walking towards him. “Son, I always thought you were a smart kid, smart enough to know when not to stick your nose in places you shouldn’t. I guess today you proved me wrong.”

Tony backed himself to a wall in an effort to avoid him.

“I really didn’t want to get you involved, but if you keep asking questions, I -”

He stopped, turning around to see Aldrich.

The vampire ignored Stane’s stare as he walked up to Tony. “You came to see me. Just like my Maya would.”

“Y-you…”

So cold to the touch. Mom, mom, mom, mom…

Oh god, why?

“The other one’s scent is on you again,” Aldrich said in disgust. “It’s stronger this time. You were around them recently.” He took Tony’s chin in his hand and turned his head. “They reclaimed you.”

Tony needed out, needed to escape, but his legs refused to budge! “Bucky,” he whispered, some plea he didn’t know he was making, “Bucky, please.”

“Bucky?”

Hearing the name come from this monster’s lips sent a horrible chill down Tony’s spine.

“Is that his name?”

Tony looked to Stane, silently trying to ask for help. The old man had been by his father’s side for years, surely he would do the right thing and get him out of there!

Aldrich noticed his gaze, grinning as he said, “He won’t be helping you. He only listens to me now.”

“He would never listen to you,” Tony replied, but his voice was weak, trembling.

“Would you like to experience what he did? Maybe…” he ran a cool thumb along Tony’s chin - “your friend would come out of hiding.”

“Obie… O-Obie, please,” Tony tried once more, but Stane only turned the other cheek to his pleas for help. “What did he promise you, Obie? Why won’t you do anything?”

“I made him into one of my own,” Aldrich explained.

“You… you what?”

“He wanted it. He knew it would make him powerful and he knew the price for such a glorious gift.” Fangs were bared in a smile. “Wouldn’t you want it too? To be the same as your… lover, is it?”

Their eyes met at that.

“Yes, your lover. You could live together forever. How about it?”

Tony sent a look Stane’s way. “And lose my free will?”

“Not all of it. You are smart, aren’t you? Able to figure that out so easily.”

“I won’t be your puppet!”

“I don’t think you have a choice, really.” Aldrich moved his hand from Tony’s chin, wrapping an arm around the young man’s shoulders. Tony flinched and tried to push the arm away, but the vampire kept a firm hold and forced him down a hall, practically dragging him as he struggled to escape.

Tony was thrown into his father’s old office, staring into the sunken eyes of a corpse as he landed on his knees, the body’s flesh sticking grimly to the bones.

It had been drained dry, ashen skin like his mother’s so pale against the dried red and brown.

“Oh god,” he whispered, nausea settling into his stomach. He tried getting to his feet to run but the vampire blocked the door.

“You’re not leaving,” Aldrich told him, stepping closer and making Tony back up further into the room, eventually being trapped in a corner.

“No.” If only his voice didn’t shake, but there was nowhere to run, no chance of escape.

The vampire gripped his arms and leaned forward, breathing in Tony’s scent mixed with the lingering aroma of the other one. Aldrich would erase any trace of it. He would claim the young man as his own.

There was a sudden shriek as sharp fangs sliced through flesh, blood pouring from the wound. The bite was large, deep, and Aldrich watched the fearful stare in amusement. “I can see why your Bucky is so taken with you. Such a beauty you are.”

Tony felt lightheaded; his breathing labored. Slumping against the wall, he tried to cover the bite with his hand to try and stop the bleeding. It felt wet, sticky, warm but cooling fast.

Kneeling in front of him, Aldrich lifted Tony’s head to look him in the eye. “You think I’m going to kill you, don’t you? Or maybe you would beg for it?” He moved the hand out of the way to take what he wanted from the wound, triggering a weak fight out of Tony. Aldrich easily overpowered him, continuing to drink until Tony was just at the edge of consciousness. The vampire leaned back, watching the heavy drooping of the eyes, but so much stubbornness as Tony fought to survive, even now.

Bringing his own arm to his lips, Aldrich made a small cut with the tip of a fang, and made an offering. After a few moments of Tony refusing to take the gift, Aldrich pressed his arm to the mortal’s mouth and forced the cold, bitter blood in.

It didn’t take much. Just a few drops was more than enough. He let Tony push him away, allowing him one small victory. Aldrich would own him soon enough.

“I will let Obadiah watch over you,” the vampire said as he rose to his feet. “He will be outside the door. Let him know when you are hungry.”

“H-hungry?”

Aldrich replied with a small wave of his hand before he left, pulling the office door shut.

Tony’s breath shuddered. He wasn’t going to die? But the vampire had taken so much blood from him, nearly had him bleed out. How was he not going to… not going to…

There was a flicker of heat in his belly before it grew, traveling through his veins.

It felt… like fire.

===== ===== =====

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#winteriron #Bucky Barnes #Tony Stark #vampire au #vampire Bucky

2 notes · View notes

notobsessed-justobservant · 6 years

Text

Mission Impossible

Pairing: Peter x Stark!Reader

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, the Avengers (mentioned), Vision (mentioned), Aunt May (mentioned), Daughter/Stark!Reader

Word count: 2,380

Summary: Peter wonders what his next mission from Mr. Stark will be, but he’s in for a surprise- it’s not a matter of what, it’s who.

Warnings: none, just fluff

A/N: im alive! well, I've arrived, more like, cause no one in this fandom knows who the hell I am. Hi, I’m Luna, and I’m in love with peter parker. Usually, you can find me at @dean-the-smol-bean writing supernatural fanfic, but lately, my love for Marvel (and our favorite Avenger-in-training) has exploded, and it’s made me want to write for him (and possibly other Marvel characters) as well. So, here I am- can’t just start off easy am i? this is chapter one of what will be a who knows how long series. I hope you’re intrigued! anyways

PS- TYSM to my love @justawaywardwinchester for helping me edit my absolutely horrendous amount of spelling errors and generally get my life together even when it’s not her fandom. ♥️ u always

Send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list!

“Mr. Stark, thank you so much for bringing me in on this, I won’t let you down, I promise you won’t regret this-”

“Yeah, yeah kid, whatever, listen, this is the most important mission I have ever put you on, okay, so don’t get too cocky. Keep your head straight and keep your eye on the prize.”

Peter gulped, taking a deep breath as he trailed behind Tony eagerly. Ever since his help in defeating Thanos, Tony’s been putting a lot more faith in him, and to say it’s been amazing would be an understatement. Today, he’d called him in for a new mission- the third major one thus far. He wasn’t a full Avenger quite yet, he was still living with his aunt May, ‘staying on the ground’, as he put it. However, each time Peter’s phone flashed the name of Happy Hogan or Tony Stark, he found himself practically jumping from his chair to answer it and fling himself into whatever battle was asked of him.

Which brings us to today.

“Alright, through these doors is the thing most important to me, my most prized creation, the one thing that matters most to me in the entire world- you’re most crucial mission.”

Peters' eyes went wide as Tony stretched out a hand, pushing open the double doors, a combination of excitement and fear fighting for dominance in the pit of his stomach.

To his surprise, however, all he was met with was what looked like a classic New York studio apartment- a little out of place in the modern, high tech, Avengers compound, but not otherwise significant.

He was quickly greeted by what felt like a hoard of animals- two gigantic Doberman pinschers came bounding forward, jumping upwards and attempting to lick at his face.

“Whoa- wha-?” he smiled, laughing a bit as they sniffed him up and down, awkwardly petting them in return as they nearly pushed him over.

“Hey, down boys! Down- down. Jesus, I am so sorry,”

Suddenly, the dogs were off of him, and Peter chuckled, closing his eyes and wiping the slobber from his face as he responded to the unfamiliar voice.

“It's cool! I love do-” halfway through his sentence, he opened his eyes, only to be halted in his tracks by the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He’d know your face anywhere- anyone would- you were Y/N Stark. But like most people, he’d never had the pleasure of seeing you in person- and god was it certainly a pleasure.

“-w-whoa-” he breathed out, and Tony turned, giving him a searing look, but neither of you seemed to notice as you ushered away your pets, and Peter watched every movement. You laughed, soft and sweet in his ears, unlike anything he’d ever heard before.

“Well that’s good, but who doesn’t, I guess? I mean, if anything I’d take it as a compliment that they like you so much, they’re very picky.”

“Huh… yeah…”

Peter seemed to be in a daze like he had been staring at the sun for too long and suddenly his vision had gone blurry. Tony glanced between the two of you, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Anyways…” he interjected, and you turned to face the both of them, “so, Y/N, this is my new intern, also known as the ‘Spider-Man’” he waved his hands in a dramatic arching motion, emphasizing the name teasingly. In any other circumstance, Peter would have objected- ‘it’s just- just Spider-Man. Not the-‘ and no doubt he’d be muttering something about the dramatic speaking of his name, but today, that all just passed him by. Instead, he found his focus unyieldingly centered on you.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Spider-Man. Tell me, does Spider-Man have a regular name? Or have you just been climbing up buildings and swinging through New York since birth?”

Peters' eyes widened, snapping from his gaze realizing that the sweet sounds coming from your lips were directed at him.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yes. I’m Peter-man- I mean Spider-Parker- shit- I mean-“

You laughed, a sugary sound that dripped through the air like warm honey, making Peter feel as though he didn’t care if he was making a complete fool of himself if it meant he could hear that sound again.

“Nice to meet you, Peter-man Spider-Parker. I’m Y/N Stark. Sorry, I don’t have a cool superhero name like you to insert between my boring person name,” you joked, and Peter found himself chuckling at you- the thought of having the last name ‘Stark’ and feeling anything but super practically baffling him. “And you’ve already met the dogs-” you turned, nodding your head towards the two, giant animals lying on the sofa behind you. “-Sirius and Remus.”

Peters' eyes lit up, crinkling a bit at the corners as his lips fell into a lopsided smile.

“You named your dog after the Marauders?”

You snickered, nodding.

“Well, half of them. But yes, I did. You read Harry Potter?” you inquire, and suddenly Tony feels as though you’ve forgotten he’s there.

“Do I read Harry Pott- uh, yeah.” He said, incredulous. “Do you breathe air?”

You giggled, and a grin spread across his face for making you laugh

“Of course. It was a stupid question, what house are you?”

“Hufflepuff! And my wand is 13 inches with unicorn hair core, what about yo-”

“Alright, as… magical, as this conversation is, you and I have got some talking to do about your newest mission,” Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter, and he understood. “I just thought you two should meet. Sorry for the interruption, princess. How’s the project coming?”

“Good. It’s definitely gonna need some more work- I just can’t get the background colors right for some reason.”

You frown, frustrated, and it’s at this moment that Peter registers your paint smattered shorts and oversized hoodie- the Stark Industries logo smeared with bright blue paint, splotches of varying colors splattered all across both its fabric and your skin. He’d been so taken aback by you that he’d nearly gotten tunnel vision, barely registering anything else.

“Well, don’t worry kiddo, you’ll figure it out, you always do. I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.” He reached out, ruffling your hair a bit, your bun flopping from side to side. You scrunched up your face, half-annoyed, half-endeared, giggling.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it. Parker?” he turned, pointing towards the doors they had entered through. Peter nodded excessively, glancing between his mentor and the girl in front of him.

“Nice meeting you, Peter,” She said, and the most angelic smile graced her lips. He let out a shaky breath, nodding.

“You too- nice meeting you too-”

“Parker” Tony called after him, already out the door, and waiting.

“Right, sorry.”

“Now, Peter,” Tony began.

They were back in the lab, and Peter was trying not to fidget too intensely as he sat awaiting his instruction. “Like I said before, through those doors was your most important mission.”

Peter furrowed his brow, thinking about what Mr. Stark had told him just before he introduced him to you.

“Oh yeah, what was that? You never actually got to show-” Tony raised his eyebrows, staring at him. He swore, for a kid genius, this boy could be incredibly slow sometimes. It took him a second, but Peters’ eyes went wide.

“Oh- you meant-?”

“There we go, good job kid, you got there.”

“But how is she- my ‘mission’? What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means, that girl is the single most important thing to me in the whole world, and nothing- I mean capital ‘N’ Nothing can ever happen to her.” He got up from his seat across from Peter, turning to face the gigantic, wall-sized window overlooking lush, green, upstate New York. “And… as much as I’d like to say being Iron Man is all kicking ass and getting chicks… it’s not. Being a hero is dangerous, and it creates a lot of enemies. Enemies who would do anything to get what they want.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “So I need someone to protect her. Someone I can trust. High-level security team just won’t cut it and I can’t exactly have the entirety of the Avengers just trail her around. So, that’s where you come in.”

Tony glanced over his shoulder at Peter, who straightened up, immediately, trying to hide his incredible excitement at the statement ‘someone I can trust’.

Tony turned completely then, his stiff stance relaxing a bit, and Peter wondered if anything had happened to you before to bring on this high tension in Mr. Stark. He hoped not.

“Plus, I think it’d be good if she had a little… friend, or whatever. Someone her age. Her only friends can’t be the super-human freakshow we call the Avengers and her dad, it’s just not right.”

Peter chuckled, in awe of the idea of even living with all those people, let alone being friends with them.

“Got that, kid?” Tony finished, and Peter nodded, straightening himself even more. “Yes- yes sir, Mr. Stark sir. Of course.”

Tony nodded, unbuttoning his suit jacket and slipping it off.

“Good, now scram, I’ve got work to do and your anxious teenage-boy energy is messing with my space.” Peter pushed himself up to stand, mumbling an incoherent ‘s-sorry’, unsure if Mr. Stark was joking or not. He turned away, reaching for the doorknob.

“Kid, wait,”

Peter, stopped turning eagerly standing at attention.

“Last thing and this is the most important thing… don’t fall in love with her. Or whatever.”

Peters’ eyes went wide, and he nearly choked on his own tongue.

“What?”

“You heard me. I saw your bubbly little interaction earlier. Any girl, kid, really, I’ll be your wingman. But not my daughter,”

Peter stood there awkwardly, feeling somewhat like he was getting ‘the talk’ for some reason, unsure of what to say. “Capiche?” Tony continued, and Peter nodded, laughing nervously.

“Yeah, yeah right. Of course sir. I would never.”

Tony remained silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing into a piercing glare. Peter felt as though he were in the scope of a rifle, and the wielder was still debating whether or not he would pull the trigger.

“Good,” Tony said, and Peter let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Now scram. I mean it this time. Go do some homework or something- no spider-manning until you’ve finished all your school work alright?”

“Yes sir, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, sport.”

The door swung shut behind Peter, and he let out a long breath, feeling like he’d just stepped out of a long, intense interrogation. He shook that feeling off, tilting his chin up and squaring his shoulders as he made his way towards the front of the compound, where Happy would no doubt be waiting to give him a ride home. Just as he grabbed his backpack, someone called from behind him.

“Hey, Peter!” That same, serene voice rang out through the quiet compound, and he found himself tripping a bit as he turned all too eager to face it.

“Whoa! Easy there.” You laughed, catching him as he stumbled forward.

Peter pushed himself off you immediately, and he could feel his face warming to a bright, beet red.

“I am, so sorry oh my god-”

You only laughed, and he found himself melting like soft serve once again. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. I’m a bit of a clutz myself, always bumping into things. It’s fine.”

Peter stared at the floor, embarrassed, gripping the straps of his backpack so tightly he wondered if his super strength would tear them.

“Me too. But, you could already tell that I guess.” He said with an impish smile, and you nodded.

“Yeah, I kinda got that.” You teased, and he felt his ears go a shade darker. “But there’s gotta be something more to you than clumsiness, a cute smile, and a radioactive spider bite, Parker. My dad is super picky about who he lets meet me, so you’ve got something special in you, pretty boy.”

Peter found his stomach doing somersaults at the term ‘pretty boy’. Maybe your father's charm was genetic.

“I uh- I don’t know about that.” He stuttered, and you laughed.

“I do. Watch, you can prove it to me. Lemme see your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone! So I can give you my number and you can tell me all about how bland and boring you are. All I do all day is lay around the compound and try to get Vision to give me a straight answer as to whether he’ll die if he says ‘control, alt, delete’, so I’ve got plenty of time on my hands. He says that’s ridiculous but I still haven’t heard him say it so I’m not convinced.”

Peter laughed, bright and genuine as he shook his head.

“Alright. Here.”

He reached into his backpack, pulling out his cracked iPhone, handing it to you. You took it, deft fingers tapping quickly across the screen as you entered in your name and number.

You handed it back to him, and he glanced down at his screen to see you’d sent out a text.

‘Hi’

“Now I have yours.” And as if on cue, the sound of R2-D2 beeped from her back pocket. Peter smiled at that. She pulled out her phone (it was a brand new the XS, which technically hadn’t even come out yet. He wasn’t surprised.) and showed him the screen. His number and the message ‘Hi’ flashed across her screen.

“Perfect.” He grinned, and his own phone beeped.

May: Home soon? Trying a new recipe. Be ready for a scorched kitchen and takeout.

He laughed, stuffing his phone into his back pocket, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Well, I should really…” He began walking backward pointing toward the front doors.

“Right yeah. I’ll text you?” she held up her phone, waving it.

“Yeah, totally- yes. Yes please.”

Please? Jesus Peter, how desperate can you get.

She giggled, wiping a strand of hair out of her face, and he watched as a stripe of red paint smeared across her cheek as she did so.

Oh, he was never going to be able to follow Mr. Starks rule.

97 notes · View notes

preserving-ferretbrain · 5 years

Text

Garth Ennis Is A Hack

by Rude Cyrus

Friday, 10 April 2009

Rude Cyrus is deservedly rude about The Boys.~

Once upon a time, superheroes were seen as protectors of the innocent, bringers of justice, and saviors of mankind. When I was a kid, there was no greater thrill than watching Superman pummel giant robots or stop a plane from crashing into a city. As time went on, the public began to tire of flawless beings that could do no wrong, so creators began to make the heroes more “realistic”, at least in terms of character. Antiheroes like Wolverine and The Punisher became popular while concepts like vigilantism would be explored in comics like Watchmen.

Unfortunately, the pendulum swung a little too far during the ‘90s, a decade where you couldn’t swing a dead badger without hitting some DARK and GRITTY antihero. This is the same decade that gave birth to Image Comics, a publisher that needs to make an acquaintance with an H-Bomb. All you need to know about Image Comics is that it took over the canceled Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtlesfranchise and turned Donatello into a cyborg. That says it all.

This brings me to the present and The Boys, a comic series written by Garth Ennis and illustrated by Darick Robertson (which I keep pronouncing as “da’ Rick”).

Let me just say that I hate this series. I don’t hate it because it’s ultra-violent and ultra-sexualized. I don’t hate it because it makes superheroes (or “supes” as they’re called here) turn out to be a bunch of amoral douchebags. I don’t hate it because I think Garth Ennis is an overrated hack who’s convinced everyone he’s a genius. No, I hate it because I can’t stand the characters.

Everybody, with few exceptions, is thoroughly repugnant. Just look at the main characters:

Billy Butcher is a sociopath with a neck the size of a ham and a perpetual smirk plastered on his face. He owns a bulldog named Terror that can fuck things on command; seemingly hates supes because one raped his wife, who ended up dying because the fetus ripped through her stomach. Butcher ended up beating said fetus to death with a lamp.

Wee Hughie joined The Boys after his girlfriend was accidentally killed by a supe named A-Train. Much of the series is focused on following Hughie’s thoughts and actions, which is unfortunate because he’s a wet blanket with exactly three facial expressions: anger, incredulity, and shit-eating grin. He’s also a dead ringer for Simon Pegg – I suspect Ennis was sitting around, smoking pot, and said to himself, “Dude, wouldn’t it be cool if Simon Pegg had superpowers?”

Mother’s Milk is a somewhat decent guy, which means he gets shoved into the background more often than not. He seems to derive his powers from an entity he calls “Momma” in a process that makes him vomit. Why does he have to do this? Who cares, let’s watch a midget use a massive vibrator!

The Frenchman and The Female are psychotic killers with the ability to rip people apart with their bare hands. Defining characteristics: one is French, the other lacks a penis. Garth Ennis doesn’t give a shit about them, so why should I?

And what would a team of morally dubious antiheroes be without a team of superheroes to oppose them? Enter the Seven, an analogue of the Justice League, filled with characters that make The Boys look like The Boy Scouts. The only good member of the group is Starlight, and she’s constantly degraded by the other members, whether it’s forced into wearing a more revealing outfit, giving fellatio to the male members of the group as a “test”, or nearly being raped by the aforementioned A-Train. It’s also strongly hinted that Homelander (leader of the Seven and Superman analogue) was the one who raped Butcher’s wife.

What a charming bunch. Thankfully, it’s not all bad, as Starlight later becomes Hughie’s girlfriend. It’s a match made in heaven, as they’re both outstandingly bland.

Other notable characters include a CIA analyst with a fetish for female paraplegic athletes, a CIA director that frequently has humiliating sex with Butcher, and recurring cameos by Stan Lee – okay, he’s called the Legend, but it’s supposed to be Stan Lee. Perhaps “Exposition Man” would be a better name, because all he does is talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk…

Speaking of stereotypes, there are quite a few on display here. For example, there’s the two fat, hairy, greasy, comic book store-owning Italian brothers who are constantly using variations of “fuck” and threatening their customers with graphic violence; the enormous bearded Russian who talks about communism and the Motherland all the time; the “East Coast vs. West Coast” superhero teams that are always fighting each other, throwing up gang signs and using the n-word. I kept wondering why Garth Ennis was doing this, and I settled on “because he thinks it’s funny.” See, Ennis is pointing out how absurd these stereotypes are, so it’s not really racist, right? Right?

Despite all of this, I forced myself to read all 29 issues, which, at times, felt like I was cutting off my legs with a rusty hacksaw – oh, look, the Russian guy is called “Love Sausage” because he has a fifteen-inch cock! Oh look, Hughie has menstrual blood on his face from oral sex because Starlight was on her period! Oh look, one of the superheroes can vomit acid! Isn’t that a knee-slapper? Worse still was the heavy-handed social and political commentary that Ennis shoehorned in, ranging from how St. Patrick’s Day sucks, to how the military-industrial complex has the United States in a chokehold, to American politics (the President and Vice President being analogues for Dick Cheney and George W. Bush, respectively), to how superheroes are evil. He even uses 9/11 to make his point, for fuck’s sake. Basically, one of the hijacked planes crashed into the Brooklyn Bridge (the World Trade Center and the Pentagon were spared) because the Seven tried to save the day but bungled it due to incompetence and selfishness. Do you see? SUPERHEROES ARE EVIL!

No, that wasn’t what made me stop reading this comic. What made me stop was the latest story arc, called “We Gotta Go Now”. The Boys have to investigate the public suicide of Silver Kincaid, a member of the G-Men (no prizes for guessing who they’re supposed to be an analogue of), for reasons I can’t be bothered to look up. Hughie has to go undercover and infiltrate one of the younger G-teams (as “Bagpipe”, because he’s Scottish, get it?) called G-Wiz. See the subtle pun there?

It’s immediately apparent that something is off with G-Wiz – sure, they might seem to be your average fraternity (i.e. boorish drunks obsessed with bodily functions), but they’re a little too comfortable with each other, if you catch my drift. Couple this with the revelation that G-Men’s leader, John Godolkin (analogue of Charles Xavier – apologies for all the analogues) actually abducted almost all of the G-Men when they were kids and turned them into superheroes, the fact that he refers to the G-Men as his “children”, and all of the dark mutterings of “what we had to deal with” and things start becoming clear.

At this point I thought, “No way. There’s no way Ennis would be so cheap and unoriginal. There has to be more to this.” I read issue 29, and, lo and behold, one of the characters confirmed my worst fears:

John Godolkin is a child molester.

That was the last straw. It wasn’t because one of the villains was a pedophile; rather, it was because Garth Ennis had resorted to such tacky exploitation in order to wring an emotion from his audience. Instead of taking the time to craft something novel, Ennis, out of sheer laziness, decided to go for the biggest heartstring and yank. Why have a complex villain when you can just say, “He’s an evil kid-toucher! BOOGA BOOGA!”

I’m sure Ennis pats himself on the back every day for what he thinks is scathing criticism on the superhero genre and insightful commentary on numerous aspects of life. He isn’t clever, creative, or even likable. He’s just a lazy hack. My smoldering ire also extends to the fans that keep buying this dreck and give it good reviews. What the hell is wrong with these people? My guess is that, in their minds, they equate DARK, GRITTY, and SERIOUS with being good. In my mind, it’s just BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT, and more BULLSHIT.

Themes:

Damage Report

Sci-fi / Fantasy

Comics

bookmark this with - facebook - delicious - digg - stumbleupon - reddit

~Comments (

go to latest

)

Wardog

at 17:17 on 2009-04-10I don't know what to say ... I am completely flabbergasted by the awfulness of this. Why on earth is it garnering praise?

permalink

go to top

Arthur B

at 17:26 on 2009-04-10Once upon a time the publishers of

2000 AD

thought it would be great to hand over all the writing duties for the comic for a few months to Garth Ennis, Grant Morrison, and various hangers-on. Why they thought this was a good idea was a mystery because Garth had already proven he shouldn't be trusted with other people's properties when in

Strontium Dogs

(the sequel series to

Strontium Dog

) he pulled a blatant retcon out of his capacious arse to turn the sweet, gentle comic relief character The Gronk into a psychotic gun-toting protagonist. Nonetheless, the magazine went ahead with the Summer Offensive, as it called the promotion (because, you see, it's Garth Ennis and he likes being offensive, and it happened in the summer), and the general tone of the comic went from "12A bordering on 15" (in movie age rating terms) to "18 certificate and a big argument about violence in the media on the side", which prompted the parents of certain younger subscribers, such as myself, to cancel the magazine.

And that's how Garth Ennis ruined

2000 AD

for an 11 year old Arthur.

Seriously, the man is awful. I think the only thing he's done that I've actually liked was

Hellblazer: Dangerous Habits

. Frustratingly, that was brilliant. He's capable of not being an idiot if he tries, he just

doesn't try

permalink

go to top

Rude Cyrus

at 19:49 on 2009-04-10This was actually nominated for an Eisner Award for "Best Continuing Series" in 2008. And comic bok fans wonder why so many people don't take comics seriously.

Thanks for the image, by the way.

permalink

go to top

Wardog

at 20:35 on 2009-04-10For a moment there I was wondering if you meant the image of an 11 year old Arthur but then I realised you meant the literal image that illustrates this article. I hope it's okay - I chose the cover that most annoyed me :)

permalink

go to top

Sonia Mitchell

at 23:23 on 2009-04-10This series sounds horrific. Thank you for the warning.

(I badly want to google cyborg Donatello. I'd like to think it can't be as disastrous as I'm imaginging, but that would probably be naive. I'm therefore restraining myself...)

permalink

go to top

Arthur B

at 00:46 on 2009-04-11

Oh hey look what else Image have published.

On the other hand, they also put out

The Walking Dead

, which

I really like

permalink

go to top

Guy

at 03:59 on 2009-04-11Speaking of Image, this is one of the most funny/disturbing things I've ever read: Rob Liefeld's 40 worst drawings: http://progressiveboink.com/archive/robliefeld.html

permalink

go to top

Arthur B

at 15:04 on 2009-04-11I'm amazed they were able to find 40 drawings worse than

the infamous Captain America one

Actually, I'm not amazed, Liefeld is terrible. Oh God, the feet...

permalink

go to top

http://webcomcon.blogspot.com/

at 06:31 on 2010-07-11Thread necromancy: After reading this article from the random button, I'm reading

The Boys

out of morbid curiosity. I've gotten through the first couple of storylines, issues one through ten. It's about as disgusting as Rude Cyrus has said, with everything as juvenile and pointlessly violent and so forth.

One of the annoying things is that there are occasionally glimmers of interest that make me think "You know, if Garth Ennis actually gave a shit, and stopped dropping tons of stupid violence and stupid sex and stupid ham-fisted 'haha the gay activist is violently afraid of actual homosexuals' shit, he might actually be able to make some points about 'how do we make superheroes accountable?'" One advantage of

The Boys

is that, unlike

Civil War

, it's just one author, so there aren't a bazillion different axes being ground. And it doesn't seem like it's constrained by being a DC Comics Continuity Event, the way

Civil War

was a Marvel Comics Continuity Event. And every once in a while, it seems like Ennis might have something to say on the matter.

But it inevitably degenerates into "hurr hurr supes are pervs, butcher punches them." Fuck you, Ennis, for being wasted potential.

permalink

go to top

http://webcomcon.blogspot.com/

at 06:32 on 2010-07-11Aack, unclosed HTML tags. Sorry! (I'm used to a forum that won't let me post if I have unmatched tags, and didn't check.)

permalink

go to top

Rami

at 05:43 on 2010-07-12@webcomcon: Fixed it for you. I'm afraid FerretBrain doesn't really do warnings -- but we do suggest using the Preview button!

permalink

go to top

http://blackgeep.livejournal.com/

at 18:20 on 2010-07-13Continuing thread necromancy!

I am a comic book artist. I detest

The Boys

with a deep, abiding disgust. My employer thinks it's brilliant. He is also a big fan of Liefeld (needs more pouches!), so go figure. While

The Boys

is bad, try having your only income being working on the dream project of someone who likes

The Boys

, and feel your artistic integrity shrivel.

I actually considered sending in issue one of

Polis

(what I'm paid to draw) to Ferretbrain for a review; I may yet do that alongside

Polis

issue two and my own side project for what the great minds here could find a fun comparison. "The world is corrupt and drug-addled, corporations are evil, and our main hero is an amoral Cape [superhero] with few redeeming qualities." versus "A space princess and space pirates act terribly toward one another, but all in good fun." I asked my employer, and he thinks any publicity is good.

Speaking of "Cape" and "Supe", what is this allergic reaction to the word superhero? Yes, superhero is a long word, but so is computer. From my perspective, it would seem more likely that superhero would get shortened to just hero. Then advert campaigns about "The

real

heroes of X city: our policemen and firefighters" would take on a whole new weight. Plus, I haven't met many people who say 'puter, and compy only caught on after Strongbad popularised it.

permalink

go to top

Dan H

at 19:11 on 2010-07-13I think the thing about abbreviating "superhero" to something like "cape" or "supe" (did Watchmen use "mask" or am I making that up) is that it highlights the fact that this is an EDGY SERIOUS WORK OF FICTION about EDGY DARK CHARACTERS not some KIDDY THING about SUPERHEROES.

Because as we all know, nothing screams "maturity" like going to great lengths to appear mature.

permalink

go to top

http://blackgeep.livejournal.com/

at 21:32 on 2010-07-13The thing which screams maturity the best is to have everyone swear all the time, and put blood and torture on every page. The ability to engage in traditionally adult themes while employing transgressive story elements such as bodily fluids, misogyny, and rape is the hallmark of an individual whose mind has progressed past puerile adolescent fascination. As you said, superheroes are so childish. We aren't writing stories about superheroes under a different name. These are adult stories about well rounded characters employing serious themes. Just like Terry Goodkind is definitely not a *pfft*

fantasy author.

Sarcasm over, I honestly don't remember if

Watchmen

used "mask." I guess I've just lost some comix-cred.

permalink

go to top

https://me.yahoo.com/a/O9dPXbw3peUAacFQM4aervEXf232TbhO0FE-#dcc46

at 13:13 on 2011-10-28Hey guys. I'm aware this is a few years old but just discovered the site and enjoying it, even when I disagree.

But this is the only one I think I needed to comment on.

Firstly, Garth Ennis is demonstrably not a hack. That's just incredibly lazy.

Secondly, this review seems to have totally failed to come to terms with the text.

OK. I'm not going to argue against certain points here. There's gross out humor, there's swearing, there's a hamster well-up in a zombie's bum. There's puke and disgusting, disgusting periods that no man should ever have to read about (cos girls, right! ew. The writer of this article agrees!) and there's even some blood and guts and a superhero orgy and someone strangles Scarlet Witch with a belt!

But.

The scene where poor old Annie, Starlight, has to service six members of the Seven to get in? It's awful. And a considerable part of the text is concerned not only with her coming to terms with the assault but (and how often to you see this?) actually come to terms with and starting to heal from the assault.

The two black teams who scream the N word at each other? There's no discussion of the young black man who is going to be forced into one of the teams who sees nothing he recognises of his experiences in tired mainstream hip hop lingo and posing. A man who has begun to understand that to become a superstar, he has to enter into a well-dodgy narrative.

No discussion of the good people warped into being celebrities and what that costs them, which is the central metaphor of the book.

Or the actual honesty when Hughie, who's never met a gay man but has to hang out in a gay club and suddenly finds his liberal sensibilities a bit overwhelmed. A scene that's never, ever played for cheap gay joke laughs.

The point of Hughie going down on a girl with a period is not that it's gross and his mates laugh at him. It's that he refuses to let something as dumb as that get in the way of his relationship with Annie. He cops some jokes and some pisstaking but then will not let the deathly embarrassed girl freak out over what turns out to be ... nothing at all.

In recent years, we've also seen a cheap man-on-man 'Dark Knight Returns' rape joke actually turns out to actually be a proper discussion on the reasons why a chap might not be able to discuss it with his friends. And what that cost him.

St Patrick's Day sucks? Surely an repatriated Northern Irishman who grew up in the Troubles has nothing to say about the immigrant experience to the United States. What a hack!

As for scoring political points off 9/11.... mate. Welcome to the world. I fail to even see an argument here.

I'm not going to say everyone should love The Boys. And sometimes I get a bit weary of schoolboys bleeding out of their arses and all the rest. And I think Ennis has made his point about religion by now. I do. (Spoiler alert: Preacher)

I like the comic but I don't expect everyone to be able to laugh like I do when the mentally ill Batman analogue has sex with a meteor.

So don't like it. That's cool. It's not like I'll gnash teeth if you don't like what I like. But this review has really failed to come to grips with and has actively misrepresented the text.

permalink

go to top

Arthur B

at 13:32 on 2011-10-28Hi dcc46, welcome to Ferretbrain!

I've not read

The Boys

but I have read enough Ennis to at least address this point:

Firstly, Garth Ennis is demonstrably not a hack. That's just incredibly lazy.

You know what else is incredibly lazy? Basing your writing career so heavily on cheap shock tactics which come across like a 13 year old trying to be edgy. I couldn't get past the first volume of

Preacher

because Ennis' obsession with gore, fucking, and other scatological subjects just became intensely monotonous. His contributions to 2000 AD were much the same. His

Hellblazer

run started out brilliantly - I think

Dangerous Habits

is both the best thing he's written and the best

Hellblazer

story that

anyone

has written - but I couldn't abide the rest of it precisely because he kept falling back into bad habits.

When a man makes a career out of indulging his puerile instincts to an extent where consistently and repeatedly his material degenerates into lame attempts to be shocking for the sake of it, that's pretty hackish.

permalink

go to top

https://me.yahoo.com/a/O9dPXbw3peUAacFQM4aervEXf232TbhO0FE-#dcc46

at 13:51 on 2011-10-28Well, if that's all you've read of Hellblazer, that's cool. When he was, what, 21, he wrote that. There was a bit of a fall off in quality before he'd come back with stories of Kit and Ric the Vic and end up telling stories of the devil contrasted with the nasty realities of racial politics in early 90s London.

If you passed on Preacher, that's cool. That second story arc is uninspired. But you missed out on a a meditation of faith, friendship, watching a man try to navigate between his old-fashioned 'chivalry' and a woman who refused to be patronised or left behind.

So I honestly don't see shocking for shocking's sake. I see bad taste. But I've never felt there's a kind of splatter punk aesthetic at work.

That's sort of my point.

I see humour that may or may not work for you. But I'm suggesting to you that if you can get past the guts and jizz all over the shop. And if that's really a sticking point for you, then you won't ever get into it.

But I think your wrong if puerility is all you get out of the work.

I know you had issues with his early 2000AD run. I never got that. I'm Australian and 2000AD seemed to ship... on a madman's calendar. So I can't comment on that.

So I tell you what. Try something like his PG Hitman. His war stories, where he reigns himself in. His Punisher MAX, which is humorless as a Derek Raymond novel.

But I'll split you the difference: Jennifer Blood is fucking awful.

permalink

go to top

https://me.yahoo.com/a/O9dPXbw3peUAacFQM4aervEXf232TbhO0FE-#dcc46

at 14:05 on 2011-10-28Anyways, I'm off.

But, a hack writer is a bad writer. Matt Reiley is a hack writer. He's bad at the English language, his plots are hackneyed, his haircut is stupid.

If you don't like Ennis' work, that's cool. But just because you think he wraps things up in grossness doesn't make him a bad writer -at all-. He's an accomplished writer with themes and metaphors and all that writery stuff.

Nevertheless, good site. Talk later.

permalink

go to top

valse de la lune

at 16:00 on 2011-10-28

So don't like it. That's cool. It's not like I'll gnash teeth if you don't like what I like. But this review has really failed to come to grips with and has actively misrepresented the text.

How quaint; you appear to be gnashing your teeth exactly because Cyrus didn't like the thing. I also agree with Arthur's assessment of Ennis: overrated hack pandering to things teenage boys--usually teenage white boys at that, what with the n-word thing--find oh so edgy and clever.

Preacher

is absolutely fucking unreadable and I spit in its general direction.

And, while you can certainly use the word "hack" to denote a poor writer--which I'd argue Ennis

, at that--his general attitude and output are pretty hacky too, in the lowest-common-denominator sense.

permalink

go to top

Rude Cyrus

at 20:31 on 2011-10-29Here's the thing: whatever good points or ideas Ennis may have are ruined by the juvenile shock tactics he wraps them in -- it's one thing to use violence and sex occasionally and for great effect, it's another to use them

all the time.

For example, I can agree with Ennis that St. Patrick's Day is an excuse for every American with a drop of Irish blood to wear green and get sick on beer, but when he ends this commentary on a close-up on a hat filled with puke, it makes me roll my eyes.

permalink

go to top

In order to post comments, you need to

authenticate with OpenID

. Don't have an account? See the

About Us

page for more details.

Show / Hide Comments -- More in April 2009

#Ferretbrain #Rude Cyrus #The Boys #Garth Ennis #Superhero

1 note · View note

feral-renaissance-cat · 5 years

Text

Enjoy It While You Can (Part 5)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The Mighty Nein move to a room on the second flood that has been left available for them. There’s a walk-in closet with a curtain covering the entrance that most of them use as a hiding spot. Nott, however, is hiding on the bed behind the illusion of a large fluffy pillow, her crossbow at the ready. Beau helps Fjord do some meditative breathing techniques to calm himself. Fjord picks at his teeth again, which looks to anyone else like the Ruby of the Sea is biting her nails. Jester dashes out of the closet to slap his hand away from his face, then grabs Beau by the wrist and pulls her into hiding with the rest.

“You’re gonna do great!” Beau says over her shoulder.

Everyone arranges themselves around the edge of the curtain, except for Caleb who is watching through Frumpkin’s eyes from the cat’s position under the bed. Jester is crouched on the floor, Beau is peering over her, Molly is pressed against the wall with one eye closed so he can better focus with the other, Caduceus is leaning over all three since he has to stoop to fit anyway, and Yasha stands behind them all, preferring to simply listen.

Someone knocks at the door. Fjord strikes as seductive of a pose as he can manage, which isn’t too bad, actually. Jester mimics her mother’s voice and calls out, “Come in!”

The door creaks open. Algar is wearing a similarly ill-suited outfit as he was wearing when the group first saw him. It seems as though all his clothes are a size too small, but he wears them anyway because they look fancy. It does, however, emphasize the fact that he’s no scrawny pushover. He has a broad chest and thick arms, and for a moment Molly thinks of Lorenzo. Molly clenches his fist. That’s not going to happen again.

“My dear sweet Ruby!” Algar exclaims, rushing into the room. Fjord takes a hasty step back then puts his fingers to his lips. The real Marion would have done it with more grace. From what Molly can see Fjord seems nervous. Algar stops anyway. “Ah! Right.” He turns and closes the door to the room. They’ve accomplished that much, at least, now if only Fjord can get him into the chair…

Algar reaches his arms out to Fjord as he swoops in for an embrace. Everyone in the closet sharply inhales as one. If Algar touches Fjord he’ll realize it’s all an illusion. Fjord ducks to the side, and manages to do so in a way that almost seems coy. Algar thinks so, apparently. “Oho, still playing hard to get? You invited me here, so I know you want the same thing I do. Why don’t we stop playing games?” He starts to undress.

“Wait!” Jester calls out in her mother’s voice. Beau hisses at her.

“What’s this?” Algar says, looking from Fjord to the closet and back.

“I’ve taken up ventriloquism,” Jester says. “How am I doing?”

Jester had suggested this plan earlier, but it was shot down because of how risky it sounded. Molly grabs Jester’s tail with his own and gives it a sharp tug. Jester tugs back.

Algar chuckles. “Quite impressive, though I doubt that’s why you called me here?”

“Oh please,” Jester says. Fjord struggles to react quickly and gesture accordingly. “I’ve been practicing so hard. Could you sit down and watch for a while?”

There’s a pause so silent and heavy that it’s as though everyone in the room has stopped breathing. Algar takes a step backwards towards the door. “Perhaps I misunderstood…”

Fjord puts a hand out to stop him. Molly can’t see the exact expression on his face, but Fjord undoes the sash of the nightgown he’s “wearing” to reveal the sexy underclothes beneath it.

Algar grins. “Or perhaps I didn’t.”

Fjord gestures to the chair. Algar advances on him, unbuckling his belt as he goes. Fjord moves closer to the chair.

“Why so quiet all of a sudden?” Algar asks teasingly. “Did you misplace your voice?”

Beau puts her hand over Jester’s mouth before Jester can say anything. Molly yanks her tail again. When he looks up, Fjord has his hands up defensively while Aglar is trying to pull him into his arms.

“I love you, dear Ruby,” Algar says. “I need you to be mine. I won’t rest until you are.” Fjord is all but fighting him off. “Come now, we don’t need to dance this dance anymore. You love me too, I know it. Let me show you…” Algar knocks Fjord’s hands away and closes the space between them.

A splash of sea water strikes the drawn curtains of the window. “I’d back the fuck up if I were you,” Fjord says. His gruff voice sounds even stranger coming from Marion’s mouth as Marion’s voice sounded coming from the closet. He has his falchion in his right hand and his left crackles with dark energy.

Algar jumps back immediately. “W-What is this? What’s going on?”

Fjord extends the falchion so the point is under Algar’s chin. “Take a seat, and I won’t hurt you.”

“It’s a trick! A trap! Help! Someone help!” Algar dashes for the door, but as he reaches for the handle a crossbow bolt sinks into the wood a few inches above it. Algar whips around to search for the source. The big fluffy pillow is still in place on the bed. Molly checks how the others are reacting. Yasha is craning her neck to see through the curtain, Beau and Jester are practically holding each other, and Caleb’s fingers are extended like cat claws though his eyes are still pale. Molly looks straight up, and Caduceus is looking down back at him.

“I said, sit.” Fjord twists his left hand and the energy burns a brighter yet darker shade.

Beau taps Jester frantically. “Your thaumaturgy!” she hisses. “Use your thaumaturgy!”

“Hu— Oh! Right!” Jester puts out a hand. Molly can barely hear the whispers she conjures, but he can tell they’re coming from Fjord’s vicinity. Algar pales, staring agape and cowering. Then with shaking steps he moves to the chair and sits down.

Fjord smiles. It makes Marion look sinister, menacing, the complete opposite of the kind and gentle woman the Mighty Nein met the night before. “Good. I appreciate your cooperation.” He lets the spell he was holding fizzle.

“Wh-Who are you?” Algar stammers.

“Well, clearly I am not the Ruby of the Sea,” Fjord says. He drops the illusory disguise. Algar scoots back in terror. Fjord is by no means as intimidating as a full-blooded orc, but he is noticeably taller than Marion, and the switch from red to green skin in this lighting is jarring. His eyes, strangely, don’t change much. Molly always considered Fjord’s eyes to be some kind of light honey brown, and yet from here they appear almost yellow, serpent-like.

“What do you want from me?” Algar trembles as he reaches for his coin purse. “Whatever it is you want, you can have it, but please don’t hurt me.”

Fjord smirks with a light chuckle. A chill runs down Molly’s spine. “Y’see, Algar — yes, I know your name — I work for a certain…gentleman who supports the ‘illicitly industrious’, like the Ruby of the Sea. Word reached him recently that a certain obstacle was preventing her from continuing her work. My employer sent me to deal with that obstacle.”

Algar jerks his head from side to side, searching the room. “There’s more of you here, I know it. Who else? Show yourselves!”

Everyone in the closet looks at one another. Without a word, Caleb opens his side of the curtain and steps out. Unfortunately, this closes off the crack the rest were using to watch. “Ja gut,” Caleb says. “You caught me. I wasn’t supposed to come out unless you proved to be uncooperative, but I couldn’t resist fucking with your head a little back there.”

Molly plans a “coming out of the closet” quip for later. For now, he gingerly reaches out with his tail to try to pull the side of the curtain open again. Jester notices and adds her tail to the effort. Together, they regain their view of the room. Caleb is standing with his hands up, somewhat blocking their view of Algar.

Algar laughs nervously. “This is some kind of joke,” he says. “Did this one pull you off the street to help him? What’s going on?”

Without a word, Caleb’s hands catch ablaze. Algar flails with a squeak of alarm. “What is going on, mein Freund, is that you are thorn, a pest. We are pest control. We aren’t exterminators necessarily, buuut…” He extinguishes one hand and reaches into his pocket. Molly catches a glimpse of something on his fingertips before Caleb moves that hand across his face. “I suggest you be honest and let us know if it has to come to that.”

The parts of Algar that Molly can see relax. “I love her,” he says. His voice has the familiar tone of someone under a charming spell. “I need her. She’s so beautiful and I can’t bear the thought of other men touching her.”

“That’s kinda her job, though,” Fjord says.

“It shouldn’t have to be. If only she could see that I can provide for her, that she doesn’t need to debase herself by cavorting with those perverts, then she would love me, too.” Algar lifts his left arm. The sleeve falls back enough to reveal something glinting underneath that Molly can’t make out. “I have a powerful ally under the city,” he says. “So long as I control him I can give her whatever she wants, if only she’ll say she is mine. If you let me go to her, show her, then she can give up this life and finally be happy.”

Jester’s tail twitches in a way that makes the curtain flutter. Fortunately, Algar does not appear to notice. Beau puts her hand over Jester’s mouth again.

“You mentioned an ally,” Fjord says. “What ally?”

“I don’t have to tell you that,” Algar replies.

Fjord looks to Caleb, who shrugs. “Technically he doesn’t,” Caleb says. “I only asked if we would need to kill him to make him fuck off.”

“You said he had to be honest.”

“And clearly he honestly doesn’t have to tell us who this ‘ally’ is.” Caleb relights his other hand. “But I’m sure we could get him to talk eventually.” He pauses. He mutters something then extinguishes his hands. “Never mind, he’s not worth the effort. All we have to do is get him to promise he will drop this sick obsession, unless he wants us to continue where we left off at a later date.”

Algar shifts in his seat. “I only need a few more weeks to woo her, and then she’ll—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Fjord interrupts. “I was just on the receiving end of your ‘wooing’ and I can tell you flat out that that is not how you get a woman like her to like you.”

“I’m going to have to concur on that,” Caleb says. “Honestly Fjord showed some restraint. I know a few women who would have ripped your head off it you tried that on them.”

Molly glances over at Yasha with a smile. Yasha’s eyes are narrowed and her jaw clenched, but when she notices Molly’s smile the corner of her mouth twitches upward in response. Molly is also smiling because of all the members of their group, Fjord and Caleb are the most awkward and clumsy flirters — Keg might have given them a run for their money, but hey, it worked on Beau somehow — and yet they’re trying to give romantic advice. Considering that this guy’s idea of “wooing” is “be extremely needy and aggressive until she says yes”, even they seem like masters of seduction by comparison.

Fjord takes a few steps closer to Algar, still holding his falchion. “If you’d ever actually talked to the Ruby of the Sea you’d know she’s perfectly happy in her current situation. She doesn’t need you to ‘save’ her from her job. But since we were sent to save her job from you, that’s what we’re gonna do, one way or another.” He dismisses the falchion so he can grip both arms of the chair and lean over Algar. “Leave her alone. Find someone else who actually likes you, and not someone who just puts up with you.”

“Keep in mind we will be watching,” Caleb says. “You have seen how we can disguise ourselves. That means anyone you pass on the street might be one of us, or one of our associates.”

“That’s right,” Fjord says. His form shifts. Algar’s reaction confirms Molly’s suspicion; Fjord has changed his face to mirror Algar. “We can be anyone.”

Caleb also changes into a copy of Algar, who whimpers wordlessly. The room is silent for a moment, aside from Algar’s noises of distress. At last Algar breaks. “Alright!” he exclaims. “Alright, I’ll— I promise I will leave the Ruby to her…work.”

“Good choice.” Fjord straightens and stands aside. “Now get out.”

Algar sprints for the door. He stops briefly at the sight of the crossbow bolt still sticking out above the handle. With one final panicked look around the room, he makes a hasty exit.

When the door slams shut, everyone comes out of hiding. Jester bounces with delight. “Oh man! You guys really got him. I almost disguised myself too and popped out just to fuck with him.”

“I think that would have been a bit much,” Fjord says. His demeanor has completely shifted. His shoulders are relaxed and the harsh expression on his face is gone, though his eye color still appears more yellow than anything else. Molly isn’t one to judge on unusual eye color, but it occurs to him that Fjord never mentioned what the other half of his half-orc lineage was. Given that he claims to be an orphan, that’s not surprising. Molly’s interest is definitely piqued regardless.

“Can we trust that he’ll actually keep his word?” Beau asks.

Caduceus nods in his slow sure way. “He seemed pretty shaken by the thought of you two following him in disguise. Any time he wonders if he’s crossing a line he’ll assume you’re nearby and — hopefully — make the right decision.”

Fjord breathes a sigh of relief. “I am so glad that’s over. Now we can focus on finding out who this Marius guy is.” He smiles to Jester. “But first, let’s go tell your mom the good news.”

Part 6

3 notes · View notes