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asweetprologue · 4 years

Note

I know that feel my dude. How about a Geraskier prompt Geralt getting stuck in ice or mud or what have you and Jask has to get him out. Hilarity ensues. <3 i write as im dodging my calc work....

this is so fun! I’m gonna put the response below the cut because I actually can’t, as it turns out, write a drabble that’s less than 1k. we all have our fatal flaws

Geralt was in a hole.

It didn’t matter why. It had involved a very stealthy drowner, and patch of wet ground, and perhaps some overconfidence on Geralt’s part. Witcher’s didn’t slip. They didn’t trip, or fumble, or fall down. If they did, they died. Simple as that.

The drowner hadn’t killed him, but in Geralt’s mind it had still won the fight. Though dead, it was up there, and Geralt was down here. The hole he was in was filled up to his lower thighs in water and muck, and the walls were too loose to climb. Anytime he tried to get a handhold, the dirt slid through his fingers like molasses and plopped into the water below. He’d been here for hours, now, most of the night. He was going to die in a hole in Velen, of all placed, up to his neck in cold mud when he finally sat down in the shallow pool.

At least he wouldn’t die of thirst. His fucking bones felt damp.

Geralt wished he hadn’t left his bags with Jaskier at the inn. They would have weighed him down, but at least he’d have a damn rope.

Fuck. Jaskier. He hoped the bard wouldn’t come looking for him. How long before he realized something had happened? Geralt had said he’d be back by nightfall, but sometimes jobs took longer than he thought. Jaskier might not grow suspicious until morning, or even several days. All the better, really, Geralt thought. The chance of Jaskier finding him was slim anyways, and by the time he got here Geralt might already be dead.

The night passed slowly. Meditation could only do so much to block out his cold, wet surroundings. Finally he realized that it was starting to get lighter out, the first rays of the sun dappling the grayish leaves overhead with faint orange light.

Two hours later he heard footsteps in the forest, and a moment later, he heard a bitten off curse that was achingly familiar.

Geralt stumbled to his feet in the pool of water, squinting up at the five foot hole that marked the exit of the pit. “Jaskier?” he called.

The footsteps stilled, and then broke into a more rapid pace. A moment later, Jaskier’s foppish brown hair and shockingly bright doublet came into focus. He frowned down at Geralt, as if it had been Geralt’s idea to get stuck in a hole. “Geralt,” he said, “this may seem a silly question, but what are you doing down there?” He looked fine, clearly not beset upon by any marsh monsters, much to Geralt’s relief. The entire situation, which had seemed so dire that night, suddenly seemed trivial. And then he remembered how he’d gotten into the hole.

Feeling his ears tingle with a blush, he said, “I was hunting drowners.”

Jaskier was looking around, his hands doing something Geralt couldn’t see. Rooting through their bags, maybe. Hopefully for a rope. “Well, yes, I was aware of that. When you didn’t come back to the inn I asked the alderman if he’d seen you, and he said no, so I visited the healer, just in case you’d done that thing you do where you collapse on someone’s doorstep and they don’t know or care to fetch me, which you know I don’t care for, but she hadn’t seen you either. So I thought to myself, well, Jaskier, you’ve just got to go and see about it yourself, don’t you? I’ll have you know I’ve been walking around here since near daybreak, and my boots are ruined.” He made a triumphant sound, and Geralt blinked as a rope was flung down, nearly hitting him in the face. Jaskier popped back into view, pouting at him. “This is a horrible place, you know.”

“Free of drowners though,” Geralt replied. He took the rope in hand, preparing to make the slippery climb back up to relatively dry land.

“I should hope so,” Jaskier agreed. “None of that answers the question, though, of why exactly you are in a hole.”

Geralt grunted. “The ground is treacherous.” He was not going to admit that he got pushed into a sinkhole by a drowner. Jaskier would probably put it in a song, and then where would the reputation of witchers be?

Jaskier stared at him. There was a beat of silence, and then, “Geralt. Did you fall?”

Geralt glared at the rope warped around his hand and put his full weight on it, knowing that Jaskier was holding the other end. All he had to do was use it to anchor himself as he scaled the muddy wall, and he would be able to cuff Jaskier on the head for his gleefully disbelieving tone. All he had to do was get to the top.

Unfortunately, Jaskier chose that moment to break out into rancorous laughter, and instead of bracing himself for Geralt’s weight, he was jerked forward. Towards the open pit. His laugh cut off on a yelp.

Geralt managed to catch him, but only just. They fell back into the water together, a tangle of limbs and rope and mud. Jaskier’s doublet was instantly soaked, turning the burgundy material an unbecoming brown. Jaskier spluttered out of the water, pushing grit out of his eyes as he spit. Geralt’s hands roamed over his body, checking for injuries. The bard was nearly straddling him, sitting with one of Geralt’s thighs thrust between his own. The witcher let out a breath of relief when he found no sign of hurt, and then his eyes met Jaskier’s.

Jaskier made a face, full of chagrin. “What was that about treacherous ground?”

Geralt couldn’t help it - he laughed, loud in the still of the morning air. Jaskier stared at him for a moment before he broke out into his own chuckles. It kept building between them until they were nearly rolling with it, Geralt huffing out laughter into Jaskier’s throat as the bard cackled in his ear. It was a nice sound, after hours of sitting in the dark thinking he was going to be left to die at the bottom of this godsforsaken hole. They might still, but at least Jaskier was here. Nothing seemed quite so serious when he was around.

Jaskier pulled back, still grinning as he looked Geralt in the face. “I can’t believe you fell,” he said again, delight still coloring his tone. Geralt couldn’t find it in himself to be mad about it when Jaskier was grinning at him like that. There was still mud all over him, slicking down his carefully styled hair and covering one of his cheeks like a strange troubadour mask. Geralt raised a hand and wiped some of it away, the negative of his fingers showing in brown streaks across Jaskier’s cheekbone. He liked the look of it, he decided.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll leave you down here for the drowners,” he said, trying for gruff and knowing that he just barely missed annoyed, landing dangerously close to fond. He stood, pulling Jaskier to his feet as well. “At least you brought the rope down with you.”

Jaskeir smiled broadly at him, and Geralt rolled his eyes even as he smiled back. “Never let it be said that I don’t have my uses,” Jaskier replied.

“Can’t think of any at the moment,” Geralt said, and was rewarded by Jaskier shoving him down into the muddy water at their feet. It was his second time falling that day, but this time, for some reason, he found he didn’t mind.

thank you for the prompt my lovely! it was fun to write. sorry it ended up way closer to tender than funny - it seems I have only one setting lmao

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bjornthorsson20 · 3 years

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Give Us a Break!

Had this Rarry drabble unfinished for 2 months now, and finally, the inspiration hit to finish it yesterday. Hope y'all enjoy! ^^

Harry entered the kitchen to find Ron already leaning on the counter, munching on some toast. Even now, in his disheveled morning state, Harry thought he looked positively stunning, especially with the sun rays reflecting off his flaming red hair, making it shine even brighter.

Ron looked his way, grinning as soon as their eyes met, and made a gesture for Harry to come closer. Harry had to stop himself from biting his lip at how sexy just that little wag of his finger was. He walked up to Ron, keeping a good distance away from him, but Ron wasn't having it, as he tugged on Harry's sleeve to pull him in until their faces were mere inches apart. Harry involuntarily bunched Ron's shirt with his fist, his breathing already ragged due to their proximity.

As soon as Ron dipped his head, they heard footsteps coming in, alarming them both, and before Harry could jolt away quickly enough, Ron burped on his face, laughing afterward.

"What the fuck, Ron?! Fucking hell!" Harry bellowed, frantically waving his hand in front of his face.

"I told you not to get too close, Potter. Your mistake," Ron chuckled, but with a subtle wink his way, Harry understood why he did it.

"Er, am I interrupting something?" Hermione asked by the doorway, with an amused half-smile and one eyebrow raised.

“Not at all, no. Harry was just talking big for someone who was clearly unprepared to handle the Weasleys’ dirty tricks,” Ron laughed, having way too much fun watching Harry blush profusely from the embarrassment of almost getting caught by their best friend.

“Okay,” Hermione enunciated, barely holding in a chuckle as she grabbed a piece of toast, taking a bite of it. “I’ll be outside reading in the shade if you boys need me or wish to keep me company later.” As they nodded, she left the kitchen, leaving them alone once more.

“That was close,” Harry breathed a sigh of relief, messing his hair up with a shaky hand, the blush still present on his face.

“But not close enough,” Ron said in the deep voice he knew always made Harry’s knees weak, bringing him closer again. Harry’s hand landed flat on Ron’s chest and he could feel his heartbeat speed up, his own breath hitching as he took in the deep-blue desire in the ginger’s eyes. Their lips moved at the same time…

“Good morning! Nice to see you both already up!” bellowed the Weasley patriarch as he came in.

“Ron, you really are a messy eater,” Harry quickly said, swiping away nonexistent crumbs from Ron’s shirt, hoping Mr. Weasley would buy it, despite the nervous squeak in his voice.

“Mate, you’ve known me for how many years now? It’s not news at this point that I’m a pig when it comes to food. Oh hi, dad,” Ron greeted his dad nonchalantly, and Harry wondered how he managed to stay that calm in this kind of situation.

“Sorry, were you two in the middle of something?”

“Oh, no, Harry was just practicing his crumb swiping technique on me. Apparently, it’s a muggle thing boys our age do,” Ron smoothly lied, as Harry was trying very hard not to laugh, sure that Mr. Weasley would never buy such a-

“Oh! Fascinating! Remind me to pull Harry aside later to inquire more on that. I’ll be heading off to work now. Take care, you two!” And with that, he was off.

Harry blew out a huge breath, crying from laughter as he gasped out syllable for syllable, “I can’t believe he bought that!” Ron soon joined him on it, both of them clutching their stomachs from the hilarity of it all.

Finally, they both sighed, spent from their bout of mirth, wearing identical silly smiles and stepping closer to one another. Ron caressed Harry’s cheek lovingly, his trademarked lopsided grin showing up. “I guess we should just wait for tonight. You can hold on until then, right?” He chuckled as Harry nodded.

“What can wait for tonight, our dear Ickle Ronniekins?” The twins chorused in unison, popping out from seemingly nowhere, startling them both.

“Well, uh, Harry likes me to read this muggle fairytale to him before bed, helps him sleep better, but lately he has been asking me to read it to him during the day, and I just wanted us to come back to it being a bedtime story. Makes it more special.” By the end of this convoluted lie, the twins were already reduced to tears on the kitchen floor, laughing even harder than Harry and Ron before. By the time they managed to get up again, each one leaning on Ron’s shoulders for support, they were laughing right at a very red Harry’s face, trying to form coherent sentences, but being overpowered by the laughter. They eventually calmed down enough to taunt Harry with questions like “Do you need your special blanket to sleep well too?” or “What thumb do you sleep sucking on?”, before thanking Ron for the gold mine of jokes and promptly disapparating.

The silence hung between them, Ron doing his best to not laugh at the terrible attempt at an angry stare Harry was giving him. Eventually, with a twitch of his lips giving him away, he muttered, “You’re the fucking worst.”

Ron did laugh then, dipping his head with their noses almost touching, “I am. But you love me for it,” he said, before finally giving Harry a proper quick kiss.

As Ron broke the kiss, Harry was left with a smile, and, with his eyes still closed, let out a content sigh.

“I do.”

#rarry #rarry fanfic #ron x harry #ron weasley #harry potter #hermione granger #arthur weasley #george weasley #fred weasley #weasley twins #ronarry #hp fanfic #hp drabble

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pinkoptics · 3 years

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Cherik ‘Fallen Angel’ Fic

Part 2 (of Chapter 1)

Find Part 1 (of Chapter 1) here.

Charles is an angel. He loves Erik. He saves Erik. God takes issue with that. Hilarity and adorableness (with a smidge of angst) ensues. In this part, protective!Erik makes an appearance at the hospital.

“I don’t know what his last name is!” Erik growled at the nurse, just barely managing to hold back the ‘fucks’ he wanted to pepper the sentence with. “I wasn’t exactly trying to get all of his info while he was bleeding to death on me.”

Erik released them in his mind— Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’s just doing her job. She’s just doing her job. Don’t strangle her with metal.

“I told you,” Erik gritted his teeth and repeated a variation of the same combination of sentences he had already uttered twice. “I was crossing the street. The car barrelled through the red light. He jumped in and saved my life. I tried to return the favour. His name is Charles. He’s cute. I promised to take him to dinner. That’s all I know and that’s as far as we got before he passed out.”

How was Charles? Was he okay?

It didn’t seem like he could be. It had looked like so much fucking blood. The utterly insane things the man had said (“You should know you’re beautiful. Before I leave this mortal realm, I want you to know that”). Those spectacularly bright blue eyes fading to a frightening dullness. Not that Erik knew anything about anything medical, but none of that had seemed promising. So, not only was this nurse annoying as all fuck, she was stonewalling him. They wouldn’t tell him a goddamned thing because he wasn’t Charles’ next of kin. No one, in fact, knew if he had any next of kin in New York because he didn’t have a wallet, ID or phone on him. This was why the nurse was presently grilling him for information he did. not. have. They hadn’t let him ride in the ambulance, so he’d taken a cab and prayed that the ambulance had made a hell of a lot better time than he had. The only reason they were talking to him at all was because he had been there, had a name, a first name, and that was it.

The swinging doors opened and a woman in scrubs emerged. Erik nearly lunged.

“Are you Erik?”

“Yes.”

“He’s asking for you. I don’t want to let you in at all, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to start anything beyond emergency treatment until he talks to you.”

Asking meant conscious. Living. Thank fuck. The relief was powerful and nearly knocked him on his ass. Later, when he wasn’t teeming with barely contained frustration, and desperately trying to ascertain just how okay Charles was or wasn’t, he might spare a moment to think about how unexpected it was to be so powerfully moved by a stranger (a cute stranger who’d saved his life, granted), but not now.

“How is he?”

“He lost some blood, will need stitches on his arm and he has a few fractured ribs, but he’s stable. He’s going to be fine. After he stops trying to get out of bed to talk to you, we might actually be able to treat those things with something other than bandages.”

If Erik had thought the first wave of relief was powerful, he was not prepared at all for the second.

She sighed deeply and gestured to the double doors from which she had emerged. “This way.”

He followed her a short way down the hall, nearly stepping on her heels each step of the way. She stopped so abruptly before they entered the room that Erik nearly ran straight into her back.

“I should warn you that he’s... well, you’ve both been through a trauma. The mind processes such things in all sorts of ways. If he doesn’t seem... ‘all there’ don’t be overly concerned. Play along, don’t distress him further.”

Charles certainly hadn’t been ‘all there’ at the scene of the accident. His bizarre last words kept spinning through Erik’s head at random intervals— you are so loved. On their own, they were strange enough, but the reverence of Charles’ tone had sunk the words into Erik’s bones like a telepath projecting the emotion behind what they were saying. He hadn’t heard the words, he’d felt the words. Even if Charles was a telepath, it didn’t make them make anymore sense. More forthcoming then... he nodded at the doctor.

“You’re here!” Charles beamed at him from his sitting position on the hospital bed, looking much happier than anyone had any right to be in his situation. “And, you look well. Are you well?”

Charles did too, relatively speaking. He was a little pale, a little bruised but nowhere close to as bad as Erik had expected. Though the car had clipped him as he’d tackled Erik out of the way, it seemed to have been a case of looking much worse than it was at the scene. Small miracles.

“I’m fine.” Fine enough, at any rate. Like Charles, he was understandably bruised, and it was probably going to hurt more in the morning, but his suit had taken the harder beating. Between contact with the pavement and Charles’ blood, there would be no saving it, not that that mattered in the slightest. “You’re the one who was bleeding out all over me. How are you?”

Erik was sitting at his bedside now, the doctor presumably hovering in the background for all Erik’s attention was on Charles. The man in question blinked, cocking his head slightly to the side and giving Erik’s question a more thorough consideration than Erik would have thought necessary.

“I really don’t know,” he finally answered. Charles stretched his injured arm out in front of him, now bandaged (if not stitched) and looked at it with a plainly perplexed expression. “I’ve never been hurt before you know. It’s curious... interesting, but I don’t at all recommend it.”

“You were hit by a car.” Erik couldn’t help but be amused. Perplexed Charles was endearing. “Not something that happens to a person every day.”

“Quite.” Charles conceded the point. He went from staring at his arm to deliberately poking his own rib cage, and subsequently wincing. “You’re all very fragile, you know. So much could kill you every single minute of your life and yet so many of you manage to survive until old age. How do you do it? I’ve only just arrived and I’ve already nearly died.”

He turned his focus from his ribs to Erik and genuinely looked as though he were waiting for a response. Erik opened his mouth and then closed it. Despite the doctor’s suggestion to ‘play along’ he didn’t have one. Erik decided to change course.

“The hospital needs your personal information— last name, address, insurance.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. I don’t have a last name. Just Charles. Or an address for that matter. I feel it’s unlikely my former profession came with any benefits.” Charles suddenly laughed. “That’s not true. It absolutely had many benefits, but certainly not State Farm. Besides, I’m no longer working for Him.”

The emphasis on the last word was... odd. Was Erik supposed to know who he was?

“I was... goodness. I was fired I suppose. Fired. That means I’m—I’m unemployed. For the first time in a millennia, I’m... on the pogey!” He laughed a little harder, the edge of hysteria he’d had at the scene worming its way back in. “Wait, no, you don’t say that anymore, do you?”

Pogey?

“Oh you look so confused. I apologize. It’s a Canadian phrase come to think. Or it used to be, a century ago.”

Shit.

Had Charles hit his head? Was this some kind of bizarre amnesia? The doctor hadn’t mentioned either possibility but... Erik side-stepped again.“How about family? Is there someone I can call and let them know you’re here? Maybe they can provide your information?”

The shift in Charles’ expression and demeanour was so abrupt and dramatic that Erik’s gut clenched. The stunning blue eyes that had stared up at him with such naked concern and relief, took on an unmistakable sheen. The wetness made them impossibly bluer, an unnatural colour that was as striking as it was otherworldly. The tears did not fall, yet Erik somehow knew that Charles would cry beautifully if they did. Erik somehow also knew what the response was going to be before he uttered it.

“No. There is no one. Not anymore.”

Erik surprised himself by doing something he would normally never do, under any circumstance, even with someone he knew well, let alone someone he had just met. He reached out and took Charles’ hand, squeezing it gently. His was a pain Erik was all too familiar with.

“It’s all right. We’ll... we’ll figure this out. You’re Charles. You saved my life. You have me. That’s all we need to know right now. Don’t worry about the insurance or anything else.”

Charles stopped staring out into the middle-distance and focused on Erik. “Truly, you don’t owe me anything.”

Erik snorted. “The hell I don’t. Besides, we’ve got to get you healed up. I can’t take you to the diner in this state. We’ve got date, remember? So there you are. Here you think I’m indebted, but really my reasons are purely selfish. You’re hot and I want to date you. Humour me.”

The wetness retreated and that red mouth quirked up into a small smile.

“As long as you’re being self-centred.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

Somewhere behind them, someone cleared their throat. Erik turned. Oh, right, the doctor. “As much as I would love to watch the two of you keep flirting, we need to take care of those injuries.”

She was right, so Erik reluctantly stood and even more reluctantly released Charles’ hand.

“I’ll be back later, so stop trying to leave and let them take care of you, all right?”

Charles nodded. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Erik forced himself to turn and exit the room. Only after he’d left it, did he truly exhale. Charles was okay. Charles was okay. Charles was flirting even... well, possibly. They were still on for that date. Erik took a few much needed breaths and strode more determinedly, and much less frantically, back toward the nurses’ desk. He would take care of this.

He would take care of Charles.

Thanks for reading 😊. I really hope inspiration continues to strike because I’ve had a lot of fun with this thus far.

On to chapter 2 part 1

#cherik #cherik fan fic #cherik fanfic #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #pinkoptics fic #fallen angel fic

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qobiin · 4 years

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fluffy, soft junior quartet 👉👈

we will never lose our way

pairing: platonic junior quartet, very background wangxian

genre: fluff | post-canon compliant

warnings: mentioned yi city, implied violence

a/n #1: despite the angst of the scene this gif is from, there is no angst to be found here! this is just soft, platonic cuddle puddles galore so thank you for giving me an excuse to write that! title is taken from seventeen’s “together” bc that is junior quartet’s theme song to a T, are you joking kaljdskljf pls give it a listen and look up the lyrics if need be and you’ll understand what i mean <3

words: 1200

summary: ...Lan Sizhui is certain his friends are worth every bit of trouble and inconvenience they bring.

“So,” Lan Jingyi says as they are walking through the trees in the middle of the night. “How long do you think it took Hanguang-Jun and Senior Wei to get together exactly?”

Lan Sizhui takes his eyes off the surrounding woods to silently peer at his friend. Lan Jingyi only raises a brow in question, determination set in his shoulders as they come to a stop.

“Is this really the time for that?” Lan Sizhui finally manages to say.

Lan Jingyi shrugs, mouth already opening to respond when Ouyang Zizhen cuts in. “For the sake of proving true love is real to Jin Ling, please answer the question.”

“Can we please focus on the ghost we were sent out to find?” Lan Sizhui asks at the same time that Jin Ling exclaims, “True love? Don’t make me laugh!”

Lan Sizhui sighs and mentally prepares himself for the argument to come. He is certain they won’t be getting much done tonight now that this topic of conversation has begun. Lan Sizhui would respectfully like to be omitted from this, but considering how stubborn all three of his closest friends are about Hanguang-Jun’s and Senior Wei’s marriage, he finds that a lack of involvement from him will be unlikely. His friends will inevitably say or do something that Lan Sizhui will have to smooth over before a genuine fight breaks out amongst them.

He loves his friends, but sometimes, they can be a little too much for him.

“Hanguang-Jun and Senior Wei are the embodiment of true love,” Ouyang Zizhen sighs dreamily.

Jin Ling shoves his arm, ignoring Ouyang Zizhen’s pout and Lan Jingyi’s protests. “True love is not a thing! Get your head out of those trashy romances you love to read and into the real world!”

Lan Sizhui winces at his friends’ volume. “We are in the middle of a night hunt. Can this not wait?”

He almost laughs when Jin Ling, Lan Jingyi, and Ouyang Zizhen all exchange glances with one another before turning to face him, simultaneously answering, “No.”

He is not laughing when in the next moment, the ghost they have been searching for appears and leads them straight into the jaws of a beast. Lan Sizhui is only faintly relieved that his friends are able to forget whatever differences they had when confronted with danger.

Much later, after they have fought off the beast and put the ghost to rest, Lan Sizhui finds himself sprawled across the floor of the room Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen are sharing in the town’s only inn.

Lan Jingyi’s legs are tangled with his own, Jin Ling curled up in the small space between them while Ouyang Zizhen lies with his head pillowed on Lan Sizhui’s chest. He finds himself playing with the ends of Ouyang Zizhen’s hair absentmindedly, his other arm being used as a pillow by Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi. They had all separated to shower and dress in their sleeping robes, their hair down or braided for the night. Lan Sizhui’s hair is still mostly damp and will be tangled when they finally get up from the floor, but for now, no one is inclined to move.

Being able to feel three other beating hearts and hearing their breaths all around him soothes Lan Sizhui. The first time they did this was after Yi City, after Hanguang-Jun had marched past them up the stairs with a tray of alcohol, and after he reappeared with a blustering Senior Wei trudging along behind him. Lan Sizhui had followed Lan Jingyi to Ouyang Zizhen’s room afterward, still trying to burn the image of Senior Wei’s hands tied up with Hanguang-Jun’s forehead ribbon out of his head. He had been surprised to find Jin Ling there, but the haunted look on his young face was enough to keep even Lan Jingyi from teasing him for long.

Just not long enough.

It had felt like no time had passed at all before Lan Sizhui found himself in between Jin Ling’s and Lan Jingyi’s newest argument, except this one somehow ended with them sprawled across the floor. Jin Ling claims he had been aiming for Lan Jingyi but he had caught Lan Sizhui instead and they all tumbled when Ouyang Zizhen tripped in his haste to separate them.

Lan Sizhui was the first to laugh as he stared up at the ceiling from the floor, Jin Ling plastered to his right and Lan Jingyi struggling to untangle their legs so he could sit up and hit Jin Ling in retaliation. Ouyang Zizhen began to giggle and settled himself more comfortably on Lan Sizhui’s left, hiding his face in Lan Sizhui’s hair when Jin Ling’s complaining became louder.

Eventually, Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling had also laughed at the hilarity of the situation and they had laid out on that floor, giggling to themselves until their exhaustion caught up to them.

Jin Ling’s face was bright red when he had sat up and darted out of the room quickly, not sparing any of them a word but they all knew. The simple reassurance of other people living and breathing in their space was enough to settle them after the grim day they had just experienced. There would be no teasing each other for this.

None of them had quite expected it to become a tradition since they had never run into each other for night hunts as often as they did now, but it had. Now it is a sacred, unspoken ritual they do not mention in the light of day. Regardless of whether they acknowledge it or not, they all find comfort in each other.

This intimacy between friends is not something Lan Sizhui had ever envisioned for himself. He had counted himself lucky to have a friend like Lan Jingyi at all while he was growing up. He was Hanguang-Jun’s ward and favored disciple, the unofficial Lan Sect Heir. Not many children had the confidence to approach him and treat him as normally as Lan Jingyi had. Lan Sizhui had been certain at one point that if he could only call Lan Jingyi his friend, then his life would be full.

He is grateful he realized how dim and dull his life would be if he did not know Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen as well as he does in the present time though. Having friends he can be himself with is the greatest source of joy in Lan Sizhui’s life. He is not anything except a friend when he is with them.

“So,” Lan Jingyi breaks their comfortable silence with, his voice thick with amusement. “You never answered me, but do you know how long it took your parents to get together?”

Lan Sizhui sighs as Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen play right into Lan Jingyi’s clutches. Jing Ling is loud and stubborn while Ouyang Zizhen is softer in his approach, awe shadowing every word he speaks. Lan Jingyi only interjects to keep the argument going. None of them drag Lan Sizhui into the conversation at least.

Even despite this exhausting and recurring argument, Lan Sizhui is certain his friends are worth every bit of trouble and inconvenience they bring.

a/n #2: thanks for reading! i have more mdzs content in the works rn, but in the meantime, feel free to send requests or headcanons to my inbox bc i will probably welcome them all owo

#junior quartet #the juniors #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #jin ling #ouyang zizhen #mdzs #cql #the untamed #oneshot #f:mdzs #g:fluff #t:oneshot #p:ot4 #p:jin ling&lan jingyi&lan sizhui&ouyang zizhen #m: fic

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shy-violet-soul · 4 years

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Love in a time of COVID-19

Summary: Bucky won’t let anything get in the way of showing you he loves you & making you smile. Characters: Bucky Barnes x you; Steve Rogers; mentions of Clint Barton, Tony Stark, & Natasha Romanoff Ratings/Warnings: Character has Rheumatoid Arthritis, mentions of symptoms & treatments. Social-distanced-fluff of the highest concentration. Clint being weird & Bucky being goofball-y awesome. A/N: I saw the photo that inspired this on IG, and laughed so hard I just about cried. The marvelous OP graciously gave me permission to include it in my fic. You’ll find it at the bottom of the work. I thought we could all use some fluff in our lives these days!

I also have a friend with Rheumatoid Arthritis who is finding this time to be exceptionally difficult. Please support those in your circle who need some extra love right now.

Thank you @pinknerdpanda for beta-ing once again! All the social-distanced-hugs to you!

This work is a piece of fiction inspired by characters created by the MCU. Please do not copy/print elsewhere without my written permission

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He was convinced. People’d lost their damn minds.

Bucky had survived warzone trenches in Europe. Had lived through the Great Depression. And had never seen the level of human stupidity he’d witnessed the first few days of March 2020. It’s an airborne illness - why the hell were people buying 96 rolls of toilet paper at a whack? What were they gonna do, wrap it around their mouths and breathe through it?

The Avengers Tower was going through its own issues. Stark vowed to spend his self-isolation inside one of his suits; a good idea in theory until he realized he still had to pee. Steve kept expounding on the virtues of using the time to catch up on reports. Natasha spent her time snorting at the treasure trove of new social media memes while Clint thumbed his nose at the whole thing by licking every door knob he passed. Bucky was washing his hands more just because of that. Gross.

Yes, they were pretty well hooked up to do the shelter in place, social distance, whatever the hell they were calling this thing. Bucky couldn’t fault Tony (well, probably mostly Pepper) for the very streamlined system in place that kept the Tower stocked with all manner of essentials. And, the Stark Foundation was busily getting help where it needed to go while Bruce videoconferenced with Dr. Cho and Shuri on treatments and vaccines. They were good to go for the foreseeable future.

His only real worry was you.

Your rheumatoid arthritis made this whole thing much more dicey, and - if he was being honest - a frick ton scarier. The illness suppressed your immune system, which meant you had to be more proactive on a normal day with handwashing, etc. Throw in a virus with no vaccine and no treatment? ‘Proactive’ took on a whole new definition. Sanitizing surfaces and extra cleanliness efforts were easy to step up. But he knew how much you hated being cooped inside. It didn’t help that the humidity had climbed up into the 70-ish percent region. The heavy air, coupled with the bite of winter chill still hanging on to the calendar, had your already tender joints pitching all kinds of a fit.

Right now, you were curled up in your favorite spot - a well padded window seat overlooking Central Park. Bucky had switched on the fancy fake fireplace for you, had wrapped you in blankets and propped you with pillows. The light pouring in haloed a bright shine to your hair, which normally would have a smile on his face. But your wan face pulled a grimace from him instead. Your shoulders rose and fell with a sigh, and Bucky would have cheerly scrubbed every surface of the whole damn Tower to get you out and about and smiling again.

A knock on the door spun him on his heel, and Bucky stalked to the door. Everyone knew the protocol - no visitors allowed!

“What.” Not a question, but a cold, terse demand. Steve drew a deep breath as he measured the look being leveled at him. He’d faced firing tanks with less caution. His friend’s frown was fierce versus his blank murder stare. Bucky was mad but not in an assassinating mood.

“Buck, I’m not gonna stay. I just wanted to stop in and say hi.”

“I’ll tell her you said so.” The door swung closed in his face. Steve rolled his eyes, throwing his arms up in disgust.

“C’mon, man.”

“No.” Exasperated, Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth. You and Bucky were a match made in heaven. Eidetic brain with the memory of an elephant, you were hands down one of the best analysts he’d had the privilege of working with. You chased after clues relentlessly, bulldogged in your tenacity. Straight up bullheaded in your obstinacy, though.

If anyone could out-stubborn you, it was Bucky. Lord knows, he had enough experience chasing after a certain runt who couldn’t stay out of back alley brawls. Steve knew that, in odd moments, it still struck his friend that he didn’t need his help in the same ways. When Bucky’s muscle memory had him moving before his brain caught up if Steve coughed or sneezed. He could practically see the wheels turning as Bucky struggled to stitch together broken memories with current moments. A natural protector, Bucky needed someone to nurture. To cajole and wheedle and, if necessary, out-stubborn. You fit the bill to a tee.

“I don’t have coronavirus, Bucky!”

The door snatched back open. “Oh, yeah? And how do you know that?”

“I can’t get sick. Serum, remember?”

Bucky glared at him through squinted eyes before stepping back into the apartment.

“Carrier,” he hissed, slamming the door again.

“Was that Steve?” Fatigue even hung heavy in your voice, the faintest gravel in the back of your throat threading a husk into your words. Bucky winced with you when you shifted in your seat, struggling painfully to stand.

“Yeah. Now I’m gonna have to wipe off the door knob again,” he groused as he briskly rubbed sanitizer over his hands. “Clint’s such a dumb ass.”

You snorted softly as you padded towards him. “I know. Who licks door knobs to prove a point?”

Taking in your stiff posture, Bucky leaned in close and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Why’d you get up? What do you need? I’ll get it,” he murmured into your hair. Your sigh huffed softly against his chest as you gratefully leaned against him, glancing at the clock in the kitchen.

“I should probably take another dose of ibuprofen,” the words mumbled up, uncertain. The illness had dragged up new challenges - too many doses of the NSAID was ripping up your stomach. Steroids helped, too, but you couldn’t take too many rounds too close together, and you’d already taken one prescription a month ago when the wet winter had your shoulders and wrists feeling like they were grinding straight through to your bone marrow. Pepper and your doctor were trying to get a DMARD approved through insurance, but with all this new virus ‘fit hitting the shan’, the insurance company backlog was sky high. That left you with balancing growing joint discomfort against growing stomach unhappiness. Thank God for ice packs and Tony’s ridiculously over-the-top whirlpool baths.

Bucky held in his own sigh as he pondered your situation. “Let me make you some of that chamomile tea and some toast to go with it.”

He didn’t think it possible, but your shoulders sagged even more. “I’m really not hungry, Buck.”

Threading his fingers through your hair, he gently rubbed the back of your head the way you liked.

“I’ll make it with that raspberry rutabaga jam on it. You want that?”

The catch in your throat grew to a fist-sized lump fit to choke you. The throbbing in your shoulders and arms radiated in time with your heartbeat up into your brain. Your knees felt weird - rubbery, tender, like you weren’t sure they’d support you. You missed your job, you missed your friends, you missed outside. As much as you adored Bucky, you were lonely for the other pieces of your life. The misery in your heart swelled to mammoth proportions, and you couldn’t choke back the sob that broke from you.

“I want -”

Bucky’s gut pinched so hard it hurt when you started crying. “What, love? What do you want? Anything, I’ll get it for you.”

Crying just made everything hurt more, and you swallowed hard to shove down the tears, anxiety, and stress. You glanced up, seeing the stress that pulled tight lines into Bucky’s face. You tried to offer him a smile and knew you failed pathetically.

“Rhubarb, hun. It’s raspberry rhubarb jam.”

Bucky saw you trying, knew you were trying to make him feel better, and wanted to cry himself. He’d do anything to bring back your smile.

“Rutabaga, rhubarb, whatever. You go sit, I’ll bring it out to you with the ibuprofen.”

You shook your head as you stepped away from his urging embrace. “No, I need to move around a little.” Neither of you spoke as you moved to the kitchen, content in the quiet puttering as Bucky filled the kettle and popped bread in the toaster. Out of habit, he went to wash his hands when an idea hit him.

Staring blankly out the window, your thoughts drifted to your ‘to be read’ pile as you tried to decide between starting a new book from your oft-ignored stack or comfort yourself with a lovely reread. You were so lost in your musings, you didn’t track on the activity behind you.

“Babe, can you grab the butter and jam? I’m washing my hands.”

You turned around to step to the fridge, stopped in your tracks at the sight before you, and burst out laughing.

Bucky had taken off his metal arm and put it in the dishwasher.

Hilarity pealed from you in waves, folding you over as you leaned against the counter. You tried to catch your breath and glanced up at Bucky. The proud-as-punch smile on his face set you off again, laughing so hard your shoulders twinged at you.

When a snort broke into your snickers, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh with you. Giddiness swirled with relief at your delight, and he felt prouder in that moment that he did receiving his U.S. Army Expert Marksmanship medal in ‘42. He knew he couldn’t carry your burden for you, but in this moment, he’d lightened it a bit. Moving in close, he gathered you to his chest with his other arm, relishing the feel of your giggles against him. You gasped for breath as you wiped the tears from eyes, then reached up to cup his face in your hands, smiling fondly into his twinkling gaze.

“I love you, you giant goofball. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

Bucky leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose.

“Gotta take care of my best girl.” Giving you the gentlest of squeezes, he then urged you back to your cozy nest. “Go sit. I’ll bring it all out in a few.”

Still grinning, you headed for your phone. “First, I gotta get my phone. This is going on Twitter!”

#shy vy writes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #rheumatoid arthritis #RA #steve rogers #love in a time of COVID-19 #covid19 #coronavirus

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blindprof · 3 years

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It’s Complicated

When people first hear me say that I am blind or severely visually impaired (B/VI), the most common reaction is surprise…followed by sympathy…followed most often by awkward silence. This is totally understandable. Unless you are regularly interacting with differently abled people, disabilities are uncomfortable. I feel uncomfortable and awkward around people who live with other forms of disability.

Heck, I’m still awkward around other people who are B/VI. And even this is understandable. Because each person is unique. Each manifestation of visual impairment is unique. Each path to and with B/VI is unique. Each person has unique life experiences, coping mechanisms, support networks, etc. We are all strangers in a strange land. I’ll have other posts dedicated to the whack-a-doo personal and social psychology of B/VI. For now, the focus remains on the physical, or rather the perceptual.

The second reaction is usually a question: “How bad is it” or “What do you see?” And my answer is “It’s complicated.”

In my first post, I laid out some more technical details: I have a visual field that is less that 10 degrees, night blindness, color blindness, uncorrectable myopia, light sensitivity, etc. But it’s not apparent how these details really affect what I see and how that impacts what I can do. This post will go into greater detail into what and how I see. Later posts will focus on how I (try to, with varying levels of success, stupidity, and hilarity) cope with these limitations.

It probably makes sense to start with my visual field, as this is the aspect of my vision that “qualifies” me as legally blind. However, before getting to that, we really need a basic understanding of how humans see. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it short and simple.

It may be easiest to compare the eye to a modern digital camera. A camera lens gathers and focuses light; it also constrains the amount of light passing through by altering the size of a mechanical aperture. In the human eye, these functions are performed by the lens and the pupil, respectively. In a digital camera, the lens focus light onto a CCD or CMOS sensor, which is a dense grid of light sensitive “pixels,” each generating a small electrical charge proportional to how much light (within a certain wavelength) is hitting it. The human retina is the biological, electrochemical equivalent. Finally, a digital camera has wires that transport these electrical signals to a computer, which then interprets the signals to create a digital image. Here, the human analogues are the optic nerve and the visual cortex within the brain.

As I noted in my first post, I have Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP), which primarily impacts my retina. Due to the wonders of genetics and epigenetics, other parts are impacted. But for now, I’ll focus on the retina. Characteristically, people with RP find that their retinal “pixels”—millions of light-sensitive “rod” and “cone” structures, as well as protective retinal pigment epithelial (RPE) cells from which the disease gets its name—stop functioning from the outside in. We don’t know the exact cause, nor is there yet any proven way to slow, much less reverse the process.

Of course, this is a biological process that is unique to each individual. For me, it has progressed relatively slowly from childhood. I can recall early symptoms as far back as age 6. I’ll have a separate post at some point talking about progression. But it is notable the process is neither steady nor predictable. I’ll have periods of relative stability followed by periods of perceptible loss. It’s rarely like a light switch, but rather more like a dimmer. Each area of loss will appear darker with less usable information until it is just “clicked off” by the brain, presumably redirecting its limited processing resources to doing something other than trying to interpret shotty data from dying cells. For me, the progression has also been very spotty—for example, I retained some usable vision in the extremes of my left-right periphery until just a couple years ago, despite progressively losing most of my peripheral vision between there and my center.

The result today is that I have very little of my retina remaining that pretends to function “normally.” I can detect very high contrast light vs. dark in some of my periphery, but nothing there that you would qualify as usable sight. My central vision is still somewhat functional, but has been fading rapidly of late. As I said, it’s spotty, but on average in good light I have maybe 10-15 degrees total horizontal vision and less than 10 vertical. And much of that is probably equivalent to what most would consider to be peripheral vision. To help better “feel” what this means, here are a few examples of how this manifests itself in my day-to-day life.

When I’m sitting across a table from you, I can see your face but not your hands. If I’m not socially distant, I might be able to see your eyes or your mouth, but not both at the same time. I often creep people out during a conversation because I’m constantly losing eye contact and moving my eyes to different parts of their body. I promise, I’m not “undressing you with my eyes”—people talk with their entire bodies, and I’m simply trying to catch as many visual cues as possible.

When watching TV from 10 feet away, I can “see” my entire 55-inch screen. But less than a quarter of that is in my central vision. I have to move my eyes to see detail or read signs or captions. Sports and fast action scenes are difficult to catch. A fast action, dark scene with subtitles…oy…the Battle of Winterfell may as well have been a BBC Radio broadcast.

I can read, though usually only slowly and for short periods, especially if it is paper and ink. I see only a few words at a time, so my eyes have to constantly move. This causes a lot of eye strain, and I have trouble keeping both eyes properly oriented and occasionally have periods where one eye twitches uncontrollably—obviously I’m channeling my inner Mad-Eye Moody.

And of course, navigating unfamiliar or unpredictable environments is very difficult. I navigate by moving from waypoint to waypoint, and if I don’t know the waypoints or if things jump in my way, well, bad things happen. Or maybe funny things.

More on all of these and their many repercussions in future posts.

People ask, “What do you ‘see’ in the places where you have no vision? Is it blackness? Emptiness? Blurry?” Again, it’s complicated, but for the most part, my brain has just removed those areas from its visual processing “algorithm.” So, I see the same thing that you see when something is beyond your peripheral vision…just nothing. There are long periods of adjustment as I lose sight—kind of like losing a limb and still expecting it to be there. But eventually it’s just not a part of the picture that my brain paints of the world around me.

Unfortunately, that’s not all. Night blindness is often the first detected symptom for folks with RP. What is left of my retina doesn’t detect light well, so I need much more of it. The result is that I’m totally blind in low-light situations. I need direct light to see any kind of detail. I carry a flashlight everywhere I go and use it regularly day and night.

So, I need bright light. But it is also my nemesis. My eyes compensate like one would with a digital camera…by cranking open the aperture (pupil) and turning up the gain on the sensor. This does allow me to function semi-normally in certain situations. But it also results in severe light sensitivity. As with a camera, the wider pupil also results in loss of detail, and bright light can almost entirely wash any other visual information. To make matters even worse, although my pupils do function, they are VERY slow to adjust.

The results of all of that are varied. I’ll post more details in the future. But for example, I am no longer able to read a computer screen for any length of time without inverted colors. It’s like trying to read while staring at headlights. I truly need dark mode on all of my devices. Also, changing lighting conditions are challenging, especially when they are extreme. When I come in from outside, my eyes can take many minutes to adjust. And bright light sources like sunny windows in otherwise moderately lit environments can really cause havoc.

Finally, a common comorbidity with RP are cataracts, which cause hardening and blurring of the lens. Of course, this one hit me, as well. A number of years ago, I had cataract surgery. It was great. I was the youngest patient in the surgery center by like 30 years. The process involves using a magic wand to dissolve your natural lens and replacing it with a plastic one. This gets rid of the blurring, but entirely removes the ability to focus. As a bonus, I did go from needing coke bottle glasses to just needing a couple of diopters of correction. But this further complicates reading, and means I’m constantly donning and doffing my specs or having to look below them to read. Minor in the big scheme of things, but it does make me look and feel like a damn old fart.

Okay, if you made it this far, you deserve to be let off the hook for now. There’s more like the fact that my corneas—the eyes’ (usually) clear “lens caps”—now seem to cause my sight to remain blurry for the first couple of hours of each day. Or that the eye strain can sometimes get so physically painful that I have to close my eyes for long periods during the day. But this is a mostly complete and accurate snapshot of what I’m currently living with physically.

I guess I didn’t present too many funny or uplifting or forward-looking things in here. Truth is, you kind of have to muddle along with me through these sewers to eventually find the humor and hope in all of this. Because it’s complicated. But I’ll get there if you’re patient.

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

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2/2 and in a relationship with Tony (or Bucky) or B) figuring out his sexuality cause he's in love with his much older mentor so maybe it's better if I let May believe Ned is my boyfriend rather then tell her I wanna call Mr Stark Daddy? ...I mean something alone these lines pretty much, I just love that scene with all my heart

I loved this prompt, actually. I watched the scene a few times and totally understand your love for it. Here’s hoping you enjoy what I came up with!

warnings: (underage)Peter, mentions of NSFW stuff

Peter still felt a little like jelly as he swung back towards his apartment from Stark Tower – Tony spent an obscene amount of time licking him from head to toe. The thing between them was still pretty new, so the giddiness sitting in his gut added to the tingling feeling coursing through him. When they came up for air, Peter looked at the clock with a bit of panic and hastily put his suit back on – the majority of his clothes were probably still sitting in the heap he left them.

Waiting outside the window until he couldn’t see May in front of the door, Peter quietly got the window open, his foot dragging it back down when he got inside, got his mask off, and started to crawl across the ceiling. A carefully shot piece of web allowed him to get the door closed and any chance of being caught by her narrowed down from slim to none. Turning around, Peter almost shit himself when he noticed Ned sitting on the bed. His hand was quick to hit the release on the front of the suit, the incriminating garment falling to the floor at his feet.

“You’re the Spider-Man… from YouTube!” Ned exclaimed – the initial shock of dropping the Death Star they were building gone, the other’s attention solely on Peter now. “

Peter panicked, his eyes bulging – there was no talking his way out of this, but he tried anyway. “No! No, I’m not! This is just a costume!” Peter babbled, his heart racing as he stepped out of the suit and kicked it away.

“You were on the ceiling!” Ned retorted, his eyebrows quirking. Peter recognized that shit eating grin for what it was, the sinking feeling of being caught out weighing him down even more. Taking a step forward, Peter used the last defense he had.

“I wasn’t! I, wait, what are you doing in my room?” The words were lame coming out of his mouth – he felt his cheeks color a bit at the sound of them. Ned’s eyes widened, the knowing look on his face growing more certain by the second.

“May let me in, you said we were going to finish the Death Star!”

“You can’t just bust into my room – “ Peter started to reply, his heart smacking against his chest even harder when May busted into the room, his body turning completely until he was facing her. He didn’t notice his nakedness until that second, his hands crossing his body to cover the fresh mark on his hip – it wouldn’t do for her to see something like that.

Her muttered explanation about the turkey meatloaf and the fire alarm fell on deaf ears – Peter was still trying to come up with an explanation for Ned and nothing was good enough, her babbling was the last thing on his mind. He did catch the way she looked between the two of them, though – her eyes lingering on his sweaty half nakedness for just a second too long. “Maybe put on some clothes,” May said before leaving his room.

Both boys let out a collective sigh of relief – Peter glad to have his aunt out of the room. At least he wouldn’t have to be subjected to her finding out about his secret and freaking out, too. Ned gave him about a second before he launched into more questions – his friend more excited about what the knowledge he just received might due to his social standing more than anything else. When he eventually left, Peter sunk down against the door, his butt hitting the floor and knees coming up.

What an absolute mess.

The next couple of days, May kept looking at him oddly – her eyes seemingly trying to tell him something, or dig his deepest, darkest secrets from the bottom of his soul; which one, he couldn’t really tell. It didn’t take long for her to break, though – her tongue started to wag about a week later. “You know, Pete – “ she started, a hand patting his own across the small dinner table. “You can talk to me about anything.” Her voice was earnest, the type of tone she took when she was trying to be understanding.

“I know, May. Thanks. You’re always really great about that kind of stuff,” Peter answered simply, his head in so many places, he wasn’t getting the thing she was trying to spell out for him. He patted her hand and tried to get up. Her fingers tightening stopped him, his eyebrows raising.

“If you want to invite Ned over a little more, I don’t mind. I like him – he’s good for you. You’ve seemed a little stressed lately,” May said. She kept his hand in her grip for what seemed like forever before letting it go, the woman standing up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You deserve to be happy, Pete.”

Completely shaken, Peter got out of the apartment as fast as he possibly could after that. Jamming his earbuds into his ear, he let the sounds of Katy Perry get him to the bus stop and on his way to school before any other weird things could occur. Just for good measure, he avoided Ned for a little while, his brain needing a minute to process May’s assumption. Him and Ned? If she only knew his true tastes.

His aunt’s assumption came in handy a couple of weeks later when Tony asked to see him for more than a couple of hours one Friday. Peter figured that since Ned already knew his biggest secret, it wouldn’t hurt to let him in on his other Tony sized indiscretion. Catching up to him at lunch, Peter sat down beside him, their shoulders bumping.

“I need to tell you something,” Peter muttered, his voice low to avoid any attention being drawn to them. Flash Thompson was a dick and would jump at the first chance to humiliate him by any means necessary. Ned, being the great friend that he was, leaned in a little, his conspiratorial face on almost immediately.

“Your secrets are safe with me, Pete – I haven’t blabbed about the other thing, yet.” He smiled wide; a hint of pride evident in the glow of his eyes.

Peter shook his head a let himself chuckle, a little bit of the tension sitting on his chest fleeting with every huff of breath. “Don’t! I mean – thank you, for not telling anyone. It’s not about that, though. May stopped me before I left the apartment today to tell me she supports me and that you are welcome to come around more often because you are good for me.” Peter could see the tilt of the other’s head, his eyebrows knitted together in an attempt to understand. “I think she thinks we’re dating. Which is funny – “

Ned hit him on the arm, a mock offended noise coming out of his mouth. “The idea of dating me isn’t funny, Peter!” Ned exclaimed as quietly as he could, his face turning red from holding back the intensity of the words he threw in Peter’s direction. Realization hit him, Peter’s own cheeks coloring slightly.

“That’s not what’s funny. It’s funny because she’s right about the fact that I like guys – but she wouldn’t approve of the specific guy I’m actually dating.” Peter stated, his eyes rolling at the thought. There weren’t a lot of people that would understand Peter’s desire to call the older man Daddy and ride him until they’re both coming all over themselves. Older men intrigued him, Peter couldn’t help himself.

“Well, who are you dating that she’d be so against? It’s not like you’re dating Tony Stark, or anything.” Ned stopped when Peter’s eyes widened, the boy putting two and two together pretty quickly. “Holy shit! You’re serious? He’s like – old enough to be your dad.”

Peter felt himself color slightly, a smirk slipping to his lips. “I mean – exactly?”

The look on Ned’s face made him laugh outright, Peter for the first time in the conversation not worried about the people around them. His chest shook for a couple of minutes, the hilarity of the entire situation absolutely insane. “He’s nice, Ned. And so smart. It feels good to be with him.” He didn’t mention that the older man also made him feel better than he’d ever felt in his entire life – Ned probably didn’t want to know that tiny detail, anyway.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy.” Ned spoke simply, that quality one of Peter’s favorite things about him. They didn’t have to beat around the bush to be heard. Peter could be honest, and Ned didn’t judge. He just supported blindly – their friendship built upon so much more than the surface shit.

Peter wrapped an arm around him, the boy using a bit of his strength to pull Ned tightly against him. “I told May you and I were going on a date tonight. If she calls, tell her you had a fabulous time.” Peter muttered, his lips pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of Ned’s head.

“Best fake boyfriend, ever.”

#puppypeter #starker #feat ned leeds #ironspider #bobbie writes #prompts #this was fun to write #thanks!

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dweemeister · 4 years

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Blue Hawaii (1961)

Elvis Presley’s ascent to stardom struck the United States (and the world) like a lightning bolt. Hounded from Nashville’s Grand Ole Opry due to the country music establishment taking offense to his genre-blending musicianship, Elvis grew from being a regional phenomenon to a national sensation as he helped innovate rockabilly, a form of rock and roll. Movie producers, sensing an opportunity to cash in on Elvis’ skyrocketing popularity, gave Elvis star vehicles such as Love Me Tender (1956) and Jailhouse Rock (1957). Critics shrugged at these films – low-budget affairs where most of the budget went to Elvis’ salary – but his fans made them critic-proof, turning out in droves to scream and swoon at their slick-looking dreamboat. Grappling with television’s advent and the dissolution of the Old Hollywood Studio System, Hollywood’s major studios shifted their efforts towards more bombastic, showman-like films. Such was the situation in the early 1960s that longtime Warner Bros. producer Hal B. Wallis (1938’s The Adventures of Robin Hood, 1942’s Casablanca), now at Paramount, joked that, “a Presley picture is the only sure thing in Hollywood.”

To the horror of Elvis’ fans and movie studio executives but to the delight of those fans’ parental figures and teachers, the U.S. Army drafted him in March 1958. Elvis served twenty-four months before his discharge with the rank of Sergeant. During his service, Elvis nevertheless had plenty of singles in the can, many ranking high on the charts while he was at basic training and later his posting in West Germany. Looking forward to restarting his musical and acting careers, Elvis soon returned to the recording studio and shot G. I. Blues (1960) – he had discussed the film with Wallis months prior to his discharge – in short order. For the eighth film of his career and his fourth after his discharge, Elvis starred in Blue Hawaii, directed by Norman Taurog (1938’s Boys Town, nine Elvis films) and produced by Wallis. The film stars Elvis as an Army veteran recently discharged from the service, returning to his home state. I wonder where did they get that idea from? It also marks the unlikely beginning of Elvis’ association with the Aloha State – which shed its territorial status in 1959 and was ready for a Hollywood treatment that had nothing to do with the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.

Chadwick “Chad” Gates (Presley) returns home to Hawai’i from his military service, greeted by girlfriend Maile Duval (Joan Blackman: “MY-lee”) and a flower seller named Waihila (Hilo Hattie in a cameo). Instead of immediately seeing his parents – mother Sarah Lee (Angela Lansbury, only ten years Elvis’ senior) and father Fred (Roland Winters) – he escapes to a secluded oceanside shack with Maile and his Hawaiian surf buddies. Chad is the son of pineapple plantation owners, and Sarah Lee wants him to succeed Fred when the time comes. But Chad is not interested in those plans, electing instead to work as a tour guide for Mr. Chapman’s (Howard McNear) travel agency – among other things, Maile works at the agency. The first tour he gives serves schoolteacher Abigail Prentice (Nancy Walters) and her four teenage students, all girls. One of those girls, Ellie Corbett (Jenny Maxwell), appears standoffish at first but then begins to flirt shamelessly with Chad.

If by that point in Blue Hawaii you are still concentrating on the plot, just note that your approach to watching Elvis movies is not advisable. Watching Elvis movies for a sensible plot is to invite frustration; accept the narrative drivel and enjoy.

Shot mostly on location on the Hawaiian Islands of O’ahu and Kaua’i, Hawai’i offers splendid backdrops to even the most mundane scenes of this film. Charles Lang’s (1947’s The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, 1959’s Some Like It Hot) camera allows characters to be dwarfed by the green mountains in the distance, the crystal blue waters extending to the horizon, and palm tree fronds wafting amid a gentle breeze. Scenes of breathtaking natural beauty abound in Blue Hawaii. In conjunction with the production (Hal Pereira and Walter H. Tyler) and set design (Sam Comer and Frank R. McKelvy), Blue Hawaii becomes, by default, the most colorful Elvis movie to date. The film, by design, partly becomes a tourism advertisement for the new state. Its white characters and filmmakers exotify and romanticize Native Hawaiian culture to fit their own expectations and perspectives – these sorts of depictions have endured across the last century, figuring heavily in cinema (1935’s Honolulu: The Paradise of the Pacific as part of [James A.] Fitzpatrick’s Traveltalks for MGM) and tourism advertising. This is the first live-action feature film from a major Hollywood studio to make even a minimal attempt to depict native Hawaiian culture since Waikiki Wedding (1937), another Paramount film.

Here are some more connections between Waikiki Wedding and Blue Hawaii: both share one song (“Blue Hawaii”) in both their soundtracks and both films are musicals. The Hawaiian musical sound is just as integral to popular conceptions of Hawai’i, and it is used liberally here in orchestrations, if not melodic structure. Blue Hawaii’s soundtrack contains the greatest amount of songs (fourteen) for an Elvis film. For those who enjoy their breathless musicals with a song at every turn, Blue Hawaii does just that. The musical numbers arrive in the most innocuous situations – from forming a melody from a tune heard on the radio, an impromptu jam session with a guitar conveniently within arm’s length of Elvis, or starting from nothing. The worst of the soundtrack avoids many of the novelty songs that plague Elvis films, especially the later entries. Given how nonsensical the plots to Elvis movies are, the lower-tier songs in Blue Hawaii are preferable compared to more stilted acting and fraternizing shenanigans. Thus, the bar is raised, and the inclusion of two non-original songs – “Blue Hawaii” (music by Ralph Rainger, lyrics by Leo Robin) and “Aloha ‘Oe” (Queen Lili’uokalani) – are arranged in such a way that beautifully complements Elvis’ velvety singing voice. Among the original songs, “Moonlight Swim” (music by Ben Weisman, lyrics by Sylvia Dee) is a sensuous, laid back song that perfectly serves Chad’s characterization: an unabashed Casanova, effortless in romance, a hint of masculine arrogance.

The runaway hit of the Blue Hawaii soundtrack is among Elvis’ most popular songs. “Can’t Help Falling in Love” – music and lyrics by Hugo Peretti, Luigi Creatore, and George David Weiss – appears approximately midway through the film as Chad says hello to Maile’s grandmother (Flora Kaai Hayes, a former Hawaiian Territorial Representative to the U.S. House of Representatives) for the first time since before his military service. It, like so many other musical entries in Blue Hawaii, arrives without much warning, backed by a constantly harmonizing music box and a steel guitar played in a Hawaiian style. One might take issue with the song’s use in context, but it is a crooners’ standard that has crossed linguistic barriers worldwide. Its simplicity is self-evident: a memorable melody, chorus, and a minor key bridge aching for resolution as it modulates to major key. Perhaps “Can’t Help Falling in Love” is not considered one of the greatest original songs in movie history because of the questionable quality of the film it appears in. More likely, Elvis’ gravitational pull as a crossover music and movie star writes its own legends that defy a critic’s or a historian’s corrections.

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Somehow, I have written all the above without remarking on the acting. Other than Elvis himself, everyone else is a passing interest at best. Joan Blackman’s chemistry with Elvis is apparent, but she does not distinguish herself from every other female lead in an Elvis movie. Angela Lansbury’s exaggerated Southern accent displays her considerable range, even if there are better examples in other films. As much as some may deride Elvis’ performances for being unchallenging, one could not imagine an Elvis movie without the star attraction. His persona is effervescent; his charisma incontestable. According to Weiss, Elvis’ comedic instincts manifested themselves in subtle ways. If Elvis requested a joke to be explained in discussions about the screenplay, it was his roundabout, maybe overly polite, way to warn Weiss, Taurog, and screenwriter Hal Kanter (1952’s Road to Bali, at least twenty-two Academy Award ceremonies) that the joke was not funny. During test screenings of Blue Hawaii, every joke kept in the film that Elvis questioned elicited nothing from the audience. On- and off-screen, an Elvis movie with Elvis removed would collapse from the void of hilarity and charm such an absence would create.

Blue Hawaii, like all other Elvis movies prior, succeeded at the box office in comparison to its budget. Adding to this bounty for Elvis, the film’s soundtrack album sold millions of copies, sitting atop of the Billboard charts for twenty weeks, and garnering a Grammy nomination. The soundtrack profits from Blue Hawaii and the preceding G.I. Blues led Presley’s obstinate manager, Colonel Tom Parker, to have his client concentrate on film soundtrack albums at the expense of non-soundtrack albums – setting the groundwork for the remainder of the 1960s (Elvis released 16 soundtrack albums versus six non-soundtrack albums during this decade), with diminishing returns. Parker reasoned to Elvis that his fans demanded to see him in these musical romantic comedies, rejecting any roles that did not fit this mold. Elvis, believing his manager, continued to make films until well past the point an Elvis Presley picture was a guaranteed hit in theaters.

In its visual splendor and Pacific appeal, Blue Hawaii sealed the fate of Elvis’ post-Army career. No other subsequent Elvis film would match the commercial heights of Blue Hawaii, although one could argue several of those movies surpass this one in terms of acting, aesthetics, and musical interest (like 1964’s Viva Las Vegas and two concert documentaries in 1970 and 1972). Elvis returned to Hawai’i several more times during his career for concerts and two films – Girls! Girls! Girls! (1962) and Paradise, Hawaiian Style (1966). As much as Elvis is associated with Tupelo, Mississippi (his birthplace) and Graceland in Memphis, there is also a special relationship between Elvis and Hawai’i. That relationship – one that touches Elvis’ personal life and the musical traditions of Native Hawaiians – begins with Blue Hawaii, an archetypal Elvis film and one of his best.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

#Blue Hawaii #Norman Taurog #Elvis #Elvis Presley #Joan Blackman #Angela Lansbury #Nancy Walters #Roland Winters #John Archer #Howard McNear #Jenny Maxwell #Lani Kai #Hal Wallis #George David Weiss #Hugo Peretti #Luigi Creatore #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

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weheart-dianelockhart · 4 years

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The Good Fight Reaction: 4x01

My incomplete (and slightly emotional) thoughts are under the cut. Whew. What an episode. All screenshots are mine. Happy reading.

First of all, what the hell did I just witness? And is it weird that I liked TGF’s version of The Wizard of Oz better than the original? (Not really, I love Wizard of Oz, but you get my drift)

Can I just start out by saying how proud of Diane I am? Talk about character development, and I’ll get into this as we go along, but she has come so far.

The episode overall was just thrilling. I LOVED that Diane remembered everything from Trump’s presidency. I was wondering what headspace they were going to put her in and this was perfect. She could recall certain events and important social and political issues, but she couldn’t seem to put them in order. And for the majority of the episode, I don’t think this bothered her. She was just overjoyed at the thought of Hillary being president. She was feeling her way through this dream as if she were walking through a house of mirrors. Never knowing what was coming next. I laughed out loud so many times and found myself cheering her on as if I were wondering around this new reality with Diane. Marissa accepting her craziness was also a pleasant surprise. She knew something was up with Diane but helped her out and fed her information, nonetheless. The comradery between those two was so refreshing, especially when everyone else seemed to be against Diane. The hilarity of this episode came not only from the absurdity of the circumstances but CB’s insane acting chops. This woman can play anything.

As the episode continued, Diane’s frustration with her situation was building. She’d attempted to implement her knowledge of social and political events into this new reality when she can’t even vouch for how or why she knows all this information. I just wanted to hug her and say “That’s not how this works!” The final straw seemed to come once Zoe began to reprimand her for starting a movement that would supposedly hurt Hillary’s chances for re-election. I almost wish that Lucca had said something about her experience with Weinstein during this part, but I suppose her keeping silent added to the drama.

It took me a while to pinpoint what made Diane suddenly realize she had yet to speak to Kurt since she’d “woken up.” (Thoughts on this??). My creativity has settled on the way Zoe was addressing the MeToo situation. Bare with me, this might be a stretch.

This scene felt extremely reminiscent of the Assholes to Avoid episode in season two where Diane explains “Women aren’t just one thing and you don’t get to determine what we are.” In that reality, she was in control and knew what she wanted. While in this dream, she was not giving the lecture, but was on the receiving end. Her glancing to see what Liz and Adrian were dealing with lined up with the look to the side to see what the two financial advisors were up to in season two. Although, this time, Diane felt powerless and confused, not confident and sure of herself. I adored watching her start to question how all of this got out of hand and trying to piece everything together. Running through her memories and possibly thinking about how everything was different in her dream, she remembered the most crucial part of all of it. Kurt. When the MeToo movement was in question during that episode in season two, he was about to tell her that he wanted them to always be together. He brought clarity back into her life after she had been emotionally drifting for so long. And in this first episode, she is in desperate need of clarity. (Please remember all of this is total speculation and just a little thought I had after watching these scenes for the hundredth time). Here are the scenes for reference.

As her dream begins to unravel, it dawns in her that she doesn’t have that clear perspective. Hence her wondering what happened to Kurt. Little by little, things start adding up in her head (i.e. how did she change clothes, why had she spent the last three days at work, where the heck was Kurt). Everything else that was important 30 seconds ago dissolved into her confusion for why she hasn’t spoken to her husband.

Now this is what really got me. LOOK AT THOSE EYES.

Up until that moment, she was just kind of going along with all the quirkinesses of the new reality, but this is the first time she starts to feel that something isn’t right.

Enter: The Wizard of Oz. Referencing “home” seemed like she was talking about more of a sensation than an actual place. Diane needs to feel understood and safe again, qualities that Kurt provided, but she had yet to feel that durning this dream. I definitely think anxious and confused Diane is my favorite because we are so used to seeing her as the rational one. Also, her anxiety only ever surfaces when she is concerned about someone she loves.

After arguing for a while, it’s sort of heartbreaking to see Diane just give in and say she’ll do whatever Zoe wants. But at the same time, it made me tear up because she was so flustered at the thought of not knowing where Kurt was. She barely even cared about losing her spot at the firm. Even though she couldn’t (or didn’t seem to, at least) remember what happened right before the inauguration, she knew that they had reconciled and that she should have heard from him. Don’t get me wrong, I adored the final McHart scenes, but this is what made me cry. The fact that NOTHING else mattered more to her at that moment than finding Kurt.

Now that is character development. She has chosen work so many times over him and this is the complete opposite of what she would’ve done just a couple seasons ago. She’s all grown up!!!!

Onto the scene in the woods. I could talk about the parallels from the argument scene for DAYS, but I’ll spare you all for now.

I just need a second to dwell on the fact that this is such a beautiful shot...Ok, moving on. A while back I shared my feelings about Chaos in season one and I said how Diane had never looked so frightened than the moment she found Kurt in the hospital. Well, now we have this scene.

To continue with the theme of character development, I nearly screamed when she said that nothing else mattered but the two of them. The fact that she was willing to do whatever it took to keep them together was literally the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.

Sidenote: her voice crack when she called to him in the forest and said she needed his help was pure gold. She had no doubt that he would be able to help her make sense of all of this. She had to get home and he was just the person to help.

I really liked how this whole scene you couldn’t really tell if she knew this was a dream or if she still thought it was reality. But honestly, I don’t think she cared anymore. (Here come the waterworks). I think the most touching part of this whole situation was that she could only remember what happened immediately before Hillary‘s inauguration when she held his hand.

Another side note: her nails aren’t painted!! I just loved this shot of their hands. She has no jewelry on, her nails are bare, and she finally gets to hold his hand. All her armor has been left behind and she is so vulnerable.

The rest of the scene is so beautiful. She doesn’t even question it when he tells her to come back. She’s known that this reality is not where she needs or wants to be and she just wants to go home, where everything made sense even if it wasn’t perfect.

The fact that Kurt is the one that helps her recall what happened before the dream makes her fear of losing him that much more powerful. Yep, this is by far the most terrified we’ve seen Diane. As the memory comes back piece by piece, she tries to pull away from him because she knows where it ends: with him lying on the floor next to her, presumably dead. He wants her back so terribly that he won’t let her go, but she can’t fathom living in a world where he isn’t alive. Everything hits her all at once. The fear, the grief, the regret, and the remorse for putting him in danger in the first place.

You bet I was crying right along with her. And her little “oh my God” broke my heart in half. She knew what was coming next. I mean, what else would you expect to happen if you pulled a gun on a swat team.

And then he is the one that lets go. While she thinks he’s dead, I think it is symbolic of him letting her drift back into reality. He has to release her from this dream and she has to release herself, as well. I know that there are not often clear morals in the episodes because the morals are always in question, but this idea of needing to be home is a continuation from the last episode in season three were Diane tells Adrian that love is the only thing they can hold onto. It will always be there, like it or not, ready to help in anyway it can. Even when times are rough, Diane can always look to her husband for grounding. She can always go home.

Well, for those of you still reading, that was a lot longer than I intended it to be. Let me know what you think and if you have any other ideas on any of this. And I can’t be the only one that thinks Kurt was holding her hand in the final shot...

#McHart #diane lockhart #the good fight #musings #im still crying

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jeonakookie · 5 years

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I Wish (2)

Pairing: JungkookxOC

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Zoya and Jungkook had lost touch years ago. When a situation brings them back into each other lives, they try to go back to how things were as best friends once again. But a lot can change in 8 years. People. Feelings.

Masterlist

A sudden numbing pain on her foot bought Zoya’s mind back to the present. “Ow! What the hell!” She exclaimed. Someone had swung the door to the room open like a maniac. After tending to her foot making sure it was okay, she looked up to glare at the idiot, only to freeze up. Kim Namjoon is in front of me. He was in his black stage outfit and there was a slight glow to him. Quickly recovering from her star struck daze as Namjoon apologised, she introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Zoya, nice to meet you. Yes, before you ask, I am supposed to be here. It’s a long story but your staff led me in here to rest.” Zoya’d be damned if her first interaction with perfection personified was her telling him that she walked into a damn pole.

“Okay…” He responded unsure.

“Don’t worry, I’m an ARMY just not a crazy ARMY. Although…that’s what a crazy fan would say…but I promise I’m not. I’m sorry, am I rambling? I feel like rambling. Okay I’ll stop.” Zoya face started to feel hot and she knew she was blushing. She was thanking God for her melanin, she didn’t need to be looking like a tomato on top of her embarrassing rambling.

Namjoon chuckled, finding the rambling girl endearing. “Hello Zoya, nice to meet you. I’m – “

“Kim Namjoon, otherwise known as RM, the leader of BTS. Sorry, like I said, I’m a fan. Nice to meet you.” Zoya could probably admit that she was a little overexcited and making a fool of herself, but she couldn’t begin to care in the moment. This caused him to laugh out loud, much to Zoya’s surprise.

“Well, Zoya, it’s nice meeting you.” Accepting the hand, she stuck out hers for him to shake. “If you’re going to be here during the concert do you mind staying back here a little longer? You can meet the others if you want.”

“Well, I did pay to enjoy the concert…” She said in a teasing way, but it didn’t seem Namjoon caught on.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He said.

“Are you serious? Of course, I’ll stay. I was just teasing. Meeting you was more than I expected, already.”

“Oh, awesome.” He smiles so big that his dimples made an appearance. How cute, she thought.

“Oh! One tiny thing. I kind of came here with a few friends. They can’t leave without me and stuff. Do you mind if they come?” Zoya requested, hoping she wasn’t pushing her luck.

“Sure, that’s fine. Just let security know who they are and where they are, and they’ll fetch them at the end of the concert. I’ll send one of them in soon.” Namjoon said. At some point he had sat down on a seat next to Zoya, and he stood up to leave, “I’ll hopefully see you later, I have to get ready for my stage.”

“Sure, good luck.” Zoya said with, she was sure, a huge smile on her face. Why wouldn’t she smile, she just met Kim Namjoon. Waving bye to each other, Namjoon left.

Just as Namjoon had said, a security person came and Zoya informed them about Lauren, Alice, Hope, and Arielle, a friend of Hope’s. After that, for the next 2 hours, Zoya just watched the concert from the screen in the waiting room and enjoyed it, just as much as she would have if she was out there.

Once the concert had ended, it wasn’t long before Zoya heard familiar voices growing closer until they were in the waiting room.

“Zoya!” A chorus of relieved shouts greeted her.

“Oh my gosh, what happened? How are you here?” Lauren questioned with worry.

“I kind of, maybe, you know…walked into a pole.” Zoya mumbled.

“Sorry I didn’t hear that. Stop being quiet suddenly.” Alice chastised.

“I walked into a pole.” She, once again, mumbled with her head down.

“Zoya,” Alice sighed, “We can’t hear you. Speak up man!”

“I walked into a stupid pole! Okay!” Zoya exclaimed and, looked down again with embarrassment. All her friends could do was stay silent because just as Zoya thinks herself, it was a situation that only she would get into.

“I can’t even with you sometimes” Hope said with a hint of a smile and soon they all broke out into a small laughter at the hilarity of the situation. After their laughter died down, Hope asked “So are we going now?” A question to which Zoya smiled widely at.

“No. I have something to tell you guys. Sit.” They all proceeded to do as they were told. “I met Namjoon.” Zoya squealed.

“Oh, come on! First Jungkook and now Namjoon? What kind of luck are you running on?” Lauren complained.

“If you let me finish. Like I was saying. I met Namjoon and so will you guys! Actually, we get to meet ALL of them! Surprise!” Zoya exclaimed. This caused them all to start speaking at once. There were a few ‘oh my god’s’ and ‘are you serious?’. “All I ask is please Lauren. Do not cry or faint.”

“I’m not going to cry or faint. Gosh. You guys have no faith in me.” Lauren said rolling her eyes.

“You just cried at the concert.” Alice deadpanned, which caused Zoya to give Lauren a pointed look.

“I won’t! Gosh. I promise. The crying is out of my system.” Lauren exclaimed, throwing her hands up in defence.

“Yeah, you say that…” Alice started.

“Okay guys! She can control herself.” Zoya finished before they went around in circles again over who’s going to cry and faint.

“We’re going to meet our man Alice.” Arielle pipes in. Alice laughs in excitement.

“Just make sure not to refer to Jimin as your man when he’s here.” Zoya laughed.

“How are you coping? Or have you had the time to process after meeting Namjoon?” Alice asked Zoya.

“That and the fact that I’m still kind of dying of excitement on the inside.” Zoya clapped in excitement.

“Are you nervous about Jungkook?”

“Not too much, I’m fine to be honest.” Whilst she shrugged, on the inside Alice’s question hit her like a brick wall. Zoya stupidly hadn’t even considered the fact that Jungkook was also going to be there. Her thoughts ran through her mind, a mile a minute. Will he realise it’s her? Will he even remember her? What if he doesn’t? All those thoughts haunted her mind. Before she had much more time to ponder on the subject, the door to the waiting room opened with a smiling Namjoon, now in more casual attire from when she’d previously seen him.

“Zoya!” His dimpled smile was still ever so endearing.

“Namjoon! Hi again.” Zoya glanced at her friends and saw they froze, but thankfully only for a second and resumed to try and act calm. “These are my friends, Alice, Lauren, Arielle and Hope.” She gestured to them each as she spoke their names.

“Nice to meet you guys.” He chose to sit on the sofa opposite to them, but close to Hope and Arielle as they were sat on the sofa beside the two sofas. Uncharacteristically all Zoya’s friends smiled at Namjoon but didn’t speak a word. Giving Alice a small nudge for her to say something, she scowled at Zoya but said, “Nice to meet you too, the concert was great.”

“Aha thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it. The others are on their way.” Namjoon informed them.

Right on cue there came a loud “Namjoon-ah!!” and a mop of black hair peeked through the door. It was as if time had stopped for all 5 girls because they were not ready to see Jung Hoseok in that moment, A quiet “Shit.” was heard from beside Zoya which led to her giggling, knowing how much J-Hope affected her friend. Realising the girls’ presence in the room, Hoseok came in to introduce himself. “Hello. I’m your hope-” Before he could continue his legendary introduction Namjoon interrupted him.

“Ah, please don’t.” He whined to his friend in Korean. With a chuckle the older boy obeyed Namjoon’s request.

“Hello, I am Hoseok. Nice to meet you.” He reintroduced himself with a wide smile as he sat beside Namjoon. He was met with a chorus of shy ‘Hi’s’ and smiling. As if to speak more, Hoseok opened his mouth but a chorus of laughter interrupted him and became more apparent and louder, signalling that the source of it was coming closer.

A window wiper like sound could be heard along those laughs and lo and behold Seokjin walked in, along with Jimin and Taehyung. “Lord, this is too much for me. I might faint.” Lauren whispered as she looked starstruck.

“Don’t you dare. Zoya get your friend.” Alice murmured. Shaking her head in amusement at their antics, Zoya looked back at the boys who had just come in and heard Namjoon explain who the random girls were, to the members he failed to notify earlier on. After being filled in, they introduced themselves as if the girls didn’t know who they were and proceeded to also sit down.

“Hello, I’m Taehyung Van Gough.” All the girls were very aware of his actual last name but can’t say they were surprised by him going by a fake last name yet again. Zoya noted that he oozed exuberance just by his energy from simply introducing himself with his boxy smile, and his presence just put a smile on her face.

“Hello, I’m Seokjin. How are you?” If anyone told them that Kim Seokjin wasn’t as handsome in real life, they’d refer them to the opticians. If there was anything to be enamoured by in this world, Seokjin’s face didn’t seem like a bad subject.

“Oh, I’m great now honey. The name’s Hope.” Her friends looked at Hope in amused amazement at her slightly flirty response. Seokjin’s small smirk and confidence wavered because he didn’t expect the response and his ears went slightly red. Zoya and the girls laughed a little at his now flustered state and Hoseok let out a boisterous laugh at his friend’s face.

“Hello, I’m Jimin.” He said with a bright smile and Zoya felt the blood circulation to her hand practically get cut off by Alice’s tight grip on her wrist. Alice wasn’t dying because he spoke, but because he decided to sit on a sofa next to the girls and Alice was the closest to him at that moment. Slowly, she loosened her friends vice grip on her wrist with a quiet “Ow.” and, in revenge, or as a reward depending on how you look at it she introduced Alice to Jimin. “Hi. Jimin this is Alice. She’s a huge fan of you.” If that death stare didn’t show how much she wanted to hit Zoya, she didn’t know what would. Alice gathered her sanity to speak to him and got Arielle roped into the conversation, who was slightly envying Alice’s position. Soon enough everyone was talking, mostly the girls hyping them over their performance.

In that moment, Yoongi walked in and had a relaxed expression due to Namjoon letting him know beforehand of Zoya and her friends. He sat in a single armchair that was next to Jimin and let the boys know that Jungkook needed a minute to get here, causing Jimin to excuse himself to probably help Jungkook.

The chatter started to build up again and Zoya decided to observe her friends and the boys naturally talk. All the girls were paying attention to Namjoon as he helped translate and Hope and Jin were laughing together with Taehyung. ‘Who would have known’ Zoya thought with a smile on her face. If the language barrier became a problem they’d continue to turn to Namjoon to help them out. This time, however, Alice asked Zoya to help her translate her conversation with Taehyung and he seemed confused as he asked Namjoon in Korean “She speaks Korean?”. Just as surprised, Namjoon looked at her and she decided to reveal that she ‘spoke a bit’ in Korean.

“Wah! Daebak.” Hoseok let out to express his surprise and that he was impressed. Zoya laughed it off, considering he was hyping her over a small sentence. Yoongi, suddenly, asked how she had learnt Korean. He was, just as she was, observing everybody. Just as Zoya was about to answer, Jimin walked in before, a mostly stable, Jungkook. Her breath caught in her throat and Zoya’s heart was beating hard and fast, she felt slightly self-conscious if everyone in the room could hear it. One thing Zoya missed was that Yoongi had noticed her reaction and he smirked. He muttered to her “Do you like Jungkook?”, to which she shot her head up to give him a startled look and he took that as the answer to his question, and he just gave a knowing look with the smirk remaining on his face. Zoya couldn’t deny that Jungkook had grown to be a handsome guy, but Yoongi was way off the mark.

“Hello.” He simply said with a shy smile as he sat down on the empty sofa next to Alice with Jimin. Zoya softly smiled in response while the girls replied with their own ‘Hello’s’. Alice nudged her friend to say something, but Zoya shakes her head. Zoya realised that she wasn’t ready for this, but most of all neither was he. She knew that he was only here for 2 days and he would then carry on with his busy life. Jungkook’s life had changed in many ways from when he was a trainee, but he was still, if not even more, busy. It was right then that she decided that Jungkook didn’t need to know. After giving her a questioning look, Alice had surprisingly let it go. “Ask him if he’s feeling okay at least.” She says and Zoya was confused as to why she would want to ask that. “He injured his foot today, didn’t you know?” Alice answered Zoya’s unasked question. Zoya knew something happened, that’s what she gets for taking a toilet break in the middle of a concert. She looked towards Jungkook who was laughing at something Taehyung said and Zoya was building herself up to ask Jungkook what Alice wanted to say. Why was she so nervous? She was fine with the other members. With a deep breath in and out to calm herself, Zoya asked for the attention of Jungkook by calling him and proceeded to ask Alice’s question in Korean.

“My friend wanted to ask if you’re okay, I didn’t know you injured yourself.” Zoya asked, but then she realised she made a mistake by asking if he was okay in satoori which was why the five other boys were looking at her with a weird look. Zoya’s hand flew to her mouth and with an “Oh sorry!” she then proceeded to ask the question in the standard Korean.

“You speak Korean?” Jimin asks in surprise, everyone realised Jimin and Jungkook weren’t here when they had discovered this information. Jimin went on further to ask in disbelief, “In Busan dialect?” The last bit was news to everyone.

“Where did you learn Korean?” Yoongi asked, remembering his question from earlier on. Zoya’s nerves grew as all eyes were on her.

“I…I lived in Busan for a couple of years as a child.” She explained, and her eyes automatically went to Jungkook when she said that. He nodded along with all the boys with understanding.

“Well I’m fine” Jungkook says in Busan dialect with a teasing smile. Zoya couldn’t help but smile and laugh a little. It was just then that she noticed the blank expression on her friends’ faces.

“Oh damn, sorry! I’ll translate.” She let her friends in on what had happened, and Alice and Lauren gave her a look as if to say ‘And?’ “…So yeah, that’s it.” Zoya made sure to emphasise the last part for her two disapproving friends. She knew they wanted her to tell them everything, but Zoya felt content without Jungkook knowing. However, Jimin and Yoongi seemed very inquisitive about Zoya’s life.

“How old were you when you moved there?”

“I was about 5.”

“Are you originally from here?”

“Yes, I was born in this country.”

“What area of Busan did you live in?”

“…Erm, I actually can’t remember, it’s been a while. My mum probably knows.”

Zoya tried to give vague answers, but they made it difficult and the answer to the last question was just an outright lie. Sure, Sara knew where they lived, but Zoya knew too of course. It’d be a little weird if she didn’t know where she had lived by the time she was 13. She saw Jungkook was very into the conversation, and she couldn’t risk saying something that would click in his mind. Saying she used to live in his hometown may ring a few bells that she didn’t need to be ringing. Not too long after that, their curious eyes were off Zoya and back to conversing with everyone else.

Despite, her best efforts in avoiding giving explicit details, Jungkook now glanced at her like an unsolved problem and that left her feeling unsettled.

“What school did you go to?” He asked, with a determined look in his eyes. Zoya knew that Jungkook was starting to put pieces together and she conceded in her effort to keep him from knowing who she was. She answered his question calmly, to which his eyes lit up as he asked one last question, “What’s your name?”

It was then that, Zoya realised Namjoon was the only one who knew her name from when she introduced herself to him, but the others didn’t. This gave her an opportunity to get out of the situation.

“Zoya. It’s late, we need to go.” Zoya closed her eyes and sighed. Then again nothing really went right for Zoya. The girl turned to her friend, oblivious to the situation between Zoya and Jungkook, and saw that they gotten up and were saying their goodbyes to the boys. Without missing a beat, Zoya grabbed her stuff and quickly said bye to them all, whilst avoiding Jungkook’s eyes all whilst ushering the girls out.

A/N Has Jungkook realised that it’s Zoya? Let me know what you guys think in the comments and remember to like :)

-A

Masterlist

#bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #kookie #bts fanfic #zoya #bts funny #bts

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maknaes-and-hyungs · 5 years

Text

Study Hard(Crack Version)

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

Group: BTS

Genre: angst, fluff, Crack au

Description:Y/N needed help getting her grade up, so she kidnaps biggest boyband leader Kim Namjoon??? Hilarity ensues 🤪 (Renfox)

**Warning: Kidnapping is contained in this**

Note: A normal version will be coming when idk and im sorry that after 3 months this is what i’m posting. It’s not my usual style or thing but um i guess enjoy~Rin

“Oh shit ya girl got a 69!!!!!!!!”You walked into the common room of your dorm and dabbed aggressively as your roommates all silently prayed for your health. One of them, your best friend, slapped you in the back of the head and you fell face first into the floor.

“Dumbass. If you fail this class you’ll be behind on credits which means no more soccer even if it’s just pick up and you won’t be able to be keeper.”

“I’m already a keeper,uwu!” You did a peace sign over your eye and avoided the pillows thrown at you as you went into your room. As much as you joked you knew she was right and you had to do something. Of course it wouldn’t be studying more that hadn’t worked so far. If you’re roommates weren’t as dumb as you maybe you could get help, but alas you guys were the dumb ass squad.

You put your phone on the charger and started playing BTS from your computer. Namjoon’s solo reflection came on and you instantly knew what to do. He was supposed to be smart right, why not just kidnap him? There was a fansign today only one block away where you worked and you could probably get in easily.

“Alright well what bad can come of this?”You quickly changed into uniform and made sure to cover up with a long coat. It was normal for you to show up on your days off cause you always forgot one thing or another so your co-worker watching the door, to keep out waiting fans, let you in without question.

Whenever talent was doing a fansign or whatever they always stayed in the backroom before heading out. Before going in there you ditched your coat in the staff room and put on a serious, what you would describe as a work like look and strode in. All 7 members looked up to you and you had to catch yourself from accidentally saying fuck me.

“Hello. Your manager says he needs to talk with um...Namjoon I think it was?”You scratched the back of your head as if you were embarrassed to not who they were. The leader looked surprised but set down his phone, thank god, agreed to follow you. However you told him his manager had went out back to get more privacy and you led him to the rear exterior door.

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you had rushed into this whole thing without a plan more defined then just kidnap. You sure as hell weren’t strong enough to knock him out and you hadn’t even grabbed anything heavy to do that with. So you did the next worst thing, you stepped out with him letting the door shut behind you and blurted out the stupidest shit ever.

“I PEED MYSELF!”Namjoon slowly turned to you with a look that could only be described as what the fuck.

“I-I’m sorry?”

“It happened after we left the backroom. I haven’t had a break all day and thought I was gonna be okay. I was gonna take you to your manager but I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.” Your hands flew to your crotch as you covered up the lack of a wet patch and he looked before realizing what you were doing and his eyes snapped back to yours.

“I’d give you my jacket, but its back in the room. Just let me get it and-”He tugged on the door handle but it just clanged loudly without budging, it had locked.”Do you have keys?”

“Only managers have keys and I’m just a regular old employee.” Thank god those thugs had been hanging out back here again. The manager had decided to lock the back doors to make sure they wouldn’t try getting in that way.

“Okay well we can just go around front-”

“The fans are out there and I don’t know if you realize but I can’t be your bodyguard. I live a block away if you’ll escort me I can get changed and give you a disguise to get back in.”

“Why don’t I just call one of the guys to come get us? Except your problem and...okay lets go lead the way.”Thank god he was such a considerate human being or else you were about to be fucked to kingdom come. Thankfully you had about five minutes to figure out how you were gonna keep him at your dorm long enough to help you get smart.

Just as you were coming upon your door an epiphany hit you. Last october your friend had went as a sexy cop and she had borrowed her dads real handcuffs. Of course she lost them and got in big trouble, but what no one knew was that you had found them stuffed inside your peanut butter jar in your room. Since they had already been written off and it wouldn’t help her out you kept them cause why not.

“I have roommates who are big bts fans so we need to be quiet.”Not to mention this is technically a kidnapping so wouldn’t want to wake him up.You laughed to yourself at the terrible joke and opened your front door slowly. The coast seemed clear so the both of you crept in.

Your room was the first on to the left, but you had to access it thorough the lounge which was the hub. Sadly the lounge never seemed to be empty unless it was 3 am and it was currently around 11 am. Thankfully it was your roommate you all called bitty. She was the laziest out of all of you and wouldn’t move even if the whole building was burning. Unless there were hot wings, then nothing could stop the ravenous monster she turned into.

“OMG IS THAT MY HOT WINGS!!!”Bitty jumped up on the couch and turned around and got into a pounce ready stance. In your panic all you could do was rip Namjoons glasses of his face and through them into the open bathroom door. You heard a plop, oh well shit happens.

“Hey biterino.”

“Never call me that again. Also who is that?”Like you said, dumbass squad,”Oh this is just scott.”

“I thought he looked familiar but I guess not,” Dumbass.Squad. With that over you thought you were safe until another roommate of yours,charlie, walked in from the kitchen. This time you were in front of your door and you shoved Namjoon inside not caring for his safety.

“Y/N tell Bitty to share the couch.”

“Just pee on her and assert your dominance. We have talked about this so many times why don’t you just do it.” The death glare you received let you know you weren’t wanted and you were finally able to escape into your room. Namjoon stood in the center awkwardly looking around at everything.

“You can sit over here.” As Namjoon followed you to the chair you reached in your drawer and pulled out the handcuffs. Within a second you had his arm connected to the chair and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What the hell? You’re a saseng aren’t you? You don’t even have a stain on your pants. Please don’t hurt me-”

“No I’m just stupid when it comes to computer sciences and your smart so I thought if I kidnapped you that you could tutor me.”

“I DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT CODING!!!!!!!” You rolled your eyes and grabbed an extra chair near your dresser along with your back pack.

“So? You’re smart and can teach me how to be productive. Also I gotta week before my exam and I need to raise my grade to a C. I gotta 69″ You wiggled your eyebrows at him not reading the situation at all. You had just kidnapped a man who was a celebrity and was always being threatened by crazy fans. Still 69 was a sex number and you were legally obligated to make a joke or a face whenever it was said.

“If I help you can you let me go? All I can do is give you study strategies I hope that’s enough.”

“I don’t know where the key to these are but I have a blowtorch in my underwear drawer so I guess I can let you go.” A few moments went by where you blankly stared at Namjoon and he looked like he was about to hemorrhage from sheer confusion,” Oh why do I have one of those? Well I needed to cook grilled cheese and I was using my pan as a trap in the cleaning supply closet. And well no one besides me ever cleans so it took a while for it to be set off.”

“You hit one of your roommates with a pan?”

“No. I forgot I put it there and I needed to clean up a spill in the kitchen. I was in the hospital for a couple of days, but now I am up one blowtorch so you tell me who really lost here.”

“Y-you?”

“Anyways lets get back to the matter at hand. Me getting a good grade in computer sciences. I’m usually smart and get A’s but I we took a quick break and I found this site where a killer whale follows your mouse,”Namjoon nodded slowly really not following where the story was going,”so I’ve spent the entire semester trying to get it to dance various kpop dances and rating them based on viability. I have a whole spreadsheet with various graphs, points of data, a code that predicts success rate and a comprehensive-”

“You did that all for a stupid whale but you cant get a passing grade.” You nodded and he groaned loudly wishing he could be anywhere but here, “Okay I am gonna show you how to study and maybe apply this whale thing to your class since you can’t seem to get past it.” You went for a celebratory fist bump and he reluctantly did it before getting started.

You actually started to get somewhere and could see why he was so smart. Hours passed and you both forgot that he had even been kidnapped. It took so long that you went to get snacks and found the key in the silverware drawer so you released Namjoon when you got back. He didn’t leave though instead continuing to tutor you.

“Okay so if you keep your colors limited and leave spaces for later you can test yourself later.”

“Why would I test myself when I already am tested in class.”

“I want to strangle you.”

“Go ahead daddy.”You smirked at him and he let his head drop onto the desk with a thud that told you it had hurt,”Damn can you hit me like that?”

Namjoon started to raise his head to, presumably, murder you when another one of your roommates threw open the door,”This bitch empty yeet.” and proceeded to throw herself down on your bed. In the background you heard someone haw and no investigation was needed to figure out who that was.

“How do you live here and get grades higher than 5 like-”

“Wait isn’t that...does Tabbs know that namjoon is in your room.”Harmony stared eerily quiet as you said nothing for a few seconds.

“Um...This is scott. He has aids and really has to go.” You pulled namjoon up and pushed him out of your dorm and down the stairs. Hopefully he wouldn’t call the police.(im sorry i rushed this ik its bad)

For: @sableaura @harmony991721 @hopeless-reckless-but-so-lovable @charlie-hatsune @kawaii-ing

#namjoon #kim namjoon #bts crack #namjoon crack #terrible #please dont read

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kumkaniudaku · 6 years

Text

Heard About Us: Two

ONE

Word Count: 2,194

9 AM and throbbing headaches from the previous evening greeted both women sooner than they had hoped.

Maya tried her best to tiptoe around the spacious hotel suite to get dressed without waking her husband. If T’Challa, who lay sound asleep from their “session” last night, woke up to find her leaving again, she knew she’d be in for more questions.

CoCo wasn’t as fortunate.

The blaring of her alarm failed to shake her awake, instead agitating Chadwick into nearly destroying her phone to get the sound to stop.

“Tasha,” he exclaimed, pinching her arm between his rough thumb and forefinger.

“Ow! What the hell is wrong with you! Should I kick your ass right now or right now?”

“Your alarm is going off at the ass crack of dawn and you asking me what’s wrong? Where are you going?”

Looking at the bedside clock with low eyes, she began to piece together the puzzle. “Shit!”

With the clock reading 9:15 AM, she only had 30 minutes to make herself presentable and scurry downstairs. Chadwick watched in confusion as she darted around the room in her panties, snatching items from her suitcase in a frenzy.

“Where are you going, CoCo?”

“To breakfast with a friend,” She continued to rummage through her things until she found the grey ribbed, t-shirt dress and red flannel she was looking for.

“A friend? That’s vague. Who is it?”

It was rare that either of them had friends that the other didn’t know. Whoever this friend was, had gotten her so drunk that she didn’t recognize him and was now dragging her out of the bed and away from him.

“Nobody you know, baby.” Chadwick opened his mouth to press for answers but forced it closed when he noticed Tasha racing toward the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

Instead, he held on to the question until she emerged from the steamy confines of the bathroom to rejoin him in the bedroom. As she situated her bun atop her head, he slid to the edge of the bed beside her.

“Will I get to meet this friend or is he or she a secret?”

“She is not a secret,” she answered, pointedly stressing the ‘she’ to confirm that she did not bring him all the way to New York to run around with another man. “And, we’ll see what the weekend holds. I hope so. I think you’ll like her.”

Chadwick nodded in agreement, accepting her answer as the truth. He allowed Tasha to throw her leg across his lap to tie the laces of her Converse sneakers while she applied lip gloss and a light coating of mascara.

“When will you be done. I haven’t seen you this whole time.”

“I know, baby,” Tasha slung her crossbody bag over her shoulder and checked her phone to see how much time she had left. “I should be back by 2:30. Then, we can do whatever you want. Deal?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Tasha, ignoring his comment, pecked him on his lips before dashing for the front door to make it to Auden Bar & Bistro.

In a miracle, Tasha made it to breakfast right on time to greet Maya. The two shared their experiences from the night, finding that their husbands had similar reactions to their “partying.”

“My husband basically put me in the bed and called me crazy. I was too drunk to tell him I wanted the ‘D’.”

“I’m never too drunk to tell T’Challa I want to smash!”

“So...did you?” Tasha’s eyebrows wiggled in anticipation as a victorious smile spread across Maya’s face.

“Let’s just say, he’s probably still asleep right now.”

“Giiiiiiiiirl! You better!” The two women clinked their glasses together as they laughed, their faces bright enough to light up the entire restaurant. Settling down, Tasha took a moment to talk about her apprehension regarding the day’s activity. “You ready for these group sessions later?”

“I don’t know. Part of me is ready to get all of this off my chest but-“

“The other part doesn’t want to think about what happened,” Tasha finished, earning a nod from Maya. “Yeah, I understand.”

Silence consumed them for a moment as they though over their individual experiences.

“You know, I almost didn’t come,” Maya’s voice caught Tasha off guard. Moreover, the Queen’s eyes were sad and dejected. Still, she continued without making eyes contact. “My Doctor and husband thought it would be a great idea, you know, to meet new people but, I wasn’t sure. Shit, I’m still not sure if I want to open up but, I’m damn sure I’m glad to have met you.”

Tasha took a moment to gather herself and push back the tears welling in her eyes. “Well, shit, I’m glad you came too! Between work and being with my family, I don’t meet a lot of other moms. Thank you for helping me loosen up.” Smiling, she reached over to grab Maya’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze before pulling away. “I’m so upset with you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Tasha dabbed at her eyes with her knuckles and laughed. “You come down here and make me cry AFTER you completely kill me with this outfit. Like, work, sis! I need to go change!”

“Oh, hush! You look good girl!”

Time seemed to fly by as Tasha and Maya discussed marriage, careers and motherhood. The sun illuminated both women beautiful, their laughter and playful banter energizing the staff and fellow diner. Like longtime friends, they entered the event space side by side, remaining close through the separating process and reminding each other that the other would be around for support. Tasha could sense Maya’s mood change as the session started and made a mental note to offer her comfort if she needed it.

The introductions were simple enough and served as the ice breaker to loosen up the group. Soon, the conversation transitioned into heavier topics surrounding each woman’s individual experience with miscarriages. Stories of multiple losses and discovered infertility tugged at the heartstrings of all who listened, leaving no dry eyes in the circle.

“Queen Maya, I think you’re next,” Wanda, the therapy group leader, informed.

Looking to Tasha for reassurance, she received an encouraging nod. With a deep breath, she recounted her story.

“Um, I already had my two loves, Mala and Abdul, before we found out about the new baby. My husband was so excited. He loves kids and wants a whole tribe, no pun intended,” she laughed, making it okay for others to chuckle with her. “When he’s around you-you can’t help but be excited with him. Then one day, the cramping it just...happened. I didn’t know what was going on so I went to see a doctor immediately and that’s how we found out. I couldn’t even mourn,” her voice cracked at the memory. “I had to pretend that things were okay because, I thought, I was helping the family. T’Challa was hurting and he wouldn’t talk to me for so long. The kids were attentive because they could sense the divide. It was-it was tough. Talking about it, even now, is tough.”

Maya’s light sniffles prompted Tasha to hand the young Queen tissues to dab away the tears. The similarities in their stories left her in mental limbo. Tasha’s heart broke for the women beside her while simultaneously reminding her that she wasn’t alone in her battle.

“So, Maya, how did you heal from the loss? Any therapy or time alone?”

“It was a long road. I went to therapy alone for a few months. I know Dr. Uba had a hard time with me not opening up. T’Challa and I finally got the root of our pain, both as individuals and as unit. I had to remember that he lost a part of the family too. So, yeah, therapy and now, this.”

Wanda reached over to grab Maya’s hands, “And we thank you for sharing.”

“Thank you for listening. All of you.”

“Well, Tasha,” Wanda started. “You’re last but, not least. Please, share as much of your story as you’re comfortable with.”

“Whoo, where do I start? I was adamant about not having more children. Chadwick and I had just settled into a routine before our daughter, Micah, was born and I convinced myself that she had to be only because I didn’t want to go through postpartum again. I couldn’t handle the pain of seeing my baby in front of me and wanting nothing to do with it so, I closed myself off to the idea. I told Chadwick absolutely no more,” Tasha could feel the tears beginning to fall and Maya’s gentle hand rubbing small circles on her back. “When I found out I was pregnant again, I was incredibly frustrated but excited. Chad wanted another baby and being able to give that to him felt like an honor. He almost caved my back in with how hard he hugged me that evening. Then, all of that was taken from us in a few short weeks. I was so mad.”

“Why were you mad, Tasha?”

“I-I felt like I was being punished, like God had seen me complaining and took away my baby because of it. I felt ashamed and unworthy of my husband’s love. I felt...broken. I felt all of these things and I still had to go to work and be a wife and a mama. I didn’t have time to mourn the loss of my child. I let my husband do it but, I never gave myself that chance the way I did with my postpartum therapy.” The realization that she never allowed herself to grieve hit Tasha like a ton of bricks, leaving her face soaked in uncried tears.

“Did you ever talk to someone? It seems like therapy worked with postpartum. Why not with the loss?”

“I approached therapy as a way to repair my husband. I wanted to be there for him so bad that I forgot about myself. Is that wrong?”

“No, not at all. It’s a normal reaction. But, at some point, you need to heal for you. You are an important part of your family. Your daughter and husband need you at full strength. I know that Black women internalize the pressure to be strong all the time but, I promise you, it’s okay to not be strong. Get the help you need, Tasha.”

“I will.” Wanda took the short answer as her cue to move on to coping mechanisms, leaving Tasha to soak in the advice.

“You good, girl? We can leave if you want. I’ll call my guards and we’ll figure out how to clear this bitch out and make it seem like an emergency is happening. I’ve done it before!” Maya whispered, the seriousness in her eyes contrasting the hilarity of her proposal.

“Could you really do that?”

“In a damn heartbeat. Just say the word.”

“Damn, I need get me a guard or two,” the tandem shared a small smile as Tasha wiped her face. “I think I’ll be okay. Thank you, though.”

“Anytime, Co.”

The decision to remain at the group session proved to be advantageous. All in attendance were equipped with healthy coping mechanisms, information regarding support groups in their hometowns and a community of women that would forever be bound by the sisterhood created during the conference. After confirming the concluding brunch, the attendees were free to enjoy what New York had to offer alone or as a group.

As they had done before, Tasha and Maya stayed close during their trip to their upper level suites.

“What do you and your man have planned tonight? You finally enjoying a weekend without kids the right way?” Maya asked, teasing Tasha.

“Oh, girl, I hope! He knows that I planned a dinner but, he doesn’t know that I brought his favorite dress to wear.”

“Oop! You got the legs out?”

“Chile, everything is out! And, with everything out, I hope I can get him in!” The sexual innuendo didn’t go unnoticed as the women shared a spirited laugh. “What about you and the King? Any plans for the night.”

“My baby is an old man. He’s probably going to want me to walk around the suite naked while we eat room service. Cletus has been out to play in full force this weekend.”

“Well, if you’re interested, me and Chad would love some company tonight. He’s taking me to TAO Downtown to eat and party with some of his friends.”

“Oooh, fancy. Let me run it by T’Challa, a.k.a tell him where we’re going, and meet you two in the lobby tonight. Is 10 a good time?”

“It’s perfect!” The ding of the elevator alerted Maya to her stop. Tasha pretended to look around the hallway, searching for any evidence of T’Challa. “I think the coast is clear. Tell the King that I wasn’t trying to start any trouble!”

“Oh, girl! He’ll get over it. Trust me.” Maya backed off the elevator, wiggling her eyebrows at Tasha to convey the true nature of her statement.

“Don’t hurt him, Star!”

“That’s Mrs. Udaku if ya nasty!”

___________

TAG LIST: @njadont @k-michaelis @wakandanmoonchild @idilly @texasbama @afraiddreamingandloving @inxan-ity @daytimeheroicsonly @onyour-right @brianabreeze @sisterwifeudaku @ironsquad @killmongerdispussy @90sinspiredgirl @willowtree77785901 @maynardqueen101 @heyauntieeee @halfrican-heat @purple-apricots @lalapalooza718 @blue-ishx @profilia @ljstraightnochaser @girl-wtf-lmao @dramaqueenamby @royallyprincesslilly @melaninmarvel @thiccdaddy-mbaku @lavitabella87 @purplehairgawdess @drsunshine97 @airis-paris14 @uhlxis @oshasimone @maliadestiny @cozyshack2 @zxddy-panther @queentearra @skysynclair19 @retro-melanin @mermaidchansons @misspooh @melanisticroyalty @babygirlofwakanda @wakanda-4evr @sarahboseman @karensraisns @blackmissmarvel @wakandankings @kaykay4454fan @ororowrites @awkwardlyabstract @mixedmelanin @brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers @sunflowerpsalms @panthergoddessbast @justanotherloveaffair @jaeee-http @iliketowrite1996 @blackpantherismyish @thompettiedatheaux @msincognito67 @reignsxjackson @yaachtynoboat711 @syreanne @ilcb7 @chaneajoyyy @turn-thy-paige @dumbchick @stressedgyal

#chadwick boseman #chadwick boseman fan fiction #t'challa #t'challa imagine #t'challa fan fiction #black panther fics #black panther fan fiction #black panther fiction #black panther fanfiction #black panther

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firebreathingbitchqueen26 · 6 years

Text

Angel By The Wings: Chapter 2

Sorry that this one took so long. I hope you enjoy! Please leave any feedback or feel free to message me if you have any ideas! Enjoy!

The world blurrily swum into focus, aided by the hushed whispers of her name in a voice that she recognized.

“Lea.”

It was Marion. But even that fact wasn’t quite enough to get her to relinquish the dream world that still had a hold of her.

“Lea, open your eyes now!” Marion’s face came into view first, her dark skin easy to make out against the dingy walls. Her arms were being held at an odd position, pressed against the walls. She tried to reach forward to grab Marion’s hand in her own, but froze as a sharp pain in her wrists prevented the movement.

It was cuffs. That was why Marion’s hands were so awkwardly pinned and why, just realizing now, her own wrists ached. She was tied to the wall. She wanted to ask so many things, but only one really seemed to matter, “Cal?” She groaned, her voice sounding as if she had rubbed her vocal cords raw.

“Right over there.” Marion jerked her head over to the over corner and Lea let her eyes sweep over the room that currently held them. Chained to the over edge of the wall were and unconscious Cal and Fenrys. The wolf was at least awake but looked awful, his leg bound underneath him was swollen and she could smell the fresh blood from here. Cal looked better. He was still pale but his shoulder was messily bandaged.

“They didn’t want him to die so they healed him partially.” Marion spat. Lea had never heard so much venom in her friend’s voice before. Right now, the anger in her voice promised a world of pain for whoever had hurt them.

“Who is they?” Lea tried to lift herself at least partially up, sliding up the wall, only to sink back down. The bloody cuffs prevented any movement.

“We don’t know. They have at least four fae with them. Maybe more. I was overrun quickly and then they went for you.” The wolf spoke up, his eyes downcast.

She could almost taste the guilt coming off that statement. Marion must have felt it to as she looked quickly at the warrior.

“This isn’t your fault,” She commanded, her face a mask of rage. She almost looked like her father when she did that. Lea felt a sudden urge to laugh, comparing Marion and Lorcan was not something that often happened but it was always funny when it did. However, any hilarity was quickly supressed by remembering their current situation.

“If its anyone’s fault, its mine,” Marion continued, “I wanted to go out. I made it easy for them to get to us.” Fenrys looked up in protest but Lea had had enough.

“Stop it.” She snapped, pulling at her arms to try to straighten her back to give her a more commanding posture then sitting slumped on the floor like a rag doll.

“This is unnecessary. I’ll blame both of you once we get out of here but not now.” Turning her head to look at the chains, she let out a curse. Iron. Enough to supress both her raw magic and Fenrys’s powers. And being a witch, utterly useless.

She couldn’t twist her hand around to get her iron nails to break the chain and it was to far away to even consider biting it. Freeing herself was out of the question so she had to find another way. Looking around the room again, for something, anything to help, she noted the only exit.

One wide set door, barred, that led to another, presumably to the outside world. They had stripped them all of weapons. She had nothing but nails, teeth and intelligence.

Fat lot of help those were.

“Ughh.” A groan emitted as Cal tried to prop himself up. His eyes were blurry from sleep as he blinked around blearily at all of them. The sleep soon cleared as the look on his face turned to horror.

“What the rutting hell is going on?” he demanded, rattling his chains as he sat up. Of course, he could sit up. Why bother giving the witch room to move in her chains, she thought grumpily.

“We were taken, we don’t know by who and we don’t know where.” Marion explained hastily, “How’s your arm?”

“Fine.” He muttered, staring down at the mess of bandages that covered his shoulder. He opened his mouth as if to say something else but was interrupted by the door flying open, the bright light suddenly filling their prison.

Shutting her eyes against the brightness, Lea could only hear soft murmurs, from their captors and the jingle of keys. When a hand touched her face, she lurched forward in disgust, trying to kick out with her legs. The clanging of her chains remined her how stupid that move was. She was chained down, there was no way to move.

“This one feisty.” The man cackled. Fae. She could see his pointed ears clearly from where he loomed over her. Fenrys’s growls filled the room as he thrashed against his chains.

“Leave her. Cairn will be interested in him.” Who? Lea strained to see around the man but he only pushed her shoulder down.

“Maybe he’ll let me keep this one. Its been a while since we had a witch and she looks like fun to play with” He leered down at her. She couldn’t help the shudder of disgust that ran down her spine at his words but she was more preoccupied with who they were taking. She could hear chains rattling and someone thrashing but everything seemed to be dulled slightly, like they were in a bubble. Wind. That must be the fae’s power and he was dulling the sound so that no one could hear what was going on. The feeling of her lungs burning turned her focus back to the fae in front of her.

He had a fistful of her hair, she realized dully. And he must be choking the very air out of her lungs. Shaking her head, she twisted, trying to gasp any bit of fresh air that she could.

“Come on.” The echo of the other mans voice hit her ears, sounding like it was very far away. Air rushed back into her lungs as he released her hair, instead grabbing her face.

She would have spit on him if she had thought of it but she was too busy breathing in the air that slowly cleared her head. At least she was until he leaned in and kissed her. His mouth was rough against hers and his grasp on her face made it impossible to lose him. Instead, she opened her mouth feeling his tongue creep in. A brief flash of disgust, release iron teeth and… Blood filled her mouth as he jerked away, the stump of his tongue briefly visible. Triumph flowed through her as she spat out the tip of his tongue. Her iron teeth had cut through the muscle like butter.

“You bitch.” His fae blood already healing him, but not replacing the tip. She assumed he said bitch. It could have been a different word but who really could tell?

His hand cracked across her face and she almost savoured the pain, relishing in the look of fury on his face. Grinning at him, her mouth stained with blood, she forgot about his friend until Marion’s screams finally were audible.

“Cal!”

“Let’s go.” The other mans voice was almost bored as he grabbed the fae’s arm, dragging him away from her. Finally, she could see the cell in its entirety, Marion curled up, tears pouring down her face and Fenrys growling. But Cal, where Cal had been, there was nothing left but an empty pair of iron chains.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Cal had been gone for 2 days.

At least that what Marion thought. She had been trying to track the time of day through the light levels but Lea didn’t care. It felt like eternity. No one had come in since then. They were all alone. Marion was rehearsing under her breath, she had a new plan.

Lea had given up hope with plans considering the last twenty hadn’t worked. She was still nursing a bruise on her shoulder from trying to break the chains. Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t stir until the outside door creaked open.

Marion looked up hopefully as a small figure clothed entirely in black strode inside. It was a female this time, Lea noted, most definitely a fae.

Her black suit was almost skin tight and Lea could see the faintest glimpse of weapons, stored in secret pockets. Marion cleared her throat, before starting with her very rehearsed speech.

“My friends and I are just lost travellers. We mean no one any harm. If we can just be freed, we’ll be on our way.” At least her mother had taught her something.

Marion had Elide’s legendary skill for lying and manipulating. And even Lea, who knew perfectly well that it was a ruse found herself falling for Marion’s earnest eyes and promises to not cause any trouble. The figure in black leaned against the walls, staring in at them.

Confused for a second, she then realized that underneath the black hood was a mask, covering the females entire face.

“So, if you’ll just please let us go. We won’t cause any trouble. We just want to get home.” Marion finished with a pleading look, one that she had used on her mother and father to great advantage. Lea held her breath, hoping and praying to whatever deity could be listening to let it work. Instead, the fae threw her head back and laughed.

“Well done girl. I almost believed you.” Her voice was higher then Lea expected, and heavily accented. The accent was unfamiliar, from a land that she hadn’t visited she supposed.

Her heart sank. The girl wasn’t going to let them out, she didn’t believe Marion.

“Don’t feel too bad,” she continued, “One of these morons probably would have. Unfortunately for you, I’m not as stupid as they are.” She unlocked the main cell door and strode inside. Her eyes immediately went to the dried blood beside Lea, and she laughed again.

“But, luckily for you.” She continued, walking over to Marion. “I’m not one of them,” She reaches into her pocket, producing a key. She unlocks Marion’s chains before striding over to Fenrys. It didn’t take very long before, he was free too, rubbing his wrists.

The girl strode over to her, sliding the key into her lock. She was barely free for an instant before the girl was slammed into the wall of the prison, Fenrys gripping her throat. “Who the rutting hell are you?” He snapped, pushing on her windpipe so hard that Lea was surprised that the girl wasn’t gasping for breath. Faster then Lea could see, Fenrys was on the ground and the girl was pinning him.

“Really,” her voice sounded breathless. “Going to attack the girl who just released you. Now that’s not very smart, now is it?” Releasing Fenrys, she looked at Lea.

And even though her eyes weren’t visibly, she could almost feel the weight of her glare. “Get your dog in line, witch.” She sneered as Fenrys got to his feet, his face twisted in a glare.

“Come on Fen.” Marion grabbed his arm, hauling him towards the door. She shoved him through it before holding out her hand to Lea.

Keeping a careful eye on the fae female, who now appeared to be checking her gloves for rips, Lea grabbed Marion’s hand and fled the cell. Pushing the door to the outside world open, she froze at the scene that awaited them. It was a massacre. Dead bodies were strewn around and the dirt was practically red with blood. She hesitantly stepped out of the doorway and immediately found herself staring at the face of the man who had threatened her.

His wide eyes stared at the sky. Tearing her eyes away from his, her stomach dropped as she noticed that his body lay a couple feet away.

“Come on,” Fenrys muttered, partially to himself but grapping Marion’s hand. “let’s get out of here.” They had barely made it a couple steps before a voice called after them.

“I wouldn’t go that way.” The fae female was lounging in the door, unconcerned with the ruin of the camp before her. “That way is almost certain death,” she casually prowled forwards and Lea couldn’t help but flinch back.

Who the hell was she? Someone who can murder this many, so fast. And she didn’t even seem bothered by it.

“So is that way, “she pointed behind her, “and that way,” to her left, “and that way doesn’t look so good either.” She finished, pointing to her right.

“So where are we supposed to go then?” Marion demanded, dropping hers and Fenrys’s hand. She was shivering from the cool breeze. Lea at least had a jacket, she didn’t.

“Not my job to figure that out.” The other girl shrugged casually and turned as if to go.

“Wait.” It was Marion who stepped forward. Turning back around, the fae purred “Yes?”

“Guide us. You seem to know your way around. Help us.” Stepping forward, Lea grabbed at Marion’s arm. This girl was dangerous. No fucking way was she going to let her guide them. She could stab them in the back when they were sleeping. This was a horrible idea.

“Now why would I do that?” The female sounded bored, but not angry. Fenrys was glaring at Marion, even as he stepped forward, clearly to refute whatever offer Marion was about to make. But Marion shook her off and shot Fenrys a glare of her own. Stepping forward, head high she looked at the fae.

“I am Marion Lochan, heir to the lady of Perranth. If you help us to Terrasen, I will see that you are justly rewarded.”

Shit.

Motherfucking shit.

She had to use her name, didn’t she? Lea waited with baited breath, readying herself to fight the fae. She could see Fenrys, beside her, doing the same.

“Justly rewarded.” The girl mused, uncurling her hands from fists.

“Yes.” Marion stated calmly, like she wasn’t talking to a girl who appeared to have slaughtered an entire camp.

“I go to the border of Terrasen, no farther.” Lea felt her eyes widened as she stared at Fenrys in panic. He stepped forward, ready to interrupt but Marion held up her hand to silence him, eyes focused on the fae. “Fine.” Marion said curtly, extending her hand

“Do we have a deal?” The female fae hesitated for a minute before reaching out and taking it. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a guide.” Lea couldn’t see the girl’s face but she swore she was smiling as she flexed her fingers.

“You can call me Maia.”

#tog fanfiction #tog7 #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #the cadre #heir of fire #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #crown of midnight #QUEEN OF SHADOWS #Queen Maeve #aelin ashryver #aelin #aelin fireheart #empire of storms #eos

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ella-animine · 6 years

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Bowling for balls?

#Shance #Shiro #Lance #vld #my writing #suggestive

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iceprincesseu · 4 years

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happy birthday, namjoon ah.

a birthday fic for my main mans. aka: hyunjae struggles to find out a present for namjoon and ends up doing a character study on all her other friends instead.

Jung Hyunjae has an issue.

Kim Namjoon. Also known to Hyunjae as: Her Namjoon, her main man, her best friend, her current issue.

His birthday is in two weeks. And does not have a birthday present for him yet?? This is for two reasons: her busy schedule and her intrinsic flaws as a person.

Because she wants to pick something that he would appreciate and would be useful. But it is hard to pick something useful when Namjoon is a part of a boy band that has an estimated net worth of 60 million USD as of 2020- according to google. A second google search for individual net worth tells her that Namjoon is worth 15 million on his own- which- yeah.

Anything he could want, he could afford to buy himself.

Which is why she is struggling so hard to pick something. She tried to ask if he has an Amazon wishlist (he doesn’t), checked his Good Reads list to see if there are any books he wants (all of the wants he has bookmarked aren’t even out yet wtf), and looked into sound equipment (but he probably has top of the line shit already).

So yeah. Hyunjae has an issue. She needs some help.

The only option is to turn towards inside sources.

The countdown for answers begin.

D-14.

It was so much easier to see her unnies back in the day, seeing as how they shared a dorm together. Now that Yeongwon is pretty fucking close to hitting their 10th anniversary, it makes sense that housing arrangements have changed since then.

Nowadays, when Hyunjae wants to see her unnies and there are no schedules, she has to drive to their houses. The audac- just kidding. It’s nothing bad, it’s just different from where they started. And it is how it should be, especially as they are reasonably successful veteran idols at this point who are...well...older now. Sometimes though, on the days where it seems like she hasn’t seen her girls in a while, she finds herself feeling nostalgic about the past.

But it’s all for the best. They are older and the longer they stay in this industry, the more precious privacy gets.

Once she pulls up to Saehyun’s apartment, she greets the security guard with a wave, and maneuvers until she is at the desired door. Hyunjae lets herself in (because they all have keys to each others’ residences, okay?), she notices a pair of shoes in the rack that clearly do not belong to Saehyun. Probably because they look like they’re a pair of Mens’ 9-9.5 sneakers.

The only reason Hyunjae isn’t scared that she is possibly walking into something she won’t be able to unsee is because she did have the decency to say she is coming over.

“Saehyun unnie!” She calls out. A beat later. “Seokjin oppa!”

“In here!” they chorus together, like the disgustingly sweet couple they are. They are in the kitchen. Seokjin looks completely at home as they make dinner. Seokjin is standing next to the sink with a fish and a sharp knife (sashimi, she thinks). Saehyun is working on a noodle soup dish (seolleongtang, maybe) on the opposite counter.

Hyunjae is pretty sure Seokjin has his own apartment, on top of the dorm that the Bangtan boys still use communally. She says “pretty sure” because even though she went to the house warming for the said apartment, he never seems to actually be there during Bangtan’s downtime- instead choosing to be at Saehyun’s instead.

They’ve only been together for a little over six months but they’re so domestic it hurts. Honestly, the speed in which their relationship is progressing to domesticity could be terrifying, but it’s not. It just works, somehow. She thinks about how Seokjin looks comfortable next to Saehyun. She thinks about how Saehyun essentially took 8 years to come to the conclusion that- yes, Seokjin is an option for her. A good option, at that. Granted, they’ve both dated other people throughout the years that their respective groups have been affiliated with each other. And it’s not like Seokjin has been interested in Saehyun for the last 8 years or anything, but it’s nice thinking about how they have fallen together in this period of their lives. All it really took was Seokjin asking Saehyun, “Hey, what do you think about me?”- and the rest was history. In the whirlwind life that Seokjin is living now, Saehyun acts like an anchor. She is a place to come home to. And that’s all the information Seokjin needed to confirm that, yes, he was going to date the fuck out of Han Saehyun.

Yup. That is exactly what he did, Hyunjae thinks. Aggressively pursued her. The whole ~ wine, dine, sixty-

Nope. Hyunjae stops that thought immediately.

Instead, she thinks about one of her favorite moments that she had been blessed to witness between these two people.

Saehyun had casually been brushing off just how pretty Mr. Worldwide Handsome was- and then Seokjin had appeared with his combed off to the side, exposing his forehead.

Once she saw him, Saehyun almost walked into a wall. The power that forehead holds, to be able to make Saehyun almost injure her own.

Beautiful.

Hyunjae moves on autopilot, greeting Saehyun with a kiss on the cheek and waving at Seokjin. After pleasantries are exchanged, Seokjin asks, “What brings you here?” like it’s his own apartment. Amazing.

Hyunjae takes a seat near the two chefs. “What are you getting Namjoon for his birthday?” She asks. The question is obviously more directed towards Seokjin, who tuts at her like she is a cute little fool.

“The same thing I get him every year- the newest phone that comes out in September.”

Okay, Hyunjae knew that. She pouts at the answer anyway. In the stress of trying to find an appropriate present though, it slipped her mind. Maybe she is just a cute little fool.

Namjoon isn’t going to use two phones, so Hyunjae can’t piggyback off of Seokjin’s idea. So, this is a bust.

“Does that mean you’re going to get Hannie unnie an upgrade of whatever you got for her this year on her next birthday?” Hyunjae asks. That seems to be Seokjin’s running theme.

Seokjin looks to Saehyun if a stare could be described as melty- gooey- liquid affection-? Whatever it is, Seokjin is doing it. “Saehyun can have whatever she wants.”

And now they’re making eyes at each other. Saehyun is blushing.

Gross. Cute, but gross.

But at least she gets a really nice dinner for coming by and some quality time with Saehyun and Seokjin (before Seokjin shoos Hyunjae away so that he can show Saehyun all the other options that fall under ~whatever she wants~).

D-13.

“Hobi!” This is a greeting normally said with lots of excitement, because how to not call out to her other 94-liner who is sunshine personified with cheer? She sneaks into Hoseok’s studio space to see Hoseok swivel around in his chair, putting a finger on his lips to signify that she should be quiet. Hyunjae is about to ask why when she sees Sanghee sleeping on the couch, swaddled in blankets.

Oh. Okay.

The couch is right next to where Hoseok is situated in front of his sound system. Like, not even touching a wall. This should not be wear a couch is? But okay.

Sanghee had been in Paris for some fashion show for the past two weeks. She was both a designer and a model for this particular show. This was only possible because she is a beautiful and talented b and anyone would be honored for her to grace their show.

According to the group chat, Sanghee flew back to Korea last night. It looks like she went to see Hoseok as fast as she could and ended up falling asleep on the couch. Something about this whole scene warms Hyunjae’s heart.

They’re not dating yet, technically, because Sanghee is still taking some time for herself. She’s not quite sure if she wants to jump into another relationship right away. She deserves that time to herself, to be honest. Sanghee likes Hoseok- how can she not? She’s just still healing from Tao.

So no, they’re not dating yet-

But they will be. They fucking will be.

Because Hoseok looks at her like he doesn’t see anyone else, like no one else can even enter his worldview. Quite frankly, it is intense. But Jung Hoseok is an intense person who lives hard and works hard and loves hard.

Luckily, Kim Sanghee is also the type to love really, really hard. Once she decides to love you.

Sometimes, when they’re having a house party or a hang out and there is alcohol in everyone’s system, it is hard for Hyunjae not to notice how Hoseok looks at Sanghee. Like he’s content to just be beside her. Just last month, there was a moment between them that made Hyunjae go, “huh.”

Sanghee had made a joke- and laughed about it a lot. Like, full on, deadass laughter. And Hoseok normally laughs at everything. But in this moment where Sanghee looked so happy and carefree, clutching her stomach from her own goddamn hilarity, Hoseok isn’t laughing. Instead, his expression is soft and open and gentle as he watches her.

It’s like the alcohol had lowered his inhibitions and he put into plain sight who he sees in his future.

And at the moment, Sanghee is trying to be cautious because she has been hurt before- god has she been hurt before- but she knows that Hoseok would be good for her. She knows that they would be good for each other. They get along and they laugh a lot and have similar values and there’s this weird tension whenever they look at each other too long.

Also, if this is not indicative enough- when Sanghee came back to Korea, the first person she wanted to see was Hoseok. And she is currently asleep on his couch, wrapped up in his blanket. So, I mean? Hyunjae isn't a psychic or anything, but??

“What should I get Namjoon for his birthday?” Hyunjae ends up whispering to not disturb Hoseok’s sleeping beauty. Sanghee looks so tired and small and cute. Hyunjae wants to pet her.

“You came all the way here just for that?” He whispers back, grinning. “You never try this hard for my birthday. I call favoritism,” he snarks. His tone is still quiet and low. There is still his trademark brightness in his voice though.

Hyunjae only scoffs- as quietly as she can- because yes. Everyone is aware of who her favorite friend in Bangtan is. “Seokjin oppa said he’s already buying him a phone. Should I buy him a computer?”

Hoseok taps his chin thoughtfully. “I think Namjoon already bought himself a gaming laptop.” That fucker. Doesn’t Namjoon know that you’re not supposed to buy yourself anything that could potentially be a birthday present when it’s birthday time?

“What a bastard,” Hyunjae breathes out. Well, time to scrap that idea. “What did you get him then?”

“A subscription box for those high end clothes he likes,” Hoseok shrugged.

Damn that’s a really good idea. Why didn’t Hyunjae think of that?

Okay. Well.

When Hyunjae is exiting the studio door, she turns so that she can call out once last goodbye. She sees that Hoseok has already turned back to his sound table, with one hand stretched out towards Sanghee. His fingers are gently threading through her hair, staring straight in front of him. When Hyunjae turns her gaze towards Sanghee- her eyes are closed but she is unmistakably smiling.

Ha.

D-11

Okay well she has one week left now and at this point she is just getting (more?) desperate.

So she reaches out to Jeon Jungkook, her fellow maknae.

As she is crafting her delicately word text message to Jungkook (which reads: hey what did you get namjoon and can i steal your idea) Hyunjae finds it really funny that most of her current social circle involves Bangtan boys because all of the girls (and herself, included) are ~into~ a Bangtan boy.

Hyunjae likes to make herself laugh by saying that they’re all Bulletproof boys until they simp over her unnies.

Jungkook included.

He may be famous for being ice cold and unaffected around pretty women- but it hits different when it’s Yeongwon.

Maybe it’s because Yeongwon has been around since debut, but they all knew Jungkook before he learned that he was hot shit. (Sanghee joins them in this two years later.)

They met him as a teenager, when he was all awkward and not quite confident yet and blushed whenever Hyorin looked at him for a little too long. He used to blush whenever Aejung complimented his dancing too.

And one time, he tripped in the waiting room while they were monitoring Yeongwon on one of the TV screens. Saehyun had done one of her winky things that she likes to do when it’s her turn to be the ending fairy. Jungkook nearly ended up sprawled on the floor. Namjoon had told this to Hyunjae after the fact, since they were on stage performing, but it was still hilarious to hear about.)

Ah, so cute. Hyunjae misses those days.

Haegeul has long since announced that they should leave those EXO boys alone- so now, almost collectively, albeit at different times, they’re into BTS. The jury is still out on whether Haegeul thinks this is an improvement or not.

Jungkook takes five whole minutes to text her back.

He got Namjoon a really vintage record and an equally vintage record player for all of Namjoon’s vintage needs.

And he tells her a firm no, she can’t steal his idea.

What a sad day.

D-7

Hyunjae likes Taehyung. He’s cute and funny and bright and makes her Aejung unnie laugh. Taehyung, with his deep voice and sincere smile and easy going nature.

When Aejung first tells her that she is interested in Taehyung, the first reaction is to think “okay, makes sense”- and not just because Taehyung is a beautiful bastard. Undoubtedly, he is. But more than that, Hyunjae thinks she likes him because he is equal parts charming and awkward and kind- these are all aspects of his personality that make Aejung swoon.

But the kindness- this is what Hyunjae focuses on.

Because Lee Aejung deserves only nice things.

So yes. It’s nice when Taehyung acts as an energizer for Aejung, ready to act cute or make a joke at the drop of a hat when it looks like Aejung is really in need of something that makes her happy.

It’s also nice when Taehyung makes her slow down. When Taehyung makes her think about her own health. When Taehyung makes her realize that she has been going at full speed for the past 32 hours and- hey, doesn’t a nap sound really good right now?

It’s even nicer when he looks after her when they’re on drama sets together. He makes sure she has eaten and stays hydrated and runs over lines with her in their down time. Also, it is super nice when Taehyung sends Hyunjae cute sneaky photos that he takes of Aejung when she is in her acting element. This part, she really likes.

Hyunjae has always worried about who takes care of Aejung when Aejung is busy taking care of everyone else. Hyunjae gets extra worried during filming times, because Aejung will run her body to the ground to get the best version of any scene she is a part of. So when Aejung goes somewhere that Hyunjae can’t follow, she really appreciates that someone is looking out for her unnie. She appreciates it so much that it makes Hyunjae want to affectionately call Taehyung ‘Taetae’ and buy him whatever he wants, like a true noona.

Currently- well, Hyunjae is not sure where they are yet. Aejung has made her romantic interest towards Taehyung known only recently. But like, to her girls.

To Taehyung, not yet.

Because Taehyung makes Aejung a shy mess and honestly- it’s fucking adorable.

But there’s hope, she thinks. Yoongi has told her, on more occasions than one, that Taehyung likes talking a lot about the people/things that he likes. And apparently, he will not shut up about Lee Aejung. In what capacity and depth, Taehyung has yet to disclose to Yoongi (and, by extension, Hyunjae).

Hyunjae is hopeful though. So far, all signs are pointing to good things.

It is not her place to ask Taehyung about what he feels for Aejung. Hyunjae is undeniably curious if Taehyung even knows that Aejung is interested. Is he picking up what she is putting down? No one knows. Aejung’s not ready to find out.

So, yeah. Not her place to ask. What is her place to ask about, however, is what he has prepared for Namjoon’s birthday.

She FaceTime’s Taehyung when she has five days left to get her shit together. She greets him and then he greets her and then she wastes no time in asking, “What did you do for Namjoon’s birthday?”

Taehyung is quick to do a humble brag. He shows her an intricately made photo album that looks like a collage of Namjoon’s finest moments. Pages worth of pictures from award shows, performances, Namjoon as an underground rapper, Namjoon with his dimple on full display, Namjoon with the people he cares about (his family, his bandmates, his friends).

It’s aesthetic as fuck. Hyunjae can tell that a lot of time and effort went into that thing. Where Taehyung found the time, she has no idea. “You made him a whole photo album?” He proudly shows her a couple more pages and Hyunjae frowns on principle. “Not everyone is talented like you, Taehyung ah,” she complains. Taehyung blushes a little at the praise and Hyunjae can feel the nervous energy through her iPhone.

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

Hyunjae’s frown softens and turns into a smile instead. She really does like Taehyung. “It is beautiful and he will love it,” she promises. She talks to Taehyung a little more and ~accidentally~ shows Taehyung all the nice pictures of her Aejung unnie last week. He showed her nice pictures, so in return, she showed him nice pictures! This is the explanation she is going to give her unnie.

(When Taehyung compliments Aejung the next day on how great she looked in those pictures from the mountains, Hyunjae later gets a call from Aejung. Aejung is whispering, like she ducked away and hid somewhere so she could, in a very panicky scolding unnie to dongsaeng tone, ask her what did you do? - because that trip to the mountains was a JaeJung adventure. Hyunjae can tell just from the tone of Aejung’s voice that her unnie blushing. Cute.)

Well, Hyunjae can’t do anything on that scale of Taehyung’s present, but this does give her an idea.

D-5

Hyorin and Jimin’s dynamic is interesting.

This may be because Hyorin has kept her “dongsaeng killer” title true since Day One, but- like- lets just say Hyunjae is the most cautious of coming over to Hyorin’s apartment, lest she see something that will change how she looks at Jimin forever. Hyorin mentioned once that Jimin is really cute when he cries, which is fine, but there was something about her tone that made Hyunjae not ask any follow up questions.

But yeah. They’ve been ~a thing~ for a very, very long time. Close to four years, maybe? Five? Bangtan debuted 8 years ago, but they’ve been on and off though, so Hyunjae's not sure that even they know how long they’ve been ~a thing~.

When Bangtan had first debuted, Hyorin took one look at Jimin and decided- yes.

And really, that is all it took.

Well, that. And for Jimin to be an adult by both Korean and international standards.

Granted, there was some initial trepidation on both sides. Jimin is six years younger than Hyorin, after all. But Hyorin decided that she liked Jimin enough to look past that and Jimin decided that he wanted to follow Hyorin for however long she would let him.

There is something about Hyorin that makes Jimin ready to risk it all. Hyunjae knows this because Jimin has said this out loud. Repeatedly. To anyone who knows about them, really.

But also. Jimin is sweet as fuck. Just. Caring and thoughtful and ready to hype up Hyorin on her celebratory days and to fight anyone on the bad ones. It’s cute how much he champions her. Hyorin doesn’t need anyone to fight her battles, but it is cute how much Jimin would be willing to. Over the years, Jimin has proven himself as the person who will send Hyorin flowers on random days because he can. He’ll call her to tell her a particularly funny joke because he’s constantly thinking about her. One time, he hunted for a shiny Pokemon for three days because Hyorin mentioned in passing that she wanted this particular one.

Listen. Park Jimin was a simp for Park Hyorin before the word was even added to the Urban Dictionary.

For the longest time, they were dating, even if there has never been a conversation about an official status. This was possible because they knew that they liked each other. They knew that they would put in the work to make it work.

Their dynamic has changed in the last year and a half. Their young infatuation with one another had turned into something more mature.

Hyorin’s love for Jimin wasn’t instantaneous. She didn’t wake up one morning and decide that she was in love with him. Instead, it was gradual. She took her time to come to the realization that Park Jimin is her person. And she wanted that official title, even if netizens would destroy her if it was revealed that she was dating someone six years her junior.

Jimin was quick to agree, because let's face it, he has wanted that for years. But he never wanted to push her. Was just happy to be allowed in her orbit. Just wanted to be able to take care of her, for as long as she wanted him to.

And now, here they are. Realistically, if they keep going how they are, that day will come eventually. But for now, they are happy with their little secret.

Anyway, suspicious kinks aside, Hyunjae is just happy that Hyorin is happy. With Jimin, Hyorin is choosing to be happy. Choosing someone who she loves and who will love her.

It’s cute. All her unnies and their boys are cute.

At this point, Hyunjae has figured out what she is doing to do for Namjoon. She’s just asking to ask.

Hyorin is sitting on the couch playing World of Warcraft, her newest gaming obsession.

“Jimin ah,” she calls out to the younger boy who is sprawled on the living room floor of Hyorin’s condo. (More precisely, he’s sprawled on the living room floor of Hyorin’s condo at her feet.) Hyunjae does not ask if the floor is comfortable. Instead, she asks Jimin what she has been asking everyone. “What did you get Namjoon?”

Jimin looks up at her and smiles brightly. “I got him speakers and that fancy bag he wanted.” Oh the bag that was like 20k?

Solid choice, Park Jimin.

Next!

D-4

Namjoon may be Hyunjae’s main man, but she calls him this in a very platonic way. This is not to be confused with when she calls Yoongi her man.

Now, Yoongi. Min Yoongi is her man in a decidedly not very platonic way. No. Opposite of platonic. Bring on the romance. Give her the handholding and the long hugs and the cuddles and kisses. She wants the dates and the anniversaries and the potential vacations together. Hyunjae wants all of that with Yoongi.

She just never says any of that out loud because- one, that’s embarrassing. She used to be called an ice princess. What the fuck has happened to her? And two- she’s not completely sure how Yoongi would react to all of that. They’ve only been dating for nine months so? All of those thoughts need to shut the fuck up and stay quiet until she gets some kind of confirmation that he sees a long term future with her.

The only reason Hyunjae did not immediately harass Yoongi for an answer about what to get Namjoon for his birthday is because he is a sentimental gremlin and would just tell her something like “he would appreciate anything you get for him” and not provide anything else. Which- cute, but not helpful.

“Yoongi ah,” she greets. She should be calling him oppa, but the affectionate endearment slips from her sometimes, especially when she is being whiny. She started calling him “Yoongi ah” because of the “Just One Day” MV and has not been able to stop since. Yoongi doesn’t particularly care for honorifics anyway, which she is grateful for.

How would Hyunjae describe her relationship with Yoongi?

She would be lying if Hyunjae said she wasn’t interested in Yoongi the day she met him. He was (and is) talented and confident and a badass. Yoongi lives his life by giving zero fucks and it shows. And yet- he had an unapproachable image, but he turned out to be so, so, so soft. He is patient with his dongsaengs and he’s not afraid to make a fool of himself for a laugh and he cooks for them to show that he cares. Min Yoongi is a good person. Hyunjae knew this then and she knows this now.

But she met him when she was barely 19. At that age, interest comes and goes like smoke.

It is not until years later that Hyunjae’s interest in Yoongi resurfaces. He has always been around. Her best friend is Namjoon, so obviously she has been around his bandmates.

One day, about 10 months ago, Hyunjae’s attraction to Yoongi just switches on and she doesn’t know if there is an off option. She is slightly suspicious that Yoongi has destroyed the off option.

Currently, Yoongi is on his bed, enjoying his favorite past time- lying on his bed and not moving. They’re in Yoongi’s apartment and it is quiet and peaceful and nice. Hyunjae joins him on the bed, snuggling him. He lets her. “I’ve been stressing out so hard about Namjoon’s birthday present, I just want to shove it at him,” she grumbles.

“I’m sure he would appreciate anything you would get him,” he mumbles, sleepy. How did she know that he would say that? Hyunjae is almost obscenely proud of how well she knows Yoongi.

“Okay, well what did you get him?” she prods, poking his cheek.

Yoongi pauses. Barely twitches. And then says, “I wrote him a song.”

Damn all these talented fuckers. First Taehyung with the aesthetic as hell photographs and then Yoongi with a whole ass song. But Hyunjae did say Yoongi is a sentimental gremlin, so this tracks. “Which one?” she asks, curious and supportive. Yoongi produces bangers. Confirmed.

There’s a hint of a smirk on Yoongi’s face when he says, “You should know it. We provided the guiding vocals for it.” Hyunjae is initially distracted by Yoongi’s face- ugh he’s so hot- but eventually, she processes what he says. Guiding vocals?

Hyunjae recalls a vague memory of helping Yoongi record a month ago because he was just testing a song out. He said he needed a female rapper and someone cancelled or something? And the female part of the song happened to be written in her key and register??

Oh my god.

She gapes. “You sneaky fuck!” Now he’s definitely smirking. Hyunjae would be more upset at being tricked if she wasn’t currently overwhelmed by the need to kiss that smirk of Yoongi’s face.

D-2. (<-- also the title of his second mixtape!!! My talented boy!!!! We stan!!!!!!)

There is a reason why Hyunjae calls Namjoon her main man. This is her chingu that acts like her ride or die. The one that matches his hair color to hers when it is comeback time. The one that calls her Baby Jae and dotes on her and is always willing to give her a shoulder to cry on.

This is the thing with Namjoon. He’s smart- absolutely brilliant. Hyunjae may call him a dumbass sometimes, but the world knows that he is not. He’s a wonderful leader and he’s beautifully articulate and he’s good at his fucking job. He takes care of his boys and he takes care of his fans and he takes care of his friends too. Actually. Does she count as one of his boys? She is an honorary bro, right?

Anyway.

Hyunjae is honored to be a part of his circle. And she does not think she is being too biased by saying that he deserves the world.

She is being sappy. She knows. But she thinks she is allowed today. She is doubly allowed to run to him the moment she sees him, almost tackling him to the ground at his own party- which she does. Yoongi is behind her and she can hear him laughing at the whole scene and today is a good day.

“Happy birthday to my main man!!”

Namjoon laughs, dimples and all. Hyunjae shoves her present at him before he can even say thank you. “Present for you! On your day of birth! You’re welcome!”

He laughs again and finally gets to say, “Thank you, Baby Jae.”

She beams at him and runs off before he can check what she gave him. As she runs away, she screams, “Happy birthday!” again and frolics off to find her unnies.

This is what Hyunjae ended up coming up with:

There is a journal on the bag. Inside the cover, a note that says: You are allowed to pick our hair color for the next comeback.

It’s a bullet journal. Hand decorated, a la Jung Hyunjae. Filled to the brim with sticky notes. There are important reminders to dates and holidays, encouraging messages, nostalgic memories.

She can’t take artistic pictures like Taehyung or write lyrics like Yoongi, but on most days, Hyunjae does know how to sentence.

So she writes a lot of fucking sentences.

Any single thing that she can remember about Namjoon, she puts it in that book.

Across the whole journal, she writes about how much she adores him, how she knows how hard he works, how proud she is of him, how she is sure that he is destined for great things.

Essentially, it is a whole lot of feelings.

(But, you know, if he didn’t like it- she also included the whole manga collection set from his favorite mangaka.)

Happy birthday, Kim Namjoon!

#member: park hyorin #member: lee aejung #member: han saehyun #member: kim sanghee #member: jung hyunjae #pairing: jimin/hyorin #pairing: taehyung/aejung #pairing: seokjin/saehyun #pairing: hoseok/sanghee #pairing: yoongi/hyunjae

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