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kbrick · 3 years ago

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Sad Drarry Fic Rec List 😩

Hello friends!

Let me ask you this: Are you pissed off at the gorgeous spring weather? Do you wonder, sometimes, if the shiny new buds on the trees are mocking you, pretending to grow and flourish only to wither and die and crumble into dust a few short months later, serving as a cruel reminder of the temporary nature and futility of all things? Is the sunshine giving you a migrane? Do you just want to claw your way back into the dead of winter so you can spend more hours in the suffocating darkenss, feeling the cold grab at you like a shivery precursor to the endless night we all have waiting for us on the other side of the veil?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, do I have some fic recs for you! 🎉🎉🎉🎉

I’ve compiled a list of the saddest, most depressing fics I’ve ever read. They’re good ones, well-written, and sort of make you want to tear your hair out and rend your garments. There is hurt with no comfort. There is whump with no un-whumping. There is a lot of death, a lot of cruelty, a lot of awful, horrible things that happen to our beloveds in these stories.

And isn’t that just fun sometimes? Isn’t it sorta cathartic to just WALLOW on occasion? So, if you’re feeling over it when it comes to your own relentless, exhausting plod along the highway of life and want to see Harry and Draco suffer along with you, if you have too many boxes of unused tissues in your house, or if you’re simply looking for a good wallow, give these a go. You WILL regret it. But in the best way.

If you like your emotional trauma quick & dirty (fics under 10k):

Powerful Men by Frayach (E, 8.5k) - okay, look. I fucking love Frayach. But you’ve got to be in, shall we say, a bit of a mood for their stuff. Because although the storylines and lengths of their fic vary widely, one thing never changes: the fucking soul-deep darkness that permeates all their works. There are some happy ending fics mixed up in there, but plenty that aren’t, too, and either way, it’s gonna hurt. I like this one in particular for a few reasons. First of all, it’s told in first person/present tense, which is a tricky combination to get right but can be used to incredible effect, making everything feel immediate and close, like surround sound for the written word. Frayach nails it. We never even know the name of our narrator -- he’s just some random rent boy who happened to room with Harry for a while in this apocolyptic-type world where Voldemort won the war. According to our narrator, the big bad Minister of Magic has just been put down, and the world’s about to get better, except no. Not for our Drarry purposes it isn’t. This poor prostitute’s tale will make you wail by the end, once you’ve sorted through what, exactly, has happened.

Last Offices by @tackytigerfic (M, 6.7k) – you know this one’s going to be a toughie right away thanks to the summary. Basically, Harry’s trying to navigate a bunch of pureblood funeral rites for Draco while also grieving. Despite the depressing-as-fuck premise, this fic manages to be both heartfelt and bittersweet, mostly thanks to a collection of memories that Harry relives during the rites. The relationship between Harry and Draco feels much fuller than the length might suggest, and very, very real. Any idiot with a keyboard can make a Drarry lover a little sad by killing off one of our faves, but it takes a deft, masterful hand to really immerse you in the feeling of loss, to make your poor little reader’s heart heavy with it like it was your own. Tacky manages to do just that, navigating the pitfalls of both oversentimentality on one side and remoteness on the other to deliver this short but impactful rumination on death and legacy and carrying on.

Yours, Draco by FeelsForBreakfast (NR, 3.5k) – Draco writes Harry a series of letters before his execution after the war. The most painful part of this little heartbreaker is that these letters are so full of life. They are so Draco, the version of him that I adore, in which he is snarky and funny and a little bit rambly. His personality feels so big, so vital, that it seems utterly impossible to imagine the world without him. But, of course, that’s exactly what Harry must do.

I Am Your Shadow by eidheann (M, 3.1k) – let us step away from actual death for a moment to appreciate emotional death. In this fic, both our boys are suffering intensely in the aftermath of the war. Draco is a meek, terrified shadow of his former self and Harry can’t feel anything. Of course, their aversion to life causes them to crash into one another and they end up in bed together. The way Harry behaves afterward, and how Draco reacts to his behavior is devastating and also makes complete sense. It’s difficult to be too mad at Harry because he’s obviously traumatized himself, but still. It hurts. It hurts so much. The ending is left fairly open, so maybe there’s a HEA for these two messes? But given the extent of their trauma, I wouldn’t bet on it.

In Death’s Dream Kingdom by kedavranox (M, 7.3k) – Harry became the painter we all wanted him to become and is married to Draco, who fights crime. Hooray, right? WRONG. Because an enemy Draco’s made on the job attacked Harry and now Draco can’t stop until he gets revenge. It is so much worse than you think. So, so much worse.

The Death You Carry by @magpiefngrl (M, 2.7k) – It’s a second person POV cancer fic, so right away, you know this one’s going to leave a mark. Draco has a terminal illness and he’s living out his last days, and it’s devastating and devastatingly realistic. One of the worst parts is watching how Harry handles things from Draco’s perspective. Harry’s struggle is absolutely heartbreaking and beautifully rendered, and Draco’s feelings of powerlessness and rage will have you in tears. The fic is impactful because of how true it is to life - I mean, how many people are facing something like this at this very moment? Who doesn’t relate to this on some level? Not to be a downer or anything 🙂

Free To a Good Home by @onbeinganangel (T, 1k) – Dealing with the (natural) death of Draco is not like dealing with war trauma, as Harry soon finds out. It’s a lot less about nightmares and fear and a lot more about the gaping, empty chasm of his soul. He tries to manage his grief and his feelings while also having to deal with practical matters such as selling the house and giving away things he won’t need anymore, which only leads to more grief. This little 1k fic packs a lot of angsty punch throughout, but the last line had me spiraling.

The Kiss by Frayach (M, 5.1k) - I started this section with the Eternal Emperess of Drarry Darkness and I’m finishing with them, too. This little number made me stop reading Frayach for a good few months because I had such a strong reaction to it. It’s a mind-fuck, it’s terrible, it’s hopeless, it’s the WORST. And by worst, I mean best. It’s guaranteed to make you hate the world, the justice system, death, and basically everything else.

If you like your emotional pain to fully consume you and linger endlessly (long fics):

Brief Encounter by @maraudersaffair (E, 45k) – I’ve recced this fic before, and I’ll do it again and again until I the day I die. The premise is simple: Harry and Draco are married to the women they’re married to in canon. Then they embark on an affair with one another. Angst ensues, you know the drill. But this one is darker than most infidelity fics. Maruadersaffair does not gloss over the cruelties Harry inflicts on Ginny, nor do they make the relationship between Harry and Draco easy to witness, either. It’s all-consuming, passionate, and painful. The ending made me cry like a little bitch (more than once – I’ve read it a few times now and even though I know what’s coming, it still gets me. Damn it!).

Dreaming Darkly by @quicksilvermaid (E, 40k) – holyfuckingshit, this fic. This fic is good. The whole premise is incredibly unique: Draco runs an illegal den of dreams, hidden behind a pub. He uses his legilimency to give people relief from real-world hurts, to take them to a place where their children were never killed, where their lovers never left them, where the world is beautiful and bright once more. Auror Potter, of course, is on the case. Not that he’s been assigned the case, mind, because this version of Auror Potter is not exactly winning at life or doing much to impress his bosses. But he is determined to find out what Malfoy’s up to anyway because, come on guys, it’s Malfoy. This could be an adorable little rom-com story, but OH BOY IT IS NOT. Prepare to go to the dark side. Prepare to cry. Prepare to rail at the unfairness of it all and taste the tang of bitterness on your tongue. Because this one’s going to hurt like hell.

Beautiful World by Lissadiane (M, 70k) – I’ll just tell you, because Lissadiane tells you in the tags: Harry’s gonna die, guys. He’s gonna die, he knows he’s gonna die, and there isn’t a damn thing Harry or you or ANYBODY can do about it, and it’s sad and horrible and you just have to sit there and take it. Meanwhile, Draco gets roped into spending Harry’s last hours with him and, of course, they have the most beautiful realizations about each other and it’s all very romantic. If this was a GallaPlacidia fic, first of all, it would be Draco dying, but second of all, the boys would kiss just before the curse finished Harry off and all would be well and love would save the day. This is not a GallaPlacidia fic.

Nightingale by michi_thekiller (62k) – From what I understand, this was a fandom classic back in the day (at least for those who liked to cry a lot). I read it about a month or two into my Drarry addiction, and I’ve thought about it ever since. Not to be overly dramatic, but it really did make me question my own sense of morality and the difference between right and wrong and what, exactly, makes a person culpable. In this story, Draco was tortured during the war, and is now situated in full-time care because he has the mental capacity of a child. Before the war, Draco and Harry were romantically involved, in that I-love-you-I-hate-you sort of way. It involved a lot of rough sex, and a stinging emotional closeness that they never discussed, and then Draco left school. Harry resents the hell out of Draco for not defecting and letting the Order protect him. He also harbors feelings of guilt over the whole thing and those feelings threaten to crush him throughout. He’s angry and sad and so, so lonely that it hurts to read about it, and when he takes Draco out of care and brings him home to stay with him, he feels like it’s the first good thing that’s happened to him in forever. But he wants the old Draco back. Only that Draco no longer exists, and the one in front of him is defenseless as a lamb and so, so innocent. MIND THE TAGS and prepare to have this haunt your dreams for months if not years. PS, if anyone wants to discuss their OWN trauma after reading this fic, please let me know. I’d like to start a support group.

Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by @firethesound (M, 44k) – how could I not include this fic? I’ll be honest, though - I almost didn’t, because I didn’t want to read it. I put it off for a long time. I didn’t want to read a long fic where one of our boys was already dead, you know? Because that sounded depressing! And guess what? IT IS! And guess what else? It’s also worth it, because it’s an incredibly well-written story that rings truer than almost any rumination on grief that I’ve ever read. If you’re putting this off for the same reasons that I was, I get it. But it really is as good as everyone says it is. I will never stop thinking about the cup set out on the table under stasis. Never. On my death bed, I’ll be thinking about that damn cup. And ffs, I need to stop thinking about death!

Anyway, does anybody want to recommend some nice fluff? Pretty please? I think I broke myself reading all this shit.

#drarry #hp fic rec #listicles #crying #ugly crying #sad #depressing #death is all around us #halp #fantastic fiction #fanfic writers are the worst and best #emotional trauma #spoiler alert: everyone dies at the end

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atiny-piratequeen · 3 years ago

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𝐅𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭

Hello lovelies, I’m here to finally open my commissions! Please read the following information fully if you’re interested in commissioning any works for me and if you have any questions, you’re more than welcome to send me an ask or dm!

Ateez Masterlist Multi Masterlist

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬-(All Prices are in USD. Commissioners are responsible for conversions)

Timestamps/Drabbles (Below 1k): $5USD

1k-$10USD

2K-$20USD

3K-$30 USD

Etc...

꧁ Works over 5k will have an additional $5 dollars added onto the total and need to give me at least a month’s time to complete, works over 10k will be an additional $10

꧁ All commissions will need to have a minimum downpayment before I begin my work on them (works with 1k+ with half of the total payment upfront). Drabbles and timestamps will be full price up front, as they are short and their price is smaller than longer works.

꧁ In the event that I cannot reach your desired minimum WC (i.e, i fall just short of 2k, etc), you’ll only have to pay up to the % of the wc I fell short of. (ex, if a comm is 2k but I reach 1.5k, the price would be $15 and the $5 will be refunded.) The same applies if I happen to write over how much you paid for, you do not have to pay for the extra words.

꧁ All commissions from any of my personal series (for example, if you’d like to buy a commission for something in AtT’s Verse, Ataraxia Verse, or Night Shift’s verse), recieve a 10% discount (drabbles and timestamps excluded)

-Do note that any comms in established universes are n o n canon events and unless discussed/agreed upon by me, do not expect a comm to be canon in my series past the confines of said commission

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞

-Most Genres (Fluff, Romance, Angst, etc)

-Smut (Commissioner must be 18 or older, absolutely no exceptions. Ever)

-Crossover Fandom Ships (You can inquire in dms which other bands I stan and I’ll let you know if I know them well enough to write the work being commissioned)

-MxM Fics

-MxR Fics (feel free to let me know in the inquiry what the reader’s gender identity is and if there is any other personalized things you’d like for the work)

-Etc (Please check the works I have posted across this account and my other accounts for a general idea of the content I have written before and feel comfortable writing)

-**New** Anime/Video Game Fics, as long as I am familiar with the source material

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞

-Underaged Smut (No underaged idols, no underaged reader scenerios, absolutely no nsfw smut commissions to be accepted at all. Anyone who even inquires about underaged smut will be promptly blocked :) )

-Rape/Dub-Con/ “CNC”

-Yandere Works in any capacity

-Works with a biggoted message (homophobia, transphobia, racism)

-Incest (Yes this inculdes adopted and step siblings/families)

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨

Anyone who’d like to commission me is welcome to inquire in my dms. Please keep your DMs open so we may maintain an easy two-way communication during the commission process. I am also open to using Discord as a means of communication.

I will NOT be taking commissions through my ask box at all, if you are not comfortable with messaging me through dms or on discord, I will not be taking your comission. My ask boxes are not appropriate places to be exchanging payment information.

Again, I do not accept nsfw commissions from minors (those under 18), please respect this and failure to do so will result in you being blocked.

Once I talk with you on what you’d like to commission, I will send you my PayPal and I can begin as soon as I recieve the downpayment. Failure to give the second half of the commission will result in me not posting the work at all and blacklisting you from any future commissions from my work. If you’re in a bind please be up front and honest, I can be flexable with waiting for the other half of payment for a week to two weeks after your work is finished, if extra time is needed.

Please allow two weeks minimum for commissions once the initial payment agreement is reached, as I also work outside of this and have other works to do alongside your commissioned work.

Works 3k+ will require a minimum of 3 weeks to a month, and I will message you with updates along the way.

As the creator, I reserve the right to decline any commission request handed to me. Please be respectful in the event that I turn down your commission request, I am open to alterations to requests so that it may be more comfortable, but if I cannot write the work comfortably, it will be denied.

All of these works, though commissioned, are still under my copyright, so reposting is absolutely not allowed. The works will be posted both here and ao3, but I still will not allow it to be reposted to other sites/accounts that are not my own

Works that are Ateez focused will be posted @atiny-piratequeen

Any non atz works will be on my multi blog @nocturne-overtures

Anime/Video Game works will be posted on @sin-hashira (Blog under construction)

Thank you so much for reading through. As per usual, reblogs are welcome always and I hope you all have a lovely day/night!

-❣Fie❣

#fie writes #commissions #so yea no im not taking requests please comm me love you mwah #pinned post #this is for later i'll pinn it once i finish kts

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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 4 years ago

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..."STAR-CROSSED LOVERS"??? YES.

Thank you so much @cheri-translates for translating Victor's SAND AND SEA DATE. You're an angel. 🥺🥺🥺

Now I'm gonna start blabbering since I've many feels about this date LOL~ 🙃

⚠️Warning: There are some spoilers regarding Victor storyline from the main story chapters that haven't been released in EN yet.

🌹

From "I won't save you a second time" [CH 1] to "I don’t need you to save me a second time." [The date in discussion]-- LOL as hilarious as this is, the irony.💯

Ngl this date felt like, the writers thinking since, under the context of the theme, the physical pain of time travel & crossing countless of dimensions & timelines is not possible-- let's just nearly kill him by spilling blood & dehydration but still we gotta nearly kill this man cause he wants to be in love.🙃

Idk why I'm getting so emotional LOL but there are so many call-backs I can remember on top of my head right now--

[The lines & moments from the date are indented & in bold letters.]

MC: "Victor, I’m helping you look for a water source. Let go!"

🌹 The sad broken cup scene from [CH 18-16], MC urging Victor to let go & him stubbornly refusing, until she gives in.

MC sacrificing herself to revive the river, part of it is to save Victor- other part of it is also for the greater good of the people in the city.

🌹 [CH 18-18] MC's monologue- "This time, put everything on my shoulder & let me be your hero one last time."

& sacrificing herself for the peace of the world even though it only made more chaos.

Victor releasing the hand that supported him at the edge & deciding to sacrifice himself with her. & the vow- "No matter what awaits you, I’ll be with you."

MC's monologue: "It turns out that no matter what the ending is, he’s willing to be with me."

[CH 18-28] Victor deciding to use the sundial watch one last time despite knowing that'd kill him for sure & might lead the world to perish as well. Dummy & Selfish in that moment. His final vow before MC disappeared, "No matter where you are, I'll always find you."

[CH 19-6 Dream World Victor route]

MC: "What if this really is a dream. Then what?"

Victor: "Then I'll turn it into reality."

[CH 25 phone call- In the Hospital]

"No matter what you are facing in other space-times...Wait for me."

[CH 36-10, after Victor returns from his 10K years time travel]

Victor: I thought you are never going to be afraid again?

His warm breath moistens my eyes. I inhale through my sore nose. Resisting the urge to bury my face in his chest, I look up, staring straight into his eyes-

MC: I will never be afraid again. Because you really came back. Victor is standing here before me like a treasure once lost and now found. What do I have to be afraid of?

Victor is stunned for a moment. The corners of his lips loosens a bit, while the contours of his face softened a lot. He raises his hand to wipe the wetness from the corner of my eyes.

Victor: It seems that this dummy has grown up a lot during this period. Listen carefully, I will never return to a world where you are not.

[CH 37 PV line]

"Whatever choice you make, I'll always be here."

[CH 37 karma by-line]

"I will accompany you on the road leading to the future."--

Basically the eternal insistence of him having an internal MC GPS tracker LOL ALWAYS being by her side.

Kidnapping incident.

🌹...[CH 30-7 to 30-10] Agio Street underground gambling den mission- wants to say a hello.🙋‍♀️

Abandoning the honor & glory of leading a comfortable life as a feudal lord to restore the river & to find the fateful couple, probably hoping to find his love too, but won't admit cause even if it's AU, he be like- "I'm still Victor" LOL

[CH 11 karma by-line]

"I won't let go of you & the world."

The physically-mentally painful exhausting wait & time travelling of 10K years, walking through endless dimensions & timelines, only to start from the very beginning every single time- hoping to find a way to save the world & protect the girl-- wants to say a hello too 🙋‍♀️

MC's monologue: Still, I want to have one more look at Victor… before leaving.

🌹 This specifically reminded me of a [CH 37-5 Victor split route] monologue from MC--

"It didn't matter what was waiting for me. I would face it with my head held high. Even so, I still wanted one last second...just one second. Let me call his name one more time...let me take a good look at him...just one last time..."

Victor: In that case, stay here. Stay by my side.

🌹 He has said the same sentence in different ways under various circumstances but one I can remember right now,

[CH 24-12 Black Cabin reunion]-- "But right now...Just stay by my side."

MC noting down how she always finds herself in his arms whenever she's fainting or getting in trouble. How Victor has been quietly taking care of her & protecting her. How the person before her walks in steady steps with forceful heartbeats.

When she was in her most depressing state [CH 18], he was there like the steady pillar of support, helping her in every way he could. He was pretty much the glue that kept her in one piece.

Again, in winter world, he stood by her side even as a stranger.

Not just these two incident, throughout the entire game, especially in the latter part of the story, they work together like partners, she learns to trust him with pretty much everything & they work through everything they can together.

Those few mentions in the date-- could be referred to how Victor has always been the constant source of warmth, encouragement, strength, support, protection in her life. No matter what world or when, he never really changes. He is still the same man. & His constant state IS choosing MC every single time.

Victor lies on the sand quietly, and it’s as though everything has returned to the beginning when we first met.

🌹 Indication towards how their storyline ALWAYS goes back to square one or comes in a full circle-- from Victor saving her from the car crash as a kid [& this being repeated many times afterwards, even in winter world], to the lightning incident [MC jumping in front of Victor both as a child & an adult], to both being in coma for week, staying in the hospital & taking care the entire time [MC in CH 11, Victor in CH 32], to stabbing each other countless times. [CH 18, CH 36-- & every other times Victor has seen those incidents happening before his eyes while time traveling.] *que tears*

🌹▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️🌹

I could possibly make a full blown essay which I already kinda have out of some other specific call-backs I can remember right now. Specifically the theme of the date being star-crossed lovers-

Legend tells of two lovers. Because of the pressures of their nations, they could not be together, and decided to drown themselves in a river for love.

Because of this, the River Goddess was enraged, and she cursed the land nourished by the river which was under her control. Since that day, the Socya River gradually dried up.

The Goddess left an exhortation-when the fateful couple reappears on this land, the river will be surge once again...

& This perfectly echoes the canon theme of Victor x MC storyline--

🌹 As in, Victor being someone who, objectively speaking, seemingly has everything & yet sacrificing practically everything--

[giving up over-seas university offers, staying in the city instead of moving abroad even though his business could be expanded more, relentless search of 17 years, appointing private detective for 6 years, building up Souvenir etc.]

--- to find MC & then in the mission of keeping her safe, even at the cost of his own existence. Trying everything beyond his limits to prevent the destined deaths of MC he has foreseen- from happening & it being doomed to no end every single time.

🌹 Every single time he had to give up the ONE thing he wanted to protect the most or wanted the most.

🌹 Both of them being so willing to put each other in the front line just to give each other happiness.

🌹 Another running theme of their storyline-- both of them keep losing each other countless times & then find each other again.

• Victor losing MC as a kid, finding her as an adult. Victor nearly losing her in CH 10.

• MC losing Victor due to the time rift in CH 14 & finding a way to contact each other through the sundial watch.

• Victor losing MC in CH 18 first-hand. MC leaving Victor behind in CH 19- dream world.

• CH 24 Black Cabin reunion & CH 27 OG timeline reunion

• MC nearly losing Victor in CH 32, due to him going to coma

• MC losing Victor in CH 34 due to Victor going on the time-travel journey of 10K years

• Final reunion in CH 36 [Then we have the journey to S2. But that's a whole new discussion.]

🌹So...both of them being able to truly be with each other is actually-- defying fate & writing their own destiny. *SOBS*

🌹I wanna end my blabbering with two precious moments from [CH 36- Victor split route] that echoes this theme even more.

MC: "I've always chased after your silhouette and I was never afraid. Because I know you'll always be there waiting for me. Victor, if you really disappear... I will be with you, and we will both be forgotten by the world."

MC's monologue: "Victor, once we have crossed countless dimensions and futures, and returned to each other’s embrace. If everything has to disappear with time, as dust into the wind... Then, I'm glad that we have our final promise."

[She's referring to the promise she made of being forgotten by the world to be with him & the promise Victor made earlier to never leave her again.]

#classic tragic love story at it's finest #yEs #mlqc victor #mldd victor #mr love victor #mlqc li zeyan #victor #li zeyan #mlqc zen #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc spoilers #mlqc cn

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tteokggukk · 4 years ago

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all an act → ksj

✳ pairing: acting major! seokjin x acting major reader, basically they’re both acting majors

✳ genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, college au

✳ warnings: swearing, copulation is implied (not written), just PG-13

✳ words: 10.6k

✳ a/n: I’M SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE i’ve had this idea on my mind longer than my published stuff so far. i also didn’t think this would even reach 10k+ words, i initially thought it’d only be ~5k but my hand kept slipping and slipping and 10k happened. anyways, enjoy reading! and again, if you’d like to send some comments (esp on things i can do to improve), don’t hesitate to comment or send an ask!

"How many years is it gonna take for you to finish writing a sentence?" You sighed and began tapping on your foot. You were sitting in one of tables outside to finish a short paper about a film your professor tasked you to watch with a partner. Normally you were fine working with anyone, and even if it was individual work you'd have no problem getting it done in no time. However, today was different. You almost wanted to tear your hair out and scream for as long as you could until this was all over.

You didn't expect Kim Seokjin to be your partner this time.

"When you stop acting like a priss, that's when," Seokjin rolled his eyes as he typed out the remaining sentences of your "collaborative" effort. You wouldn't even call it collaborative unless it meant having to argue about several different points of a story just to piece a whole paper together. You rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue, muttering a "Looks who's talking," underneath your breath.

For the whole year you survived not being partners with him and you thought you'd be able to get away with it, until your professor stopped allowing people to choose partners and started assigning them instead. You desperately hoped this was the last time you'd ever be partnered with someone you loathed.

You were both acting majors and were well known as two of the most top performing students in your batch, but you never got along well. When you respectfully asked your professor why he paired you with him in hopes of trying to get out of it, he started talking to you about both of your “potentials” and “how much better it'd be for the two of you to work together”.

"Here. I'm done," he pushes your laptop away from him and towards you, "Can I leave?"

"We still have to print and pass this," you told him through gritted teeth.

"And you need me for that? Wow, I'm almost flattered," He snickers before standing up and grabbing his bag.

"I'm so glad you aren't."

Slamming your laptop shut, you trudged ahead to the library to have the paper printed, moving slightly faster to avoid having to talk to (or argue with) Seokjin. You didn't have the energy to keep bickering, you were just glad this paper was over and you'd never have to talk to each other again.

You stood next to Seokjin, making sure there was distance between you two as your professor, Mr. Brown, began silently reading your work.

So far so good, he was nodding and smiling as he mouthed the words on the paper, making only a few marks on every other page.

All you needed to do was wait for him to announce your grade and you could both go your separate ways. Why couldn't time move any faster? You began counting the seconds to save yourself from boredom, but also to keep your eyes away from your partner.

"Wow, this is…" Mr. Brown spoke, breaking the silence.

"Yes?" You and Seokjin both asked in unison before glaring at each other for a millisecond.

"Unexpected," Mr. Brown says as he places your paper in front of you.

"Sir?" Your right eye narrows as you call in confusion. What does he mean?

"Unexpected. I thought for sure bringing you two together would produce a well-thought paper, but… this is terrible."

Terrible.

You felt your heart sink. No one has ever called your paper terrible. In fact, most of your papers almost always had good comments and praises and perfect marks, how could this have happened? You even made sure to check everything thrice before finalizing everything.

"What?" Seokjin exclaimed, "What do you mean our paper's terrible?"

"It lacks unity. Your opposing ideas are all over the place, I can tell you tried to link them, but you failed at it," Mr. Brown sighs in disappointment before taking his glasses off to breathe deeply, "You're aware of how many points this paper is, yes?"

"Yes," you and Seokjin spoke nervously.

"And you know only one submission is allowed, yes?"

"Yes," you both answered.

"You know where I'm getting at, right?"

You swallow nervously before speaking up, "Sir, can't we revise it and pass it again? We'll just tweak some of the—"

"I'm afraid you can't. You know the rules very well, Ms. Y/L/N," Mr. Brown shook his head. You sighed, feeling defeated.

"You both clearly have problems working together. Teamwork is part of the criteria, you know," Mr. Brown stood up to sit on the edge of his desk, "You're both our top performing students. I can understand how much your grades mean to you, but did you not consider how your differences could affect your output?"

"Is there any way we can get some extra credit to make up for this paper?" Seokjin asks. You felt a little relieved at his question as you were already feeling too nervous to ask any more.

Mr. Brown looked around in thought, "Well, there is a way I suppose. Some of the upperclassmen under my class are creating a short film and they need extra actors for their project. If you'd like to help them out, I'll give your paper full marks and add some extra points to your other outputs. It might be too taxing for you though."

"No! It's alright, could you give us their names so we can talk to them?" You asked. Mr. Brown nodded and began writing something down on a piece of paper before handing it over to you.

"I wish you two the best of luck. And please try to get along." Mr. Brown says before you and Seokjin excuse yourselves out of the room.

"What do you know? Even our papers show we don’t work together well," Seokjin mutters as you two rushed to find those seniors you needed to work with, "I could've passed if I just had the right partner."

"You're blaming me?" You couldn't believe it, the audacity, "I would've gotten perfect marks even if I wrote that paper with my eyes closed."

Seokjin laughs, "Yeah, okay. You might not have even gotten any marks if you weren't with me."

"You know, my expectations for you were low, but holy fuck," You snickered, "This is the first time I've ever gotten a comment like that on an output. I don't think you being my partner this time around was a coincidence.”

"Oh yeah? If you had just agreed to add my opinion on—"

Just as Seokjin began leaning in to you to defend his ideas, you turned around to face him, abruptly stopping his speech, "Could you just shut up and walk while we look for the guy on this paper?" Your blood was boiling at the sound of his voice, all you wanted to do was get this over with.

The two of you continued searching rooms with Seokjin following behind until you reached the room with the door number your professor had written down. You stared at the piece of paper and looked at the door, hesitating to knock.

"Give me that," Seokjin took the paper from your hand and quickly knocked before letting himself in as you followed.

"Hello, is Oliver Beck here?" Seokjin asked and everyone around stared, making you feel a bit uncomfortable. A guy with long hair wearing a plaid shirt came forward, "That's me, what is it?"

"Hi, we're students from Mr. Brown's class and we were wondering if we could participate as extras in your short film? He says we need the extra credit," Seokjin explained.

Oliver looks confused. "Extras? We've already got that covered," he says, "We need main actors."

"Main actors?" You asked.

"Yeah, no one has agreed to do it yet, but we've already asked some to—"

"We'll do it," Seokjin cuts him off, causing Oliver to raise his brows in surprise.

"You will?"

"Yeah, we really need the credit."

"Are you sure? You haven't seen the script yet," Oliver asks hesitantly.

"Positive. We'll do our best," You spoke.

"Er— alright then, follow me," Oliver motioned for the two of you to walk along. You and Seokjin couldn't help but send each other mutual confused expressions.

Neither of you knew what you were getting into. How bad could the film be that no one has agreed to do it?

Oliver pulls out two copies of what seemed to be scripts from his bag and hands them to the two of you, "Here. It's pretty short, so it shouldn't take long to memorize."

The script wasn't as thick as you thought it would be, so you decide to flip through pages to see what some of the scenes were like. Seokjin just stares at the title on the front page.

"I don't mean to pressure you but we start filming next month, so I'd start practicing if I were you," Oliver announces, "Anyways, I'd better get back to my friends. Send me your numbers so I can contact you guys for details."

After exchanging names and numbers with Oliver and a few of his group mates for the project, you and Seokjin finally left the room.

"Why do you think no one agreed to film with them?" Seokjin asks. You didn't exactly think you were both on friendly-conversation-terms, but the same question did linger in your mind.

"I don't know. Why? Are you backing out?" You asked mockingly.

"If there's anyone between us who'd back out from this, I'm pretty damn sure it wouldn't be me," He scoffs.

"You know, if we had just done that paper properly we wouldn't be stuck here doing some film that I don't even know," You sighed angrily.

"God, get over it. You should be glad you're even part of this extra credit thing. Technically I was the one who asked about it," Seokjin grunts.

"I am so close to taking this script and stabbing you with it," You glared at him.

Before you two parted ways, you both agreed to meet tomorrow at an empty rehearsal room to practice some of the scenes. You didn't know how this was even going to work, you blamed the whole thing on the paper even though you knew it was both your faults. How would starring in a film make up for everything if your paper couldn't even save you both?

You hung around in your dorm for the rest of the day to read through the script. A few hours later, Courtney, your best friend and roommate, arrived.

"I got your texts," she said a little too loudly as she entered, "Seriously? You're filming with Kim Seokjin?"

You let out a groan as you fell back on your bed with the script covering your face, "Ugh, I know! Can you believe my luck?"

"You know if any other girl had the chance, they'd thank all the gods right about now," Courtney laughed as she lied down on your bed, "I'm sorry about your paper though."

She was right. Seokjin was incredibly liked by everyone. He was the kind of person that exuded this welcoming aura, like you could easily be friends with him. Even people from other classes knew him. He always had that bright smile when it came to others. It was just different with you.

"It's fine. I didn't think our hate for each other would be reflected on our paper," you sighed, "And now I have to meet him tomorrow just to practice, ugh."

"You're meeting tomorrow?" Courtney raises a brow. You nod disappointingly.

"Well," Courtney sighed in annoyance, "Make sure he even gets there. If he stands you up again, I won't hesitate to beat the shit out of—"

You laughed, "Please, Court. He'll have to come this time. He's the one who got us into this."

"Yeah he'd better. Listen, call me immediately if he doesn't, okay? Wouldn’t hurt to give him a piece of my mind."

Ranting about Seokjin left you feeling ravenous, and it didn’t take long before you two decided to leave the room to grab some food from the cafeteria and talk about your day. When you both got back, you headed for bed and began reading the script, mouthing some of the lines to familiarize yourself with everything.

Not even a few pages later and you felt your mind wandering off as your eyes rolled back, feeling yourself drift away with the script falling off your bed as you fell into a deep sleep.

Seokjin was a few minutes late in the rehearsal room but you decided to let it slide since you two had to be on good terms to make this practice work. Based on what you've read so far; the story was about friends who've had feelings for each other for so long but couldn't do anything about it in fear of ruining their friendship. Generic, you thought.

"I'd say sorry for being late, but it's only you waiting," Seokjin says as he enters the room and drops his bag on the floor.

"I'd say no problem, I didn't wait long, but you're an imbecile that probably made me wait on purpose," You faked a smile before quickly turning back to a stern expression, "Did you read the script?"

"Just halfway," He says and pulls his copy of the script out from his bag, "Did you?"

"Same," you muttered, "So, let's start with the first scene?"

For the first thirty minutes you two had agreed to sit down and rehearse your lines. You were both good at reciting the dialogues, it almost seemed like you were professionals. You thought there wouldn't be any problems when it came to actually acting out the scenes until you both finally had to practice with delivery, you both sucked.

"What is so hard about not being stiff?" Seokjin exclaims.

"I am not stiff! You're just not moving that close to me!" You retorted, crossing your arms in defense.

"You know what? We've been going at this scene for an hour now and nothing looks right," Seokjin sighs.

"Of course nothing looks right, it's our first time practicing together. I've literally never done a scene with you before," You sat down on the floor and ran your fingers through your hair.

You'd think two top performing students would have a piece of cake acting out simple scenes with perfect chemistry, but you and Seokjin were far from it.

"We've never been partners before?" He asks, sitting down in front of you.

"No, never. And I honestly thought it'd stay that way," You grumbled.

"God, you talk as if this was my fault," Seokjin glares at you, "If we were the last people on Earth and had to do that paper again, I hope you know I'd rather choose a monkey than work with you."

"Why? Because great minds think alike?" You fought back.

"It's a well-known fact those animals have bigger brains than you do."

I swear to God, hold me back or I am gonna hurt him so bad.

"Why don't we just practice reading the lines and act them out tomorrow?" You suggested politely with a smile that was so painfully forced.

And so that was what you did for the next two hours, only rehearsing the first half of the film. That was what you did for the next two days, but the problem was though you two did sound great in dialogue, your act wasn't close to it.

Jin had a secret.

He's been keeping it for months now, and only his best friend, Yoongi, knew about it.

He didn't actually know why you two hated each other so much. He had no idea why you hated him at all. He just started going along with it until it became a habitual thing, but as to why this all started he had absolutely no clue.

"She's nice to me," Yoongi spoke as he shoved another potato in his mouth.

"She's nice to everyone," Jin added.

"Everyone but you," Yoongi laughed.

"I think the reason why you two can't get your scenes right is because you act like you hate each other," Yoongi told Jin as they ate their lunch, "Why don't you just ask her why she hates you so much?"

"I can't, she thinks I have a reason. It wouldn't make sense if I asked her," Jin shrugged, "It's kinda fun though, bickering with her. I just don't understand why."

Yoongi raised a brow, "Fun? Hold on, you're not…"

"It's not whatever you're thinking," Jin rolled his eyes, earning him a smirk from Yoongi.

"Right," Yoongi spoke, "What are you gonna do about your practice? Hasn't it been like, two weeks?"

"Yeah, and we're nowhere near done," Jin sighs, "Speaking of which, I have to go meet her now."

"Sounds like a date," Yoongi teased.

"I will hit you with this script," Jin warns him before taking his bag and muttering goodbye.

He hurriedly walked to the rehearsal room and checked his watch, he was late again today. Jin was sure he'd earn another lecture from you and how he lacked punctuality and that they'd never get anything done if he never arrived on time. Today he brought ear plugs, and before walking in he made sure to put them on before entering the room.

There was no noise.

It took him a minute to find you lying down on the floor on the side of the room, using your bag as a pillow. You were sleeping soundly as you clutched your script in your hand with earphones plugged in.

Jin closed the door behind him and quietly sat down in front of you. He watched as you slept peacefully, hair strands falling on your face.

You're pretty, Jin thought. You always have been attractive to him, and kind to others-- but it was always a different case when it came your relationship with him, or lack thereof. Without thinking, he found himself reaching out for your face, tucking the strands of hair behind your ear.

You opened your eyes and saw Jin sitting in front of you, his hand close to your face. His eyes widen and he quickly moves back, his ears turning red.

"What are you doing?" You asked, pulling your earphones out of your ears.

What was he doing? You hated each other. Was he not thinking straight for a moment just because you looked so peaceful and harmless while you slept? Was he forgetting how much you hated his guts?

"There was a bug," he lied and quickly stood up, shyly turning away from you.

That was odd. I could've sworn…

"Okaaay," You spoke awkwardly and stood up, rubbing your eyes to get rid of any eye crusts that may have formed while you were sleeping, "Whatever, let's practice."

You had to admit though, your practices were getting better. There was less banter and more productive work and you couldn't help but feel like a huge weight off your chest has just been lifted. Oddly enough, there were less insults coming from both sides and subtler, masked compliments.

"You know for a monkey, you're doing pretty well," Seokjin teased, causing you to roll your eyes but smile anyway.

"You can just say I'm talented, don't be shy," you joked, making him chuckle a bit.

It was awkward though, being "nice" to each other. With Seokjin, you were more used to insults and arguments rather than trying hard at compliments. At the same time, it felt kind of nice to know that it was possible to have more to your "relationship" rather than constantly fighting.

By the time you two had finished practicing, it was already dark out. You both sat on the floor for a good ten minutes before standing up and deciding to leave.

"Hey, Monkey, it's dark outside," Seokjin spoke, breaking the silence between you two.

"Yeah, I know," you replied. You were already used to going home alone in the dark, so you figured him trying to scare you wouldn't make any difference.

"How far is your dorm?" He asks.

"It's a twenty-minute walk, I guess," You tried not to sound surprised at his question, "Why?"

"Come on," he says and opens the door, "I'll walk you home." Seokjin turned all the lights off now, which thankfully hid his ears that were now red.

Your eyebrows were raised in shock as you stood there wondering if you heard him right.

"What are you doing standing there? Hurry up!" He called.

You stared in disbelief as you walked towards him, silently analyzing what food he must’ve had before practice that messed with his brain and made him nice all of a sudden. He closes the door behind you two and you both start walking.

It was silent. And awkward. And you were confused. Why was he suddenly being so nice? It felt so… weird.

"Are you sick?" You asked.

"No?" He looks at you, confused, "Why?"

"You're being nice," You said, a little too quietly.

"If something happened to you people would blame me because I was with you last," he explained quickly, "Plus, there are many animal abusers on the loose—"

"Oh, shut up, forget it," you shoved him lightly, holding back a smile as Seokjin laughed.

And then there was silence again.

"How do you wanna go about the last scene?" Seokjin asks out of nowhere.

The last scene? Oh, that scene.

It was your turn to turn pink now as you avoided trying to sound like the question bothered you. You tried your best to sound nonchalant as you answered.

"I don't know, just go with the flow, I guess…" you told him.

"When do you wanna practice?" He asks, sounding casual.

"Whenever you're ready," You muttered. Am I even ready?

When you finally got to your dorm, you contemplated whether or not you would say bye to him. While silently debating with yourself on what you should do as you stepped on the stairs leading to your building door, Seokjin beat you to whatever decision you might've made.

"I'll see you Monday, Monkey," Seokjin said, stopping in front of the first step.

"Thanks for walking with me, see ya," you said in a voice that sounded more monotone than you wanted it to be. Neither of you said anything else so you went ahead and walked in. Seokjin watched and finally left when you were no longer in sight.

The way he was acting today bothered you. Not in a bad way, you just didn't understand why he was being that way. Had something changed?

Once you entered your dorm room, you tried to fix your face into a normal one as you pushed your thoughts aside. Courtney immediately rushed over to you to ask you questions.

"You don't usually come home after dark, what took you so long?" She asked.

"I practiced with Seokjin, remember?" You spoke, carefully avoiding eye contact as you placed your bag on your chair.

"For this long?" She asks suspiciously.

"Yeah, we finally got some scenes right," you turned to face her as you plopped yourself onto your bed.

"About time," she sat on her chair, "Hey, will you go out with me tomorrow?"

"Ooooh, are you asking me out on a date?" You teased as Courtney rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No, at least not with me," she grins.

"Huh?" You asked, squinting one eye.

"Micara set me up on a blind date with someone on campus. Apparently they're bringing a friend so now it's a double blind date," she sighs.

"You agreed on a blind date? That's so sketchy," you commented, earning yourself a look from Courtney.

"Yeah, yeah, it's sketchy. I just did it for fun, Micara says he's really cute. I don't know about the friend, though."

"Cute is subjective."

"You have to come with me," Courtney pleads with puppy dog eyes.

"Courtney! No, ask someone else," you tried to shake your hand away from Courtney who was now holding onto your arm.

"It's gonna be so weird if I hang out with the two of them!"

"Well, that's what you get for saying yes to blind dates."

"Please! What if they actually are weirdos who want to take advantage of me?" She pouts. That did make you think twice. A smile begins to creep up on Courntey's lips, knowing you were about to say yes.

"You're lucky I love you," You sighed.

"Yes! Thank you so much, y/n," She pulls you in for a tight hug, "You won't regret coming with me."

The next time you saw Seokjin wasn't on Monday.

You saw him the next day. On the double date. In a movie theater.

Your heart nearly stopped.

At first you thought Courtney's date came alone and you almost made an excuse to leave, until Seokjin came carrying two bags of popcorn with him, almost dropping them when he saw you standing there.

"Monkey? What are you doing here?" Seokjin asked in shock.

"Do you two know each other?" Josh, Courtney's date, asks while taking one bag of popcorn.

"They hate each other," Courtney whispers to her date.

"You’re the friend?" You asked out loud.

"Before you two come for each other's necks, why don't we fall in line for the movie?" Courtney anxiously smiles as she and Josh begin to walk away to line up, leaving you and Seokjin staring at each other. The whole situation reminded you of that Spiderman meme.

Seokjin sighs and walks closer to you, "Guess I'm gonna have to stay with you."

"No one's forcing you to," you told him.

"Do you want me to leave then?" He challenges.

"I never asked you to come!" Your voice slightly raises in defense.

"Great, then!"

"Fine!"

But neither of you moved from where you stood. You just stared at each other, arms folded while Seokjin clutched onto the bag of popcorn. Finally, you let out a deep breath.

"I can't leave my friend," You spoke.

"So can I," He says, "Let's just fall in line."

Courtney and Josh were so far ahead now you could barely see their faces from where you were. Seokjin stood behind you in the line. Neither of you said anything.

There was a group of guys standing in front of you talking loudly to themselves. Suddenly you notice their voices turn down and they began whispering among themselves. You could've sworn you caught them stealing glances at you. The guy in front of you turns around to face you. You raise a brow.

"Hi, I'm Max," he introduces, "I couldn't help but notice you."

Well, duh. I'm right behind you.

"Oh, hello Max," You forced a polite smile.

"These are my friends," he motions at the group of guys behind him and they all wave, "You should join us."

Does he not know the tickets have assigned seats? Embarrassing.

"No, I really shouldn't," you tried to sound as friendly as possible to avoid any trouble, but the guy was persistent and he was beginning to annoy you.

"It's alright, we don't bite. Are you alone?" He asks, slowly moving closer while you tried to move back. This guy was extremely creepy.

"Uh—"

"She said no. Fuck off," You heard Seokjin speak up from behind you, his voice much deeper and more intimidating causing chills to run down your spine. It was different from the way he spoke to you whenever you would banter.

"I was talking to her, who even are you?" Max says rudely and glares at Seokjin.

"I'm the guy she came with. What's your deal?" Seokjin moves forward and places his hand on your shoulder to subtly move you away from the guy.

"Oh, yeah? I never saw you talking to her," Max challenges.

"I think she already said no once. How many times does she have to decline before you understand that no means no?" Seokjin crosses his arms. He was much taller than the creepy guy, who was obviously starting to become intimidated by him.

"Dude, back the fuck off. We were here first," Max spits. They were so close, you almost thought a fight was about to happen.

"Do you realize how stupid you sound?" Seokjin frowns. That was enough. People were beginning to stare so you held onto Seokjin's arm, "Seokjin, it's fine. Just stop talking to him."

"No, this guy is extremely disrespectful and creepy!" Seokjin's voice was a little too loud now, "You don't get to force girls you don't even know to stick with you and your friends. That is so close to predatory behavior," he points at the guy and people start backing away from him and his friends.

"She already said no once, you shouldn't try to peer pressure her into coming with you!" Seokjin says, "And she's not alone," he grabs your hand, taking you by surprise, "She came with me. Now screw off before I call security."

Max, along with his friends, were evidently scared of Seokjin now as they all glared at him and left. Your heart was beating fast from anticipating the worst out of the scenario, but Seokjin handled it pretty well. You were too shy to admit it, but he saved your ass today.

The two of you watched as the group of guys left, his hand still clutching onto yours. When they were gone, he looked down at you, "Are you okay?" He asks, concern evident in his voice.

You were at a loss for words. He defended you, and he's still holding onto your hand really right. This was the first time you've ever seen him truly concerned about you. You'd like to think you could've defended yourself as well, but the fact that Seokjin did it for you sent this warm feeling in your chest that you couldn't understand.

"Yeah. Fine," you spoke but it came out as a whisper. You cleared your throat, "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"No problem," he gives you a small smile, "I don't suppose you still wanna watch this movie?"

"God, no, honestly," you laughed a bit, "I never wanted to."

He laughs and steps out of line and so do you, then he politely mentions the people behind you two to take your place. His hand was still holding yours, and you were beginning to wonder if he had noticed. You didn't let go, either.

"Let's hang out then," Seokjin blurts out. He tries to ignore the feeling of heat on his ears as he looks at you to wait for your response. You tried your hardest not to seem at all fazed.

"Sure."

Seokjin suggests going to an arcade, and so you did. When you got there, you both had to stand outside for ten minutes or so trying to finish the popcorn he bought because food and drinks weren't allowed inside.

"Why'd you buy such a big bag anyway? Were you planning on feeding the whole audience?" You tried to chew and swallow five at a time to hurry up.

"I thought the movie was gonna be boring, this was all I could do," Seokjin says defensively.

"At the rate we're eating this we're gonna get some kind of ulcer," You grumbled.

"You don't seem to be having a problem," he laughs and you playfully slap his arm.

Once you got in, you raced to one of those zombie shooting games. Seokjin was good at aiming and definitely had more kills than you did, but you couldn't help but laugh at how startled he got every time a jumpscare appeared.

"Look at all your deaths, you suck at this," he laughed while pointing at your score.

You blushed, "Ha-ha, funny. I bet you can't beat me at racing," you smirked, challenging him to a race.

"You're on," he grinned.

The two of you then proceeded to one of the car games and true enough, you beat him at it. He wasn't even close to being good. He hit every sidewalk and his car kept slowing down.

"Are you even driving? You might as well run if you even want a chance at winning," You teased as you continuously accelerated.

"How are you so good at this? Are you secretly part of those illegal street racers?" Seokjin was struggling with his car as he moved his steering wheel around.

When you were done racing, Seokjin spots one of those stuffed toy machines. "Do you want one?" He asks jokingly, not actually expecting you to say yes, though he didn't exactly mind getting one for you…

"No. Nuh-uh, that is so cheesy," you laughed and shook your head, "Let's play guitar hero."

It was difficult to admit it to yourself at first, but you were having so much fun with Seokjin. Of course, you two never stopped teasing each other with little insults, but now it felt so much more lighthearted. You started getting along well with him, it no longer felt awkward or forced.

Seokjin felt the same way. In fact, there were moments where he'd subconsciously find himself staring at your lashes, or giving you soft pats when you won a game as an excuse to get close to you. He didn't realize how natural it came to him at all, until he found his gaze fixed upon your smile that sent a warm feeling all over him.

You've never smiled at him so genuinely before. Seeing it now, it was as if your beauty had been completely magnetized. Now all he wanted to do was see more of that smile. In almost all the games you played, Seokjin decided to go easy on you so you'd win most of them. It was amusing to him, seeing you so competitive. Seeing you happy every time you won felt like a win for him as well.

When your eyes shifted to meet his, you noticed how he quickly looked away while the color of his ears turned into that familiar shade of red.

"Let's just play one last game, I'm starving," you held your hand to your stomach.

"Really? After all that popcorn?" He teased, followed by the sound of his own stomach rumbling, making you laugh.

"You tried," you laughed, "Let's play that one." You pointed at the Just Dance machine.

After a minute of arguing on what song to pick, Seokjin ended up choosing (your song of choice). Of all the games you could have picked, you started to regret choosing Just Dance. You didn't even /know/ how to dance, what made you think you could beat him at this game?

You glanced over at Seokjin who was dancing flawlessly and effortlessly. Your mouth dropped, and you stopped dancing altogether to watch him move. He was so focused on the game, he hadn't noticed you stopped playing just to watch him.

Your eyes fixated on his every move. He moved so well, you could feel your heart thumping louder as you watched in awe.

He was so attractive.

Finally, the game was over and Seokjin was surprised to see you standing there, just watching him with your mouth open. He holds back a laugh and moves towards you, placing his finger on your chin making you close your mouth. He was so close to you; you could feel your cheeks heat up.

"Surprised?" He asks.

"Who knew you could dance like that?" You spoke, but mostly to yourself.

"I don't know, natural talent I guess. Why'd you stop dancing, monkey? I thought you'd beat me at it," Seokjin pokes your forehead.

"I was just giving you a chance," You played off, "You should me thanking me."

He raises a brow and smiles, "Then as thanks I'll buy you food, come on."

You both decide to go for churros in a cafe. Seokjin suggested to dine in because you'd probably spill the chocolate as you walked, so you sat across each other in a small but comfortable space. Even though you insisted on paying for your own food, he beat you to it and paid for it instead.

"Just take it as a thank you gift for 'letting me win'," he says while adding air quotes. When he was no longer looking, you broke into a smile at his thoughtful gesture.

"You know, I never thought I'd say this but I'm actually having fun," You told him in manner where you tried to play it cool. He smiles and nods at this.

"See what happens when you aren't busy hating me?" He says with a cheesy smile, "You'll never find anyone as fun as I am."

"Sure, Seokjin," you rolled your eyes, "Just wait ‘til we start practicing and start ripping each other's throats out."

"That's not gonna happen."

"And why is that?"

"I'm confident something's changed," he grins charmingly with eyes looking fond for a moment you had to look away for fear of turning red in front of him.

You cleared your throat, "Whatever you say."

As you two continued to eat, you started talking about all sorts of things. Why you got into acting, how he was so good at dancing, how you and Courtney met. The flow of your conversations came naturally and you found yourselves wanting to know more and more about each other.

Time kept ticking, but you two didn't seem to notice. Even when you were done with your food, neither of you seemed close to running out of things to talk about.

Out of nowhere, Seokjin suddenly stopped and brought his hand close to you and you felt him gently touch your face. You stopped breathing.

"An eyelash," he says while moving his hand back.

"Oh, thanks," you tried hiding how flustered you were.

His phone started ringing, muttering a "One moment," before quickly answering it.

"Josh," he spoke. Your eyes widened.

Courtney!

You checked your own phone as Seokjin spoke to his friend. Your phone was filled with hundreds of messages from her asking where you two were and what you were doing.

"I'm with her," You heard Seokjin say, "You want us to leave you two alone? Then I guess you're doing well."

Leave them alone? That made you look up at him before typing a message to send to Courtney.

I'm with Seokjin and I'm doing great. I'll tell you everything later. I think Josh wants us to leave you guys alone. You alright? Are you having fun? Message me if you need me.

"Alright, see you tomorrow then. No, no it's fine, I'll bring her home," Seokjin continued, "Bye. Stay safe."

"They want us to leave them."

"I have ears, Seokjin."

"Big ones too, monkey," He jokes, "I'm kidding. And stop calling me Seokjin, no one calls me that."

Right, his friends called him Jin.

"Just call me Jin," He says, "None of my close friends call me Seokjin."

"Are you saying we're close friends?"

"I feel like we're moving too fast," He says sarcastically, laughing at his own joke before he continued, "No, our relationship's much more special than that."

You choked on your own saliva, "What?" Did you hear that right? Our relationship's what?

"We're partners that failed a paper and are now working on a movie," He laughs, "I'd say it's been great journey so far."

"And I'd say it's been a pleasure but it really hasn't."

"Seeing as you had fun with me today, I don't think that's true," he smirked. Why was it getting harder to get back at him?

"Shut up," You couldn't think of anything anymore.

You suddenly thought of asking him about it.

The reason why you disliked him so much in the first place. Why he left you alone without telling you.

Does he even remember?

But the mood between you two was great right now, so you decided to push the thought aside and ask some other time.

Shortly after, you two finally left the cafe and walked around, continuing your conversation. After a few more hours later, you decided it was getting late and that you should probably get back. Jin offered to take you home. The ride home was just as fun, blasting music and playing songs that you both knew.

He walked you back to your dorm and you both stopped at the steps outside the building.

"Thanks for today Monkey, I had fun," Jin smiles.

"Stop calling me that," You laughed.

"Then what do you suggest I call you?"

"Your highness."

"Too long. Princess?"

"Jeez, I was kidding," You chuckled nervously, obviously flustered so you took a step back on the first step, "Keep 'Monkey', I don't care."

He raises a brow at your response. "Your replies were better than that," Jin took a step in front of you, your faces were now close and your eyes levelled each other's. You gulped nervously.

"I'm just running out," You said coolly (or at least, in your head you thought it was cool), "You're moving to some new level of annoying and it takes some getting used to."

"I annoy you?" He asks.

"Yes. 24/7."

"I guess I'm living in your mind, rent-free," he smirks, "24/7, huh?"

You were beginning to feel even more flustered now and you knew that Jin noticed by the smirk on his face. He begins to step back and his face turns back to a warm smile.

"You wish," you spoke, "Bye, I'm leaving. Thanks for the drive." Before you could turn your back, Jin takes your hand and holds onto it. You almost muttered an "Oh my god" out loud at his action.

"Y/N, wait," he says, pulling you close to him, making you step down. Your faces were inches apart now.

"What?"

You heart was beating, trying to anticipate what he was gonna do next. Was he gonna lean in? Why was he staring at you like that? His face was so near. Did you want him to lean in?

"The last scene," he spoke.

"What?" Seemed like the only words you knew how to say now.

"The last scene," he spoke again, "We haven't practiced it yet."

Whatever it was you were expecting was off the table as you let out a sigh that Jin thought was out of relief. "Monday, we'll do it Monday. But we can't use the rehearsal room," you told him.

"Yeah, I figured. Where do you wanna practice, then?" He asks.

"Is your place available?" You asked before realizing how suggestive you sounded, "Because Courtney's usually home early."

Seokjin grins, "Yeah, my place is fine."

"Okay, great."

"Great."

"So, I'm gonna go now," You said slowly.

"Right," Jin lets go off you, "I'll see you Monday. For real this time."

"Monday, okay. See you," you waved before turning around and entering your dorm. You resisted the urge to look back and check if had already left, so you walked quickly before you changed your mind.

However, if you did look back, you'd find Jin patiently waiting until you were out of his sight, smiling to himself because of today's events. When he was sure you were gone, he finally left.

Jin was right. Something has definitely changed between you two. The day after your "date", you couldn't stop thinking about the way he was with you. He was kinder, more fun to be around. You didn't expect him to be that thoughtful, either. Of course, he was all these things to others, but now he was like that with you. Then you realized he was all you've been thinking about. It scared you slightly.

He really did live in your mind, rent-free.

"What happened, by the way?" Courtney asked.

You snap out of your thoughts and looked at her, "Yesterday?"

"Yeah, you and Seokjin disappeared."

"We decided not to watch the movie, then we hung out in an arcade."

"You hung out with him?" Courtney eyed you suspiciously, slowly making her way towards you to sit next to you on the bed.

"Yeah."

"And you're both still alive?"

"Yeah."

"So what was he like?" She asks.

"He was… nice. He saved my ass from a group of creepy guys," you smiled as you thought about it, "And he's good at dancing."

"You danced with him?"

"No, on Just Dance."

Courtney just stares, obviously shocked because she never thought you and Seokjin would get along, "You basically went on a date."

"It wasn't a date!" You said defensively, "We just… left you two. Didn't Josh tell Jin to leave you guys?"

"You call him Jin now, that's actually really cute," Courtney teases, then changes her expression to a frown, "Wait, no. Josh never said anything like that."

Huh? But I thought... "What do you mean?"

"He called Seokjin two hours later after you two still didn't show up, then he started going all 'What? What are you saying? No, I never said you two should leave us' and all that," Courtney explained, "Then he said Seokjin offered to take you home and that you two were still together. I got your message minutes later and you said you were doing great so I didn't worry."

"What? But Jin said he asked us to leave you guys…" You trailed off.

"He did? Well Josh never asked you guys to leave."

Oh my God. It didn't make sense. Why would Jin…?

"I'm thinking he wanted to spend more time with you," Courtney says, giving you a teasing look like she knew something. You only look at her. You didn't really know what to say.

It took you a while to sleep that night trying to analyze what was going on with Jin. Every little thing he did stuck in your head and it was making you confused. He affects you now in ways you never thought he ever would, you weren't sure if that terrified you.

One thing's for sure, this was the first time you wanted the weekend to pass by quickly.

You saw Jin on Monday, and the next day, and the day after that. Sometimes you'd practice, other days you'd both just sit down and talk if you were too tired. You still hadn't got the last scene right, both of you were still in the "dialogue-only" phase. Truthfully, you were both just waiting for the other to initiate it first.

On days where you and Jin would decide to just hang out and take a break, you began to notice how much nicer he had become towards you. Apart from that, you noticed him so much more now that you almost admired whatever it was he did.

Today was the last day of your practice and you both finally got through the scene. Tomorrow would be the actual shoot and you were already feeling confident that you'd do well. Just one part made you a bit uneasy, the actual kiss. You could feel how you two were so obviously trying to distract yourselves by doing other things, just to prevent an awkward atmosphere.

"Let's take a break," Jin says tiredly, sitting down on the floor.

"Shouldn't Yoongi be back by now?" You asked and sat down across him.

"No, he's over at his hometown visiting. Says he needs his space on his music project," Jin takes a piece of chip from the bag of snacks you brought, "He'll be back in a few days." You only nodded, staring at the television that was showing a movie with people drinking some fancy wine.

"I want that," you said quietly, mostly to yourself.

"Want what?" Jin looks at you, "That high class society? Fancy people around?"

"No, what they're drinking," You pointed at the wine.

"Wine?" His voice slightly sounding shocked.

"Yeah, I should tell Courtney to go get some…" you muttered absent-mindedly as you continued to watch the people drinking onscreen. Jin suddenly stands up and walks over to their mini fridge. You watched as he pulled a bottle of wine out and proceeded to grab wine glasses from a cabinet.

You sat up straight, not expecting him to actually bring you wine. "What are you doing?"

"You said you wanted wine," he says, setting the glasses down on the small coffee table.

"Yeah, but—" You stared at the bottle, "How do you even have that?"

"Yoongi drinks them to think," He says and pops it open, "I drink them with him." You stared as he poured himself a glass. "Do you want one?" He asks.

You took one of the empty glasses and moved it close to him, so he poured you some as well. Jin sat next to you on the floor as you two sat in silence, watching— no, just staring at the TV screen, sipping on your glasses of wine.

Later on, the TV was shut off and you two went back to talking. Your scripts were set aside on the bed, almost completely forgotten.

"I don't get drunk easily," Jin says, "I think you do, though. You're turning slightly red."

It was either that or because of how close you two were right now.

The wine made you talk so much, much more than usual. Jin found it interesting. He really did have a high alcohol tolerance, and watching you talk about the most random things amused him a lot.

"There's something I wanna know," You spoke, "Two things, actually." This was it. You weren't drunk, but you were beginning to lose the ability to filter the words coming out of your mouth.

"What is it?" He asks softly.

"Why did you tell me Josh told us to leave them alone?" You stared at him, he stared back at you.

"How'd you know about that?" He asks.

"Courtney." You heart beat fast. You knew what you wanted to hear, you just wanted him to say it fast.

"I'll answer you, but you'll have to answer my question after, deal?"

"Deal."

Jin set his glass down before looking deep into your eyes.

"I wanted to spend more time with you." He wanted to say something more than that. Something more serious, but he had to know your answer first.

You weren't sure what to make of that now. It was what you wanted to hear… or was it? Now it could mean completely different things.

"Oh, okay," your face began to heat up, and it wasn't because of the alcohol now, "So what's your question?"

"Why did you hate me so much? I mean, assuming you don't anymore… unless you still do," Jin asks.

"What?"

You looked at him, searching for any sign of sarcasm or a tell that he was lying. He wasn't. He looked back at you with a serious expression on his face. There was a silence that lasted for a minute, almost as if time had stopped.

"You don't remember?"

"Don't remember what? Was it something I did?" Jin looks confused. Maybe he really didn't remember. But it only happened eight months ago. Has it really been that long?

"Eight months ago a friend set me up with you," You explained, feeling slightly embarrassed at the context.

"Someone set you up with me?" Jin asks, raising a brow.

"Yeah…" you could feel your face heating up now, "It was supposed to be like a blind date thing, so I initially didn't know it was you. So I went to the place and waited but you stood me up and when I told my friend about it, she told me Kim Seokjin couldn't make it."

"Then when I saw you the next day, you didn't seem to care and it made me so angry— the fact that you never apologized or even talked about it," You continued, "And that made me despise you."

Jin was staring at the floor now trying to recall what happened. He looked lost and confused. He reached out for his glass and took a sip before turning to face you again.

"I don't hate you anymore," You told him, in fact maybe you were beginning to feel the opposite for weeks now.

"Y/n, are you sure that happened? Because I don't remember ever being set up with you—or anyone, for that matter," Jin says, "And believe me when I say that because I've always turned down set ups and blind dates and whatnot."

"Huh?"

"I swear, that really wasn't me. Someone must've used my name."

"Why would someone use your name?"

"I don't know, I—" He runs his hand through his hair, "I've been told there are guys who are jealous of me or something. Maybe they used my name to get back at me."

"That's so low," you felt a pang of guilt now. You've been hating on him for all the wrong reasons, everything suddenly felt like a false memory. If only you'd known sooner, "What the fuck," you muttered quietly.

"What the fuck indeed," Jin sighs.

"I'm so sorry, I should've known," You looked at him.

"No, don't be. I'm sorry you had to go through that, and I apologize you thought it was me all along," He held your hand, "If anything, I should've known. You were never just mean to anyone on purpose. I should've asked you."

There was silence between you two as he stared at both of your hands intertwined, while you stared at his face, trying to get everything to sink in.

"What was your second question?" Jin finally asks.

"Why you stood me up," you laughed, "Turns out you didn't."

"You know," Jin spoke while his free hand reached for his glass. He finishes the drink in his hand before continuing, "If you did ask me out, I wouldn't leave you out in the cold."

You laughed, "Why would I ask you out?"

"I don't know. Got any ideas?" Jin teased. You smiled and bit your lip, not knowing what to say next. The lip bite did things to him, but he was trying his very best not to seem at all fazed before realizing he was already staring at your lips.

Maybe you were tipsy enough to finally do this.

You drank your wine and grabbed your script from the bed. Jin watched as you flipped over to the last scene.

"Michael," you began reading your lines as you stood, Jin's hand leaving yours, "You know we can't do this. It'll ruin everything."

Jin doesn't even need his script anymore due to the countless times you've both practiced the dialogues alone, "It's not gonna ruin everything, or anything for that matter." He stands up to face you.

"Yes, it will. You know how this will risk our friendship. This won't end well."

"Your eyes tell me otherwise."

"I don't—"

"You do, and you know it," Jin moves closer now, and you can feel your heart beating.

"Emily, I love you. I always have, and you know that. I know you feel the same." He places his hand on your waist. There were no lines left for you to read now, just one last thing your characters needed to do.

It was at this point where you both felt the wine was getting to your system.

He leaned in close, staring at your lips as you slowly moved back. When you couldn't anymore, you felt his lips meet yours, and before you knew it, he was kissing you— and you were kissing him back. You could feel his soft lips pressing against yours as your hands travelled up to his chest. You both fell back onto his bed as the kiss progressed into a rougher pattern of movements. Your hands grabbed onto his shirt while one of his hands gripped onto your waist, the other pushed back onto the mattress for support.

When you two pulled away to gasp for air, the awkwardness of the position you two were in never registered your brain. Instead, your eyes met each other's, searching for any sign of denial. When Jin sensed that there was none, he crashed his lips back onto yours.

Your mind was overflowing with euphoria and adrenaline. You were nervous, excited— you didn't know what was going to happen next. The moment his lips started trailing down your neck, small sounds began to escape from your lips. Whimpers that drove Jin wild as he began to pick up the pace.

The scene about to happen was no longer part of the script, but you were both more than willing to play the part.

The next morning, you woke up next to Jin who was sleeping soundly with his arms wrapped around you. Last night's events started coming back to you as you gently tried to squiggle out of his hold.

Panic was the first feeling that rushed over you.

1. The shoot was in a few hours and here you were, dressed in Jin's oversized shirt and sweat pants.

2. Your tendency to over think began creeping in.

What if he only did it because of the heat of the moment? You suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment because you thought you had initiated the whole thing with the script reading and all. Maybe he liked you. Maybe he didn't. Neither of you said anything about liking the other last night, so what if it didn't mean anything? You couldn't deal with this right now, so you silently picked up your things and left.

It was still pretty early in the morning, so you tried your best not to make a sound while Courtney was asleep. You took a shower and got ready before you headed out and went to the place where you had to film.

The group of upperclassmen greeted you as you walked in and made your way to Oliver, who would be directing the whole film.

"Hey, y/n. Glad you're here early, where's Jin?" Oliver asks.

"I think he's on his way," you lied. As if on cue, Jin enters the room and people start to greet him. Oliver calls him and Jin makes his way to you two. You couldn't look at him at all.

"You two should start changing, we'll start in 30," Oliver announces and you two head for the changing rooms. You walked a little faster to avoid conversation.

For the rest of the filming process, you both received compliments from everyone on your acting skills. You barely needed to repeat takes which was a relief. You and Jin had the perfect chemistry.

Jin kept trying to talk to you in between breaks, but you'd just give short and simple answers, sometimes just avoiding him altogether. You just couldn't bring yourself to make any eye contact that wasn't on set, or else you'd feel this churning feeling in your stomach and it made you uncomfortable. Soon enough, Jin got the idea and suddenly turned all silent as he observed your every move.

Finally, you had to shoot the last scene. You tried your very best not to appear bothered which seemed to work because no one has asked about why you look so uneasy. Jin was trying his best not to beg you to tell him what was wrong.

"I want you guys to give this your best shot. This scene is the most important, and I need to see more of your chemistry, got it?" Oliver tells them.

The cameras began rolling and Oliver shouts "action".

"Michael, you know we can't do this. It'll ruin everything." You were sat on a sofa and Jin was standing next to it.

"It's not gonna ruin everything, or anything for that matter." Jin says his line and sits close, next to you. You look back at him.

"Yes, it will. You know how this will risk our friendship. This won't end well." You stood up and turned away from him.

He places his hands on your waist and turns you around for your eyes to meet. He pauses for a brief second before his line, "Your eyes tell me otherwise."

"I don't—"

"You do, and you know it." Jin continues, pulling you closer to him. "Emily, I love you. I always have, and you know that. I know you feel the same." he places his hand on your cheek, and you both stare at each other.

"Maybe I do," you muttered, shocking Jin. He continues the act and finally pulls you in for a kiss. Everything came flashing back. You wanted more than what you two had now, it was so easy to see.

"Cut!" Oliver shouts and he begins to clap and you and Jin began to pull away. He looks at you for a moment, and you look back at him.

"Y/n, that improvisation was amazing!" Oliver shouts, still clapping his hands together. You snap out of it and laugh nervously, "Thanks."

"If I hadn't known better, I'd think you two were seeing each other," Oliver teases, "I'm glad you two took this role. Thanks, you guys."

After a few more praises from Oliver, you headed back to the changing room to wear your normal clothes. Scenes of your kiss and scenes from last night began replaying in your mind. You wanted to ask him what it meant, but you were afraid to be the only one falling.

You left the changing room and decided to leave quietly. As you were about to head out, you heard a voice call from behind you.

"Y/n."

The voice alone made you stop in your tracks. There was no need to turn around to know who it was; it was Jin. He walked over to you, holding your wrist so you would face him.

"You're avoiding me," he spoke. You looked around, checking if the coast was clear. When you decided it was, you soon.

"I'm not," you lied.

"Stop lying," the hurt in his voice was evident, "You are. You wouldn't even answer my texts."

"You texted?" You hadn't checked your phone since you left his apartment, "I haven't checked my phone."

"Why did you leave?" He had this disappointed look on his face. Knowing it was because of you made you feel even worse.

"Honestly? I was scared," you admitted.

"Of what?"

"That we only did that because of the heat of the moment. That it was all just for fun. That it was because of the alcohol. That it meant nothing."

"Is that really what you think?"

"No," You looked down, "I mean, I'd like to think it isn't."

"Y/n, you know it isn't," Jin said quietly.

"I didn't think it was," he admits, making you look up at him, "I meant it all. Me wanting to spend time with you. Walking you home. Kissing you. It all meant something to me."

"It did?"

"Yeah. When you fell asleep before I did, you looked so peaceful. I started thinking about how I could look at you forever, and the thought of waking up next to you made me happy," He held your hand, "But when I woke up, you were gone."

"I'm sorry, Jin, I just—" You sighed, "I thought of all the worst things and left. I panicked. That's really all I can say." He nodded.

"But did you mean what you set on set? Or was it really just improv?" He asked, his eyes staring deeply into yours.

You nodded, "Yeah, I did."

Jin just nodded and looked at your eyes. Had you really upset him this much?

"Jin, I'm really s—"

Before you could finish your apology, Jin takes his free hand and grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer for a kiss.

This time it felt different.

It felt so, real. No alcohol, no script. It was just Jin.

You wanted it to last forever.

When you two finally pulled away, Jin was the first to speak.

"I like you, a lot, y/n. And I've realized that for a while now," he tells you.

"I like you too," you couldn't help but smile, ignoring at how much your cheeks burned. It was fine, Jin's ears were just as red, "Even though you suck at racing games and my ideal boyfriend is an illegal street racer.”

Jin laughs, and you couldn't help but laugh with him because of all this. All the banter turned to compliments and all the eye-rolling turned to kisses. Now you were more than just partners who failed a paper and ended up working on a movie.

"That's alright, Monkey," Jin grins before placing a kiss on your forehead.

"The only thing I need to keep racing is your heart, not a car."

a/n: sorry it got longer than expected. anyways if you read until here, thank you for reading! i hope you liked it! send me comments/asks anytime if u want.

also, if you’d like to read my two other works, here are the links!

let’s fall in love for the night

welcome to my youtube channel

which are both taehyung x readers.

see you in my next fic/edit!

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thechekhov · 5 years ago

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So here’s the thing.

Since I’ve opened up my askbox to people wanting to understand BLM better, I’ve consistently gotten a specific kind of message almost MORE often than any other kind:

‘Hello, I can’t do (insert activism or passive support here). Am I bad?’

I don’t know if most of the people sending me these messages are non-Black or not. I imagine a big pie slice of them are in fact white... So I’m going to answer assuming you’re white.

1) Reward vs. Punishment - Parent Yourself Properly

Now I’ll say this - your anxiety is probably not directly your own fault. Many of us grew up being raised to fear failure. What this means, unfortunately, that we focus on failure way more than growth and success. We focus on it so much, in fact, that we prioritize our own failure and end up inevitably training ourselves to ignore every other avenue and self-punish uselessly instead of seeking alternate routes.

When you are walking down the road and there is a fallen tree in your way, (read: if you cannot do something) the healthy response is not to lay down in the middle of the road and sob. The healthy response is to ask yourself ‘why is this tree here?’ or ‘can I go around the tree somehow?’ or even ‘while waiting for the tree to be removed, can I do an alternate activity like sitting by the tree and taking a break from all that walking?’

Things that will not help you feel better: Badmouthing yourself about not being able to move the tree. Feeling guilty about the tree being there. Etc...

Learn to work with what you have instead of feeling bad about it. Stop expending so much energy to punish yourself. Contrary to popular belief, hitting yourself in the head repeatedly does not make you smarter.

2) Your guilt should not be the focus here.

I know it’s difficult to stomach but the truth is, no matter how guilty you feel, how hard you panic... nothing will change. You will not be helping anyone MORE by spending hours chanting ‘am I a bad ally?’ under your blanket alone in your room. Again, you cannot self-punish yourself into usefulness.

You have to ask yourself - why did you send me a message focused entirely on seeking forgiveness for things I can’t absolve you of? You hyperfocused on something that isn’t directly affecting anyone.

The reality is, plenty of people aren’t doing anything. You aren’t alone. There are people who are sleeping, or who are ill, or who just have other life things going on. The point of the movement is that there are MANY people, and the more that care about the issue the better.

EVERYTHING helps. Educating yourself helps. Just caring and knowing about it helps. Sometimes even liking a post helps. Taking a break also helps! If it’s helping to keep you healthy to be able to care about things another day - fine! That’s perfectly fine.

3) You aren’t getting overtime clout for caring more than 8 hours a day.

I know some people write stuff like ‘if you ignore this/don’t retweet this you’re contributing to (bad thing).’

That is a hyperbole. And yes, it’s a tactic used often to guilt people into action.

The truth of the matter is, your activism isn’t - SHOULDN’T be - affected by its visibility. You shouldn’t care more about what people will think than you should care about the issues themselves. I know it’s hard, I know we all have that stupid ass voice in our heads that makes us care what people think - yes, that’s how we’re wired. We’re social creatures and we want approval from our peers.

But at the end of the day, only YOU can truly know how much you did. If you have a chronic illness and all you managed to do was lay in bed and send good vibes and not look at twitter at all - that’s still just as valid as some instagram model with 10k followers posting photos of herself with a BLM sign.

I will be harsh on one thing though - WHY do I have more of THIS message than I have of ‘hey, i wanna learn about ____’? Why are the majority of us seeking absolution instead of asking what we COULD do?

You cannot change the reality of your situation - and no one will blame you for that! - but you CAN change how you view it and what you do from here on out.

You CAN send me an ask of ‘hey, I cannot interact with media rn because I panic, but do you think there’s anything I can do that won’t trigger my anxiety but will still be helpful?’

You CAN send me an ask of ‘hi, lots of people are making me feel guilty for not participating more - do you know of any chill ways to support BLM that can help me feel involved in a non conflicting way?’

You CAN just quietly forgive yourself for not being super active and go to bed, take a rest, and make a silent promise that no one will know about that someday, when you DO have the energy, when you ARE feeling better, you will participate and support Black people and stand up to racism, and not be complicit.

Don’t ask me people for permission to not hate yourself. Allow yourself to be ok. Then ask how you can be better.

#chekhov answers #blm #yblm #black lives matter #i am trying to be gentle #but the reality is #this is not about you #and that is ok #it doesnt have to be about you

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antimony-medusa · 1 year ago

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HELLO DSMP ENTHUSIASTS

I am come to you with my hat in my hand to tell you about a Fun New Event *jazz hands* that's running this fall that I am trying to lure people into. Ahem.

So Fic In A Box is one of the major multifandom fanfiction exchanges, so it runs on the People Submit Tags To A Tag Set > Everybody Signs Up With Ships They Want To Write And Want To Receive > Assignments Go Out > Work For Two Months > Reveals Once Everybody Gets A Gift. However, it has some interesting fun quirks which make it really fun and which is why I'm trying to lure DSMP people into it so I can match on DSMP plz plz plz.

First thing: It's a 10k exchange. You get two months to write it, but everybody makes or recieves (unless you have to drop) a 10k gift or equivilent. Don't you want a 10k gift? Come onnnnnnn do ittttt.

Wait, Equivalent?

Yes, this is point two. One of the things Fic In A Box is famous for is that you can opt into a whole bunch of rulesets, and they break everything down to 1k-equivilent increments, and so you can get 7k of fic, and 2k's worth of propoganda posters, and 1k worth of podfic, for example. 4k of birth chart analysis of your fave characters, 6k of in-world cost analysis spreadsheets. 2k fic, 8k worldbuilding headcanons. This ruleset is CRAZY in terms of the sort of stuff you can opt into, I encourage you to take a look at the tag set, it's everything from dress-up game to art remixes of your existing fic to in-world reddit articles to interactive fiction to poetry to gifsets to costume design. I'm personally looking at in-world RPF and in-world social media for DSMP and chortling madly as I imagine.

So wait, you might get one 10k gift or you might get several smaller gifts?

Yes, point 3. The other thing Fic In A Box does that they're famous for is swaps, which is where you look at all the sign ups in a handy app, and you go shopping among them, and then you go to the mods and say "I want to do 4k on my original assignement, and 2k of usernamealpha, and 3k of usernamebeta, and 1k of usernamthree" and they say "i'll see what I can do", and then the mods run everybody's requsts through the single most complicated spreadsheet in the world to make everybody's requests balance out to 10k, and then you get little micro assignments to work on over the two months.

This means both that if a 10k fic seems daunting, you can write a couple smaller gifts and work up to it that way, and also, though this isn't like something to plan for, if life gets bad you can do partial defaults and just turn in your 4k, you're not *necessarily* on the hook for 10k.

So now you're seeing why I want to recruit more DSMP people, eh? Currently I'm only matchable with one person. Please sign up. I want to do swaps. I want to set myself four impossible assignments. JOIN MEEEEE. Sign ups are open until September 3rd! Message me for more information and I will happily infodump and explain at you!

(more about the tag set and thus the stuff you can request/offer under the cut, cause it gets long)

There are like over a thousand individual fandoms in the tag set to choose from for your sign-up, and in addition to SMPEarth, QSMP, 3rd Life, Hermitcraft, Empires, and Outsiders SMP being in the tag set, this is the list of DSMP tags has SO many options, (some may not be to your taste but then you can just not offer them and wash your hands of it)

Clay | Dream & Eret (Dream SMP)

Dream/Philza/Technoblade (Dream SMP)

Dream/Technoblade (Dream SMP)

Eret & Floris | Fundy (Dream SMP)

Eret & Niki | Nihachu (Dream SMP)

Eret & Technoblade (Dream SMP)

Eret & Toby Smith | Tubbo (Dream SMP)

Eret & Wilbur Soot (Dream SMP )

Karl Jacobs/Quackity (Dream SMP)

Karl Jacobs/Quackity/Sapnap (Dream SMP)

Karl Jacobs/Quackity/Sapnap/Wilbur Soot (Dream SMP)

Niki Nihachu & Philza & Ranboo & Technoblade (Dream SMP )

Niki Nihachu/Technoblade (Dream SMP)

Noah Brown & Eret (Dream SMP)

Philza & Ranboo & Technoblade (Dream SMP )

Philza & Technoblade (Dream SMP )

Philza & Tommyinnit & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade (Dream SMP)

Philza/Technoblade (Dream SMP)

Quackity & Schlatt & Tubbo (Dream SMP)

Quackity & Tubbo (Dream SMP)

Quackity & Wilbur Soot (Dream SMP)

Quackity/Wilbur Soot (Dream SMP)

Ranboo & Tubbo (Dream SMP)

Ranboo & Tubbo & Michael the Piglin (Dream SMP )

Ranboo/Tubbo (Dream SMP)

Sam | Awesamdude & Quackity (Dream SMP)

Sapnap/Quackity (Dream SMP)

Sapnap/Technoblade (Dream SMP)

Solo: Eret (Dream SMP)

Solo: Quackity (Dream SMP)

Solo: Technoblade (DSMP)

Solo: Tubbo (Dream SMP)

Solo: Wilbur Soot (Dream SMP)

Technoblade & Wilbur Soot (Dream SMP)

Technoblade/Wilbur Soot (Dream SMP)

TommyInnit & Tubbo (Dream SMP)

Tubbo & Michael the Piglin (Dream SMP)

WB: Access to Creative Mode (Dream SMP)

WB: Any (Dream SMP)

(NOTE: WB tags are all Worldbuilding tags, and they mean that you want a fic or a gift that focuses a concept more than a relationship)

WB: Las Nevadas (Dream SMP)

WB: Manberg (Dream SMP)

WB: New L’Manberg (Dream SMP)

WB: The Cyberknife Conflict (Dream SMP)

WB: The Lives System/Revival Book (Dream SMP)

WB: The Syndicate's Operations and Logistics (Dream SMP)

Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit (Dream SMP)

So there is a BOLD assortment of tags to pick among, SURELY on that list you can find at least one. Technically to sign up you only need one relationship! They ask for three fandoms or they won't hold the exchange for you if you need to be pinch-hit (if your original gifter needs to drop), but if you're willing to take that risk, you can fully and legally sign up with an only-crimeboys or only-tntduo signup!

So! Shoot me a message or reply if you have questions! Join me! Fic in a Box!

#dsmp #dsmpblr #dsmpshipping #long post #fic exchange

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carrotmakar · 4 years ago

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hello all!! i made this post to tell you that i’ve made the decision to move almost exclusively over to patreon! i know this may seem a bit unprompted, but there are a lot of things going on in my life right now, and there’s only so much i can make with a job that pays me barely over minimum wage. there is also a decline in interaction seemingly with everything that i do. i’ll get asks wondering when something is coming and then it’s basically radio silence when it does come out. with all of that being said, there are a few things that i want to go over.

what i will continue to post on tumblr:

- writing challenge fics that i sign up to write (i do these quite often) regardless of how long the pieces are - any blurbs that i get requests for here / have inspiration to write. (blurbs are under 3k words) - any pieces that i work on with other people - any pieces that i decide i want to post on here

what i’ll be posting to tier 1 - sunflower ($3):

- early access to all writing challenge pieces + blurbs from tumblr - exclusive access to all the fics that i revamp from tumblr to make them more my style - exclusive fics that are up to 5k words that will not be posted to tumblr

what i’ll be posting to tier 2 - woman ($5):

- everything listed for the sunflower tier - exclusive fics that are up to 10k words long that will not be posted to tumblr - multi-part fics (up to 5 parts) that will not be posted to tumblr

what i’ll be posting to tier 3 - fine line ($8):

- everything listed for the sunflower and woman tiers - exclusive fics that are over 10k words that will not be posted to tumblr - multi-part fics (6+ parts) that will not be posted to tumblr

questions that i will probably end up getting

- i will still be posting bloody valentine on here because it has already been announced - the rewrite of chasing colors will be posted on here when it is done because it was already promised - you do not have to join my patreon to read my writing, but for the longer, more fleshed out pieces, you will have to. - i am doing this both for the interaction and for the fact that i am in need of money at the moment - yes, i am still trying to save for college and i still have to take care for bindi - yes, $8 does seem like a bit much, but please keep in mind that i write a lot which means that there will be a lot of fics being posted for you to read, plus you get everything from all of the tiers!! - if you have any more questions, don’t hesitate to send me an ask!

if you’re interested in joining, here is the link!

also a thank u to the bestie @glowunderthemoon for making the header for me <3

#patreon update #sb if you wanna <3 idk #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #patreon

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bettsfic · 4 years ago

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march pinned: ending the sex project

in the march edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and upcoming consultation availability, i have personal essay recommendations and a segment on the definition of a project!

for more information on my creative coaching services, check out my carrd.

if you want to receive my lowkey writing-related newsletter directly, you can subscribe here.

full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

fuck february, amiright?

i thought january was bad. but february. february was the stuff of nightmares. my cousin passed away from covid (you can read about her here; she was really an amazing person and i feel so lucky to have known her). i was finally formally diagnosed with PCOS (bittersweet, i guess). my car broke down. i took two (2) days off and it took me two and a half weeks to get caught up again. i can only hope march treats us all a little more gently.

the good news is, i finished revisions on my short story collection to send to my agent, finished workshop submissions for the semester, and now i can return to my first love, fanfiction. that i am constantly working through original fiction to return to fanfiction has been making me think a lot about the nature of a creative, capital-p Project. so, this month’s BTALA (been thinkin a lot about) is going to inspect the concept of a “project.”

new resource

last month i unveiled a folder of my favorite short stories which i’m pleased to hear several of you have perused and gotten some inspiration from. this month i’ve compiled my favorite personal essays. there are fewer essays than there are short stories because i’ve broken them into two groups: personal and craft. next month i hope to have the craft essays compiled.

i’m always looking for more things to love, so if you have recommendations for your favorite short stories and essays, i’d be happy to hear them!

writing-related posts

how to physically maneuver the revision process

the difference between M and E ratings of fic

resources for worldbuilding (check out the reblogs for more!)

a couple syntax/prose book recs

how to break a long work into chapters

march availability

unfortunately i have to cut my coaching hours down a bit, so i don’t have any openings left in march, but i have some availability in april. if you’re interested in a writing consultation, please fill out this google form!

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

what i’m into rn

for the past year, i’ve basically been trapped in a 10x10 room, and my health is definitely reflecting that, both mentally (does anyone else feel like they’re living in groundhog day? just, every day being exactly the same except fractionally worse than the day before??) and physically (i reorganized the kitchen and could barely move for two days).

reader, i have discovered something called “walking,” in which i put on real human shoes and go outside. it feels strange, bestial. neighbors wave hello to me. a harrowing experience.

while doing this, this walking, i’ve been listening to the lolita podcast which a friend recommended to me, a ten-episode series that dives into everything lolita: the novel itself, its context, adaptations, greater cultural responses, and — as a sticker on my laptop says — vladimir “russian dreamboat” nabokov. as far as i can tell it seems well-researched and presents the many perspectives of lolita in a fair way. i’m only a few eps in, but i’m entranced so far. highly recommended if you, like me, have a complicated relationship with lolita.

i’ve also found myself mildly addicted to a mobile otome game called obey me, which. look i know it’s like the definition of cringe but it’s also mind-numbingly fun and if i want to spend my minimal free time pretending 7 demon brothers are all vying for my affection then that’s between me and god. it’s a lot of what i loved about WoW: frequent events, bright colors, a daily to do list of simple but satisfying tasks, many many rewards, and it doesn’t take itself very seriously. and if i have 4k fic written of mammon/reader that’s nobody’s business but mine and my longsuffering ao3 subscribers.

i’m telling you this because i don’t know anyone else who plays it and am desperate to trade headcanons. so if you play, or start playing, hit me up!! i will give u mad tips and daily AP.

been thinkin a lot about

the project. the project. even the word “project.” PROject (noun). proJECT (verb). what is the project? “project” comes from the latin pro and jacare which means “to throw forward,” or projectum which means “something prominent.” a projector throws forward an image. to project onto something means to throw your perspective onto something else. to embark on a project is to make something prominent in your life. the concept of “the projects” comes from public housing projects, the government throwing forward affordable housing.

what is the project? in joseph harris’ essay “coming to terms” he says that “to define the project of a writer is…to push beyond his text, to hazard a view about not only what someone has said but also what he was trying to accomplish by saying it.” harris’ perspective is that of an english teacher encouraging his students to read critically, not just to summarize a text but to find its project, its greater purpose. and while i first read this essay in a seminar on composition pedagogy, it stuck with me as a writer. it made me reconsider the greater nature of the creative project.

how many of us, if asked to describe our writing project, would begin with a plot or character premise, the nuts and bolts of a specific story? maybe even the working title? but i wonder, is breaking out the plot really the project? is the discipline of sitting down and typing really the project? and when the story is finished, is the project over? what is the project?

in 2019, i wrote 86k words of a novel. i began revising that novel last fall, and i’m finding that i’ll probably keep maybe less than 10k of that initial draft. i’m not bothered by that. the novel i wrote before that started at 125k, then i rewrote the entire thing to 200k, then i whittled it back down to 160k, and next i’ll be tasked with paring it back down to 80k. i’m not bothered by that either. in the past five years or so i’ve written about 2 million words, and i’ve only published 20k of them. only 1% of what i’ve written, i’ve published. in the words of lauren cooper (catherine tate), i’m not bothered.

i used to see publication as the birth of the project, and writing it akin to a long gestation period. then i saw publication as the death of the project, and its life was lived in its drafting. now, publication seems irrelevant to the project. the confines of a story and its many revisions are also irrelevant to the project. the beginning of a story is not the start of the project and the end of the story is not the end of the project. the project is larger than the story, its revisions, its publication, and its eventual readership.

i think it took me so long to see this because for so many years i was still in my first project, the sex project, an exploration of trauma and sexual identity, which began in 2014 with destiel fanfiction, endured through many fandom shifts, my MFA, years adrift as an adjunct, all the way through 2020 with the completion of my short story collection. i used to wonder how anyone could write about anything other than sex. to me it was the only topic worth my attention. i was certain that i would spend my entire life being a sex writer and i’d never find fulfillment writing a young adult sci fi adventure or a highly literary novel about complicated family dynamics. i was baffled by people who were interested in other things, who could write entire novels without using the word “cock” even once.

then my sex project ended. i don’t know when exactly it happened or why, but suddenly i realized i never wanted to write another artful description of an orgasm or find a tactful euphemism for a vagina ever again (personally i prefer “wet cunt” because not only is it blunt, i find it phonetically pleasing). obviously i’m still writing explicit fanfic but it doesn’t feel the same as it used to. sex feels more sidelined to me, even if it’s still the center and drive of a fic. i no longer get any personal satisfaction from writing it, although i do get satisfaction in sharing the work for readers to enjoy.

it’s like i’ve somehow solved the biggest puzzle of my life. or i guess made peace with my meanest monster, that extremely complicated double-mind of desire that some non-sex-repulsed asexuals feel: you want to feel desire you can’t actually feel so you write it into fiction, to try to understand this thing you can’t have and which society tells you you’re missing, and you don’t even know if you don’t have it, because you still feel desire for affection and intimacy, and maybe even a desire to be desired. and for those of us who are asexual and have c-ptsd, sex you don’t actually want (but don’t know you don’t want, because maybe you’re ambivalent and mildly curious and touch-starved) and an unrelenting drive toward people-pleasing can be a dangerous combination. how can you ever know what consent is if you always put other people’s desires above your own?

maybe i’m alone in this. maybe i’m not. maybe for most people, wanting sex is a light switch: yes i want it, or no i don’t. but for me, i had to write a whole lot of words to figure out things like desire, consent, intimacy, forgiveness, the shape that good love takes. the lengthy theoretical flowchart of “i might be interested in having sex if this and this and this and this and this happens in this exact order and under these exact circumstances.”

it was hard to write something into reality that i have never seen except in pieces, in subtext i clung to with no lexicon to give it shape and meaning. te lawrence in lawrence of arabia. some of tarantino’s early work. the film benny and joon. and weirdly, the star wars prequels (that one’s hard to explain; i’ll spare you). i don’t think the sex project was about coming to terms with my asexuality as much as it was trying to organize my thoughts and feelings by continuously rendering my own experiences within a greater, shinier ideal — like how you sometimes have to unravel the entire skein of yarn to find the loose end, and only then can you get started.

i guess i’m in the infancy of the power project now. i’m moving toward themes of control, infamy, greatness. the exact circumstances in which atrocity occurs. how people rise into leadership and fall from grace. the consequences of success. i don’t know why this project has come to me, or what, if anything, it has to do with me. i’m not famous and have no intention of becoming famous; i don’t have social power or influence, at least not beyond my little corner of fandom, and i’m not interested in having it. and yet, here we are, already hundreds of thousands of words in.

my fics digging for orchids (tgcf) and a standing engagement (the hunger games) deal with the detriments of fame. and even float (breaking bad) to a degree is about the aftermath of being so close to power. my novel cherry pop, loosely based on macbeth, is about an ongoing power exchange between two teenage girls. my other novel, vandal, is about a girl who believes she has magic powers and casts a spell on her neighbor to fall in love with her. and i’m in the very early stages of a novel called groundswell, a cult story i’ve been wanting to write for years. i had no idea why i couldn’t write it until i realized it wasn’t yet my project. i’m not even to the stage of developing characters, let alone a premise or plot. i’m still just building my aesthetic pile (i discuss the aesthetic pile here, as well as vandal in more detail), watching documentaries on cults, reading books, finding inspiration, marking down ideas as they come. it may be years before i’m ready to sit down and write it.

now that i know what the project is, i have more patience with myself. it doesn’t bother me to rewrite a novel from the beginning, or to scrap novels altogether, because the story isn’t the project. the project cannot be diminished by cutting words, sentences, paragraphs, entire chapters. the project does not have a product. the project cannot be published. the project is in the practice, in dragging the impossibly large into clear, acute existence, so you can see it. so you can see the very center of what you thought was an unknowable thing.

#pinned #lkwrnl

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phoebe-delia · 3 years ago

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Hello phoebe! For the meta ask if you're still doing it: 1, 4, 22 please? 💞

@colormehazelnut, Hazel! Thank you so much for this ask. Yes, I'm still doing the meta asks for as long as people send them in 😂. So thank you for filling my ask box with joy!

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

I have several WIPs going on, a couple of which are the prompts you sent in! (Thanks for those btw I'm so excited to write them for you!) Of course, I'm keeping those a secret for now, along with the other song prompts I've been lucky enough to get from people, so I'll instead say that I'm working on what I *hope* will eventually be my first longer fic. I struggle to write fics longer than 7k, so for this one I'm shooting for at least 10k. We'll see. But I've done a couple WIP snippet posts, combined here for those interested. This one will be post-war. My plan is for it to deal with mental health and finding yourself and learning what it means to be free. It's already one of the more relatable things I've written so far, and I'm excited to push a little out of my songfic comfort zone!

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

Okay, I thought very long and hard about this, and I'm actually surprising myself a little bit with my selection because I often sorta forget about this fic. But it was for the microfic prompt "peculiar" and I was inspired by the lyrics from the song "evermore" by the one and only Taylor Swift. I'm proud of this one because I'd kept trying to think of other ideas for the prompt because I was like "not everything can be based on Taylor lyrics, Phoebe!" But I had no other ideas and finally I just decided to listen to the song on repeat. I sat in the chairs in an academic building while I waited between my classes and just wrote this. When I was done I was like "Welp, here we are!" 😂 CW: depression; the fic does have a happy/hopeful ending tho! You can read the rest here.

Draco couldn’t cry, so he let the sky do it for him. He shivered, soaking it up like the grass crushed under the shirt clinging to him like a second skin. He closed his eyes, imagining that the drops sliding down his face were the tears he couldn’t muster, the catharsis he hadn’t earned.

He spread out his arms and legs, weaving his fingers through the blades of grass. He wondered if he, too, could sink into the earth and intertwine himself with the roots; perhaps they, fibrous and thin yet enduring, could wrap around his veins and grow to his heart to raise the weight from his chest.

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

More often than I'd like to admit 😂. This ends one of two ways: resisting the urge to edit or delete the work, or with feelings of pride in my work.

I'm trying to have a healthier relationship with my stats page. It's strange, sometimes, because there are fics I've written that have gotten more "attention" than the fics I like the best. I can try to reblog/promote a fic over and over that I'm so proud of, but I'll still get likes or comments or reblogs on something I spent 10 minutes on.

I'm trying to realize that the number of likes or kudos or reblogs or comments something has doesn't have to be proportional to my pride in it. My favorite fics of mine aren't always my most "popular" fics, and that's okay. There are fics, like the one I mentioned in question 4, that have been well-received that I'm also proud of from a personal writing standpoint. And then there's also a 7k Gen fic on my AO3 that has 15 kudos that used to drive me crazy because it felt like I'd put all this work into it when "no one" had read it.

I wanted to "fix" it. I wanted to add a Drarry chapter at the end, just to give it more views. I wanted to rewrite the whole thing. I wanted to add more to it in the hopes that someone else would see it.

And then I realized that to do so would be a disservice to the work I put into it initially. I realized that adding something to a story just to make it more "popular" or to get it more attention isn't a good enough reason. I wrote a Gen fic. I wrote a fic that doesn't have Draco in it at all. I wrote a fic where there's no romantic relationship; where Harry and Ginny are friends. And that's okay. I'm still proud of it, of what I accomplished. It was the first fic I'd ever done for a fest, and it was based on something really special to me. And that's enough.

This isn't meant to be a not-so-subtle request to go read it, by the way, 😂. I've been meaning to write a post like this for a while because I know I'm not the only one who's struggled with this. And I just want anyone reading this to know that your creativity has value in and of itself. I'm not going to tell you not to write for others, or not to seek validation. We're all here because we like the way our brains get dopamine from reblogs and comments and kudos on our fics, and there's nothing wrong with that.

But my goal for myself is to notice when I'm getting too wrapped up in the hunt for validation and take a step back and let the fact that I'm using my brain to create be satisfactory. I want to have enough respect for my work as it is that I don't add more to it only because I've let my stats page tell me it's not good enough.

My stats page can judge me when it's written 7k. But until the frankly terrifying AU where AO3 becomes sentient and starts to write fics, I think I'll try to quit letting it affect my self-worth.

Ask me a writing meta question from this list! I’ve already done 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 17, 20, 22, and 23!

#these answers are a million words long oops lol #I hope you enjoyed them anyway haha #drarry #ask #ask box #ask me stuff #ask me anything #meta #meta asks #writer asks #cw: depression

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fairylightsandchai · 5 years ago

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The Internship - Part 1

A/N: Hello! I know I usually don’t post fanfiction to this blog, but I really wanted to participate in @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s Pre-Code Challenge! Just ignore this if you follow me and you’re not interested.

Pairing: Dark!Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: >10K

Summary: You are a student in the former-Captain America’s American History class, and you soon notice that Professor Rogers has been paying more than a professional amount of attention to you. But when he approaches you with an internship opportunity that’s too good to be true, how can you say no?

(A/N: This fic contains non-con elements, stalking, and manipulation, and in later parts it will inclue rape, breeding kink, and kidnapping. It is also inspired by The Wild Party, a film from 1929. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.)

You had always wanted to be a writer. When you were a little girl, you’d spent most of your time with your nose in a book and your head in the clouds, dreaming of the day when you would tell stories of your own, stories that connected with people all over the globe.

And then the Battle of New York had happened.

You had been in high school during the attack, a shy freshman who had only wanted to blend in and disappear amongst the rest of your classmates. You’d still had your dreams of being a bestselling author someday.

But, like so many other things in your small, sheltered world, all of that changed the day the Chitauri invaded. You hadn’t been in the city at the time; you’d grown up in upstate New York, about an hour away from the busy metropolis, but it had still shaken your small town to its foundations. It was too close to home, too huge for you and your neighbors to comprehend.

After it had happened, you spent less time dwelling on fiction and more time focused on the truth; the nonfiction isles of your school’s library became your second home, and you were always the first one in your family to read the Sunday paper. You followed current events almost obsessively, imagining one day having your name printed on the New York Post under a ground-breaking story that would define the rest of your career – the rest of your life.

You had not, however, counted on having one of the Avengers as your professors in college, and yet here you were, stood outside the history building of Columbia University with binder in hand, a syllabus and class schedule tucked inside of it.

You hadn’t realized that you would need to take classes on subjects other than writing – you’d known about the needed electives for your course, obviously, but most of them were somehow linked to writing, be it creatively or informatively. Your required history credit had surprised you, though, and your surprise only doubled as you’d scrolled through the available history courses on your student Blackboard account and found a name that stood out amongst the rest. American History (157) – Professor Steven Grant Rogers.

At first you’d chuckled at the coincidence and signed up for it without thinking, but after you’d been accepted into the course, after you’d read and studied its syllabus, you’d started researching your various professors only to find that Professor Steven Grant Rogers…was actually THE Steven Grant Rogers. As in, Captain America himself. As in, one of the people who had fought against the Chitauri and inspired you to seek out journalism.

And now you were about to walk into his class.

Letting out a deep sigh, you pushed a strand of your hair out of your eyes and adjusted your cardigan before pushing open the door of the classroom and stepping inside. Looking around, you only noticed a handful of other students, but then again you had arrived fifteen minutes early for class. Your eyes scanned each of their faces before finally meandering to the front of the classroom, immediately picking out the shape of your professor sitting at his desk.

Even with him sitting behind his desk, you could tell that he was huge. His shoulders were broad, and the fabric of his light blue shirt strained against them as he hunched over, jotting something into a leather notebook. His hair was neat and trimmed, and he had grown out a beard since his retirement from the Avengers. It looked good on him, you mused, but in the middle of your thoughts he turned and looked at you, his piercing blue eyes looking directly into yours, and you froze where you stood.

You saw his eyes widen for a split second while he took you in, but before you could register the shift in his expression he had put on an easy smile, giving you a small nod.

“Welcome,” Professor Rogers spoke, his voice warm and genuine.

You, for your part, answered with an incredibly smooth and well-thought-out response.

“U-um…” you stammered, shifting on your feet. “Hello.”

Feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, you ducked your head and darted to the first row of desks and sank into one, willing your heart to stop its infernal pounding. As you silently cursed yourself for being so nervous, you opened your binder and pulled out the only two sheets of paper in it along with your spiral bound notebook before reaching into your backpack and rooting around for a pen.

He’s just a person, you lectured yourself internally. A person who has saved the world on more than one occasion, but a person, nonetheless. He probably gets tired of people acting differently around him just because he’s- “Do you need a copy of the syllabus?”

The voice came from in front of you, and your head popped up to see Professor Rogers standing in front of your desk holding a stack of papers. He held one out to you, but you quickly smiled and picked your syllabus off of your desk.

“Oh, no, thanks! I printed one off last night,” you explained. “But thank you.”

His smile grew, and he walked back to his desk, setting the papers back down.

“You’re prepared; I’m glad to hear it.”

The minutes ticked by after that, a slow but steady line of students filing into the class as its start time grew nearer. You gauged your peers’ reactions curiously, observing as some hardly seemed to recognize your professor while a few others stopped to ask for a selfie with him. The first time that happened, your eyes had widened their bold question, but the former Avenger bared it gracefully, simply shaking his head and giving them a smile.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to hold off on that till the end of class,” he’d say. “If you still want one after we’re all done then just stay behind for a few minutes.”

Finally the clock read 10:30 and Professor Rogers made his way to the front of the desk, right in front of the empty, clean whiteboard. He took a few moments to look out over the full classroom, taking in all of the students before him. When his eyes landed on you, you swore that you saw him linger for a moment, a curious gleam resting in his eyes before he looked away and opened his mouth to speak.

“Well, everyone, it’s time to get started,” he began. “As you probably know by now, my name is Steve Rogers, and this class is dedicated to American History from 1914 to 1939. I’d like to just say right off the bat that I’m happy to have all of you in my class, and I hope that this course is informative and helpful to each of your personal fields of study.

“Now to address the elephant in the room,” he said, starting to pace slowly, “yes, I was alive during most of that period of time, and I did use to be known as Captain America. But I hung up that hat a few years ago, and I’d appreciate it if you showed me the same courtesy and respect that you show your other professors. That being said, I don’t want you to hesitate to ask me any personal questions you may have as long as they relate to what we’re discussing in class. Any off topic questions should be kept to yourselves or saved for after we are finished for the day.

“Any questions?”

There was a moment of silence as he searched for any raised hands.

“Is the shield as heavy as it looks?” someone called from the back row, and a few snickers could be heard from around the room.

Professor Rogers let out a chuckle of his own and pointed to the student who’d asked.

“That is a great example of a question that should be saved for after class.”

____________

Steve waved goodbye to the last of his students, only minorly annoyed at how many had stayed late to take a picture with him. As he packed up his things and prepared to head to his office for the rest of the day, he mused that he should have been used to it by now. With social media so prominent in society these days, he’d been hounded for selfies ever since 2012, but they were still (and probably would always be) aggravating to him.

He didn’t linger on that today, though; he had so many other important things to think about, after all. And most of them revolved around you.

A smile twisted his features as he remembered how you’d looked when you’d first walked into his class – so shy and hesitant but just as gorgeous as always. He’d been so pleased to see you wearing your long green cardigan today; it was one of his favorites. Mostly because of that time he’d seen you walking around your little apartment wearing nothing but your bra and panties under it, but he had to admit that you’d looked almost just as sexy wearing it with those brown leggings you’d had on today.

As he made his way across campus to the building his office was in, he didn’t even try to hide the smirk on his face; he finally had accomplished the first part of his plan. He’d hoped to have you in his class sooner, but it had been hard finding someone to hack into the school records to add that history credit to your list of prerequisites. Well, rather, it had been hard finding someone discreet enough to get the job done. Plenty of his friends would have been able to do it without any problem; hell, Tony probably had done that exact same thing in the past. But they would have asked questions, and he couldn’t afford to have people poking around in something that didn’t concern them.

A part of Steve knew that this wasn’t the right way of going about having you; the Steve from before Thanos would have been disgusted with his actions, absolutely repulsed at what he was planning to do. But after the snap, after he’d watched so many people he’d cared about turn to dust, something in him had changed. He’d tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to do the right thing, but in the end it hadn’t been good enough to stop everything from happening. And even now, after Thanos was dead and the fallen had been brought back, he was still different than before. He’d done the right thing his entire life, and all he’d gotten from it was heartache.

But now he would finally claim what he deserved. He would claim you.

The first time he’d seen you, it had been in the campus coffee shop. He had only been teaching for a year at the time, and he hadn’t foreseen how overwhelming it could be. While the students were cramming and stressing over finals, he was clamoring to compile the perfect exam for his class, the perfectionist in him never fully satisfied and constantly worrying if he had enough questions, if they were balanced enough, if they were too easy or too hard or irrelevant to the course.

Basically, he had been frazzled, and all he’d wanted was a small black coffee and a corner booth at the café to work on his laptop in. But then he’d seen you.

You were sitting at a table with a girl around your age, and the two of you were laughing about something; it must have been hilarious, because your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed as your laugh bubbled out of your smiling lips. It was in that moment that he knew that love at first sight existed. Every love song he’d ever heard had suddenly sounded in his ears, and he stood there as if frozen as he watched you, his eyes already straining to remember every little detail about your face.

After that day, he’d started seeing you on campus more and more often, though that might have been because he was following you. In his mind, though, it wasn’t following. It was…researching. He had to know if he’d been mistaken, if that electric feeling he’d felt upon seeing you had somehow been something other than love at first sight.

But as days turned to weeks turned to months of him following you, of him watching you while you were none the wiser, he knew that he hadn’t been mistaken. It seemed fell for you more and more with everything he learned about you and your life. Your body, your mind, your very soul seemed to be meant for him.

There was a problem, though. On the third day of him watching you, you and your friend from the café (he’d learned that her name was Tina) had gone to the library to study together, and he’d overheard you telling her something that made his heart sink. “So… You’ve been in college for a year now,” Tina had started, and you’d groaned, knowing where she was going even before she said anything else.

“No, Tina,” you sighed.

“What! I’m just wondering when you’re planning on finding yourself a man,” your friend insisted as you rolled your eyes.

“Is never a viable answer?”

“No – you and I both know it’s not. C’mon, you’ve talked about wanting to meet your dream man since high school!”

“Well, yeah, I’ve talked about it,” you’d said. “Talking about something and actually doing it are two different things, babe.”

“I knowww,” Tina had sighed. “But c’mon, now is the time to be looking for people to share a future with.”

You’d snorted a bark of laughter at that.

“It most certainly is not,” you’d countered. “I need to focus on my career right now, Tina. Even IF I met Mr. Right, I’m not gonna start a serious relationship until after college. I gotta put myself first right now.”

“I guess I see where you’re coming from,” she’d huffed. “I get it. But you could just, you know…fool around, right? College is the time for experimentation! Don’t you wanna get that cherry popped before you graduate?”

“TINA!”

“What!” your friend had laughed. “I know you’re dying to turn in that v-card of yours.”

Steve had had to stop listening at that point. With a muffled curse, he’d turned on his heel and all but fled from the library, feeling his heart soar and shatter all at once. On one hand, that same sick part of him that was driving his actions was all but singing; if your friend had been telling the truth, then you were a virgin. His (Y/N) really was a good girl – something that was rare to find these days, especially in young college girls. A sweet, innocent girl just like he’d always dreamed about starting a family with.

But, on the other hand, you were determined to hold off on relationships until the end of college. And even if you’d be willing to let Steve be the exception to that rule, that still didn’t change the fact that you were a student and he was a member of the faculty; he would not only lose his job if the two of you were found out, but he was sure that reporters and journalists would jump at the opportunity to write an exposé about Captain America taking advantage of a student at the university he taught at.

No, he would have to be smart about this. He knew he didn’t want to wait for you to finish your four-year degree, but he also couldn’t risk either of your reputations with some kind of forbidden relationship, if you’d even have him. He would have to think this through. He would have to come up with a plan.

___________

You were surprised at how quickly you got used to having Captain America as a teacher. You would still get nervous when he spoke directly to you, of course, but the insight he had to offer was priceless. It was one thing to learn about a period of history from a textbook, but it was another thing entirely to learn about it from someone who was actually there.

Professor Rogers was knowledgeable and kind to all of his students, and your favorite parts of his lectures were when your classmates would raise their hands and ask him about what it was like to live during whatever part of history you were learning about. You’d learned about Captain America and his backstory in high school history classes, of course, but the way he would answer those personal questions showed a whole different side of him. But you were starting to wonder if that new side of him was as golden as his status as a hero made him out to be.

Recently, something seemed a little bit off about him, as much as you hated to admit it. It only would happen in brief little flashes, so brief that immediately after you would find yourself questioning whether or not it had actually happened, but you could swear that he’d been…staring a lot recently. Specifically, he would be staring at you.

More and more often in class, you would start to feel like you were being watched; it was if you could sense eyes on you just out of the corner of your vision, and it would make your hairs stand on end. Usually, you would turn and see nothing out of the ordinary, and you would be able to chalk it up to an overactive imagination. But every now and then, you would turn and see Professor Rogers staring at you, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark.

As soon as it would happen, his expression would clear into a neutrally polite smile, and you always tried to return it to the best of your ability. But as the weeks went by, it was happening more and more frequently. And then there were the touches.

Mr. Rogers never touched you in an inappropriate way; you were almost certain that he never would. But whenever he would collect your papers, or whenever he would pass out assignments, his hand would always seem to linger. Sometimes, he would let his fingertips drag against yours as he took whatever you were handing to him; sometimes, he would set his hand on your shoulder for the briefest of moments when you dropped an assignment off with him before leaving class.

He’d also started commenting about your appearance at the beginning of class. From the moment you walked in the door to the moment you sat down in your seat, he’d manage to make some comment on your outfit. The first time he’d said something was on one of the many occasions where you were wearing your favorite cardigan.

“You look very nice today, (Y/N),” he’d mentioned in passing, almost making you stumble on your way to your seat. You’d barely managed to stutter out a ‘thank you’. After that, it happened every time you saw him, and some part of your mind whispered that he never complimented your classmates the way he would compliment you.

“I like how you did your hair this morning,” he’d said the next time.

“Like the new jeans, (Y/N),” the week after. (How had he even known those jeans were new?)

“That’s a nice color on you.”

“Looking lovely as always.”

You did love having Professor Rogers as your teacher, but each class with him made you feel increasingly uncomfortable despite your best efforts. In your mind, you knew that you were reading too much into it, but that was never able to stop you from feeling a cold shiver run up your back when you’d see him glaring at you from behind his desk.

Despite your growing anxiety about your history professor, though, you were settling in quite nicely to your day to day routine. Your favorite days were Fridays, though; you spent your afternoons right before the weekend with your best friend, Tina. She had been your friend since junior year of high school, and while the two of you were opposites when it came to most things, the bond you shared was strong and deep.

This Friday, however, she’d had to cancel your weekly study session; Tina was in Columbia’s dental department, and every now and then her and the other aspiring dentists would do volunteer events to help people in the surrounding area get free dental care. You were always proud of her when she took part in events like those, but you always felt a little lonelier on Friday afternoons.

After spending the morning sleeping in and meal prepping for the week, you set out on your way to the library without your best friend in tow; you would just have to study on your own that week, especially with the first test of the semester looming over you in Mr. Roger’s class. He was kind to his students, yes, but he was also demanding. He’d made it abundantly clear that he expected quality work out of his students.

“This is an advanced class,” he would say. “I expect you to be advanced learners.”

Pulling your heavy wool jacket tighter around your body, you trudged into the library and sat at yours and Tina’s regular table towards the back, opening your history textbook and busting out your favorite blue highlighter; this would be a study session of the ages, not interrupted by anything or anybody-

“(Y/N), is that you?”

…Maybe you’d spoken too soon.

Looking up, you saw none other than the man whose class you were about to be studying for. Professor Rogers was walking over to you with one hand in his pocket; in his other rested a copy of The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, and you smiled as you read its title.

“Hi, Professor,” you greeted him. You made to stand up out of your chair, but before you could he took his hand out of his pocket and set it on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“Oh, no, don’t get up on my account. What brings you here today? Got a big test coming up or something?”

You forced a weak smile to your lips, acutely aware that his hand was still on your shoulder.

“Oh, yeah,” you managed to joke. “One of my pesky teachers is giving us a test next Thursday.”

“Who does he think he is?” your teacher chuckled. Finally, he let his hand slide off of your shoulder, and you once again looked at the book he was holding.

“The Book Thief?” you asked, nodding to it. “Are you checking it out?”

“Oh! Yeah. For the second time, actually. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Really? It’s one of my favorites too!”

Steve grinned, even though he’d already known that. He’d read most of the books you had on your shelf at home; at first, he’d done it to try and draw closer to you, to see what kind of stories you liked. But after a while he just did it because you had good taste; the only book of yours that had disappointed him was a cheesy teenager romance you’d had since high school, but even then he thought it was adorable that you found enjoyment in such things.

“It sure is a small world, huh?” he drawled, pulling out the chair across the table from yours. “Do you mind if I join you for a little while?”

You hesitated, looking between the chair he was already half sitting in and the charming smile he had on his face. Something about the whole thing seemed off to you, but you shook away that feeling and nodded your head.

“Be my guest,” you finally said, and your professor didn’t hesitate to sink into his seat.

“Thanks, doll.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at that and quickly gave him what you hoped was more of a convincing smile.

“N-no problem, Mr. Rogers,” you hurriedly assured him. A smirk stretched across his lips as he reached across the table, letting his hand rest on the back of yours.

“I’ll never get used to people calling me that,” he chuckled. “How about you just call me Steve when we’re not in class?”

Your eyes widened and you gulped, eyes flickering between his face and his hand, so warm against yours.

“Wouldn’t that be, uh… unprofessional?” Your voice was higher pitched than usual as you said it, and it only made his smile grow.

“Not if we kept it our little secret. You wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?”

He arched his eyebrows questioningly at you, and for some reason you immediately shook your head.

“No, I… I wouldn’t tell anyone, Prof- Steve.”

Steve tried his best to keep his face neutral, but on the inside, he felt like fire works were going off in his head upon hearing you say his name. He knew it would sound sweet in your soft voice, and if it sounded good now, he couldn’t imagine how nice it would be to hear you moan it. One day, he promised himself. One day.

You squirmed in your seat as Professor Ro- Steve, you told yourself, Steve – watched you. After a few seconds of silence you hesitantly leaned forward.

“Steve?”

He seemed to snap back to reality, and once more his ever-present smile was carefully arranged on his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I, uh… Zoned out there for a second.”

“It’s ok,” you assured him. “I do that in your class all the time.”

“Hey,” he laughed, “C’mon, that’s not nice.”

You chuckled at your own joke and shrugged.

“I’m just joking,” you assured him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he grinned. “Maybe that’s why you and Tina are always studying together.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but something stopped you from saying anything. Something about what he’d just said didn’t quite make sense, you told yourself.

Steve furrowed his brows at the look on your face.

“You ok over there, doll?”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded rapidly, turning to collect your things as alarm bells kept going off in your head. “I’m fine. I actually just remembered something; I have to go.”

“Go? So soon? I didn’t chase you off, did I?” His lips were lifted into a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched you pack up your books.

“Oh, no!” you were quick to exclaim. “No, not at all! I just… I just left one of my textbooks at home. I’m so stupid.”

You finally slung your bag over your shoulder and made to leave, but all of a sudden there was an iron-like grip encircling your upper arm. You whipped your head around so quickly that for a moment your hair obscured your vision. When you shook it away, you saw Steve watching you with slightly narrowed eyes, his smirk still on his lips.

For a moment, you just stared at him, feeling your heartbeat quicken as his thumb idly rubbed circles against your bicep.

“Don’t call yourself stupid,” he finally muttered, letting his hand fall. “You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). I’m sure you’re just feeling a little…overwhelmed. From your classes, that is.”

You nodded numbly, taking a small step backwards, taking yourself out of arm’s reach.

“Y-yeah… That must be it. Sorry, Steve.”

You turned and walked away, just barely catching his next few words.

“No problem, hon.”

You felt his eyes on you all the way out of the library, and the feeling didn’t go away until you fell asleep that night, the sound of his voice echoing in your ears and the line of his smile still etched behind your eyelids. Just before you drifted off, it suddenly came to you, the reason why you’d felt such a sudden need to leave him.

How had he known that you were friends with Tina?

_____

Steve sighed as he sank into his armchair, watching you fall asleep through his telescope; one day he would really have to talk to you about leaving your blinds open.

Once he was sure you were asleep for the night, he looked around his small apartment, thinking about your little study session in the library. When you’d left in such a hurry, he’d felt angry at first, just barely able to keep himself from snapping at you to sit back down. It was rude to just run off like that, after all.

But then he’d heard your heartbeat, pounding away in your soft, sweet chest, and he’d understood: you were nervous around him. The fact had made him so giddy that he’d excused your impolite behavior this time, letting you go and waiting a few minutes before following you back to your apartment. You were nervous around him, and he was willing to bet it was because of your feelings. He’d been watching you even closer than usual for the past month, watching how you’d squirm in your seat in class when your eyes met his, feeling your quickening pulse anytime his hand lingered on yours.

You were starting to fall for him, he just knew it.

He stood up from his armchair, wandering over to his tiny kitchen and grabbing a beer for himself. It would all be worth it someday – the tiny apartment he’d bought just to be closer to you, the time he’d dedicated to watching you each day, the expensive hidden bugs he’d planted in your house so he could listen in on your life. One day, when you were well and truly his, he would move out of this apartment and buy a home for the two of you, one big enough for the family you would have.

He could see it even now as he settled back into his favorite chair, peeking through the telescope to glance at your sleeping form. One day, you would be able to quit your silly dream of journalism and be his wife, focusing on him and the children you would have. Oftentimes, Steve would imagine five or six little kids running around the house, even though he knew it was unreasonable to think of such things.

You guys would stop at four, he’d decided.

His cock twitched in his sweatpants at the idea of you round and swollen with his child. You would be such a good mother, such a good wife. You would be everything he’d ever wanted.

With a sigh, he took his cock out, stroking it leisurely as he kept your eyes on your face, peaceful and oblivious as you slept on. He hoped you were dreaming about him, fantasizing about him the way he was fantasizing about you right now.

He let out a soft moan at the idea of what your first time together would be like. You would lead him into your bedroom, hand in his as your hips swayed with your stride. He would sit on the edge of the bed as you stripped, watching as each delicious inch of your skin was slowly revealed to him. You would be wearing white, lacy lingerie, as pure and unsullied as your body.

His hand moved faster on his cock as he imagined what you’d taste like, what it would be like to have his face buried between your legs, his tongue delving into your tight, wet heat as you bucked and squirmed against him. You’d pull his hair and moan his name, your voice getting higher and breathier the closer you got to your release.

But he wouldn’t give it to you, oh no. Not with his tongue at least. He would pull away at the last second and hold you in his arms, his eyes not leaving yours for a second as he pushed his cock into you. He would go slow, at first. He knew it would be your first time, and the last thing he ever, ever wanted was to hurt you. A small part of him still wondered, though, what noise you would make as he pressed into you for the first time, how his cock would look coated in your cum and blood, how your face would contort in that strange mix of pleasure and pain as he took your innocence.

All too soon, though, he was brought back to reality when he felt his cum coat the back of his hand, and as he came down from his release, he felt a familiar surge of disappointment that it wasn’t your pussy that was making him cum, that his were the only moans to be heard in his lonely apartment.

He shoved his cock back into his pants and took one last look at you before standing up to go clean himself off. You were still sleeping, innocent and unaware of all the plans he had in store for you.

_______

You debated skipping your next class with Steve. As each day went by, you got more and more paranoid. Whether you were at work, walking from class to class, or even at the grocery store, you kept thinking you saw Steve. You would catch a glimpse of blonde hair or broad shoulders and do a double-take, but every time you saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Part of you still thought you were overreacting. He was your teacher, for god’s sake. And he was a former Avenger; if anything, you should’ve felt safer in his presence.

When Thursday came around, you pushed down your desire to skip class and soldiered on, stopping for a coffee on the way and taking your seats just a few minutes before class began. The teacher you’d been so paranoid about was seated behind his desk, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he stared at his laptop.

As you passed him on the way to your seat, his bright blue eyes darted upwards, and he gave you a soft smile like he always did when you walked into his classroom.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” he greeted you. “That’s a nice sweater you got on today.”

“Good morning, professor,” you’d murmured back, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Thank you.”

You scurried over to your seat and plopped down into it. With all of your nerves, you’d almost forgotten to study for the test today. You’d only managed to cram in about half an hour last night; all of your other attempts at studying had found you without the ability to focus on the textbooks in front of you, mind wandering distractedly.

“Alright, guys,” your professor finally sighed, standing up from his desk and grabbing a stack of papers off of it. “Before we get started with this test, do any of you have any questions?”

When no one raised their hand, he nodded and started passing them out. As he set your test on your desk, you looked to see him wink at you, his lips curving upwards.

“Good luck,” he whispered, and your cheeks heated as you slid the paper closer to yourself.

After that, you made a decided effort not to make any more eye contact with your teacher as you started writing out your answers. Mr. Rogers had only ever given you guys essay questions, encouraging his students to write out their thought processes behind each of their answers. You kind of resented him for it; essay questions were always, without fail, tedious.

The minutes ticked by slowly, the only sounds in the room behind the scratches of pens and pencils against papers and the occasional rustle when someone would flip their page over. You were amongst the first ones to finish, and when you dropped your test off with Steve at his desk, his hand once again found a way to linger against your own.

Biting your lip, you drew your hand back quicker than usual, scurrying back to your desk and pulling a book out of your bag to read. Not that you actually read it; your eyes stayed steadily on one sentence for the next several minutes. When they finally did lift off of the page, they immediately found your teacher’s eyes, boring into you with that same dark intensity. You shivered as you snapped your gaze back to the page in front of you.

When everyone had finished with their tests, Professor Rogers stood from his desk chair and cleared his throat, drawing all attention to himself.

“Alright, good job guys. Feeling good about how you did?” There were a few grumbles and murmurings heard throughout the room; apparently you weren’t alone in your dislike of essay questions. “I’ll take that as a yes.

“So I thought that I would cut today’s class short this week,” he went on, and all of you perked up at the idea of leaving early. “Before you all head out, though, I wanted to tell you about a new internship opportunity I’m spearheading.

“For the time being, the details of the internship are being kept under wraps, but I can say that it involves travelling to New York City for a week and keeping a field journal while you’re there. What you’ll be doing in New York, unfortunately, can’t be disclosed right now.”

You sat up straighter in your seat, interest piqued. A field journal? It sounded like whatever the internship was involved journalism skills. (Or scientific skills – you were pretty sure scientists kept field journals, at least. You shrugged that idea off pretty quickly, though; why would a history professor be in charge of a scientific internship?)

“If you’re interested in applying for it, you’ll need to write an essay and turn it in to me at the beginning of next week’s class. The essay needs to be about a historic event that has somehow impacted your personal life, and it can be from any era of history, not just the one we’re learning about in class… Oh, and make it over 1,500 words in length. Any questions?”

A few students raised their hands, but you tuned them out as you thought over what you would write about. That is, if you decided to apply for it. You still had no idea what the internship was for, after all. But, you reasoned, if it didn’t turn out to be something you were interested in, you could always say no, right?

“…Alright, guys, you’re free to go. Email me if you have any questions about your test grades once they’re posted,” Steve finally said, and you distractedly started putting your things away, still thinking about what you would write about.

When you finally stood up from your desk, you went to sling your backpack over your shoulder only to feel it hit against something. Or, if the small “oof” that had sounded upon impact was anything to go by, someone.

Your hand flew up to your mouth when you turned and saw none other than your teacher standing there, having just been hit in the stomach by your bag – your very heavy bag, which contained no less than three textbooks inside of it.

“Professor Rogers! Oh my god, I am so sorry-“ you started, but he waved it off with a good-natured grin.

“Don’t worry about it, (Y/N),” he insisted, waving off your concern. “I’ve survived much worse, believe me.”

You smiled a little at that and finished putting your bookbag over your shoulders.

“Still, I’m sorry. I promise I’ve never assaulted any of my professors before.”

“A likely story, Miss (Y/L/N),” he joked. “A likely story.”

The two of you were silent for a beat before he cleared his throat and gestured to you.

“I was just wanting to ask if you were planning on applying for that internship I mentioned.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah, I was, actually. Why do you ask?”

“Well… I know that I said I couldn’t go into what exactly the internship entails, but I did want to mention to you that it involves some journalism. That’s what you’re majoring in, right?”

You nodded, feeling excited about your suspicions being correct.

“It is, yeah! I thought it might have something to do with it when you mentioned field journaling,” you said. “Could I ask what the journaling would be about, or would that give too much away?”

“It would give way too much away,” your teacher confirmed. “But trust me, I think it’ll be up your alley.”

Your mind turned it over, taking in Steve’s raised eyebrows and expectant smile. He seemed even more eager than you were about the internship.

“Well, I’ll make sure to write my essay for it,” you assured him. “Just gotta think of what I’ll be writing about.” Your brain had already pondered writing about the Battle of New York; sure, it hadn’t even been ten years since it happened, but it was a historical event. And it was the main reason you’d wanted to pursue journalism, of course. But you almost died with embarrassment at the idea of writing an essay about something Captain America was involved in and then letting it be read by Captain America himself.

As if reading your thoughts, Steve asked, “Any idea about what your subject will be on?”

“Oh, uh…” you muttered, “I-I had one idea, but I don’t think I’m gonna go with it.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” You sighed, not able to meet his eyes as you confessed, “My immediate thought was the Battle of New York. I know you probably don’t like being reminded of it, but it just… It changed my world, the entire way I view things – it’s what made me want to be a journalist. After the invasion, the world – the universe, really – seemed so much bigger, and it made me want to tell stories about the reality we live in now rather than telling stories that are fiction.”

You trailed off, looking back up at him sheepishly when you realized you were rambling. He was watching you with an intent look on his face, and for a second you were worried that the memory had upset him.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t mean-“

“No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head, “don’t be. I understand; it kinda turned my world upside down, too. I’d thought that waking up from the 40’s had been disorienting enough, but… When I saw aliens on the streets of the city I grew up in, it really made me feel like I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.”

Your lips twitched into a half-smile.

“Was that a Wizard of Oz reference?”

“…It sure was,” Steve grinned. “Old fashioned, I know, but it was one of my favorites growing up.”

“Me too,” you nodded. The man in front of you chuckled at that and you arched an eyebrow questioningly.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing, it’s just…not too often that I have something from my childhood in common with someone else these days,” he answered.

Your heart squeezed with compassion for the soldier in front of you, and without realizing what you were doing, you’d rested your hand on his shoulder. You didn’t know what to say, but you knew what you wanted to; you wanted to tell him that you were sorry for what he went through, that you would never be able to understand what it had been like for him but that you knew it had to have been hard. For a second, you regretted ever feeling uncomfortable around him; hadn’t he proven his entire life that he just wanted to do what was right?

You said none of that, though, and after a second you let your hand slide down to your side.

“I’ll have that essay ready for you next week,” you promised him, and with that you turned and left the room, not even feeling the weight of his stare on your back as you retreated.

For several moments, Steve just stood there, glaring at the spot you’d been standing in and feeling himself fall for you even more. Because even though you hadn’t said any of what you’d been thinking, he was able to read it all in your eyes.

______

You’d missed your study session with Tina that week again; for the next several days, when you weren’t working on homework for your other classes, you were working on your essay. You didn’t know why you felt such a sudden need to do well on it; something in you just couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing Steve. Plus, you’d never before written about your feelings on the Battle of New York and what it had meant to you.

Even though Steve had said the word limit was 1,500, your final essay clocked in over 3,000 words, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to shorten it. You’d dedicated an entire week to making it perfect, and you finally got to the point where you didn’t want to change a single word.

When that fateful Thursday came around, you gave Steve a bright smile as you set your stapled essay onto his desk. Judging from the pile of papers resting on it, you hadn’t been the only one to apply for the internship, but you didn’t feel nervous about your odds; either you got in or you didn’t. You were content knowing you’d done your best.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Steve noticed, and you winked, actually fucking winked, at him, wondering a second later why you’d even done such a thing.

“I’m just happy to be done with that essay,” you confessed, continuing on to your seat. “I spent all week perfecting it.”

Steve grinned, knowing for a fact that you were telling the truth. He’d kept an ever-so-diligent eye on you since your last conversation, watching as you typed away on your laptop ceaselessly, feeling satisfied to know that all your work was for him. His heart soared this morning to see you so happy, and he’d felt butterflies, actual goddamn butterflies, in his chest when you’d winked at him.

Class went by as usual, closing off with a list of chapters to be read and homework to be completed before the next class. In fact, the rest of your day went by uneventfully, and the only thing out of the ordinary came in the form of an email on Friday morning.

You were standing in your kitchen, just wearing your most comfy pair of sweatpants and a tank top, sipping some coffee when you heard your phone ding with a notification. Opening up the email, you felt yourself gulp so fast that your coffee burned your throat as you read it.

Dear (Y/N),

Good morning! I know that this is last minute, but would you be willing to come see me in my office today at 11 am? I would like to discuss your essay with you. I’m in the C Building, third floor, Room 212.

Sincerely,

Steve Rogers

You looked up to the clock on your microwave and cursed when you saw what time it was – 10:34. You set your coffee down so quickly that some of it spilled on your pants as you rushed to your room, throwing on some jeans and a cream cable knit sweater before rushing to gather your phone, keys, and wallet. It usually only took you ten minutes to get to campus from your apartment, but the C Building was basically on the other side of the continent from student parking.

You sped in your tiny, beat up car all the way to your college, power walking to the administrative building while huffing and puffing; this was the most exercise you’d gotten in a while, what with your busy schedule.

After an agonizingly slow elevator ride, you reached the third floor and glanced at your phone as you passed by several offices – it was 10:58. You felt your lips spread into a grin.

When you finally reached room 212, you hesitantly rose your fist to knock on its door, but before you could make contact it was opened from the inside. Steve looked down at you with a smile as you jumped.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to surprise you,” he said sheepishly. “I heard you walking up the hall.”

“…Super hearing?” you guessed, and he nodded bashfully.

He gestured for you to follow him into the room, your nose immediately flooded with the scent of something delicious. Your eyes fell on two bags from your favorite café on campus, and you could distinctly make out the smell of their turkey bacon wafting up from within.

“I hope you don’t mind that I got some food for us,” he said, settling into the cushy office chair placed on the side of the desk opposite to you. “I know you haven’t eaten yet, and all I’ve had was coffee-“

“How?” you interrupted him, feeling that old coil of unease wrap itself around you. “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet, that is?”

Steve’s lips parted and his eyes widened for a split second after you’d asked, but he quickly schooled his features back into something more neutral.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled. “I shouldn’t have said that I knew you hadn’t eaten; it was just a guess. I’m assuming I was right?”

You warily nodded, slowly walking over to the chair he had situated in front of his desk. The door behind you was still cracked open, something that helped comfort you enough to reach into the nearest bag and pull out a to-go box.

“I got you some turkey bacon and a cheese biscuit,” he said as you opened the package up. “And there’s some blueberry muffins in the other bag if you’d like any.”

Your hands trembled as you took a bite of your bacon; it was the exact same order you usually got for breakfast.

You were so focused on swallowing your bite of food that you jolted when you heard the man in front of you clear his throat. Your head popped up to see him watching you with an expectant face, tapping his fingertips on the desk beneath him.

“U-um…” you stuttered, not sure of what he was expecting you to do or say.

“It probably shouldn’t bother me, but… Back in my day, we thanked people when they got us something,” Steve shrugged, trying to pass off his words as nonchalant. You could see the way his fists were clenched, though, and it made your heartbeat quicken.

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” you exclaimed. “I, um… Thank you, Steve. For breakfast.”

Your cheeks were on fire, and you felt your palms getting sweaty as you set down your piece of bacon; maybe you weren’t so hungry after all.

Steve, though, just smiled gently and dug into the matching box of food he had placed before himself.

“It’s ok, doll,” he hummed. “Bad manners are just a pet peeve of mine. Go ahead and eat.”

The food felt like cardboard against your teeth as you hesitantly obeyed, still uncomfortable from how Steve had just spoken to you. You began to squirm in your chair as the minutes ticked on, the only sounds in his office coming from your quiet eating. Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you cleared your throat and spoke so quietly that Steve probably wouldn’t have been able to hear you if not for his advanced hearing.

“So, um… In your email you mentioned my essay?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “Did you want to talk with me about it today?”

He smiled and set down the muffin he’d been working on, leaning his elbows against his desk and looking at you with a gleam in his eyes.

“That’s right, (Y/N),” he answered, his face so bright and excited that it was almost easy to forget how harsh his tone had been just a minute ago. “I wanted you to be the first to know that you got the internship.”

You blinked a few times, feeling surprised despite how hard you’d worked on your essay.

“Really?” you asked, slowly starting to smile again. “I did?”

“Of course,” Steve insisted. “Your essay was the best out of the bunch; it’s obvious that you want to be a writer.”

“Thank you so much, sir,” you said, hurrying to say so after what had happened the last time you hadn’t been grateful for his kindness. “That…means a lot.”

“Well, it’s true,” he assured you. “And now you get to know what the internship actually is; I know you were curious about it yesterday.”

You nodded eagerly, watching as he leaned back in his chair.

“A few months ago, I decided that I wanted to write an autobiography,” he began, thumbs twiddling in his lap. “I’ve never been much of a writer, but I figured that it would be nice to try and put my story down on paper. And I thought that it would be a great idea to go back to Brooklyn, where I grew up, and write down what’s changed about it and what’s the same as a sort of opening for the first chapter of my book.

“That’s where you come in,” he added, pointing to you before setting his hands on his desk. “I wanted to go back to Brooklyn with someone who grew up in this century, someone who could help me take notes on that part of the city and who I could bounce ideas off of. After all, most of my readers would be people who have no clue about what the 40’s were like. I’d need someone to hear my ideas and tell me if they’re relevant and if they’d appeal to folks these days.”

Your head was already turning with ideas on how he could link his past to his present in the beginning of his novel; the writer in you was salivating that the idea of this project, and you opened your mouth to tell Steve that you’d take the position.

But then you hesitated, slowly closing your mouth again as you looked at the man seated across from you. You remembered every time he’d made you uncomfortable, every doubt you’d had about him, every time he’d made you squirm under his penetrative gaze. Would you be able to work with him one on one without feeling so nervous around him?

“I’m…flattered that you think I’m a good fit for the job,” you started out, “And this is such an amazing opportunity, but… Um, would we the alone in Brooklyn or would there be other people with us?”

Steve’s brows furrowed; clearly, he hadn’t expected that question.

“Why would it matter?” he asked, voice hard as steel.

“Well, I just… I wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong i-idea, you know?” you stammered. “I wouldn’t want them to think-“

“No one would know,” he interrupted. “For obvious reasons, this project is being kept strictly confidential. You would have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before we left.”

Your doubt must have read on your face, because Steve’s face softened, and he slowly stood up, walking around to stand in front of your chair.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said softly. “You know you don’t have to worry about me, right? I understand that you can be…shy, but think of this as a week off! I’ve already talked to the school board, and your absences with your other classes won’t be counted against you. We’ll go to the city, take our notes, maybe even have a little fun.

“Whatya say?”

You sighed and let your head droop, looking down to your clenched hands as they rested in your lap. You liked his words; they were kind and considerate, but they didn’t reach his eyes. No, they were dark, a stormy gray-ish blue as he watched you intently.

“I… I’m still not sure,” you murmured weakly. “Could I have some time to-“

“It’s a paid internship,” Steve interrupted you, his voice just barely edging to desperate. “And I would let you write the Forward to my novel. Think about it, (Y/N) – your name on the cover of ‘Captain America’s’,” he rolled his eyes at the name, “autobiography. You’ll be able to have any job you want when you graduate. A guaranteed successful start to your career.”

You paused at that, eyes widening at the thought; he had a point. You’d be a famous writer even before the beginning of your writing career. And your bank account was laughable at the moment; you only had a part-time job at the college library, and it definitely didn’t pay much.

Your head tilted up and your eyes met Steve’s, and he was wearing a smile that spoke volumes; he knew what you were going to say even before you said it.

“I’ll do it.”

_______

Steve let out a soft grunt as he came, his hand finally stilling on his cock before he tucked it back into his pants. You’d left his office hours ago, but his mind hadn’t stopped thinking of you since you’d said those three little words. He was coming close to the end of his plan; his reward was so close now. He could practically taste it – taste you.

He wasn’t happy that he’d had to bribe you, of course. He hated the idea that you were just saying yes because of the money and success he could offer you. But if that’s what it took to make you his, then he would do it. It was worth it for your future children, for your future life.

Letting out a soft sigh, he stood up, putting in his airpods and selecting his favorite app on his phone. With a press of a button, he could hear the sound of your soft humming as you turned the pages of your textbook. The camera in your living room showed you curled up on your couch, studying like the good little student you were. Soon you wouldn’t have to work so hard; Steve would give you everything you could ever want or need – a family, a house, a ring on your finger… He smiled at the thought.

He shoved his phone into his back pocket, keeping his airpods in so he could listen to the sound of your humming as background noise. He grabbed his keys and headed out, tucking his laptop under his arm as he started walking out of the building. The two of you would leave for New York in a week, and he had so many preparations to make. His back-up plan still needed to be put in order, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it with you.

You were different from all the others – sweet, obedient, smart… Whatever ended up happening, Steve knew that you would see things his way eventually. The two of you were meant to be, after all.

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