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plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 3 years

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Nemesis: Retribution (3)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, lots of angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, character death, fluff if you squint

A/N: We’re playing fast and loose with canon here people. Also thank you for the interactions. I love reading what you think and it helps me write the next chapters better. Also, I enjoy having someone to freak out with. Highlight of my life I swear to god. Enjoy!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

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1:3 Hard Candy

Natasha stormed off the jet and into the conference room where she knew the rest of the team were waiting for them, fury radiating from her small frame. Catching sight of her target only made her grow angrier. She immediately ran up to Steve and growled up in his face causing him to immediately take a step back. Sam and Bucky were immediately alarmed, standing up to intervene and the latter's black vibranium arm whirring in preparation but Steve held up a hand to stop them.

"What the hell, Rogers? You send me on a mission with zero intel and this is what I find? Did you know?"

Steve's eyes narrowed down at her, the thick beard and longer hair adding even more to his already commanding presence. He knew exactly what Natasha was talking about and he did expect her to react this way.

"I wasn't sure, Nat. And I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up if I was wrong."

"And if you were right?" she scoffed.

Steve swallowed hard before he answered, the blue in his eyes calming considerably. "I thought the three of you deserved to be the first to know."

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky asked, arms crossed on his chest and brows deeply furrowed. They didn't even know about any mission.

Natasha chuckled humorlessly and backed off from Steve. She ran a hand through her hair, the red bleeding into the old blonde color, and gestured toward the door at the approaching people.

"Well you weren't wrong, Steve."

Shock.

That was the overall theme of the day it seemed. None of them could hardly believe that you were actually standing at the doorway. It's been ten long years and you were like the ghost haunting their dreams during that time, a pure and kind soul taken far too soon. Hell, they told stories about your selfless sacrifice to the new recruits. You had unknowingly become a legend.

A legend turned ghost story.

Now you looked more like a nightmare; dried blood caked your clothes and skin, a cold smirk lifting the corner of your lips, and a dangerous unhinged glint in your eyes.

"Well, I'll be damned," Sam breathed. "Y/N?"

"Hey, Sam," you said, the almost flirtatious lilt in your voice sending a shiver down their spines. "I go by Nemesis now."

"Nemesis?" Bucky snapped out of his daze, brows raised high and his jaw clenched, features seen clearer now with his shorter hair. "The notorious mercenary Nemesis?"

"I prefer private contractor."

While they had been honoring your memory, you had been building a ruthless reputation of your own that was widely considered on par in violence with The Punisher but with the added disturbing fact that you could be hired. Of course, no one but a select few knew who you actually were.

Until today.

Nemesis. The Greek goddess of divine retribution and revenge. A name that suited the dark avenging persona you had adapted and the only purpose you now lived for. In a twisted kind of way, you were doing the same work they were only with far less finesse and none of the righteous for the good of mankind purpose they usually had.

You shrugged, sitting yourself casually down on the nearest chair on the other end of the long table from where they stood. You have had a long night, your feet were tired and they were still looking at you with absolute confusion and disbelief. This looked like it would take a while.

You rolled your eyes as you unbuckled your stained bulletproof vest, throwing it haphazardly on the table. You hazarded a glance at each one of them as you made yourself comfortable, noting the changes in them too. The years had given way to a solemn maturity to each one, it seems things had changed for them too.

"Now that I'm here, you have 12 minutes."

"12 minutes? Until what?" Steve stammered.

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, couldn't for the life of him reconcile the person he was seeing in front of him with the person he knew. From your expressions to your movements and even to the tone of your voice, you were just so different and yet it just seemed to make you a more magnetic presence. Fresh guilt washed over him, knowing that he had failed you as your Captain. They should have kept looking for you.

"You'll see. 11 minutes now. Either ask your questions or tell me what you want."

"We all thought you were dead," Steve muttered, taken back by your hostility.

"Well that obviously didn't stick. How did you find me, Cap?"

It was Steve who found you. At first he couldn't believe it was really you, but the split second glimpse he got of your eyes from the body cam on one of the field agents weeks ago drove him to obsessively dig further. It was a shot in the dark when he sent Natasha and the twins on the mission tonight.

"By chance," he admitted. "We've been chasing a group of people suspected to be manufacturing and selling the super soldier serum. Our agents have had a few close encounters with you. I think we're going after the same people."

"So you're asking for intel?" you snorted, absentmindedly picking at the bloodstains on your sleeves.

"No," he said cautiously, wary at how relaxed yet tightly coiled you looked. "I'm offering you your spot back with the team."

You almost choked on the laugh that just escaped your lips. You couldn't help the short bark of laughter at the ridiculous proposition. Looking at their faces though it seemed that the offer was serious, although the reluctant look in their eyes at your transformation showed their inner conflict. You straightened your features and shook your head, the amused smile still on your lips.

"Look, I'm not exactly on brand for you guys anymore." You leaned forward with your arms on the table and landed your eyes squarely on Bucky's, the venom unmistakable. "Besides, I seem to recall I was deemed not cut out for this team."

Bucky felt like his soul left him at your words. There was a Molotov cocktail of emotions raging inside him; surprise, shame, relief, anger, guilt, and longing. It was killing him knowing that he had a hand in how drastically you had changed. He was deathly afraid of finding out your full story. He wanted to talk to you, wanted to beg for your forgiveness and make things right. How many chances would anyone get to redeem oneself with a ghost? He couldn't find the words though, his throat going dry and his tongue heavy in his mouth.

"Y/N, you know that's not the truth," Steve tried to insist.

"I'm not Y/N anymore and I already have a team." You waved a hand dismissively. "Also your 12 minutes are up."

All at once the power cut out in the Compound, drenching the room into darkness punctuated by the flashing emergency lights. You felt yourself get lifted off your seat and the next moment you were standing behind a formation of Avengers in the arms of the resident speedster, your arms on his chest to steady yourself from the daze of the sudden movement. His muscles were tense beneath your hands but his expression was gentle as he looked down at you.

He had wanted to rush over to you the moment you revealed your face. He wanted to hold you, jump for joy, speed around the entire city with you in his embrace. How you were alive didn't matter to him.

Only that you were.

It was only at Wanda's warning for him to stay back that he did. She showed him that you weren't the same person anymore and that they weren't sure whether you would still be friend or foe. To Pietro though, you weren't different.

You were just angry.

To him you were still his little star despite the others thinking you were closer to a supernova now. His little star was just hurting and he decided that he would do everything in his power to help you heal. He held your head tighter to his chest, intending to protect you from the anticipated danger and ready to get you to safety at a moment's notice.

"What the damn hell is going on?" Sam yelled, readying his guns.

A figure silently jumped through the window and rolled on the floor to stop right in front of the group, jolting the Avengers to defend. He stood to full height and took a fighting stance; clad in head to toe red, billy clubs at the ready, and horns glinting in the sparse light atop his head.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

"Let Nemesis go," he growled.

Natasha stepped forward, snapping her own batons in place. The crackling of the electricity from it sent lights to dance on the menacing expression on her face. The rest of the team watched closely the other entry points, expecting more to come in and if the first was any indication then they were in for a real fight.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway, loud and not at all trying to be concealed. Walking straight through the front door, were two towering men in heavy military gear each holding an assault rifle aimed at the group. The sneer on one lent a dangerous taunting aura to his surprisingly handsome features as if to say just fucking try me. While the other had a burning steely focus that instinctively made anyone back off, the emblem on his black vest told them exactly who he was.

The Punisher.

The Avengers snapped to attention, each one drawing their weapons and aiming back. The air was crackling with animosity and fingers that itched to pull their respective triggers. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the first to break the standoff in the enclosed space. Willing for someone to break it.

You laughed.

The disorientation at your reaction was palpable across the room. You patted Pietro's chest, grinning up at him in reassurance that everything was fine. He released you from his hold reluctantly and let you step out of the protective cluster they had inadvertently formed around you. The three newcomers visibly relaxed the slightest bit at the sight of you.

"Weapons down," you said calmly, eyeing each one in the room. No one budged. "All of you. Now."

Steve being the first one to lower his shield was the catalyst in diffusing what could have been the fight of the century. As outnumbered as the newcomers were, they lacked nothing in skill and precise brutality. Frank followed in lowering his weapon and soon everyone did the same. There was still tension but at least it was now reduced to intense glaring.

You tutted and shook your head as you strutted your way to your three rescuers. "What I needed was a ride home, Frankie. Not a goddamn full extraction op."

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, not sounding at all apologetic and knowing you weren't really angry if the tired amusement on your face was anything to go by.

He smiled at you, that small open quirk at the corner of his mouth that was always accompanied by a roll of his tongue. He reached for you when you got close enough, drawing you close with a burly arm around the back of your shoulders. He kissed you on the forehead, a lingering gesture that clearly showed an intimacy between the two of you. The soft look on his face was reserved only for you and when he raised his face to the Avengers it was back to the cold threatening glare.

"Can you blame us though?" His voice came out gravelly, a favorite sound of yours. "The last time you were with these guys you were captured and tortured."

Tortured.

The word hung heavy in the air and though your back was turned, you could imagine the look on the faces of your former team. They didn't know about that yet. How could they when they had believed all this time that you died in the explosion?

"You forgot to mention blown up," Matt added, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He removed his helmet, floppy brown hair instantly softening his persona. He peppered kisses on your palm and the inside of your wrist as he breathed in your scent to calm his own anxiety. He almost lost it when Billy had called saying that you had been taken. He was usually the last one to jump to immediate violence in your group, but the thought of you gone filled him with irrational fear. The possibility that history could repeat itself was unacceptable to him.

"I should have come with you."

"I could handle it and Billy was with me."

"Lot of good that did," he scoffed, switching to lightly biting your wrist. This wasn't unusual. Being blind, he relied on a more intense physical reassurance that everything was still as it should be.

"They weren't gonna hurt me, Matty," you argued, but it was more to help settle his nerves.

"All right, leave the foreplay for later," the last of the trio said, pulling you by your other hand closer to him.

He held you tightly by the waist and pressed you close, molding your body to his in a practiced motion. The smile on his face was scandalous and the mischief in his eyes was one that spelled trouble. The cheeky bastard winked at you before dipping his head to lay open mouthed kisses on your neck up to your ear right along your old scars. Shivers went down your spine and you couldn't help the low hum as your body reacted instinctively to him, stepping closer still until you could feel the heat of his body through his gear.

You knew exactly what he was doing. He was always the quickest to show affection in front of company, but this was a particularly golden opportunity for him to stake his claim in front of people he believed did not value you enough. Billy wouldn't be Billy if he didn't take it.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Across the room, the Avengers watched on with blatant curiosity at the apparent intimately familiar exchanges. It wasn't as much the fact that three men were bathing you with affection, but more that this cemented how far removed you were from their memory of you. They knew you as a starry-eyed recruit who stuttered at light teasing and preening at the slightest validation.

"Y/N," Steve called for you, forcing you to step away from Billy for the moment. You turned around to face them but Billy didn't let you go far, slinging his arm over your chest and this time contorting his body to yours.

"I told you, Steve. I'm not Y/N anymore," you said, a fleeting sadness flashed in your eyes before it was replaced with a firm pride. "And this is my team."

"We're taking our girl home," Frank declared, the threat underneath didn't need to be verbalized. If they took you again, it wouldn't end well for anyone.

"Wait!" Steve said urgently, halting your exit. "We'll hire you."

It was a last ditch effort. He was grasping at straws to keep you from disappearing from their lives again. He knew that if you walked out that door now there was no chance of ever getting you back. He just could not let that happen. This would only be temporary at best, but at least it would buy him time to convince you of a more permanent arrangement.

"Not interested."

"Nem." Matt as usual cautioned you from being too hasty. "Is this about the syndicates?"

You sighed. Matt was like a dog with a bone now. There was no choice but to let him chew on it. This was particularly important to him because the syndicates had been running amok in Hell's Kitchen and he was starting to find it difficult to keep his backyard clean.

"Yeah, apparently the stuff we found in the shipment yard was for making super soldier serums. The Avengers have been following the trail too."

"Why not just join forces then? We can get this done and over with a lot faster with their help," he reasoned.

"We're doing fine on our own, Matty."

"Matt has a point, sweetheart," Frank cut in. "We've been chasing this for years. I know a part of you is just itching to end all of this."

"It might help us find him faster. Do you really want to spend another ten years pulling at threads?" Matt added.

You closed your eyes, hands clenching at your sides to control your anger. It grated at you when they ganged up on you like this, but your anger was more because they were right and you knew it. You hated it, but they were right.

It was Billy who intervened, pulling you again to hug you from behind. His hold was firmer than before, aimed more to calm your shaking body. His voice came out calm, but resolute. His first priority was always making sure you were okay and you obviously weren't okay with this.

"You heard the lady. It's a no."

Frank and Matt sighed and shook their heads, but backed off. They weren't about to push you about this no matter how much they knew this would help you. They'll try again to convince you later, but they weren't optimistic. It was fortunate for them that there was more than just one stubborn person in the room.

"Please," Steve interrupted. You had almost forgotten that there were other people in the room. Almost. "We need your help. They have someone who keeps getting in our way and every time we get close he either fights us long enough for the trail to grow cold or leads us on wild goose chases. We can't let that serum be available to whoever can pay for it."

He didn't know what it was that he said that made all of your heads snap in his direction. Your eyes in particular were suddenly wild with barely restrained fury. He would take it. At least he had your attention.

"We can't let that happen, Nemesis," he finished, making sure to use your preferred name. Anything to possibly get himself into your good graces.

"Do you have a name?" you ground out.

"What?"

"A name, Steve. Do you know who this guy is?"

"By the way he fights he seems to be a merc too. Looks like military background though from where I'm not sure," he said slowly, carefully choosing his words in the hopes of you changing your mind. "He goes by Salvacion."

"We're in."

Earth's Mightiest was stunned at the sudden reversal of your decision. As firm as you had rejected the offer, you were jumping at it now with the addition of your own team.

"Let's get one thing straight though, Cap," you began, the rage still burning in your eyes like wildfire. "My team and I will work with you. It's all of us or none of us. We'll help you lock up the syndicates and destroy the serum. We'll play nice, but Salvacion is mine."

Steve took a deep breath, relieved that you had agreed but also deeply concerned at your visceral reaction to a name. He had to ask.

"Why?"

"Because that's the motherfucker who killed my sister."

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A/N: I feel like you guys have more questions now. Come freak out with me through the comments and reblogs! I write faster when people freak out with me. It’s the truth. Now that you’ve seen our girl with ALL our strapping men, what do you think? Who are you most curious about now?

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

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Demigod MC Series: Hermes

Hey guys, still doing what I can to stay healthy (and entertained) in quarantine. Staying still, keeping calm, and trying not to exert myself too much because of the shortness of breath thing going on. My lungs just can't get enough air it seems… 😅 Anyway, I've gotten a lot of suggestions on this series and I'm excited to keep it going. Just going to be a tad slow until I'm feeling better. Thank you for the support, y'all!

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes

Lucifer

Oh no… it’s everyone’s worst nightmare… Another Mammon, but competent. Devil help us all…

Had he known who their father was, he'd have never assigned Mammon to watch over them. Hell, he would have made sure those two never even met. They became a new handful for him to manage from the day they first arrived…

When even more things started going missing around the House than normal, he knew he had made a grave mistake… They were clever, quick, and skilled. About the best WORST combination for a burglar to be…

Worse still, they were fast on their feet. He would pretty much have no way to nab them on foot and always had to resort to his wings or magic to have any hope of catching up to them… At least Mammon usually gets himself cornered!

But, paradoxically, he also came to notice that the mortal had an odd honesty streak to them... Like, they’d steal but they’d always admit to it, unlike Mammon who would try to deflect till he was blue in the face.

Were they proud of their work, maybe? Or just didn’t see the point in trying to get away with it...?

There would be several occasions where they’d take something, sell it with Mammon, and then steal the thing back later just to put it back where it belonged, seemingly never with Mammon’s permission to do so either…

Is it better that they returned the stolen item or worse because their actions went from just robbery to a full-on scam? Either way, it gives him headaches trying to deal with it…

He pretty much gives up getting the mortal to stop after 6 months, they are legitimately that good, but makes them swear to always put back whatever they take at some point. It seems to work out and he lets more things slide, but please someone get them out of here soon…

Mammon

Soulmatesoulmatesoulmatesoulmate, or maybe more accurately “Partner-in-Crime” but that means pretty much the same thing to him anyway. 🤷‍♀️

He’s never met a person better at thievery than they were. The day they met, they managed to pick his pockets without breaking a sweat (or a finger) and that was it. He was in love.

They could teleport! Actually teleport!! Suddenly, NOTHING was off limits to him any more! Lucifer’s rare records? Easy. Levi’s secret safe? Cakewalk. The Castle vault?? Child’s play!! It was like they could steal anything they put their mind to!!

He didn't even have to worry about them when they made getaways because they were fast too, the two actually have parkour races through the streets for the hell of it!

On top of all that, they were wicked creative. He’d come up with a money-making scheme then they’d offer him all sorts of little tricks to help get away with it...

HE’D have never realized that they could turn themselves into rats in order to frighten and sneak past Barbatos, but they thought of it the instant they heard of his fear of things. They're a mad genius!!

The only real downside was they seemed to like stealing for the sport of it instead of for the money… so they always steal back whatever they took.

That kind of defeats the purpose of all that work in the first place, right? Ah well, at least that's more money for him.

These two pretty much became a walking menace to Devildom society- Sorry, not sorry.

Leviathan

Not another Mammon!!! WHY?! What did he do to deserve this?!?

When he started noticing that EVEN MORE of his stuff was going missing than usual, he straight-up flipped! Like, had the mortal not been pretty tough in their own right they would have been Lotan-chow. End of discussion.

… And then they started using their powers for good? Kind of?

Like, first off they would always give back what they stole, which was a nice change from Mammon. Annoying, but at least he didn't have to go buy replacement games or anything…

And then they started stealing him limited edition merch or tickets and stuff because they… liked him?? He guessed???

Why else would they go to all the trouble of swiping one of the five ultra-rare Kitsune Ruri-chan figurines from its original collector? He would have had to pay Mammon half his tail for something like that but the MC just brought it to him one morning because they could!

Is… is this love? Has he grown to love that which he hates?! What is even happening anymore!?! Who is he?!? 😫

Eventually he has to reconcile his conflicted feelings by dubbing them the real life Peony Phantom Thief, Jane and even making them a cosplay. Yes, they have to wear it when they bring him things. No, it's not weird, shut up.

Satan

He wants to be irritated, no - furious, that they keep taking his stuff… But he’ll be damned if they aren’t making Lucifer’s life a living hell right now. 😏

He's honestly not even sure how they managed to swipe half of the priceless portraits in the Castle (a considerable feat since there's one for Every. Room.) but they pulled it off in under a week. Barbs didn't even notice the replicas…

If that's not mildly terrifying, he doesn't know what is. Who knows what things he could be missing at any given moment...?

At least the mortal had the good sense to return his things, unlike Mammon, which gets them off his shit list for the most part. 🤷‍♀️

It helps that they’re also impressively well-traveled. They claim to have been across every human continent and sailed every ocean. Though he was skeptical at first, just hearing their stories eventually convinced him.

What sort of person has sailed the Amazon River, hiked through Arctic tundra, seen every major capital city, and still had time to explore the sights of the French Riviera?

One that has magical teleportation powers apparently.

Frankly, he could listen to their stories of the human world all day and still ask for another. He's told them that they may as well just write a book of their own for him at some point, it'd be beneficial to their poor vocal chords.

Asmodeus

Ugh! Really? Another thief in the House?? Wasn’t one hard enough to deal with?!

Honestly, stolen beauty products aren't exactly something you can just sell or give back, so unfortunately a lot of Asmo's clothes/accessories get targeted and he is NOT happy about it...

Around the time his favorite scarf was stolen for the third time, he was about to gut the mortal himself, but they struck a deal with him. They could nab his clothes SO LONG as they returned them with an extra little "gift."

Jewelry, perfume, creams, nail polish, etc. Asmo kept a running list and pretty much treated his thieving friend like a less moral version of Akuzon. Whatever he asked for, no matter how rare or expensive, they always got their hands on so who was he to complain?

He once decided to test them by asking for the Hope Diamond - which they got for him - but he made them return it after a week after the curse on it made him ruin a particularly intricate manicure so…

Like Satan, he's also pretty impressed with all the places they've seen. He's pretty traveled in the human world himself so they exchange travel stories all the time!

He may bother them to him out traveling from time to time. There are so many gorgeous and romantic places to visit in the human world after all, it's not like anybody could stop them from just… popping in to have a look. Right? 😏

Beelzebub

They learned very quickly that his food is absolutely off limits and after that, they were good.

Seriously. Beel caught them once trying to swipe a piece of pizza from his dinner and he nearly ripped their arm off for it…

But on the flipside, he also knows that he can go to them if he REALLY needs a snack and is short on cash.

It's pretty comical watching the fleet-foot mortal running from angry demon vendors with a basket of stolen apples for their buddy… But he appreciates their enthusiasm! 🙂

Beel actually likes to hear about their travels too, but mostly what they've eaten. They can keep him enraptured for hours by describing all the food they've come across in the human world…

Watch out for the drool, though.

Since they can teleport, they'll sometimes pop up with a human world treat for him and the man internally swears his undying love for them every time...

Outwardly, though, he just smiles. 'Cause he's a sweetie.

Belphegor

They… they opened the attic door on, like, the first day they met… They didn’t even make it look that hard, they had some kind of knack for breaking and entering…

Seriously, imagine the look on his face when they just walk into the attic to say hello… He had this whole, “Lure and Trick the Human” plan all thought out then they pulled out a magic lockpick or something and BOOM! Freedom!

He laughed, perhaps a little closer to the edge of sanity than he was intending, and he tried to attack them but they were so damn fast he couldn't land a single hit!

Damn was it embarrassing when the others came in…

MC: "LUCIFER! LUCIFER!! There's a monster in your attic!!!"

Lucifer: "That's not a monster that's my brother!!"

MC: *stops midway through kneeing Belphie in the stomach* …. Ooooooooh!

MC: Whoops.

It was a… rocky start.

After they settled their differences quelled Belphie's bloodlust he found that they kind of grew on him rather quickly… Something about that mischievous energy and how much they gave his brothers (minus Beel) grief with it.

He absolutely helps them with their plans if it will annoy Lucifer in any way. Occasionally, they'll even take Belphie out on raids instead of Mammon.

Turns out he's surprisingly good at distractions because all he has to do is pretend to fall then take a nap. People around him will legitimately believe that he needs medical attention so the MC can sneak through crowds undetected...

Of course, Mammon gets PISSED when they do this, though. How dare his baby brother try to steal away his perfect partner!! Get your own damn mortal, Belphie!!! 🤬

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me demigods

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yoonpobs · 3 years

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bad boy good thing xi.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 396

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hi everyone !!! here we are with the weekly update hehe, and it's a brief chapter but it does direct it up to the next one, and that'll be far more ... happening ... if you catch my drift 🤣

anyways, apologies for the silence again - uni has been absolutely kicking my butt and I'm lowkey on the verge of burnout but we'll pull through !!!

hope you enjoy the chapter 🥺❤️

Jungkook sits across from Jennie when it happens.

“What the—?”

“We need to talk.” Jimin glares, hand already grabbing him by the collar when he tugs Jungkook out of his seat. He doesn’t bother to send Jennie a look of acknowledgment, though he doubts she’s at any fault. He was only there for one thing and the subject of his disdain only looks perplexed and confused.

“Can we do this later?” Jungkook huffs, gesturing between his body and Jennie’s. She’s blinking at the interaction, then picks up her purse to shoot the two boys a half-hearted smile.

“I think I know what you needed to say,” She smiles. Then she looks over to Jimin who’s still glaring down at the younger boy, “Good luck.”

Her wish only makes Jungkook gulp, but he can more or less guess what Jimin is dragging him by collar about.

When he manages to ruffle his clothes back into position and sees the angry slope of Jimin’s back, he takes a deep breath. Jimin was by no means a terrifying person on average, in fact, he was quite debatably one of the most pleasant people anyone could know.

But Jimin was loyal and he stuck by the people he cared about with all his heart. He’d fight and he’d defend them till the end of time, and you were no different. Especially since the two of you grew up with each other, Jimin seeing you grow from an inquisitive toddler to the intelligent woman you were today—Jimin would die to protect you.

So when Jimin shuffles through his backpack to hand Jungkook a pack of ice, he can only stare at the cold object in the palm of his hands.

“What is this—?”

“You’ll need it.” Jimin deadpans, then he’s rolling up his sleeves.

“I thought we were talking?” Jungkook asks with a raised brow.

“We are,” Jimin retorts, eyes unblinking when he stares the younger boy down with a heavy-lidded gaze, “After I beat your ass for fucking _____ over.”

Jungkook opens his mouth, ready to defend but Jimin’s resolute glare only makes him cower in submission. He knew he fucked up, and he knew that there was no way he could get a word in even to meekly apologise because when Jimin had his mind set on something, he wouldn’t stop until that goal was achieved.

And it seems that Jimin’s goal was to give Jungkook a physical reminder on why he shouldn’t fuck with the things or people he loved.

“Let me take off my jacket,” Jungkook mutters, defeated.

After multiple shoves against the wall and a generous swing to his cheek, Jungkook is begrudgingly holding the ice-pack against his bruising face.

Jimin doesn’t look apologetic when the two of them sit side-by-side on the sidewalk, or even when Jungkook’s lip busted open. He knew Jungkook could take it, he was twice his size. Even more so, Jungkook knew Jimin had every reason to act the way he did.

“Thanks for the ice pack, by the way,” Jungkook says sarcastically, wincing when he moves his mouth a little too much.

Jimin doesn’t gratify him with a response, instead levels a stare so menacing that it could send anyone running. But Jungkook’s done a bit too much of that recently; so he stays, braces himself for the words that were to leave Jimin’s lips.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook sighs, scrunching his face before tossing the ice pack aside. He supposed that it was nearly useless, nearly melting into a puddle that drips down his arm uncomfortably.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook confesses softly.

“You’ve got a set of nerves on you if you thought it was ever okay to say the shit you did to her, let alone a human being.” Jimin frowns, pulling Jungkook but his collar so that he’d look at him.

Jimin’s face is permanently etched into a scowl, but Jungkook already knows he’s fucked up. The constant reminder of you turning to different directions whenever you’d spot him was enough to hurt more than a punch to the face.

“I know.” Jungkook whispers, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Do you, Jungkook?” Jimin spits, glaring down at the boy who remains helpless under his grasp, “I told you to not fuck with her and you deliberately went against what I said.” His reminder is vicious and quiet, a hiss in the wind that blows.

Jungkook hears it loud and clear, “I know,” He exasperates, still as frustrated with himself as he was with the entire situation, “I know.” He repeats, more defeatedly.

Jimin shoves Jungkook back by releasing his grip around the collar that he nearly stumbles. But Jungkook catches himself just barely when Jimin rises to his feet, looking down at his younger friend like he was a piece of gum stuck on the sole of his shoes.

“Why?” Jimin asks after a beat of silence.

Jungkook purses his lips. He knows why, but he still can’t bring himself to say it. Not when he knows he’s fucked up and Jimin is rightfully furious. He knows Taehyung knows at this point too, there was nothing that Jimin knew that Taehyung didn’t. It was just that Jimin was the more confrontational one where Taehyung was passively aggressive with his anger.

“I …” Jungkook trails off weakly, standing up to reach Jimin’s height but despite his friend being taller, his presence was already intimidating enough.

“You doing that shit with her was one thing, because if it was consensual I’d go on my merry way,” Jimin sneers, poking a firm finger into Jungkook’s chest, “But you had to go and poke at her insecurities to hurt her. On purpose. That’s where you fucked up. Royally.”

Jungkook blinks, intently listening and observing the way Jimin’s chest rises and falls with every breath he heaves.

“It’s taking everything in me not to smear your reputation on campus for the shit you did,” Jimin’s eyes flutters shut and his voice is threatening. Jungkook’s eyes widen, but he still remains quiet, “But against my better conscience, you’re my friend. And I’m so fucking disappointed in you.” Jimin croaks like he’s conflicted.

And for the first time ever since the conversation started, Jungkook feels bad for Jimin; specifically. He knew that it was difficult to defend your friend while berating another, and he hated himself for putting him into a difficult position. It was an internal dispute that Jimin and Taehyung would have to face between holding Jungkook accountable and leaving him to dust.

There was history, between the four of you. But there was unseen history between Jimin and Jungkook that you and Taehyung hadn’t seen, and Jungkook’s always regarded Jimin as an older brother, honorific aside.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook whispers.

Jimin looks up, glaring at the apology like he’s sworn at him.

“I can’t believe you.” He sneers, barring his teeth intimidatingly while Jungkook swallows.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook looks down at his feet, and for a moment he feels like a child being scolded but he knew that children would never say anything as vicious as he did, unless they were a product of their environments.

Jungkook still can’t justify his words, or why he said them. But a deep part of his recognises that it was his insecurities peeking through and him weaponising a weapon powerful enough to shoot himself dead.

“This isn't my apology to accept,” Jimin says sternly, “But even if it was—I could never forget what you said to her, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods, eyes still cast downwards.

“What does this …” he trails off, finally looking up to see Jimin carding a hand through his hair in exasperation and a pinched expression marring his face, “Where does this leave us?’

Jimin knows Jungkook’s asking about the state of their friendship together.

But the anger is blinding and overwhelming, so instead; he tosses his backpack over his shoulder before turning on his heel, head looking back ever so slightly to level Jungkook with a final gaze intense enough to speak for itself.

“Here,” Jimin declares, gesturing to the abandoned ice pack, the bruised cheek and knuckles, “Until you decide to get your shit together, I need time away from you. If not, I’m going to do something that ____ would hate and I don’t want to hurt her any more than you already have.”

The words are sharp, targeted and venomous. But Jungkook recognises he deserves it. He also doesn’t bother fighting back when Jimin finally leaves, leaving Jungkook to bask in his own, clouded thoughts.

“Why are your knuckles bruised?” Is the first thing you ask Jimin when you see him storming towards you and Taehyung in the library.

Taehyung is aware while you blissfully aren’t.

“None of your business,” Jimin shoots back, but then he’s tugging you out of your seat to hug you.

Your eyes widen, “Jimin?”

When he pulls away, his eyes soften.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Taehyung nods and your head is spinning in confusion when you stare between the two boys with furrowed brows.

“Tell you what?”

“Jungkook.” Taehyung answers, eyes boring a hole into your skull.

At the mention of his name, you freeze in Jimin’s grasp as you stare at the both of them with wide eyes.

“How did you know—?”

Jimin frowns, releasing you so that you’re all able to take a seat in a specific corner of the library. You dryly note to yourself that you realise that every one of your conflicting moments of confrontation occurred in this place. Maybe it was about time for a change of scenery.

“Yena,” Taehyung tells you, and you scowl—nearly cussing her out in your mind but you know that your anger wasn’t warranted.

Especially when Jimin reaches out to grab your hand when he notices you looking down at your lap.

“How do you think it felt for us when we had to find out from someone else that you’ve been going through a hard time?” He asks softly, looking at you so gently that your lip nearly trembles.

For the longest time, Jimin and Taehyung were like older brothers that doted on you as much as they could. They took care of you and made sure that you knew your worth ever since the three of you were children. And for that, you could never be more thankful for their presence.

So you understand their hurt, and it makes you feel guiltier when you see Taehyung quietly patting your head although his eyes carry a sadness that only came from a friend withholding information from you.

“I …” You croak.

“You didn’t need to tell us why,” Taehyung reassures gently, “Just wanted to be here for you. For whatever reason, it may be.”

You stare down at your lap even harder and blink away the tears that only came with guilt.

“I’m sorry.” You say so meekly that it comes out as a squeak.

“Please don’t apologise. We just want to be here for you,” Jimin says sadly, squeezing your hand tighter even if you weren’t going to look at him. He doesn’t push you to do so.

“I didn’t want to make things complicated.” You confess softly, fiddling with the thumb on your free hand.

Taehyung scowls, “_____, you know that whatever it is, Jimin and I will try our best to remain as objective as possible but Jungkook said things to you that we're absolutely not okay and as both of your friends, we have a responsibility to hold him accountable.”

You purse your lips, nearly pouting. It’s as if Jimin reads your mind, where a million thoughts run through it, he pulls you closer so that he can properly hug you. Even if the position is a little weird and Taehyung has to bend his arm at a weird angle to be able to hug you too, you feel comforted.

“Don’t be mad at him.” You whisper softly into the material of Taehyung’s shirt.

Jimin snorts, “I release my anger in a healthy manner.”

Your eyes glance down at his knuckle suspiciously but he tugs it away when he notices your wandering eyes.

Taehyung sighs, caressing your hair softly. “We have every right to be angry with him, _____. What he did and said was unacceptable.” He informs you firmly.

You pull away slightly from their hold to furrow your eyebrows, “I know but—”

“You do know,” Jimin says softly, “And we know that you don’t like other people fighting your battles for you so we’ll step out of it. But that doesn’t mean we can’t personally be disappointed in what Jungkook did. He’s our friend too and if he did that to anyone else, we’d still be mad. We’re just extra mad because it’s you and we’re your best friends.”

You dip your head, letting out a sigh of acknowledgement.

“Just … let me talk to him.” You say, and Taehyung raises a brow at the shift in your tone, “This is something I need to do for myself. I appreciate you guys, I really do. But I don’t want things to be weird because of what we did.”

You can tell Jimin is about to argue with you, but Taehyung shoots him a look that shuts him up immediately.

“If that’s what you want.” Taehyung smiles gently at you.

Jimin clenches his jaw, clearly the more displeased one between the two. But he swallows it by clenching his fist and patting your head, shooting you a concerned stare mask in a slight glare.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod, “Very.”

Jimin nibbles on his lips as if deep in thought before pulling away completely, leaning into his chair.

“If you insist,” He sighs, “But Jungkook did get what he deserved.”

You shrug, “I mean I don’t think avoiding him was the worst thing to do, but I guess you’re right.”

Jimin blinks.

Then Taehyung and he are sharing a look familiar enough for you to know only comes out when they did something wrong or were caught causing trouble.

You raise a brow, “Am I missing something?”

Jimin shoots you a reassuring smile and you miss the shift of Taehyung’s eyes to the fist that wraps around your shoulder.

“Nothing at all.”

You [21:09]: hi jungkook

You [21:24]: can we talk? my door's open if you're free.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook #jungkook series

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chickenmcstucky · 3 years

Text

meet me in the hallway

Bucky Barnes x reader

Light angst, fluff || 5.1k

Your bad day gets worse when your less-than-friendly teammate catches you having a breakdown over your shitty morning.

A/N: So this is the second work I’m posting, but actually the first I wrote. Inspired by my own bad morning, lol. Nothing like a little cathartic writing. I’d love feedback!

You had to physically stop your whole body from tapping along with your impatient foot. If you didn’t get out of here and back to your sunny balcony soon, you might actually die of frustration. Sure, the whole sunny day stretched out in front of you, waiting, but it was the principle of the thing. Wasting sun is sacrilege to you. Still, the young woman behind the counter was only doing her job as she gathered your prescription and searched for the coupon you asked for. Why was healthcare so expensive?

As your body cooled from the workout you’d finished just before hopping over to the pharmacy, your thoughts wandered to the lazy hours of writing, tanning, and listening to music you had planned for the day. The team was between missions and somehow the stars aligned and your time off brought gorgeous weather and some much-needed you time. The thought relaxed you as the woman finally rang up your total; as you swiped your card you put your Starbucks order into the app and prepared to finally get home and enjoy your day.

That is, until the card machine gave a deep chirp and the cashier informed you your card wasn’t covering the entire purchase. You balked - how could this happen? The insurance debit was loaded up for the year, ready for any medical purchases. It rarely ran out so early in the year, and it was just April! Your brain scrambled to make sense of it. Had the account rules changed and some of your purchase didn’t qualify? No, that couldn’t be it, you’d done this same process just a few weeks ago.

Your cheeks bloomed with heat as you realized the declined card was the only one you’d brought with you, convinced it would be a quick errand and seeing no reason to bring your whole wallet for the short trip down the street from the Tower. Fuck. And there were people behind you; you shuddered to imagine what they might be thinking of you in your sweaty workout clothes as you stammered to the cashier you’d have to come back. Just fucking great. You felt your good mood at the prospect of a sunny day slipping as you left the store as quickly as you could, trying to save a little face.

***

Making your way around the construction - why did they need to close the entire sidewalk? - you hastily headed back to the Tower to grab your wallet from your personal quarters, wondering all the way how this could happen. Why do the simple things always have to go wrong? Rationally, you knew this wasn’t a big deal. You would just pay the balance out of pocket and deal with the insurance later. But it was embarrassing and annoying and just plain inconvenient. Sure, you had the time and the money to spare, but why couldn’t things just work how they’re meant to? Your swirling thoughts brought you through the private lobby of the Tower and to the elevators that led to the personal floors; angrily jamming the button for your floor, you whipped out your phone to check the balance on the insurance card.

Your jaw literally dropped as your eyes caught sight of the balance. There was more than enough to cover the charge at the store! Now you were really upset. Jesus, why was this happening to you? Stupid, simple nature of the occurrence aside, you felt tears of frustration welling to the surface as you berated yourself internally. Why did you have to be lazy and only take the one card? If you’d just taken your whole wallet and been prepared, you could’ve saved yourself so much humiliation and frustration. And time. You’d brought it on yourself, you always did. Your frustration with the pharmacy and your anger at the insurance company quickly turned to annoyance at yourself and your lackadaisical ways. Why were you like this?

You shoved yourself further into the corner of the elevator, letting your head fall back against the wall as it ascended to the personal floors. You could feel your face was still ripe with embarrassment, your throat thick with unshed tears. God, why did everything have to make you cry? Embarrassment, anger, and frustration brought tears to your eyes more often than not, while sadness rarely wet your eyes. Of course, no one else knew that and you felt like a dramatic cry-baby every time you got teary-eyed in front of your teammates and friends. You were an Avenger, dammit! As the elevator signaled your floor and the doors whooshed open, you could only hope the walk to your room would be deserted. You wanted to make a quick exit before anyone saw your despair.

***

The hope was short-lived. You walked out of the elevator with your gaze on the floor, and smack into a well-muscled chest.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, trying to scoot around the body without making eye contact.

“Walk much?” and if that wasn’t the last voice you wanted to hear. Of course, your card gets declined and you get humiliated to tears, and not only could the universe not provide you a painless return to your apartment, it also brought you face to face with Bucky Barnes. You were hardly in the mood to deal with him on a good day, let alone today. He rarely acknowledged your existence except to quip mockery at you, it seemed. At first you thought he was just like that, but you soon realized he was perfectly funny and friendly with the others, if quiet. So it was something about you; what, you didn’t know. And you’d accepted it. You didn’t need him to like you, honestly. His attitude towards you might have brought you to tearful rages sometimes, but only in the quiet solace of your room where you could freely wonder why he despised you so. His devilish good looks and killer smile didn’t help. Avoiding him was the best strategy.

“Can you just not?” you snapped at him as he blocked your way down the hallway, apparently hellbent on making sure you knew he was making fun of you. As if you weren’t painfully aware of how he felt about you. It didn’t help your girlish crush, the little voice in the back of your head always telling you maybe he was mean because he liked you. Bullshit.

“Whoa there, no need to get in a twist doll. Was just havin’ a little fun is all. What’s got you so worked up?” you heard the teasing lilt to his voice but the question forced your eyes to his anyways. God, the asshole was smirking, those gorgeous blue eyes glinting with mirth. Horrified, you felt tears welling up in your eyes again because the universe liked laughing at you, apparently.

“God Bucky do you ever fuck off? Honestly,” your voice broke on the last word as tears threatened their way out of your glassy eyes. “Just leave me alone, why do you always have to be so mean? What did I ever do to you?” the words tumbled out before you could stop them, your anger and hurt getting the better of you.

Realizing your outburst, you floundered in the hallway as Bucky looked at you with a confusing mixture of shock and hurt on his face. Did he really have the audacity to be upset with you? After the way he’s treated you, so often making jokes at your expense? In the back of your head, you knew the jokes weren’t that bad, nothing more than you’d say in a harmless rib against your other teammates. But they were your friends; Bucky was a menace. Not knowing what else to say as the shocked silence stretched on, you averted your eyes from his now stony face and tried to will your tears - and your anger - away so you could get what you came for, finish your errand, and try to salvage the rest of your day. How did things go so wrong so fast?

You didn’t notice as Bucky’s expression morphed from hurt to cocky as he prepared to deliver his next blow.

“Oh, woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning I see, sweetheart.” His smiling tone grated on your nerves - of course he was still making fun of you even after you yelled at him for just that. He couldn’t just be nice, could he?

“At least I sleep in a bed,” you spat, meeting his eyes once more. You knew it was a low blow, immediately regretting it as a pained expression flitted across his face. You sighed - only you could end up feeling guilty for dishing his own mockery back at him after months of his unanswered jibes. “Sorry,” you muttered, your eyes falling closed in shame and frustration at your inability to contain your emotions.

“Yea, okay, I probably deserved that,” you stopped yourself from mocking his ‘probably,’ refusing to dig a deeper hole for yourself, though the eye-roll was unavoidable. “I guess I’ll get out of your way then,” Bucky acquiesced, his voice quieter now.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his flesh arm reach out as if to pat your shoulder, but he jerked it away as if he hadn’t meant it to move. He hesitated as he half-turned away; why wasn’t he leaving, and since when did Bucky get so unsure of himself? Usually he moved with a sure swagger that riled you right up knowing he thought so highly of himself. Of course, you knew he probably didn’t do it on purpose; your inner feelings about someone had always colored your observations of them and Bucky was no exception - sometimes you manufactured your dislike, but it was inescapable. He infuriated you.

Your head swirled with anger, leftover humiliation, shame at your words to Bucky, and confusion at why he was still in the fucking hallway. You stuttered, mouth moving without your permission but no words forming.

Bucky glanced back at you, and your downturned yet clearly turmoiled face brought an unseen soft, caring look to his chiseled face. It hurt him to see you upset, though you were unaware. He didn’t know why his words to you always came out so biting. He knew how to act around the rest of the team but for some reason you brought out his inner turmoil and apparently his coping mechanism was to just make fun of you. Was he protecting himself? But what did his feelings matter when he had so clearly hurt you? His heart broke realizing that your lack of response to his mocking over the weeks wasn’t good-natured but instead was silent hurt. Fuck, he’d fucked up.

“Honey, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” the softness in his voice was so foreign and surprising to you that you jerked your head up, meeting his eyes in shock. “Maybe…I can help,” he gestured awkwardly.

You must’ve pulled a face at that, because his head immediately rolled back as he quipped out, “what, is it so surprising I can be nice?”

“Well…yeah,” you half-whispered, your mouth once more speaking without your mind’s permission. Suddenly you couldn’t meet his eyes anymore, your gaze falling anywhere but his soft blues. Once again you felt shame flood through you, even though you had told the truth - it was shocking to see Bucky offer kindness, at least to you. Had you somehow misread him so horribly? Fuck, there were the tears of frustration again. As if you weren’t embarrassed enough, this time a few actually fell, carving their way down your burning cheeks as your breath hitched.

“Shit. Okay, please don’t cry sweet girl, I’m sorry. I know I’m an asshole. I - I don’t -,” he cut off, not knowing how to explain. At his saccharine tone and the pet name - this time caressed with gentleness rather than thrown with cocky disdain - you broke as tears fell down in rivulets, your body wracking with silent sobs. Why were you such a mess today? Sure, you wore your emotions on your sleeve, but even you could control yourself more than this. Bucky’s sudden softness had caught you off guard. Where on earth was it coming from?

Unsure what to do as you exposed your raw nerves to him like this, you wrapped your arms around yourself as Bucky twitched in front of you, hesitating before once more reaching out to you, with purpose this time. He tugged at your shoulders until you were pressed into his chest, hiding your face in his faded blue henley. You felt the tension bleed out of you as he slowly brought his arms around you, his flesh hand running up and down your back in comfort.

“Hey there, it’s alright,” he cooed quietly, “it’s okay. We can figure it out. I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m sorry.” It was tearing him apart, seeing you cry. You’d never reacted to his jokes like that, at least not to his face. He wondered how often you held your tears in until you escaped to your room, and his heart fractured. He hated who he turned into around you. He’d fix it, he had to. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t cry over a stupid guy like him.

You finally hiccuped to a stop, the tears no longer falling as his sweet ministrations calmed you down. Before more embarrassment over your breakdown could set in, Bucky grasped your shoulders and set you away from him so he could look you in your eyes.

“Now, you tell me what’s going on. I’ll fix it,” his hands gripped you tighter with his last words, assuring you. His sudden change of heart, while shocking, was strangely believable. You trusted his conviction that he wanted to help you.

Sighing shakily, you sniffled and began to explain. “It’s stupid really, Bucky. You don’t gotta worry,” you deflected, walls going back up even though you longed for his comfort, his friendship that you hadn’t allowed yourself to crave.

“Little darlin, it ain’t nothing if it makes you this upset. Please talk to me,” his soft eyes pleaded with you, the kindness floating in their depths piercing straight to your heart. Your resolve - built less from stubbornness now and more from niggling shame at letting him see to your core - crumbled.

“It was just gonna be a quick run to the pharmacy - I needed a refill - and then I was gonna come back here and sit in the sun and try to just enjoy my time off alone but my fucking card got fucking declined even though it has enough money and God, Buck, it was humiliating. And then I came back to get my wallet and -,” you cut yourself off, unsure, not wanting to accuse Bucky of making you cry. He had, but it was the whole situation that had really gotten you going. You didn’t want to point the finger at him when he was being nice for once.

Your sudden silence clued Bucky in to the rest of the story quickly enough, though he took sweet pause at the nickname that had slipped from your pretty mouth. He had the grace to look a bit ashamed, but continued on. “Okay, that’s not so bad then, huh? You can just go back and finish up, it’s still early in the day, plenty of time to relax,” Bucky assured you, thinking he’d figured this out pretty easily.

“Easy for you to say,” you grumbled. “You weren’t the one humiliated in front of multiple people thinking you couldn’t pay. I mean I basically ran out of there, Bucky. Why am I so - UGHHH.”

He very nearly laughed, covering himself by clearing his throat - now that you were talking to him and his dumb brain was letting him be nice to you, he wasn’t about to ruin things by upsetting you again. He wasn’t going to push you away. He found it endearing how open you were with your emotions, wishing he could be more like you some days when his melancholy got the best of him. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to suffer alone.

“I see…well I’m real sorry you had to face that. I’ve been there a time or two, it’s no fun. But it ain’t bad as all that - they weren’t paying you that much attention. It’s New York City, everyone is so self-absorbed I bet they didn’t even notice. That’s not to say you don’t deserve attention ‘cause you do - I mean - that’s not - …yea,” he trailed off, cutting his rambling before he really embarrassed himself. He met your eyes sheepishly, surprised to see a small smile there. His heart soared knowing he was the one to put it there, even at the cost of some embarrassment himself.

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, I need the prescription today. And - fuck! Whyyyyyyy,” you groaned, your face scrunching as you whined. And damn if that wasn’t just the cutest thing, Bucky couldn’t help but think.

The lilting, light tone returned to his voice as he gently laughed at your groaning. “What is it now, then?”

You moaned, blood rushing to your face as you admitted the silly annoyance, “I forgot my drink at Starbucks. I ordered it while I was in line at the pharmacy, I was gonna grab it on my way back. God, it’ll be warm now - or gone. Icing on the cake, just what I needed,” you sighed, resigned to the wasted money.

Bucky smiled genially as he reached over to ruffle your hair, tucking a stray lock behind your ear with surprising softness. You weren’t sure you’d ever gotten this close to his metal appendage. Something deep inside you fluttered at the prospect of more gentle touches, exploring each other and - now where the hell did that come from? You were beginning to think this morning’s commotion had somehow addled your brain. You shook your head at yourself, emptying those thoughts and Bucky chuckled. This time, though, it felt like he was laughing with you rather than at you. That was….refreshing. Nice, even. You yearned to make him laugh more.

“Alright. It’s no big deal,” Bucky calmly spoke, again determined to bring that smile back to your face and maybe, just maybe, get to know you as a friend. Something about how you’d opened up to him gave him hope he hadn’t ruined things beyond repair with his boyish taunting. He’d treat you like you deserved, be a good man to you, if he could take this chance.

“How about this - you go back, get that paid for, and I’ll go get your drink. If it’s warm or gone, I’ll make them make you a new one. Then you can get on with your day, and I’ll, uh…get out of your hair, I guess,” Bucky trailed off, suddenly unsure. Would this truce be short lived, lasting only until you resolved your dilemma? He guessed he’d deserve it if so, but he couldn’t help but hope you’d stick around him. He’d just have to give it his best shot.

“That’s - wow Buck, you don’t have to go to all that trouble. It’s nothing, silly really, I told you,” you scuffed your feet along the floor, suddenly feeling burdensome. A fearful voice in the back of your head wondered if you were just giving him more ammunition for future joking.

“It’s no trouble darlin’. It’s…it’s the least I can do for ya. I guess I know it’s a miracle you even talk to me. I don’t know why I’m so..” he cut off again, still not sure how to explain without exposing his inner thoughts. “Now, what’s the order?”

“Oh, uhm…,” you balked, disbelieving at what you were about to have to say to Bucky. “It’s, uh, called a Pink Drink?” you let the name escape your lips uncertainly, waiting for the inevitable mocking. But to your surprise, the sweetest smile graced Bucky’s face, lighting up his eyes.

“Well, if that ain’t just adorable,” he gently joked to you as you gave a grudging smile. “One Pink Drink it is, honey.”

And wow, these sudden sweet names were getting to you. You felt your heart flutter as he winked at you before sending you on your way down the hall to your room, finally about to clean up the mess you’d made this morning. He even waited for you to get your wallet, escorting you back to the elevator and riding down to street level with you.

“Go on then,” he encouraged, seeing you hesitate again. “I’ll meet you back up there,” he nodded back towards the Tower.

You smiled softly, half at him and half at the ground you were once more staring at, before making your way back to the pharmacy.

***

You supposed the second trip was actually rather painless. Not a big deal at all, just as Bucky had assured you. Perhaps you could salvage your afternoon indeed, let the sun burn the frustration and embarrassment out of you. Though something told you your newfound confusion at Bucky’s kindness would soon take hold. You still couldn’t believe the gentleness with which he handled you, the kind softness of his words as he comforted you - was this really the same man who spared few words for you but for jokes and laughter at your expense? Something had…shifted. You pushed the uneasy, yet warm feeling away. No time to dissect that right now, you scolded yourself as you headed up the elevator once more, this time for good. You were determined to put this morning behind you and enjoy your rare sunny day off.

As you stepped off the elevator to head to your room, you absently wondered where Bucky was. Surely he had made it back before you - the Starbucks was much closer than the pharmacy. Yet he was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure if you were bothered or relieved about that. Bothered that he might have abandoned his mission to help you, relieved you might not have to face him again. At least before, his unkindness was certain. You had learned to deal with it. Now, this new kind, gentle Bucky? Just what in the hell were you supposed to do with that? You didn’t know what to think.

***

These swirling thoughts stuck with you as you walked into your room; you were so distracted by your own internal monologue that the open door didn’t phase you, nor did the breeze coming in from the now ajar balcony door catch your eye. Absentmindedly you flitted around the room, putting away your wallet and goods. When the breeze coming in from the balcony caught a lock of your hair, blowing it across your face, you froze. Why was the balcony door open? You certainly hadn’t left it that way.

Peering out to investigate, you stopped right in your tracks at the sight that met your eyes. Your lounge chair was covered in one of your beach towels, bluetooth speaker already gently playing your sunshine playlist. And there on the table was your Pink Drink. You were flabbergasted - had Bucky come in and done this? For…you? The mere thought of him taking the time to set this up sent your heart soaring. But where was he? Perhaps your earlier thoughts were right - his sudden kindness had run out, and he was tired of being your friend already. Somehow, you couldn’t quite believe that to be the truth.

Determined not to let this chance go, because now that you’d had a taste of Bucky’s sweet side you would be damned if you couldn’t sink your teeth in, you set off in search of the brooding man. Wandering down the hallway, you steeled your resolve - you were going to thank him, and you weren’t going to get flustered this time. Maybe this could be a new start for both of you. Maybe he was more than you thought.

The door to Bucky’s room was open, and you heard the soft notes of Billie Holiday float into the corridor. You pushed your hesitation aside and walked in, not seeing him anywhere until your gaze fell upon a brunette head just peaking over the top of a chair on his balcony. Walking towards the glinting sunlight outside, you lightly knocked on the doorjamb to alert him to your presence, knowing he had probably heard you come in anyways.

“Hey,” he exclaimed softly, rolling his head to the side to glance at you. He seemed less…pompous than earlier, at least, but less energetic too. Like something had popped his bubble.

You stepped gingerly out onto the balcony, as if you were wary of startling him. As if you even could. Suddenly you were lost for words, the atmosphere awkward in a soft way. Unspoken words flitted between the two of you, both lost as to how to approach the new dynamic that crash landed in your laps earlier.

“Uh,” you started, lapsing into a giggle. “Thanks for the uh, for my drink. And stuff,” you finished uneasily, letting out a sharp laugh at your inability to articulate your appreciation for his earlier kindness. You still weren’t sure if there would be more where that came from, or if you had simply taken him aback with your tears and his sudden gentility was a stress reaction. You steeled yourself to be laughed out of his room, just in case.

“My pleasure, sweet girl,” he sighed, gazing out over the city. “Least I could do, really.”

“I - Bucky,” you heaved a deep breath and continued, “thank you, you really didn’t have to be so….sweet.”

He didn’t respond immediately and you wondered if you’d taken it too far, but before you could get too worried he spoke again.

“Darlin,” he started, the term of endearment dripping from his lips sweet like honey, “I owe ya a real apology. I never wanted to be unkind to you, but it felt like I couldn’t stop it. Whenever I see you I just…forget myself. It’s like I don’t know how to act, you scare the decency right outta me.”

Was this really happening? You gaped, “wha - Bucky, what?”

He held up a hand to stop you as he kept speaking, his words further shocking you yet sending a warm buzz up your spine at the same time. “I’m sorry I’ve treated you the way I have. I like joking with people but it’s not right that it hurt you and I kept on. I’m sorry I made ya cry. It ain’t an excuse but girl, you really terrify me. In a good way, I think, but I didn’t let myself see that. I hope it ain’t too late, you know…to be friendly?”

You were sure he could see the astonishment clear as day on your face, and you watched as his own expression contorted with unease. It wasn’t hard to see this admission was uncomfortable for him. But why? Because it pained him to admit he was wrong, or because…he was as afraid of rejection as you were?

“It’s not!” you blurted before you realized you had even spoken. ‘“It’s not too late.”

Bucky looked at you with a small smile, hope blooming in his eyes. You couldn’t believe your shit day had turned into this - who would have ever thought Bucky Barnes, the asshole next door, could be nice. Could apologize, even.

An idea struck you and before you could lose your confidence, you spoke, “Do you wanna come sit out with me?”

You left the invitation hanging desperately in the air as you shifted from one foot to the other, hoping he would accept.

“Only if you let me have some of that drink,” he laughed as he got up and ushered you back inside, through to your own room and balcony. You smiled to yourself but stayed quiet as you sat down on your chair; Bucky got comfortable in the chair next to you as the tune of a love song permeated the thick, warm air around you.

Silently grasping your drink, you handed it to him. It felt like a peace offering.

His rosy lips wrapping around the edge of the cup mesmerized you, a rivulet of condensation dripping from the cup down his arm as he swallowed.

His low laugh snapped you out of your reverie. “Well?” you inquired.

His lips stretched into a smile, “sweet drink. Perfect for a sweet girl,” a husky tone to his voice as he handed the drink back to you, your mouth agape once more.

A laugh ripped its way out of your throat, loud and boisterous and before you knew it you gasped out, “who are you and what have you done with Bucky? So charming, jesus.”

“Guess I have my moments. Gonna try harder to have them around you,” he let out a breathy laugh, still unsure how to act around you. But this felt better, lighter. For the first time in a while, he felt at ease within himself.

“I think I’d like that,” you spoke surely. Then a streak of courage hit you and you went on, “maybe next time, I could go with you? I mean, you could go with me - together, uh..”

Bucky smiled then, wide, “you askin’ me on a date there honey?” he cooed, joking but in kindness.

This time, you were ready to dish it back. “If you think one drink and some sweet talking is enough to get a date with me you got another thing coming, Barnes!” you jibed. “I was merely offering to return the favor,” you turned your face up with false haughtiness, but your laughter and the way you averted your eyes told him the truth. Turning over a new leaf and all that, he guessed.

“Well, I suppose that’s a start,” he laughed, hope bubbling in his chest. “That’s a start.”

As you watched the sun reach its midday summit, your mind wandered. What a day it had been already. You never thought you’d share such emotion with Bucky, that he’d be capable of handling it, or even sharing some in return. Maybe there was some truth to his words - you wouldn’t let the pain of his mocking slide so easily, but you felt he deserved the second chance he was craving. You deserved it, too.

You stole a quiet glance at him, your cheeks warming as you realize he’d been staring at you. He looked away quickly, but not before you caught a blush spreading across his cheeks. Perhaps, you thought, bad mornings weren’t so awful if they ended with afternoons like this.

***

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kiwi-the-first · 3 years

Text

The Best Lover In The Parsec

Oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Fandom: Star Wars/The Mandalorian

CW: Fluff oh gods so much fluff, *slaps roof of the fic* this baby can fit so much yearning in it! Salt bae angst action, guest appearance of one(1) line of having the word "making love" and including one corny joke.

TW: mention of near death experience,self loathing,body image issues,canon-typical violence.

A/N: I keep mentioning it, this is my first piece of fanfiction writing. So I really really hope you guys like it. I am scared shitless. Never thought I'd ever write this but 2020 said fuck it you're writing fanfics now. Special thanks all of my writer friends for encouraging,helping and inspiring me everyday into making this happen. Iysm!

Enjoy!

- Kiwi

Masterlist

You.

He didn't know what to do with you.

He couldn't explain what you made him feel.

He couldn't explain how you made him feel.

But he knew the answers, he knew the words to describe it. He knew the scent of you and the dreamy sigh that escapes him everytime,he enters the fresher after your shower.

He knew the sound of your voice and how it soothes his longing soul and fills in for the silence of the crest, or "home" as you liked to call it.

How he instantly melted after hearing you speak his name for the first time.

You knew it was sacred due to his creed but he had insisted that he trusted you well enough to tell you.

“Din Djarin?” you asked and he nodded.

“What a beautiful name” you smiled.

He breathing hitched and swore to the Mythosaur he never saw anything as pure as that. Well maybe the kid but he was your foundling so of course.

You two are the most precious purposes to him.

Your eyes, so beautiful that he couldn't stop looking at them, a colour picked by nature itself and poured in by artists. Filled with a cacophony of emotions he willingly drowned into.

He knew the curves and nicks of your body.

You trusted him,let him be near you and patch you up when needed. He knows your loathing regarding it,knows the borderline ambiguity and acceptance you have towards loving yourself.

He knows how you confine yourself in the mere image of a fighter.

He knows it well because he does it too. Still he thinks that you manage to be kinder than he could ever be.

You. He keeps falling for you. Deeper and deeper in an infinite pit of ecstasy that most would call love.

You're all on his mind lately. Still he doesn't know what to do.

He knew your actions.

He knew how you fight, how you patch him up,how you show your affection in silent gestures. Ways you cradle the kid and play little games with him but also scold him when it’s needed. The way his chest tightens with that one particular feeling, seeing the two of you like that.

The three of you are safe,laughing just enjoying each other’s presence and looking like a perfect family,an aliit.

Everytime he associates the word with you two he feels a wave of calmness crash over him.

But he’d be lying if it also didn’t make him want to be disintegrated by his own pulse rifle. It was too much how you constantly took care of the two of them.

How you silently admire him when you think he's looking at the stars. When in reality he's looking at you.

He’s always looking at you, looking out for you two.

But do you feel it too? He doesn't have the courage to ask.

He never did. He'd die a thousand different deaths as a coward than be left alone without you beside him.

Your soul, the purest most perfect thing to him deserves someone better. That is what he constantly told himself.

He never intended to be vulnerable with a stranger yet there you were and here he was. But only you weren't a stranger,not anymore.

If he hadn't known any better he would go as far as calling you his soulmate. Silly it may seem.

A big,bad Mandalorian bounty hunter believing in soulmates, but it was the truth.

You're the one holding his heart. But still he doesn't know what to do.

But then it changed, years of travelling together and months on the run raising the little green bean whom you both love and protect with your entirety. Maybe this was where it all ended.

He has been in bad situations before, true. But death was something he never thought he'd have to possibly greet in front of you.

He first noticed your eyes, all the other emotions were set aside as they made room for fear and hopelessness of losing him. Your pretty lips that he always craved to kiss were trembling as you held him close to you.

One hand holding his as tightly as possible while the other cradled under his neck.

He knew he should've told you, he wanted to, desperately. But surely, he couldn't do it now...right? You didn't deserve a last moment declaration of love but lose said lover and live in vain for the rest of your life.

But the maker played him again. Surprise!surprise! He didn’t die.

After the chaos and dangers were all done, the three of you left Nevarro, and the crest jumped into hyperspace he started to prepare himself.

You barely spoke to him as you were down in the hull with the kid.

After you tucked in the kid in the sleeping compartment and came to the cockpit to sit down he started preparing.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he was still silent and...well he scoffed at himself, still ‘’preparing’’.

But suddenly you got up from your seat, fumbling a little, clearly trying to say something.

"I need to talk to you" his entire body froze.

Whatever it was, it scared him. He felt nauseous all of a sudden.

"...about today".

Oh, his anxiety got the best of him. He was always the rusher and in the moment of weakness he couldn't control himself.

"Mando I think you shou-"

"I'm in love with you" he felt his voice slightly crack.

You blinked once,twice, mouth slightly agape. Tears started pooling in your eyes…

Shit shit shit shit it wasn't supposed to happen like this!!!

You were probably telling him how you'd much rather be without him and be safe far away from him and he fucked it all up.

Again he was gonna ruin something because he had no self restraint.

He was confused when you lurched your body to his chest, hugged him tightly and started sobbing.

Was this normal? When a person wants to leave you they don't do thi-

He heard your shaky voice let out a breath and then a

"I love you too"

Huh?

Oh-

OH!

He could faint right now. He could die and be alive again. If someone told him to befriend a jedi right now he would.

It took him a while to process your words,probably because of that brain injury IG informed him about, he thought to himself.

He was irrevocably happy.

Just...happy...and sated, but he also felt like someone ran over him with a mudhorn.

You loved him. You loved him.

You loved him back.

You-

He looks down at you. Sleeping silently curled up against him, holding him close.

This has been like that ever since.

Ever since you both declared that all those touches were indeed electrocuting,that all those late night heart-to-hearts weren't just conversations to pass the time,how he longed to take your hands in his.

Or how you wanted to take off his kriffing helmet so that you could see his eyes and what they hid, or kiss his lips yet you resisted.

It’s been a while, he thinks.

Since you settled down for your happy ending...or was it a beginning? He likes to think it's a little bit of both.

It was something he'd never thought he'd have. Since you learnt that the kid’s people were gone. Since the kid truly became your own in every sense.

But frankly if he was being honest Din didn’t ever want to give him away and neither did you. Your son,your Ad’ika. You now had the privilege to call him that with the permission from The Armorer.

Since your Riduurok.

Since he was allowed to take off his helmet and finally, you finally got to let your emotions run free.

To finally see his face and hold him close. To feel his lips and his warmth.

The memory of your tears of unsung victory and joy still elevates his heartbeat.

Since you had made love and you laughed at his messed up curls in the morning after.

"Thanks for letting me in" you kissed his knuckles and he sighed contently.

"You did too" you furrowed your brows "I-"

"Literally" he winked, "oh? waiT YOU- EWW!!!" he was laughing hard as he dodged the pillow you threw at him.

"And to think! Your'e a responsible father!"

"Make a pervy joke again and I'll murder you" you grumbled. You kept laughing in each other's arms as he held you close

He still chuckles at the memory.

Now baby didn’t mind having a stable life with his buirs either.

You sighed in your sleep. The morning lights were seeping in through the slightly opened windows.

Sunbeams slowly making their ways into the room and enveloping your bodies.

Your eyes crinkled in your sleep and you mumbled something and cuddling closer to him, if that were possible.

The kid will be up soon too and the thought alone makes him smile.

Yet another day with the two of you.

It was a free day for both of you and between your magnificent existence and snorting at Ad’ika running around,babbling and being the cutest menace. He knew he’d survive.

He looks down at you again and he's reminded of all the things that he loves about you.

Now including how much you also love him. He could feel your heart beat,it is the best genre of music to him.

He felt the warmth again, not from the sunlight but from his infinite loop of affection for you.

“Ner Ali’it” he called you.

He'll bask in this for as long as you'd allow him and gladly, you promised to allow him forever.

He may be the best bounty hunter in the parsec but he never tried to be the best lover.

He simply couldn't!

For that title already had an owner,

You.

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

TAGS: @dindjarindiaries

@spacegayofficial

@lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache

@dindjarinsleftvambrace

@mitchi-c

@the-real-xhorse

@hdlynn

@deafmandalorian

@cheesecake-madness

@duchessnibenhu-ofpyromania

@oloreaa

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thegeminisage · 3 years

Text

my secret galaxy brain reading of spn s11 is better than yours

or: why season 11 is good actually. this is a long-ass meta, so it's going behind the cut

some disclaimers before we get going

absolutely all of this is accidental. nobody does this shit on purpose. this is ~my interpretation~ or whatever. i'm not actually trying to argue the writers meant to do this lol. what i'm saying is that this is the way to make season 11 make sense in your brain because it makes sense in mine and it's one of my FAVORITES. it could be one of your favorites too if you stop limiting yourself

there is heavy discussion of sexual violence in this meta so read safely etc also spoilers for all of s11 obviously

unless you watched the anime, i've seen more supernatural than you have, so i'm right >:)

for the uninitiated, the basic plot of season 11 is that eons and eons ago, before there was heaven or hell or earth or humans or angels, there was only god (chuck) and the darkness (amara). amara kept destroying what god made, so he and the archangels locked her away in a cage, which removing the mark of cain from dean's arm opened. amara escaped and dean was the first thing she saw, so she spends the season using some kind of thrall over him to make him feel drawn to her and unable to hurt her, and also looking for chuck so she can give him a little payback.

ALRIGHT HERE WE GO

season 11 & sexual violence

you don't need to look very far to find examples of sexualized violence and outright sexual violence on supernatural, but s11 is lousy with it. just to name a few examples:

amara's "thrall" on dean, which we will absolutely get into more later

crowley's jokes about altar boys and the tastes of catholic priests

ALLLLL the pedophile jokes made when crowley was raising baby amara

angels torturing cas and threatening to cut his genitals off, only to send in hannah (an angel who formerly had unrequited romantic/sexual feelings for him) to play good cop(/honeypot??) in hopes of making him talk

the return of lucifer, who possessed sam (spn has a history of equating possession and sexual violence) and is heavily implied to have raped sam in hell, and the MULTIPLE times he menaces sam throughout this season, including forcibly touching his soul

lucifer possessing castiel and using him to enact violence on the winchesters, his loved ones

i absolutely REFUSE to acknowledge the lucifer/crowley stuff but if you know you know

the episode with the kissing curse, using "love" as a means to deliver death

dean's possession in the soul eater episode

the "chitters" monsters involving mating, orgies, and forcible impregnation

you get the idea

i could write a whole essay on almost all of these but for this post we'll be sticking mostly to dean & amara

@marcusantonius pointed out while we were watching season 11 that what amara does to dean is basically speedrun his two major attachments - sam and castiel. she starts out as a baby, someone in need of protection, and quickly grows into an adult who attempts to romance/seduce him. the feelings dean has around amara aren't feelings FOR HER, they're feelings he has for SAM AND CAS that are being TRANSFERRED onto her through means of her power. (this is important for later.)

what amara does to dean is sexualized violence bordering on outright sexual assault. compelling him to feel drawn towards her and to protect her, frequently getting in his personal space and touching his face, and even kissing more than once when he is quite literally unable to resist (it's stated many times that he is unable to kill or even harm her, so he is completely helpless in the presence of someone who makes no secret of her intentions for him, sexual or otherwise).

dean says many times that what he feels for amara is not love or desire or attraction. he can't put a name to it at all - not once in the entire series is he able to properly define this thrall she has over him, which leaves us the audience a little confused (amara asking "what IS happening between us?" in 11.06 as a teenager making sexual advances on a grown man does give me a good laugh, because it was written SO WEIRDLY)... BUT we know that it is definitely sexual in nature, and not at all something dean wants to be happening.

this is addressed kind of strangely in 11.13. the villain of the week is a witch moonlighting as a hairdresser, who puts a kissing curse on her clients. the curse must be passed along like a hot potato - if you kiss someone else, it's passed along to them. if they kiss someone else, it's passed along to them. but eventually, a monster called a qareen will show up in the form of "your deepest desire" and kill you, and work its way backwards to the original curse-ee. in the episode, dean kisses the vic (i'll point out this was also technically done w/o her consent, though it was a very businesslike kiss) to put the curse on himself and protect her. the qareen takes the form of amara, and she gives Dean this little speech:

Qareen!Amara: You're a mystery. I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel. Except it's cloaked in shame. When it comes to this, you can’t help yourself, so why fight it? Just give in.

then, at the end of the episode, after dean reveals who the qareen was for him, we get this conversation between sam and dean:

Dean: You seriously think the sister of God is my deepest darkest desire? Sam: She isn't? Dean: No! She can’t be! Sam: Why not? Dean: Why? Because if she is that means that I'm… Sam: Means you're what? Complicit? Weak? Evil? Dean: For starters, yeah. Sam: Dean. Do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She's the sister of God, and for some reason she picked you and that sucks, but if you think I’m gonna blame you or judge you…I'm not.

the "shame" part of both of these is really what stuck out to me - the word itself isn't in the second passage, but dean's vibes are absolutely filled with shame. to me, this always read as being shame about the sexual violence and about the complicity/weakness that "allowed" that violence to happen.

and as a reminder, sam is just a few episodes past the confrontation with his own rapist (he returns to the cage to speak with lucifer in 11.09 & 11.10, and canonically struggles with what happened there even after the confrontation ends). sam made a point earlier in this episode of making sure the victim of the curse knew it wasn't her fault her husband died, but the fault of the witch who cast the curse. sam is VERY emotionally intelligent, and i honestly believe that he was speaking as one survivor of sexual violence to another here. what he's telling dean is something victims often need to be reminded of: it's not your fault. you weren't complicit, or weak. you didn't have a choice. you don't deserve blame or judgment.

we've had bad guys make sexual threats at both dean and sam many times before this and a few more times after, but as far as i can recall, this is the only conversation in the entire series that even attempts to address the impact of that particular kind of violence on dean. it's short, and strangely written, but nonetheless: there it is.

season 11 & the dean in the closet

for the purposes of this post, i'm not going to go through the entire series and find examples to try and prove dean is bi and has feelings for cas. if you don't believe that then what are you doing here? we're skipping to the goods.

actually, i always got annoyed at people who read the fake-amara's speech in 11.13 (or any of the other times people spoke about dean's shame regarding amara) as being about dean's sexuality, because in my mind it was ABSOLUTELY about his being a victim of sexual violence, which was far more important to me, as it is discussed far less often.

BUT, knowing what we know now (that cas was always canonically in love with dean, and it's all but canon that dean really was bisexual), i'm willing to entertain another notion:

Sam: ...you're what? Complicit? Weak? Evil? Dean: For starters, yeah.

the "evil" bit never really sat right with me as part of the narrative of sexual violence, aside from touching on dean's general self-loathing, but it fits the narrative of being closeted MUCH better. dean, a self-hating homophobic bisexual, would probably use a similar word, if not something heavy as "evil," to describe the way he feels about other men. it's a malevolent feeling. (if you're like me and ascribe to the jackles headcanon that dean resorted to turning tricks to make food money when he was underage, we could also consider the extremely fucked up fact that almost every queer man dean's ever met is someone who hurt him.)

dean is ashamed of who and what he is, and the way he feels about cas. living like that, that's violence. he lives violently day in and day out with that feeling. (and amara knows it. it's worth nothing that she uses cas to communicate with dean MULTIPLE times in this season, both by carving messages on his body and psychically, through his own connection to dean - and when dean "betrays" her to rescue casifer, she's horrified at whatever she sees in his head.)

equating sexual violence to the violence of being closeted

but what's amazing about this weird badly-written little 11.13 conversation (and indeed, the season-long plotline of dean and his shame) is that we don't HAVE to assign it to the purposes of being about sexual violence OR about being closeted. it can be and IS both.

my favorite reading of this is that BEING IN THE CLOSET IS INHERENTLY A VIOLENT AND TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE. many of the same feelings are involved: shame, guilt, self-loathing. sam's comforting words to dean - that he will not be blamed or judged - are equally applicable in both cases. dean is a victim of sexual violence, and he is also in the closet, and both of these experiences are traumatic ones, and they are intermingled with each other in a big way (again, if you're into dean-turned-tricks headcanon, they are intermingled INSEPERABLY - the sexual violence being one of the direct causes of dean not wanting to accept or address his own sexuality).

the bait-and-switch

the real galaxy brain moment of this whole thing begins at the end of 11.22 (an otherwise lackluster episode that played sam's lucifer trauma for laughs how dare they ugh god whatever that's off-topic but i HATE IT) when amara and chuck finally have the confrontation she's been fighting all season for. she is attacked by witches, demons, angels, and then stabbed by lucifer himself, before she's finally on her knees before chuck, and then we get this little exchange:

Chuck: I'm sorry. For this, for everything. Amara: An apology at last. What's sorry to me? I spent millions of years crammed into that cage alone and afraid...

maybe you already know where i'm going with this. a cage isn't so different from a closet when we're working with metaphors, right?

amara talks about her grievances with chuck many times throughout season 11 - that he was spoiled, that he created the earth to stroke his ego, that he couldn't handle her as she was. and once he finally makes his appearance he tells it his own way - that he had no choice but to lock amara away, that she couldn't stand the things and people he made, that he did it to protect people. but something about THIS conversation in particular - even though it's not written into the dialogue - gives me a particular kind of vibe.

there is something innately, unspeakably WRONG with amara. i don't mean unspeakable as in very bad, i mean unspeakable as in LITERALLY undefinable. it's just like dean being unable to put a name to the pull she has over him. no one talks directly at it or about it, they go in circles around it, but facts are facts: amara simply couldn't be allowed to exist as she was because there was just something innately wrong with her. and it's this conversation in particular, the first one they have together onscreen, that really slams that feeling home for me.

the entire time chuck and amara are talking, the camera repeatedly cuts to dean - he is so visibly upset that the first time i watched this, i was certain he was about to jump into the middle of things and put himself between the two of them. we're meant to believe that dean has trouble hearing this because he "cares" about amara, but i have a different take.

i think it's empathy. real, actual empathy - not the kind of feeling that amara had to force out.

stay with me here. eventually, after chuck tries to lock amara away again, she gets her second wind, attacks him, and leaves him for dead - and as he dies, the sun dies with him, and so too does all life on earth.

in the following episode, the finale, amara finds her way to a park, where she takes in god's creation, visibly upset as she realizes that his flowers die at her touch (again, hammering home the point that there is something innately wrong with her that means she cannot live in this world), and eventually speaks with an old lady feeding the birds.

Woman: Do you want to feed them? Amara: I shouldn't. Woman: I've been feeding these birds going on 20 years now. They're practically family. And I know that makes me sound like a crazy old bat, but...heck. My husband died a couple of years ago, and my son keeps slipping me these brochures for retirement communities - a.k.a. where they send old folks to die, but not to make a fuss about it. Amara: So you hate him. Woman: Well, a little bit. Sometimes. But you know family. Even when you hate them, you still love them.

this speech brings tears to amara's eyes. what's more, she spends this entire section with her hands in her lap. after a season of killing her way through humanity to get god's attention, she is afraid to touch these birds for fear of killing them. she feels empathy for them. she and dean are connected, after all - so as soon as he began to feel true, genuine empathy - so did she.

when dean shows up to kill amara (via a bomb made out of souls hidden in his chest), she immediately clocks his plan. she practically dares him to do it, and - he can't. he is, as always, helpless against her.

what dean does instead is talk to her. more importantly, he listens to her. when she says her brother sent dean here to execute her, he tells her chuck actually didn't want this - that it was actually his very last resort. he asks her if this, the death of everything, is what she wanted, and she tells him all she really wanted was payback. again, dean EMPATHIZES:

Dean: Yeah, that's revenge. It'll get you out of bed in the morning, and when you get it, it feels great... for about five minutes. I've been there. Me and Sam, we have had our fair share of fights—more than our share. But no matter how bad it got, we always made it right because we're family. I need him. He needs me. And when everything goes to crap, that's all you've got—family. Now you might be a—an all-powerful being...but I think you're human where it counts. You simply need your brother.

what's really neat about this section, and the scene before it where amara confronts her brother, is that they mark the first times dean felt any sort of genuine emotion for amara at all - one that she didn't force out of him or one that he felt for someone else that she just took for herself. dean genuinely EMPATHIZES with her - after everything she's done to him and his loved ones, and to the people on earth, dean sees the humanity in her. that's kind of his and sam's M.O., loving monsters into men - the number of non-human adversaries who eventually became allies because of the winchesters’ empathy or liking for them or even just their influence is staggering. cas, gabriel, meg, benny, crowley, rowena, metatron, to name a few off the top of my head - and now amara.

and then we get THIS:

Dean: You don't want to be alone. Not really. I mean, hell. Maybe that's why you wanted me. But deep down, you didn't really want me... 'cause I'm not him.

(emphasis mine)

and here's my galaxy brain take: dean empathizes with amara - TRULY empathizes with her - because they're both queer (or queer-coded).

I KNOW THIS SOUNDS NUTS BUT LISTEN. this weird creepy stalkery hetero "romance" was fake on both sides all along. dean and amara are the same. that unspeakable and innate wrongness lives in both of them. they're self-loathing and furious at god for his failures and callousness, outcasts in a world that isn't for them, a world that has HURT them simply on account of them being what they are. the violence done to amara was done to her BECAUSE of this unspeakable wrongness about her - her queerness, or her queer-codedness - and we already decided this was, for the purposes of this season, functionally the same violating and traumatic experience as sexual violence.

amara's been using dean to try and replace chuck this entire season. it's some weird comphet bullshit tied in with the fact that dean was the first part of chuck's creation she ever saw. it stands to reason then that she was trying to force dean to be with her and love her the way she wanted to force CHUCK to be with her. that's part of why she started life as a baby - as someone he'd protect as he did his own sibling.

so in some weird, warped, very roundabout way, amara was enacting on dean the violence that chuck enacted on her - making him feel the same shame and weakness that chuck made HER feel when he locked her away eons ago. if amara unknowingly replaced chuck with dean, then she also unknowingly took part of her revenge on him. the only way she knew how to love someone was to force them to do it, because the only ways she had ever been loved until now involved violence - until dean and his moment of genuine empathy.

consider this final speech:

Dean: Maybe I can kill you. Or maybe I can't. Maybe if I pull this trigger, we all live happily ever after, or maybe we die bloody, or maybe it doesn't matter, because maybe there's a different way. So I'm gonna ask you again. Put aside the rage. Put aside the hate. And you tell me...what do you want?

dean is the only person in BILLIONS of years to ask her this! one queer to another! and it turns out that and all she wanted - the ONLY thing she needed - was to be understood and accepted by her family. immediately after this, amara summons chuck to their park, and the two of them talk it out in what is genuinely a very moving scene. amara - perhaps because of her connection with dean, perhaps because she's finally admitted to herself that she does still love her brother - sees the beauty in the world now, and feels love for it, and she doesn't want to destroy it anymore.

and at the end, after she's made her peace with god, and the sun has been turned back on, amara says:

Amara: Dean, you gave me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you.

and what do we get at the end of this episode? mary winchester, risen from her grave. dean's family. and - SPOILERS FOR SEASON 12 - though at first mary rejects dean (and sam) as being the same children she remembers from 1983, after a long and rocky road, at the end of the season, they eventually come to a reconciliation where she sees them for who they truly are. it's never ABOUT being queer because this show uses the fucking hays code when it comes to dean's sexuality, but it's still about being queer!!

dean gave amara what she needed - acceptance from her family - and she gave him that back in turn. all it took, the entire time, was one SHRED of empathy from one queer to another. all dean had to do was recognize her - REALLY recognize her - not as a replacement for sam or cas but as who she really was. and he saw himself in her, and the empathy that followed was genuine because it was the most natural thing in the world. in the end neither dean nor amara needed the "romance" they thought they did/were forced to want. they never did. they only needed acceptance and understanding.

supernatural is always about family and the power of love, and this season is no exception.

other great parts of season 11

if you're still not convinced, season 11 is full of other things that make it amazing:

GOD'S RETURN. after SIX YEARS he's back, this is canon, we finally get to hear what he has to say. they did more with him in a handful of episodes in this season than all of season 15

also, something else returns after six years. i'll give you a hint: it glows hot in god's presence. it was last seen being dropped into a motel trash can.

and of course the big one: lucifer and sam. what great callbacks to seasons 4-6 when lucifer and what he did to sam in hell was actually scary and mattered a lot! lucifer returns to being scary in this and i can't get enough of it.

this is also inseparable from sam's arc involving his faith - he begins praying again, having visions again, and is GUTTED when those prayers and visions lead him back to the place of his worst trauma. he gets to MEET GOD this season. it's fucking insane

the inherent melodrama of castiel, someone loved and trusted by the winchesters, being possessed by someone who they hate and who has hurt them. you get all of the sam drama with him accidentally trusting lucifer with his soul and his brother's life, and all the dean drama where he watches the devil run around in his boyfriend. also, misha collins does an uncanny impression of mark pellegrino. it's actually really creepy

somehow, they managed to make metatron, a deeply hated villain by all, ACTUALLY LIKEABLE. for TWO whole episodes. it was NUTS

this season starts off rowena's long arc with lucifer and her lucifer trauma that eventually becomes the catalyst of her bonding so profoundly with sam <3 best friends forever <333

sam and dean bond with a pair of canonically gay hunters who DON'T DIE

billie is introduced in this season and she's super hot and cool and awesome

eileen is also introduced in this season. her arc mirrors sam's so well, it's SO good. i never though i'd care about sam and a girl who wasn't jess, but i care about them SO MUCH it makes me insane. if you don't love eileen you're wrong!

anyway, watch season 11. it's weird but it's really fucking good. THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

[spn masterpost]

#supernatural #dean winchester #amara #supernatural meta #destiel #in a roundabout way #i needed a 5th tracked tag lol #i stayed up ALL NIGHT writing this but im gonna be a smartie and schedule it to go up at noon when ppl are awake #liz watches spn #liz's meta #liz's spn stuff #liz makes stuff #long post #just in case the cut fails #this meta really is 3800 words long lol #as a bonus it was implied in late season 10 that amara is the older sibling #even though they retconned it and made them twins later #like amara and dean are both eldest sisters.......

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mk-wizard · 3 years

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Big Hero 6 The Series: It could have been better

Hello, friends. Today, I will be analyzing a TV series based on a movie that I fell in love with for its colourful themes, deep plot, compelling characters, great CGI and memorable messages. Before I get into it, I want to take a moment to say that I have quit doing videos. They are too big of a pain in the petunia to make and I write better than I speak, so I will stick to writing essays, reviews and more. Anyway, onto the analysis.

All I can say about Big Hero 6 the series is that it had a great concept, it presented some great ideas and tried hard to be a cartoon of the times, but it could have and should have been a lot better. The show’s downfall all centers around trying too hard to be kid friendly which makes the shame sting all the more because Big Hero 6 was already kid friendly even with its dark themes, sharp edges and intelligent writing. If anything, even the brightest kid friendly cartoons (Steven Universe, She-Ra, etc.) had those things and actually benefitted from them. By needlessly trying too hard, character development got scrapped, the edges were all smoothed out, storytelling was subpar, the humour was too silly and the executive meddling in the end produced a dismal final season. However, I don’t want this analysis to be one lengthy negative rant about how awful the series was because in its defense, awful is an unfair word. It did have potential and ideas which are worth carrying over to a reboot that I hope will be done someday in the future. Also, we should root for a reboot because Big Hero 6 would not be the first story that needs it before striking gold. Just look at how many times Spider-Man was rebooted in film before MCU found the version that worked. Anyway, I will list all the things in Big Hero 6 that could have been better in my opinion;

1- Go easy on the laughs and be more generous with the action. - I love adding comedy to my own writing because I think a good sense of humour makes everything better, but Big Hero 6 is not a stand up comedy routine. It is a superhero story where we expect action, suspense and life or death situations that are to be taken seriously first. The comedy should be for relief and with the right timing. Also, the chibi cutscenes and having characters act like fools aren’t funny. Ren and Stimpy are the exception not the standard and their way of making you laugh doesn’t fit an action series. In a show as big as Big Hero 6, real life physics and danger matters.

2- Make the villains menacing and gritty. - I admit that after having a movie villain like Yokai who was the stuff of nightmares, it is going to be a challenging act to follow, but it was obvious that the writers were trying especially with some villains who could have easily gone into some dark relatable territory. For example, Mr. Sparkles (the gentleman in the photo above) embodies social media and Internet personalities. Right off the bat, you have a long list of things which embody the dark side of that like scams, fraud, using social media to dox or harass, driving people to suicide, online predators, the Internet personalities being very depressed people in real life, and much more horrifying things. When you stop and look at it, Mr. Sparkles even looks like the Joker which hints how dark and scary he could have been if the stops were removed. The same goes for enemies like Hardlight who embodies online gaming, Liv with cloning, Obake an amoral and insane scientist, and Trina and Noodle Burger Boy (more on him later) being evil robots. Globby especially should have been painted and written in much darker colours rather being played off for laughs because he has many parallels with Clay Face. The only two villains who I can say were supposed to be campy, charming and comical were Baron Von Steamer and Supersonic Sue because they were a satire of the Adam West style villains.

The rest of them needed to be dark and threatening including Mr. Sparkles. In fact, I would love a rebooted version of Mr. Sparkles who gives me the heebie-jeebies. Going back to Noodle Burger Boy, I must confess that I was actually excited when I heard that he was going to be the main villain of the final season because I thought he was going to fulfill his master’s final wish and as a reminder, Noodle Burger Boy was based on a super robot for military purposes.

It would have been fantastic if Noodle Burger Boy was upgraded into a full military war machine with a new threatening look. For that, I think all of the villains deserve to be rebooted and have their full potential unlocked for better or for worse.

3- A show about geniuses merits genius level art quality. - I am usually forgiving towards art styles, but in the case of Big Hero 6, the oversimplified style with minimal details and lack of textures did not suit the show. The characters blend in with the background which makes them look flat and the special effects were extremely dulled down. I also know for a fact that Disney can do a lot better than this because I saw how superbly Tangled the Series was drawn.

You can see and almost feel the difference in quality, the number of layers and level of detail between the two styles. I think there was no excuse Big Hero 6 was not done in the same style and at the same level if not better as Tangled.

3- Don’t dumb down or flanderize amazing characters. - I absolutely detest it when characters are flanderized because it makes them one dimensional and grating. For example, Go Go is tough as nails and extremely calm, but she is not cold or hesitant towards helping her friends. She doesn’t require very special episodes for us to know that. If anything, the movie version of Go Go reminded me a lot of Garnet in how she deconstructed the broody character. She isn’t cold or emotionless. Just calm and mature. Another good example was how Honey Lemon was rewritten to be overly positive to the point of toxicity, naïve and oblivious with a juvenile obsession with stickers. Then you have poor Fred who was rewritten to be an incompetent fool. The spark that makes Big Hero 6 shine is that they are a team of geniuses meaning they are all intelligent. Even Fred is genius in his own way just not a scientific one. He has a vivid imagination, he is resourceful and can get himself out of tight spots. Please, don’t turn characters into dummies especially if their intelligence is a part of them. It doesn’t make them better or funnier. It ruins them.

4- Tadashi needs closure and honour. - I am all for Hiro making peace with the loss of his brother, but Tadashi is to the Big Hero 6 team what Uncle Ben was to Spider-Man. His loss was the catalyst if not the reason. He should never be forgotten. Moreover, there was never any true closure to him especially with the possibility that he may still be alive up in the air. After all, like Callaghan, his body was never found and it turned out that Callaghan was still alive.

With that said, who is to say that Tadashi was not secretly still alive and just hiding or being hidden? This is something that Disney really needed to clear up if not for the fans, then at least as a service to such an important character. Never just forget about them.

5- The format can only be episodic with a deep plots, continuity and character development. - Random episodes with a mere monster of the day is an outdated format which doesn’t fit Big Hero 6′s modern and bright setting. In seasons 1 and 2, when the episodes were plot heavy with character development, the series shined brightest. It also helped move the story along, but with the final season, plot was removed, closure was abandoned or poorly written if any was given, and characters were disallowed from growing. A good example at how plot and character development could have made this series and its characters better was the relationship between Hiro and Megan. Would it have truly survived or would they have broken up?

Would Richardson Mole have eventually lost interest in his obsession with besting and bullying Fred or would his obsession consume him compelling him to become a super villain? I do see quite a few similarities between Mole and Reverse Flash.

Then you have Karmi who is in my opinion, the biggest wild card of the bunch. She was intentionally introduced as an arrogant, prickly and unlikable yet complex character who rivaled Hiro bitterly.

Yet had a huge crush on his alter ego and as time went on, started to grow up and even form a friendship with Hiro. What would have happened further down the road with her? Would she have become a super hero herself? Or maybe even another love interest for Hiro kind of like how Black Cat is for Spider-Man?

Is Obake really gone?

What does the future hold Diana (Liv’s clone), Liv herself or the Sycorax the genetics company?

Is Alistair Krei going to become an ally to Big Hero 6 or an antagonist? There is also the issue at how little we know about the other Big Hero 6 characters other than Fred, Hiro and Baymax. What are Honey Lemon, Wasabi and Go Go’s backstories? These questions matter and while not every mystery can be solved, leaving none of them solved is lazy writing.

6- Executives, kindly stay out of the writing and any other part of the creative process. - I’m sorry, execs, but there is no nice way to say it. History itself proves that every time executives got involved in the creative process of any media, it got worse not better. Leave the writing to the creative team and the execs should only handle the legal stuff. Please. We understand that TV is a business, but writing itself is not. It is an art which you just don’t have a talent for. Let the creative people do their thing with the freedom necessary and you do your thing, deal? Deal.

7- Focus on Hiro and Baymax. - The are the main characters so keep them at the heart of the series no matter what happens around them. That is all I can say.

And that sums up all the things that could have made Big Hero 6 the series better, but this is all just my opinion. What is yours?

PS: I am well aware that the Big Hero 6 series is being retconned because a new series called Baymax is in the works as well as the long awaited sequel to the first movie. I am looking forward to both with an open mind. PPS: I also am aware that some people liked this show the way it was including the art style and I am cool with that. An analysis for art that includes cartoons is never right or wrong. It is solely based on opinion. I may have thought this series could have been better, but there are people who make arguments that it could have been worse.

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tomtenadia · 3 years

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A Little Braver - Chapter 4

So, chapter 4 is finally here.

It has a few funny moments but it also has angst.

This fic has so much more angst that i originally planned.

Anyway... enjoy it.

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The drive to the hospital did not take long but once inside they noticed the waiting room was swamped.

“Whitethorn, this is pointless,” she said when he placed her on an empty chair “we’ll be here for hours.”

“I don’t care, we are getting that knee checked.” His tone did not admit any protest from her.

Aelin grunted “I hate you.”

“Is that news? Tell me something I don’t know.” Rowan took a seat on the empty seat beside her then took her injured leg and lifted it on his lap. Aelin winced.

It was three hours later when Rowan started to loose his patience “that woman came after us and she went in already.” He protested a bit too loudly for Aelin’s taste. Why was he caring about her wellbeing all of a sudden?

“Maybe she is worse than a busted knee.” She shrugged but he glared at her.

“She walked into the A&E on her own two feet. You just dealt with that damn inferno with that busted knee.” He protested and the hint of pride in his voice moved something inside her.

“I don’t need the red carpet.”

“Some fucking attention for people who bust their asses to save other people lives would be appreciated.” His tone got a bit louder still. Rowan did not seem the type to cause a scene but he seemed a bit too annoyed and to be honest she did not know much about the guy. She just hoped his military training would kick in and restrain himself.

“Doctor save lives too.”

He grunted and stood and Aelin braced for the worst. She saw him walk with purpose to the reception desk with perfect military stride. She would have laughed if it wasn’t that she was scared of what he would do.

She saw him talk to one of the nurses behind the nurses station. A few times his arm pointed at her and she made herself small and invisible.

Then she went back spying on him and studied his posture and gasped. The man was flirting with the nurse. Stick up in the arse captain was flirting with the nurse to get her in early. She was dumbfounded. She could not believe that he had it in him.

He came back five minutes later with a smug face “Someone will come for you soon.”

Aelin’s mouth fell open “Did you just flirt with the nurse to have me seen earlier?”

“I did not such thing,” and he looked away, scanning the waiting room.

“She is looking over here. I think she is interested in you and is now wondering how it would feel to bag an airforce captain.”

Rowan huffed “not interested.”

“She is pretty.”

“Not my type…”

“Oh come on grampa, she could even play sexy nurse with you.”

Rowan rolled his eyes “you really are a menace.”

She was about to add a snarky remark when a doctor stopped in front of them “Aelin Galathynius?”

Aelin’s head snapped up “I am here.”

“I am doctor Yrene Westfall. Follow me.”

Westfall? Was she Chaol’s wife?

“Did you say Westfall? Is Chaol your husband?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

Aelin nodded “I am a firefighter, we work a lot with the police. He was at the embankment fire tonight.”

“He told me, apparently it was hell. His own words.”

“It was bad.” Aelin stood and swore as sharp pain shoot from her knee up her leg.

“Why did you do that?” Rowan protested and lifted her again in his arms.

“You are making the nurse jealous.”

“Shut up and let’s follow the nice doctor.”

“Put her down here,” Yrene pointed at an empty bed.

Rowan placed her gently on the bed and stepped at the bottom of it. His hands behind his back.

Yrene lifted the leg of her trousers and had a look at her knee “This look quite bad, why did you wait this long to come to the hospital?”

“I was going to… but then city emergency and all and it slipped my mind.”

Rowan snorted and Aelin glared at him.

“And you walked all day on it?”

“Kinda…”

“You might have made things much worse.”

Aelin leaned back on the pillow and sighed. She knew and with the performance review on its way it had been very stupid of her.

“How did it happen?”

“We were in the middle of a drill this morning. The explosion happened, the shockwave made me loose my balance and I fell down the ladder face first and my left knee took the impact.”

“You might have broken your kneecap. I need to send you for an x-ray and see what is the situation.” She went away and came back five minutes later “Someone will come and get you soon. You captain, can wait here until she is back.”

Rowan nodded and pinched her big toe when he noticed her worried expression “Do you want me to come in and hold your hand?”

“Screw you, Whitethorn.”

He pinched the toe again and his lip quirked up in a tight attempt at a smile.

Aelin wondered if she’ll ever see him smile or even laugh.

The porter came and rolled her bed away. She snatched a last look at Rowan and saw him standing where her bed had been I’ll be here. She saw him mouth to her.

Rowan began pacing back and forth in a very nervous state. His phone pinged and saw a text from Lorcan asking for an update on behalf of her squad. He texted back saying she was getting an x-ray.

He sat down on the chair near where the bed was and took out his phone to scroll through the news of the fire at the warehouses. In one of the articles he saw a great picture of her. She was staring at the inferno in front of her and with her hand she was pointing at something, maybe giving an order. He saved the picture on his phone then went on reading the article flushing with pride at how the journalist had praised her for handling such an emergency with professionalism and doing a great jobs at keeping the victims to a very low level. Turned out they only had lost two workers. Considering what he had seen he was impressed because it could have been far, far worse. He read a few more articles and almost seethed with rage when a journalist had the courage to criticise the TFD for having a young girl in charge of such an emergency.

It was an hour later when Aelin and Yrene came back. Aelin’s face told him that the news was bad.

“Her kneecap is badly fractured. She will need surgery. I have contacted the orthopaedic surgeon to see if he can squeeze her in tomorrow. Then she will have to stay in the hospital for a few days. Once she gets home she can move around with crutches but it might take up to a month before she will be able to do rehab. The whole thing should last around three months if she cooperates.”

Rowan stared at Aelin and he saw her heartbroken expression.

Once Yrene excused herself saying she was going to get her a room, Rowan moved closer to her.

“Don’t. Don’t you even try and say what you are about to say. I do not need your pity.”

He knew that the idea of not being able to participate in the performance review was killing her. Gods he wanted to hug her again like in her office and offer comfort. But that was a skill he had always been bad at.

“Do you need anything?”

“Yes, being less fucking stupid.” She growled through gritted teeth “I knew that explosion was coming. I knew we had fucked up the exercise and let it run longer than meant to. Aedion and I had planned that explosion. I knew it and I still let it knock me off like a blasted newbie.”

She breathed deeply “I am too stupid to be a captain.”

No, he was not having that.

“Now you are talking shite.” He snarled back. He was not having her accusing herself os something like that. He took out his phone and opened the first article he read. The one with the great picture.

“Captain Galathynius has showed nerves of steel while handling a double fire that could have had catastrophic consequences. She masterfully deployed two teams to tackle emergency after emergency without ever backing down from the constant challenge. And when it seemed that the situation was taking a turn for the worst, she pulled a rabbit out of the hat and convinced the stiff necked airforce posh boys to join and help tackle a raging fire, far too big for three fire engines. Captain Galathynius and the two teams deserve more recognition for their incredible job. Far more than a pat on the back.

All the firefighters involved tonight had showed great heroism and excellent skills. Every day these men and women place their lives on the line to keep our city safe. The government should keep it in mind at his next budget review and find in itself to invest in money in services the city deeply deserves like firefighters, the police and the health services instead of flushing it down the drain to fund fancy planes built for destruction.”

“Uh…. He really does not like you guys.”

“I don’t care,” said Rowan quickly “What matters is what she said about you. She doesn’t think you are stupid. And I don’t think it either. This stiff necked posh boy thinks you are amazing.”

“Liar.”

“I am not lying. Why would I? I agree with this woman. You were fucking amazing tonight. All of you. And yes, you deserve far more credit than what you will get.”

His eyes glistened with pride and his words had helped a bit ease her anger.

“So you think I am amazing?”

“I do.” His voice much softer all of a sudden.

Yrene came back in that moment and broke the spell. She had a feeling she and the captain were about to have a moment but the magic had passed.

“I have a room for you.” And she had a wheelchair with her.

Rowan grabbed Aelin again and lifted her into the wheelchair and offered to push her.

“Chaol was my saviour tonight,” she giggled while Rowan rolled the wheelchair along the corridor following the doctor.

“How so?”

“He knows I hate reporters. So as soon as he saw a few coming at me he came and saved me before I could punch them. Plus, he and his men did an outstanding job at crowd control. I know it doesn’t seem like a lot, but when you have people running terrified from a building on fire it can end badly. And they also kept an eye to all the curious monster who come and have a peek and film it to post it social media for a five minutes of glory. Police let us concentrate on the emergency without worrying about what’s happening in the background.”

“Thank you for telling me.” The woman smiled at her.

“Make sure you give him an extra cuddle tonight.”

Both Aelin and Yrene burst out laughing.

“I will reward him accordingly, captain.”

They finally reached the elevator and the three got in. Not long after they were in the room and Rowan lifted her in bed. Yrene left them to get her settled in.

“You need clothes, damn it.” He looked around him as if to find an answer in an hospital room.

“My house keys are at the station.”

“Fine I’ll go and get them and grab some clothes for you from your house. Give me the address.”

“No.”

His face turned confused “why? You can’t stay in your uniform.”

“I am not having you in my house, going through my drawers and my clothes.”

Rowan sighed “tell me where you keep t-shirts and shorts and I will just go straight to that one. I am not a creep I swear.”

“Fine.” She texted him the address “my keys are in the black messenger bag in my locker. There is a small pocket at the front. They are attached to the hook. Actually take the whole bag with you. I have a charger and other stuff in there that I might need.”

“Ok, I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Captain?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He nodded and before leaving he turned once more “you could start calling me Rowan, by the way.”

“Thank you, Rowan.”

He left thinking that his name on her lips was the most beautiful sound ever.

He reached the fire station not long after. He met Ress in the corridor.

“Captain.”

“Ress, isn’t it?”

The man nodded.

“How’s Aelin?

“She will need surgery. She is not happy as you could imagine.”

“Damn.”

A tall man joined them a moment later. His uniform was white.

“This is chief Havilliard.” Said Ress.

So that was the young Havilliard.

“You must be captain Whitethorn.”

Rowan nodded.

“Thank you for your assistance tonight.”

Rowan shook his head “it was Aelin’s idea. The credit goes to her. I just follow orders.”

“How is she by the way?” And Rowan could see concern in the man’s eyes.

“She will need surgery. Her knee is busted pretty badly. They are trying to book her for tomorrow. I am heading to her place to get her some clothes.”

“I will update the squad.” Dorian said “I will also try and beg the board to postpone the review. Aedion will be home tomorrow but he will be off for a week and Aelin looks like she will be out of commission for a while. And I need them to train the team. They are my golden duo.”

Rowan took an immediate liking to the chief.

Once Dorian took his leave, Ress took Rowan to their changing rooms and pointed to Aelin’s locker.

“Tell her that the team is behind her and that she was awesome tonight. Also let us know where she is in the hospital so we can come and visit.”

“Room 252 in the orthopaedic ward.”

“Thank you sir.”

Ress left him. He grabbed Aelin’s bag and his eyes spotted the pictures attached to the door and the walls. He saw some pictures with a man and he had a feeling his face was familiar. The photos portrayed a couple in love and for a very brief instant a very strange emotion he could not decipher set into him and then it quickly went away with the same speed it came.

He ignored it. Slammed the locker shut and left the station.

Fifteen minutes later he reached her house and let himself in. The house was gorgeous and very modern. He stepped into the living room and noticed the wall were painted a light yellow giving the room much more brightness. He smiled at the insane number of bookcases bursting with books. So, she was a book worm. Good, something to talk about if they had a chance to have a conversation that contained less insults and vitriol.

He walked to the door she had indicated and reached her bedroom and froze for a moment. He knew he had her permission but for an instant he felt as if he was invading her privacy.

The room was painted a pastel blue and a huge bed was was in the middle. At one end he noticed the drawer and walked to it and froze when he noticed there were two middle drawers.

Shit, she had said the middle drawer but which one. Damn, he had promised.

He opened the top one and slammed it shut when he saw the content. That was her underwear drawer. He turned and leaned against the piece of furniture. Bras… 38A she had said and now his treacherous brain was picturing the piece of clothing filled by…

“Damn.”

He opened the other one and breathed relieved when he noticed t-shirts and shorts. Good. He grabbed a few of her TFD t-shirts and placed them in the duffel bag at the bottom of her bed.

His phone went off. It was Aelin.

“What?”

“Gee, you sound grumpy.”

“What do you need m’lady?” His voice dripping with fake pleasantness.

“I am giving you permission to open the second drawer from the top and grab me some underwear as well, please.”

“You are kidding me.” Aelin could clearly hear the panic in his voice.

“Ro, I am not. I have an emergency and I will soon need new knickers. So yes, get in that drawer and grab me my underwear.”

His hand ran through his hair in a nervous gesture.

“Also, there is a small convenience store around the corner, could you please buy me tampons?”

Rowan almost choked.

“I am sorry what?”

“You heard me. I assume you had been with other women before. You know we get periods, right?”

“Fine, I will phone you back once I am in the shop. I have no idea what to buy.”

“Just don’t blush too much.”

And he could hear the grin in her voice.

He hung up and breathed deeply and opened the drawer. The selection was… incredible.

He picked a few sports bra thinking that for an hospital stay they would be the better option. Definitely the lacy one were not proper. He rummaged a bit and looked again for something more sober when all of a sudden he found in his hands something that had little or no use as underwear but his treacherous mind painted some very sexy pictures.

Damn, that was torture. He grabbed a nice selection of the sober pieces and closed the drawer from hell in relief. He stuffed everything in the bag and walked out, in desperate need of fresh air.

Next stop he drove to the convenience store and braced himself for the next task. He walked in and sneaked to the correct section feeling like a perv for lingering in a section where he clearly did not belong to. He looked at the boxes and he had no idea that there were so many choices. He phoned her.

“Oh, you are still alive.”

“I am in the shop. Which one do you need?” He almost growled.

“Tampons.” She said matter of factly.

“I am a bloke, Fireheart. I have no idea of what you are talking about.”

He heard her sigh “the ones that looks like bullets.”

“Ok, which type?”

“At the bottom they have guidelines with drops. One with two drops and one with three. Actually make it two each.”

“Does the brand matter?”

“I am not fussed.”

“Okay. I got it.”

“I owe you another one.”

“That’s two now.”

“Fine, fine, Buzzard.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later, get your arse back here.”

“So bossy.”

He hang up and had a look at the brands. She had said she was not fussed but he had decided to get her the expensive ones, hoping it meant they were of a better quality as well.

He walked to the counter to pay “For my wife,” he muttered embarrassed, paid and got out quickly.

She owed him big time. Not for the water drop but for this.

When he got back to the hospital he went to her room and dumped the bag on her bed and moved away from her.

“Gee someone is on edge. Did my underwear scare you? The fearless pilot got frightened by lace.”

He scoffed an ignored her.

“Seriously man, never had a girlfriend or a date wearing sexy lingerie for you?”

“Of course.”

“Well, so what’s problem?”

He sat heavily on the chair “I was probably dating the person at the time, which implies other things.” She could still see the embarrassment in his features “you and I are just work partners. It was very weird.”

“Well, at least now you know how big is a 38A.”

The top of his ears turned red. She loved so much to rile him up.

She had look at what he had brought her and was very happy when she noticed he had picked sports bra. He had actually put some thought in it. Then her eyes caught the boxes of tampons “Rowan, these are very expensive.”

“I just thought… you know… better quality, perhaps? More comfortable? I don’t know. Again, I am a bloke.”

She wished she could stand and kiss him. He had been amazing. She never had put Sam through such torture. He would have probably died at the idea of buying her feminine products.

“I am very grateful. For everything.”

He gave her a smile. It never reached his eyes but the effort was there her heart fluttered at the precious little show of emotion.

He stood “I’ll let you change.” He made to walk away but stopped when he noticed her face.

“You need to use the facilities I guess.”

She nodded.

He lifted her in his arms and walked into the bathroom and deposited her on the loo.

“Let me know when you are done.” He left the room and walked to the corridor and sat on a chair. He took his phone and started browsing some old news about firefighters. He was still thinking about the man he saw in the picture in her locker. He had seen that face in the news.

He searched for a while until he found an article about a fireman called Sam Cortland. He opened and began to read. Shit. Sam and Aelin had been an item for five years and according to the article they had been engaged. He had been a captain at west station. He got killed while fighting a fire in a warehouse. Shit. His hands shook. They had in common more than just books. He pocketed the phone and walked back to the room.

“Are you okay?” He called through the door.

“Almost ready.”

He leaned against the wall and tried to calm down. It had been just over a year. Was she okay?

“I am ready.” He shoot off the wall and opened the door of the bathroom and saw her in her TFD t-shirt. He lifted her in his arms and he never would have wanted to let go of her.

“Back to your bed.”

Her arms were around his neck and it felt as if she lingered like that a bit longer on purpose.

Or maybe he had just imagined.

“Do you need painkillers? Something to eat?”

Aelin shook her head “I am officially fasting. My surgery has been scheduled for tomorrow at 9.”

“That’s great.”

“I am a bit nervous.”

He sat down on the bed, just in front of her. Her hands were on her lap. He took her hand by grasping just the tip of the fingers “I can stay with you. I can be here when you wake up, or I can call someone else whose company you enjoy more.”

Aelin squeezed his hand back. She wished she had the strength to tell him that somehow she had enjoyed his company very much in the recent hours. But things were still very weird between them and she was positive he still did not like her.

Then she looked up and saw his eyes staring at her and realised that maybe she was wrong. In those beautiful green eyes of his she had noticed a spark of emotion, albeit for a fleeting moment.

“Keep me company, please.” He nodded and sat back on the chair.

They chatted amicably. She had told her about the station and her friends, then he reported that Lorcan was officially smitten by Elide and the two started making plans to set up the two of them.

At her first yawn, Rowan ordered her to go to bed. He tucked her in and went back to his seat.

When he woke up the next morning it was pretty early. He stood and stretched his back, sore from a night asleep on a chair. Aelin was still asleep so he sneaked out of the room and went in search of the cafeteria for a coffee. Then he had a look at himself in one of the doors and noticed he was still in uniform, now a mess, and a shadow of stubble on his face. His academy CO would have his head for walking around in such horrible state while in uniform. He shrugged, got his coffee and went back to the room. Jotted down a note for Aelin. He needed to go home, take a shower and get fresh clothes. He would be back by the time she returned from surgery.

On his way home he phoned Lorcan to give him an update on his whereabouts. He asked also for a few days off to help Aelin and the man agreed. Rowan snorted. Being in love was doing miracles on the old bastard.

He got home, relaxed, took quite a long shower and eventually he had breakfast and caught up with the news and saw that the big fire was still making the headlines. Then a photo caught his attention. Apparently the community had turned in support of the fire stations. They had flocked in front of the government building protesting in light of the new spending budget. Many of signs called for a cut in military spending and to give due value to corps such as firefighters and police. He realised that he would have probably been there as well if it wasn’t that his presence would guarantee him being kicked out of the force immediately. He had been disgusted when he saw how much the airforce got for the repairs. So much more than asked and then Aelin and the guys had to beg for a second engine. Yes, he was in the airforce but he did not agree with the amount of money that often got thrown at them. He eventually got dressed and headed back to the hospital but once he arrived he spotted a few reporters.

“Bloody leeches.”

He tried to walk unnoticed, but alas, his silver hair was not the most inconspicuous of traits.

One woman blocked his path and flung the microphone at him “Captain, how does it feel to save the day?”

Rowan looked at the woman puzzled. How on earth did they know who he was? He had been on a plane the night of the fire.

“You and your team stopped the fires. Without you, the firefighters would have failed.”

Anger. Fiery anger surged through him in a savage wave.

“I think you have read the news wrong.” He tried to calm down “The real heroes are the firefighters,” he shouted for all the reporters to hear “They are the ones who put their lives in danger. They are the ones who jumped into an inferno saving as many workers as possible.” He looked at all of them “over an hour. They were at it for over an hour, with no break, no one to cover for them or take their place. Captain Galathynius supervised the whole thing while injured and barely being able to stand. And you give all the credit to us?” He roared “We showed up because the captain had the amazing idea of using us. We swooped in at the end of the game, when one of the building was almost off. We just dropped some water and you call us heroes?” His hand were now in tight fists “I flew one of those planes and I do not want glory. I do not deserve glory. East and west station do. The police do.” And he walked away furious. Bastards. He hoped that someone passed the interview live, so his real words would pass on. He did not trust reporters.

He ran upstairs and when he arrived he noticed Aelin in bed and half asleep. He gave her a big smile.

“Hey you, tight-pants.”

He chuckled and sat beside her “how do you feel?”

“My hand moves funny.” She said moving her hand in front of her face and Rowan realised she was still quite drugged up from the surgery.

She was quite funny.

“Your hair is white.”

He brushed his hair with his hand “do you like it?”

She gave him a goofy smile “you are sooooo pretty.”

“Oh thank you. No one has called me pretty in a very long time.” He took her hand in his.

“I have a secret” she said and placed a finger in front of her mouth.

“Can I hear it?”

“Yes. But don’t tell the captain.” Who did she think she was talking to?

“I won’t, I promise.” He played along.

“I think I like him. A lot.”

For a brief instant something flashed in her eyes and Rowan had a feeling she was quite lucid.

He jumped off the bed in terror.

“I like him a lot, but he hates me.”

Sadness. That was definitely sadness in her voice. He took a step back.

She turned her head to the side.

“I really, really do.” And he saw her close her eyes.

He took another step back and walked out of the room. Once outside he ran to the car and leaned against it closing his eyes. Her words kept ringing in his ears. And her voice. It had changed so much when she uttered those words. It was her. She was fully lucid when she said it. He placed a hand on his heart and found it racing. He wanted to go back to her and say that he did not hated her. That he… he had no idea what he felt. He groaned and jumped in the car and decided to go for a drive. He had to clear his head.

Lysandra found Aelin with her head turned to the window and she thought she had heard her friend crying.

“Hey you…” Lysandra sat at her side and caressed her friend’s head “what’s wrong?”

Aelin sniffled loudly “I think I have said something stupid.”

“More than usual?” But when Aelin did not laugh she realised it must have been real and bad.

“I woke up from surgery and I felt funny for a while. I think captain Whitethorn was here. I am not sure. And I think…” she stopped, sobbing a bit more “I think I told him I like him.” She finally turned her face to Lysandra “I remember his terror and then he left.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think the drugs were wearing off and I felt a bit more lucid. I think it was him.”

“Oh darling.”

“He hates me so much that he ran away.” Aelin resumed sobbing heavily “am I such a horrible person?”

Lysandra hugged Aelin tightly and cursed the man. If she got her hands on him he would be a dead man. Or she could unleash Aedion on him. He was just as protective of Aelin.

“He is an idiot. A big tall idiot.” Lys brushed Aelin’s cheek “you need to rest now. You just had surgery.”

“How’s Aedion?”

“At home. Sore and bored already. The doctor gave him a week off but he is not happy. Well, you know him.”

“I heard Dorian mentioning that he might try to get the review postponed. It’s not fair on you guys.”

Aelin sighed “I will still be out.”

“I know, but at least Aedion will be there. One of you at least.” Lysandra reassured her.

Aelin put the tv on and gasped when the tv showed Rowan. It was just outside the hospital.

“What the fuck?”

“Put the volume up,” said Lysandra.

“They were at it for over an hour, with no break, no one to cover for them or take their place. Captain Galathynius supervised the whole thing while injured and barely being able to stand. And you give all the credit to us?” She heard him raise his voice“We showed up because the captain had the amazing idea of using us. We swooped in at the end of the game, when one of the building was almost off. We just dropped some water and you call us heroes?” His hand were not in tight fists “I flew one of those planes and I do not want glory. I do not deserve glory. East and West station do. The police do.” Aelin saw him walk away and she had a feeling that it was when he came back to her. He had normal clothes on. When he took her at the hospital he still had the uniform on.

“That is definitely not the speech of a man who hates you.”

“Lys, not helping.”

Aelin flipped through the channels to see the interview again.

“Don’t think too much about him.”

“Yeah,” Aelin stared at the tv “no worth it, right?”

“Totally.”

Lys kissed her head “Babe I need to go home and tend to Aedion. I don’t want to leave him alone for too long. I know the guys are planning to come as soon as they are off shift, which will be tomorrow morning.”

“Go, I will be fine.” She patted her hand and gave her a tight smile “go and look after Aedion.”

Once Lysandra was out of the room she grabbed her phone and texted Rowan. She waited an hour and tried to phone and realised his phone was off.

“Fine, message received.”

Rowan had driven all the way to the coast to Ilium. It had taken him two hours but it had been worth it. He had spent the afternoon sitting on the beach, his phone switched off. He lay down in the sand and closed the eyes, enjoying the peace of the beach. He almost thought that he’d love to take Aelin there but as soon as his brain said the name he had been ignoring for the past two hours his mood was soured again.

He had fled. Like a coward. She just had surgery and he had left her on her own because he had an issue dealing with his feelings. He was the worst human being ever existed.

Was it so wrong if she was in love with him?

His mind flashed him a name. A name he had tried to bury in the depths of his mind.

He groaned in frustration and stood and started walking on the sand along the beach. The place was beautiful.

He wandered until it was late then decided to go and find a room for the night. He was not in the mood to go back to Orynth. Then he went for dinner and finally dragged himself to a pub. Alcohol. He definitely needed a drink. Something that he hadn’t enjoyed in a very long time. Damn he was so boring. How could anyone be in love with him?

He had a few whiskies in one shot and the liquor burned his throat. He was not used anymore and the booze already started spreading a welcomed numbness through his body and mind. Good, oblivion is what he wanted.

He ordered two more whiskies and chugged them down again in one single motion.

He looked at the tv behind the counter and he discovered the news were passing his interview. He lowered his head and realised straight away it was a stupid idea. His silver hair stood out like a sore thumb.

“I think you look prettier in person.” Said a voice at his side, then he felt a pair of hands on his arm.

He turned his head and there was a woman at his side. Smiling sensually at him.

“Well, you need glasses.” He turned his head again and kept watching the tv ignoring the woman.

“I am Remelle.”

“Good for you.” He ate a couple of the peanuts on the small plate on the counter.

“Why is such a good looking man all alone in a place like this, drinking whisky shots?”

“None of your business.” She moved closer and her hand traced the length of his arm. He had a t-shirt on and his tattoo was on display.

“I love your tattoo.” Her fingers traced the lines of it.

Rowan got off the chair “I am sorry, but I am not interested. Not in the mood and you are being very rude.”

“I can help you make forget about her. You look like pining about some mysterious woman”

Rowan had enough. He stormed out of the pub and ran all the way back to the beach and fell on his knees. He looked up at the dark sky and then closed his eyes.

He had feelings for Aelin. Somehow his treacherous heart had decided to play tricks on him and make him feel again. Something he had forbidden himself from doing for a while. But Aelin had struck him dumb since day one with her big mouth, her defiance. The woman had fire in her and a part of him felt irremediably pulled to her, no matter how much he tried to deny it. He confessed to himself that he had enjoyed fussing over her, looking after her and even try to cheer her up when she had been down. He had told her the truth, he was in awe of her, of what she had done and he hadn’t been in awe of anyone in a very long time.

He had feelings for her, big damn feelings and all he could do was flee instead of facing them. But he was not ready yet. That was his biggest fear. That’s why he had ran out of the room, because her admission had touched a part of him that hadn’t healed yet. Just like her he had loved and lost everything. His feelings were just budding. He had better repress them before it got worse. It was better for both of them. He was positive she deserved someone better than him.

Rowan sighed and sat in the sand in silence, staring at the sky until the fog in his mind started to clear. Eventually he dragged his pitiful arse back to his hotel and crashed in bed fully clothed.

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp

@jlinez

@swankii-art-teacher

#rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #Lysandra #aedion x lysandra #elide x lorcan #fanfic #Throne of Glass series

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roses-ruby · 4 years

Text

BTS as types of Yandere

Warning: Yandere themes, Abusive relationships, Psychological manipulation, Selfharm, Submission, BDSM mention

The Gentleman.

Seokjin is the perfect man.

Sure, he acts goofy but he’s also handsome and polite. He jokes around with you, he cooks for you, he doesn’t even befriend other women and he’s even a big romantic at heart. Your friends want him and your parents adore him - you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend! So, in return, when he kindly asks you not to talk to other men or not to go out too much, it’s only natural that you listen. You taunt him about his slightly conservative and traditionalist nature. But what kind of a man who was raised with high standards and morals wouldn’t have one? When he tells you not to wear something in public - you don’t fucking wear it. When he tells you you’re going to be a stay at home mom - then that’s the end of the fucking discussion. And if you disobey him, then you deserve to be verbally berated until you change your mind. People call it abuse, but he calls it love. Trust him, he only has your best interest at heart. It’s the only way you’ll learn to obey your man and gain value as a female.

It’s the only way you’ll become his perfect woman.

Lowkey.

You never expected a grown man to be so whiny, especially not one who seemed so intimidating initially. “You were gone too long.” - “Why do you have to leave so often?” - “Who were you with?” - Holy shit, the way he was bombarding you with questions made you feel like you just came back from committing a statewide murder spree, even though you were only gone grocery shopping for approximately thirty minutes. But it’s fine, your husband was harmless. It was definitely strange being married to a rapper. You heard most of their true feelings and inner thoughts only came out when they wrote or performed. So it did worry you when he wrote a song about binding you in a cage and keeping you chained like his little pet. But you passed it off as kinks or some shit. And it definitely worried you when he freestyled about torturing and killing your guy best friend in graphic detail on stage, which ultimately led to said friend cutting off all contact with you. But you passed it off as adrenaline-filled, in-the-moment jealousy. Sure, Yoongi was either testy or silent for the majority of your relationship - but that didn’t mean the “real him” was a temperamental and obsessive psychopath.

...did it?

My way or the highway.

Hoseok made his standards clear for you since day one. This relationship will go by his terms, and only his terms. Which meant he got to go out whenever he wanted, yet you never did. He got to touch you when he felt like it, yet you had to ask permission. He got to have female friends, yet you didn’t get to have any - of any gender. You’ll understand one day, he tells you, but you think years will pass before that time arrives, because the truth was you didn’t and might never truly understand him. It terrified you how Hoseok, the friendliest, most carefree man you’ve ever met, can turn into someone so menacing. Someone who threatens your well-being when even the slightest part of his rule is broken. A section of him was detached, while the other section was a pure freak. All of his punishments were sexual, from bondage to torture. Sometimes you think he punished you on purpose just so he could teach you your place. You’re not sure if he had an addiction to total domination or if he just craved mummification and impact play.

All you know is that he had certain habits, and they all happen to revolve around you.

Daddy.

You roll up the door to your room.

Namjoon knew everything. At least that’s what it seems like. He was the smartest guy in your city - actually no - the smartest guy in your whole country. No other man could ever compete with the intellect and raw talent he possessed. You greatly admired him - which he also knew, of course. The one thing he understood the most in the world was you. He memorized your habits, every inch of your curves, the moles in your skin and even the pattern of your breath. He told you when to eat, when to sleep, who to [not] meet, and what to do for the day. Your needs had never been fulfilled to such an extent until he appeared by your side. And you knew then that no one could understand you better than him - not even yourself, which is why you took his words for scripture. Since then, you’ve done everything he told you to do without question. Crawling into your room, you turn around and roll the cage door back down before settling into one of the cushions in the corner.

It was almost 7, which meant daddy would be home soon, and then you could eat.

Kerosene in my hand.

Today in psychology class you had learned about psychological manipulation. You didn’t want to think like this, but the definition of the word reminded you of your boyfriend. Like when the professor talked about using underhand tactics to change social perceptions, you thought about the time Jimin kept flirting with your best friend until she fell for him, even while knowing you liked him. It led you to completely ostracize her from your life. Or when the teacher mentioned using deceit and lies to influence the thoughts of others, it made you remember the time Jimin told you about the things people were saying behind your back until you lost trust in everyone but him. Somehow, the whole ordeal of being gaslit really resonated with you, and you’re not even sure why. Jimin only did these things to protect you from others, you reason. You shouldn’t think like that - not when Jimin is the only person in this world who cares for you. Regretting what you just did, you beat yourself in the head with your fists in dismay. What kind of horrible person thinks these lies about the person who loves them more than anything?

The pain from your head and heart surrounded you in an agonizing heat as you began to cry, sitting down on your bed to text Jimin. You wanted him to come over, you wanted to tell him what you did and you wanted him to forgive you, so you could forgive yourself. He’d be able to tell your bad thoughts to go away, he’d be able to make you feel safe again. Jimin was right all along - the only thing you ever needed was him.

Artist at heart.

“Say ah~”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh my! Doll, you’re too pretty to be cursing.” Taehyung replies with a gasp, feigning shock as he places the caviar back on his plate. You roll your eyes and scoff. It’s usually a good thing if your boyfriend treats you like a priceless artifact, right? Well, not for you. Not when your boyfriend can actually place a price on you. $10,000 to be exact - $10,000 to a random thug so he could break the arms of the man who asked you for your number in the coffee shop.

“I heard about the man you hired, Tae. How many times will I tell you I’m not an object?”

“Everyone’s an object, doll.” Taehyung smirks, casually wiping his mouth with a linen napkin, “Some are just more...costly than others.”

You stare at the unbothered man in annoyance. His whole room was filled with original paintings, marbled statues, golden gadgets and silver trinkets. And in between it all, you had also started to feel like one of his art displays with the way he dressed you silk and bathed you in luxury - refusing to let others sully you by their dirty looks or touches. But then again, it isn’t too bad, you think as he brings the caviar and cream up to your lips yet again. He never hurts you - he’s never even raised his voice at you. You’re too precious for that, he says. And well, at least you’d never get injured or feel lonely with all the love and care he gives his possessions. So, with a sigh, you bite into the dessert he was offering you and watch him break out into a boxy grin.

He wasn’t so bad - just a little artist at heart.

Baby Boy?

(Are we surprised? No)

Your boyfriend was an enigma. Baby-faced, but with the body of Apollo. But he wasn’t just physically confusing. You had a hard time understanding him mentally as well. For one, he’d sternly tell you to do something but then get all teary-eyed if you dared say no. Then there were times where he’d swear he wasn’t jealous but he’d become green, red and purple at the mere mention of a guy in your life. In bed, he always preferred to be on top but the slightest pressure you applied turned him into a crying and whining bottom. You just didn’t get him, but it was definitely fun to press his buttons. It never occurred to you just how much you might enjoy making a tall-ass, jacked man into a whimpering and pouting mess, but you definitely enjoyed it nonetheless. Other girls would kill to be in your place, you were just so lucky. Everyday you’d get braver with your tests, whether it was flirting with other men or wearing skimpy outfits. His jealousy was endearing and his possessiveness made you squeal with glee. The bolder you became with your crusades, the more you failed to realize that everyone had their limit. And once they’re pushed past it, the consequences can be jarring. Especially if they’re someone as mysterious as Jungkook.

Then again, there was no better way to find out then to try. So keep trying him...just so we can see how lucky you truly are.

A/N: I’m back I think? This is for the rock anon, I hope you like it doll ;). anyway i wrote it in an hour and i was telling myself not to make it basic and sht readers read like 100 times in this tag but whaddya know i failed. lmk what you think cause i need a compliment.❤

#yandere bts #yandere jin #yandere yoongi #yandere hoseok #yandere namjoon #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung #yandere jungkook

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o-wise-corvid · 3 years

Text

Oooookay guys! Here’s the prologue to my little fic idea. It’s um... it’s gonna be depressing okay so if you can’t handle some gut wrenching emotionals, leave this for another day. I really hope y’all like it and I’m gonna try to get at least one update in a week. Anyhoo. Enjoy.

People who were wanting more: @captainrexisboo @clonetrooperrights @koskareevesismyqueen @gospelofme @jgvfhl @ct-27-fives @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life

TAGS: PG-13 tops/mention of deaths/battle trauma/PTSD/ nightmares/ self-loathing thoughts/ um... If y’all see something else I need to tag, holler. Oh and if ya wanna reblog, go right ahead.

Prologue- Captain Cody

A varactyl death scream. The echoing sounds of blaster fire. His own voice repeated over and over, bellowing orders, shrieking in pain. He watched the Jedi fall. Obi-Wan turned himself over in midair, determined to survive. The commander’s arm was still lifted in the kill order gesture, two fingers pointing at the target. His arm. “Blast him.” Words formed easily by his mouth while the inside of his head screamed, fighting his own bones and muscles.

Cody’s eyes snapped open and he cried out wordlessly, relieved to find himself in his bunk, shrouded in the dark, legs twisted up in sweat damp covers. He lay still, trying to bring his breathing under control.

“Captain?” The black protocol droid that had been assigned to his quarters snapped to life and turned hollow, yellow visual sensors toward him.

“It’s fine, Sixthree.” His voice sounded ragged in the hollow, stuffy echo of the room.

Cody sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk with a groan. His hips and lower back protested, popping as he moved. He was getting old and feeling it. Standing, Cody shuffled to the refresher and braced himself on the little sink that stood directly opposite the door. The squared off, slightly warped mirror betrayed more than his body ever could.

His hair was silvered at the temples and around the back of his head, thinning up top. He’d been considering going totally bald for a while now. Just to be done with it. Wrinkles spread out from his eyes in webs, carving furrows from his nose and down the sides of his mouth, creasing his forehead. The scar framing his left eye was more like a crevice now, pulling his eyelid down a little. His body wasn’t as lithe and flexible as it had once been, though he’d like to see one of the fit new Shinies take on a spider droid up next to him.

“You look rough, Trooper.” And then he smiled dryly at himself, scratching the stubble on his chin and cheeks absently.

A sick ache left from the dream curdled in his guts and he splashed some lukewarm water on his face. The memories of the Order didn’t seem like they would ever ease. The hatred of what he’d done followed him like a shadow, literally everywhere he looked, the result of his contribution to the Galactic Empire slapped him across the face as if on purpose. The monster had risen from the seeds sown by what most people now called The Clone Wars and it was huge, dark and ugly.

Obi-Wan. Cody gave an audible hiss at the thought of his name. The Jedi had been his friend, had saved his life, and how had he been repaid? With a watery grave, a shot in the back from his own Troopers. Guilt, old and familiar made him tighten his grip on the sink, the flimsy plastisteel groaning under the force he exerted. There’d not been a man in he galaxy that Cody had respected more and a faint glimmer of hope that his actions now would’ve made The Negotiator... what, proud? Not hate him because of what he’d done, the way he did in many other nightmares that made the regular circuit of his fitful dreams.

Cody wasn’t sure. He walked around, issued order about keeping the destroyer he’d been charged with floating, and trained new recruits when he wasn’t looking fierce. Recruits?! Stupid little kids that thought they could ever match the ferocity and skill of Clones. His brothers. There were so few of them left anymore, all spread around, trying to imprint their abilities on people who were not bread to war and battle. It was such numb-skulled concept. The Empire wanted the effectiveness of Clones but didn’t want to keep making them.

“Captain Cody.”

That voice brought him to attention. It was Vader. A chill crept over his scalp and down his spine until it sank into his feet, turning them into blocks of ice. Cody crossed to the communication display that took up most of the living quarter’s space. Vader’s head and shoulders loomed, huge and eclipsing, angular mask staring at him indifferently. He snapped to attention, uncaring that he was only in the black bottoms that he wore under his armor. “Lord Vader.”

The head inclined slightly in acknowledgement. Just after the end of the Wars, Vader had caught him in this state before and when he didn’t address the fact that Cody was naked to the waist and obviously just getting out of bed, Cody realized that Vader either tolerated it, doubtful, or simply didn’t care. He had no idea who Vader was underneath the armor and cape, but his suspicions leant toward a former Jedi. Who in the Force that might’ve been, he had absolutely no clue. The man knew soldiers though and he didn’t antagonize those who did their job and did it well. One thing he knew though was that he didn’t want to get on Vader’s bad side. Cody had betrayed his Jedi against his will, but this man... this man was something else. If former Jedi he was, Vader had slain and hunted his brethren until the mention of them was all but forbidden. If he knew soldiers, then he’d been in command. And there were only a handful of Jedi who had actually led troops, none of whom Cody could stomach the thought of becoming the beast that was Darth Vader.

“Your presence is required in the training yard. I have a new assignment for you.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Cody answered automatically, without inflection. It was the way a Clone still under the control of the chip would sound like and Cody was careful to hold himself in that tight pattern, not allowing the facade to slip for even a second. If they knew, if anyone so much as suspected...

But his life was cheap at this point and if he had to die, trying to keep an eye on the Empire was a good use of what little time he had left.

He dressed quickly after Vader ended the transmission. His armor was not dissimilar from that which he’d worn nearly all his life, except black was the main color rather than white. It did look nicer, the shiny plastoid gleaming darkly with his signature bright yellow-gold accents. He bore the rank of Captain now, which was more decorative than anything, but even after all these years, Cody felt most comfortable with the weight of his armor encapsulating him. The Imperial insignia across his chest soured that comfortable feeling though.

Vader was waiting for him in the training yard, a thrumming shadow with the breath of a sleeping giant, waiting to reach out and crush anything it decided deserved a slow, strangling death. He was well over six feet tall and made Cody feel like he was looking up into the mouth of some enraged, ravenous beast. But he snapped to, saluted and stood at attention with practiced and even graceful fluidity.

“Captain,” Vader greeted smoothly, stepping to the side. His long cape shifted to reveal a... little girl? Cody’s eyes flicked down at her, seeing the naked terror on her face and it was all he could do not to tilt his head to let her know he was looking at her.

“This child is a force wielder, Captain. She lacks the ability to become as powerful as myself or even as the Jedi who you once served beside, but her talents can be used for the Empire’s service. You will train her in hand to hand combat. Your service record reflects the type of master she will require to be of use to us.”

“Yes sir,” Cody chirped, hoping his voice didn’t betray his total shock at what was happening. “She will... stay with me?”

“She will stay wherever you deem fit. Do not coddle her, Captain.” The command dripped menace and Cody fought the urge to swallow nervously.

“Of course not, my Lord. She will learn or she will die.” The little girl flinched at the word, glancing between the two faceless men. Vader nodded pointedly and left, the cape billowing behind him like a storm, not sparing a further considering moment for the little girl.

“Follow me.” Cody made sure his voice carried an acidic growl loud enough for anyone within earshot to register.

The girl gave a start and then obeyed. Her eyes were huge and dark, dirty and tangled black curls spilling around her face. Her skin would’ve been dark, possibly the same shade as his, had she not been leeched with cold and fright, her hands balled into tight little fists that she kept pressed to her chest.

He led her to his quarters, unsure of where else he was even supposed to take her. No one so much as glanced at them as the odd duo passed through the monstrous ship and Cody wondered if it was out of fear or apathy. Once they were inside, Cody ordered the protocol droid to go find some clothes that would fit the girl and bring in some food for her. The chattery clanker hurried off to do his bidding and Cody locked the door behind it. Then, he turned to look at the little girl.

What was he supposed to do now? Training older teenagers and grown adults was one thing. But a kid? A kid who’d been ripped from her family and tossed on a Star Destroyer with an old Clone, no less. Where was she from? What had happened to her? What must be happening inside her head right now...

“What’s your name?”

She blinked up at him, fear and anger making her eyes over bright, not answering. Instead, she made a frightened little noise and stepped back from him, glancing around for somewhere to escape. She was so scared, so lost. The sight of her did something unspeakable to Cody’s heart and he fought the urge to just scoop her up and hold her. Kids shouldn’t be experiencing this. They should be at home, with family, with people who could provide for them and protect them. This was so wrong. So cruel.

“Hey, hey, no...” Cody hesitated and then slowly removed his helmet, remembering an incident with Waxer and Boil on Ryloth in what felt like another lifetime. The helmets were scary back then; he probably looked like some sort of predator to her. Sinking down on one knee slowly, he leveled his eyes with hers, hoping not to further terrify his new charge. “I’m Cody. I’m not gonna hurt you, little one. But if you’re gonna survive this, you’re gonna have to trust me.”

She stared at him, breathing hard. There was no way he could get her off the ship and back to safety; her home was probably a crater by now, wherever it was.

“I... come here.” He reached for the blanket crumpled on his bed and tugged it free. “I know it’s cold. You’ll get used to it. Especially once we get you some decent clothes.” He opened it up to her, inviting her to take it. She didn’t. The dark, wide eyes watched him, tears spilling over and down her cheeks. Cody didn’t expect to feel a lump form in his own throat but there it was.

And that was when the world of Trooper CC-2224 shifted.

Something clicked, almost audibly, inside Cody’s head and the running, yowling script of “How am I supposed to do this?” halted, erased itself and was replaced with one firm sentence: “I’m going to do this.” Because of course he was. There wasn’t another option. He might’ve betrayed the Jedi, he might be still serving the Empire despite having slowly but surely shrugged out from under the control of the chip in his brain, but he was not going to just allow this little girl to suffer if he could possibly help it. For all his failings, for all his regret and self-hatred, this little girl could be the one thing that he finally got right. She needed a family, a protector, a provider... well... she had one. If this was coddling, then he guessed he’d just have to make his peace with disobeying a direct order, come what may. There really wasn’t any other choice.

“It’s okay, precious. I’m not-“ His breath left him as the girl flung herself at him. He wondered for a split second if maybe his epiphany had somehow shown through on his face as the girl’s momentum sent him rocking backward a little. It didn’t really matter though. This was where he realized he wanted her, safe and wrapped up in his arms. The relief of being able to comfort her somehow bled the strength out of him like a wound and he sat down with a weary sigh.

Skinny arms clutched around his neck and the cries of a child who had seen and felt too much too soon tore the air the quiet room. They stabbed at his chest, sounding too much like the green varactyl as it had fallen. “Easy, easy,” Cody tried, eyes stinging. He let the little girl cling to him as hard as she wanted, rubbing her bony back soothingly. He wanted to say something, to find the magic word that would make the pain that was this small creature lessen. But there were none, he realized as he swiped angrily at his own wet cheeks.

“You’re gonna have to trust me, okay?” he repeated after a long minute, having wrestled his emotions down to where he thought he could keep them still. “You’re gonna be okay.” Whatever was going to happen with this little girl would not be easy but in no way was this something he’d miss. Toss her off on some underling? Step in to check on her once a week? Unthinkable.

She grew still and then stepped back a little bit, hands still on his shoulders. Swollen, red eyes. Streaked, grimy cheeks. A dress that was mostly patches and frayed edges. “Cody,” she tried, and managed a wobbling, watery smile.

He smiled sadly at her, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “That’s right. You... you can either tell me your name or if you’d like, you can have a new one.” What made him do it, Cody wouldn’t be able to say for several years. But the ultimate reason was that this little creature reminded him so very much of his brothers. He’d never held someone, let them cry on him and felt their body heave with sorrow, that wasn’t one of his brothers.

“I can pick a name?” A curious, almost happy note crept into the girl’s voice, which was high and sweet.

“Sure. I picked mine.”

She frowned but it was more curiosity instead of something troubling. A grimy hand came up and dug the heel of her palm into her eyes, then she gave a loud sniffle. “Your parents didn’t give you one?”

“I didn’t have parents,” Cody said simply. “I had brothers though. Lots and lots of them.”

The girl’s face brightened but then fell. “My parents are gone, too.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Cody cupped her face in his hands, trying so hard to be gentle. “But you’ve got me. I’m gonna make sure you’re gonna be okay.”

Her eyes glistened but she didn’t start sobbing again. Instead, she reached up and traced the curve of Cody’s scar with one finger. If there had been some part of himself that Cody had been withholding from committing to keeping this girl alive, it was now officially and unconditionally surrendered. He expected her to say something about the scar, but instead she asked softly, “Could I have my Mama’s name?”

“Tell it to me.” He actually impressed himself with how steady his voice sounded because inside, everything felt like it was breaking and twisting, reshaping itself into something not unpleasant but not easily made.

“Gaia,” she said quietly.

“That’s lovely.” Cody smiled, a tear that he hadn’t watched closely enough slipping down his cheek. The little girl saw it and daintily brushed it away. “You sure about it?” he asked, clearing his throat to try to hold some part of himself together.

“... Yeah...”

He pulled her into another hug, which was warmer than the first. She curled into him like they’d known one another her whole life and Cody, now so exhausted that all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and never get up, leaned back against the wall with a tired grunt. “Okay, Gaia. Okay.”

#star wars #sunshine squad #commander cody #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #temura morrison #gaia #darth vader #latent Mandalorian parenting syndrome

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