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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

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The Crown Found in Rose Thorns (Part 2) - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Timothy Drake, bits of Steph, Jason and Dick Summary: Jonathan and Damian go on their first date. A/N: I just think about royal princes jon and damian a lot, mmkay. also, those flowers don’t ever wilt, Damian will find out. maybe it’ll be important later, if I remember that detail.

Ao3

There was a giddy energy around the castle this morning. He felt it as he walked through the halls. The servants were all chattering amongst themselves, smiling in his direction whenever he passed by.

The prince has a date! They were all saying. The prince has chosen a suitor!

Damian could only roll his eyes. Hardly.

He found his hand had drifted to the hilt of the sword on his hip as he entered the courtyard. Perhaps he could challenge that infuriating Jonathan to a duel? It was only appropriate – he tried to mock Damian in front of his court.

But he ended up shaking his head. Knowing what little he did of this prince of Krypton, the simpleton might enjoy that.

As he neared the gates, he felt himself give an involuntary sigh. It must have been loud, as the one waiting there turned and grinned.

Almost as annoying as Jonathan of Krypton – his brother, Timothy.

“Don’t tell me you’re my chaperone for this…event.” Damian called.

Timothy kept his smirk. “Well, since you sound so enthused by the prospect, I can ask to be.”

“Don’t.” Damian scolded as he reached him. “I don’t need protection. Especially against the knight.”

“While I don’t doubt your skills, we don’t know that.” Timothy reminded. “He could be working for Ra’s.”

“He claimed to be the child of Father’s ally. Or did Richard not tell you that?” Damian hummed, staring out into the bustling streets. A small child waved towards them. He smiled and waved back. “Or do you just not believe him?”

“You do?” Timothy raised an eyebrow. “Prince Damian of Gotham, believing people at their word? Surely Father has taught you better than that.”

Damian felt heat in his face. “Of course I don’t. But I also know he doesn’t fit Grandfather’s brand of agent. He’d use someone we wouldn’t expect. A fortune teller or shop keep. An old cook or cleaning woman. A young, strong-looking knight who draws so much attention? Seems…implausible.”

“Strong-looking, hm? And here, Richard told me you only agreed to meet with him today as a barbaric game.” Timothy questioned mischievously. Damian pursed his lips and punched Timothy’s arm. “Ow! Hey!”

“Frankly I trust Sir Jonathan to not be an agent more than I trust the likes of…of Cassandra’s suitor.” Damian mumbled. “Why don’t you spend more time investigating that bard woman? How can you be so sure she’s not an agent? That’s exactly the type of person Grandfather would use. No direct ties to me, and could harm someone else in our family in the process. Exactly what Ra’s al Ghul would want.”

“Stephanie has been vetted. She was vetted long before she and Cassandra were romantically involved.” Timothy explained. He laughed then. “Speaking of her – back to your original question. No, I am not your chaperone today. I’m here waiting for Stephanie.”

“Why?” Damian demanded. “Does Cassandra know?”

“Yes, she does. She’ll be joining us.” Timothy nodded. “Stephanie is a bard, like you said. So she hears the stories. She knows things.” He looked towards Damian. “We’re hoping she knows things about the Kingdom of Krypton and a certain prince.”

Damian crossed his arms. “So…who is my chaperone, then? Surely there is one.”

“Not directly. You and Jonathan will still be alone in general. He’ll just follow in the distance.” Timothy shrugged. “And it’s Jason, I believe.”

Jason, the raunchy brother. He had almost as little manners as Jonathan himself. Always yelling and cussing. No filter, no politeness. A rough man who drank too much.

He’d almost prefer Timothy.

“And I believe Richard will be joining him later in the day, or switching. But I cannot remember.” Timothy suddenly stepped forward. Damian looked into the crowd and saw a blonde woman in a purple travelling cloak gliding towards them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The woman came forward, and bowed when she was close enough. Damian gave her a head nod in return as Timothy turned to guide her into the courtyard. They were halfway to the castle when Timothy turned back.

“And Damian, don’t forget!” He called. “If Sir Jonathan does anything untoward,” He pulled his own blade out of its sheath halfway. “You stab to kill.”

Stephanie laughed. Damian grinned in response, and turned towards the town, making his way towards the forest.

He caught sight of Jason a few times on his walk. Riding his gray horse lazily fifty or so yards away. The one time, Jason saw him watching, and gave him a cheeky wink.

Damian had scowled and tried to walk faster, almost hoping to get lost in the crowd. Just because he had to have a chaperone, didn’t mean he couldn’t make the job worth their while.

As he entered the clearing on the edge of the forest – the agreed meeting place – he slowed. Jonathan was already there.

He wasn’t in his armor today, but rather a simple tunic and pants, similar to Damian’s own outfit, just minus the tied vest. He was sitting on a fallen log, fiddling with the flowers popping up around his boots.

Damian did not see a weapon on him.

Along with the change of outfit, his demeanor seemed different from the day before as well. His face was no longer sharp confidence and sunny mischievousness. Now, his eyes were half-lidded as he relaxed, face thoughtful as his head tilted and he examined the flowers.

Damian ignored the sudden feeling in his chest. Because it wasn’t annoyance or haughtiness or even suspiciousness like he expected.

Without warning, a bird swooped down from overhead, cawing as it brushed along Damian’s hair. The noise made Jonathan look up, and once he recognized Damian, he smiled.

“…She sure seems to like you.” Jonathan laughed as he stood. “Hello, Your Highness.”

“Hello.” Damian mumbled, holding his arm out. The bird fluttered down to land on his elbow. “Waiting long?”

“No, not long.” Jonathan scratched awkwardly at his hair. “…I tend to arrive places early when I’m nervous.”

Damian snorted. “You? Nervous? Your showing yesterday implied you didn’t know the meaning of the word.”

Jonathan let out a gentle laugh. “Well…I had to get your attention somehow.” When Damian glanced up at him, he found himself unable to hold the gaze, so looked to the bird. “Is she yours?”

“No, she’s wild.” Damian assured, even as he pet gently at the bird’s head. “I…spend a lot of time out here. Feed them on occasion.” He looked towards the bird and smiled. “She must remember me.”

“Well, you are hard to forget.” Jonathan mumbled. Damian had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to hear it, so didn’t push the issue…yet. Instead, he let Jonathan admire the bird for a moment, then shook his elbow and pushed the bird back into the sky. She flew off with another caw. “…Lead the way?”

Damian nodded and moved down the path. Jonathan stayed behind him for a few moments, before jogging to catch up.

“I…um.” He let out a small cough. “I don’t mean to alarm you.”

Damian glanced at him.

“There’s a man on a horse following us.” Jonathan whispered. “…Would you like me to deal with him?”

Damian stopped walking and turned. In the expanse of trees, he could see the shadow of Jason, chaperoning as promised.

Damian smirked.

“I should.” He called loudly. “I should absolutely let you dispatch of our stalker.” He heard Jason’s horse snort as Jason turned her away.

Jonathan glanced between him and the trees. “I…think I am missing something.”

Damian laughed. “My family is overprotective.” He explained. “With this…situation with my grandfather, they are chaperoning my every movement, including with potential suitors. That’s merely my brother, Jason.”

Jonathan hummed. “I’d heard about that.” He sighed. “I’m…sorry.”

Damian shrugged. “My grandfather has always been ruthless. Apparently tried to kill my father when he and mother agreed to marry. Why anyone is surprised he’s come after me is beyond me.”

Jonathan didn’t respond. They walked in silence for a few moments. Damian’s bird friend let out another cry as she flew above them once more.

“That was why you came, though, isn’t it? For all that glory?” Damian asked. “You know, to be the one to succeed in protecting the youngest prince of Gotham?”

“No.” Jonathan said simply. “I came for you.” When Damian looked at him, he was uncupping his hands, revealing a small flower. He twisted the stem into his fingers and held it out. “Just for you.”

Damian stared between the flower and Jon’s face, then back again.

“…You weren’t holding that before.” Damian whispered. He looked up again. “I know you weren’t.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Jonathan smiled and held the flower out. Damian took it without thinking, cataloguing that the mischievousness was back in Jonathan’s brilliant purple eyes.

Curious.

“I will admit, though, that hearing about your mother’s call for a suitor did spur my action.” Jonathan admitted wistfully. “Gave me a reason to return to Gotham and try my luck.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Many times. My family travelled often when I was younger. We were in and out of kingdoms all the time.” Jonathan chuckled. “How my father met and befriended your father, I still don’t know. It’s a story he won’t tell.”

“Old men love their secrets.” Damian agreed. He stared down at the flower as they walked, stroked at its pink petals.

Those feelings Damian expected, the pride and suspicion, they weren’t manifesting. In fact, he was finding that it was…surprisingly nice, walking with Sir Jonathan. It didn’t feel awkward or forced. Their conversation was flowing naturally. There was no hint of the bordering animosity from yesterday, or the challenge. And, loathe as he was to admit it, even just to himself, he was easy on the eyes.

He still couldn’t trust him, though. Couldn’t stop assuming there was going to be another shoe to drop. A catch to this seemingly simple situation.

“So…” Damian sighed after a few minutes of silence. “I am to believe you are sincere, then?”

“Hm?”

“You aren’t here for the glory of protecting the prince?” Damian repeated, putting the flower behind his ear so he could clasp his hands behind his back. Jonathan shook his head. “Or for the riches that come with joining a highly respected royal family?” Jonathan smirked and shook his head. “You are here for love and all it entails, truly?”

“Yes.” Jonathan said easily. “At least I hope so.” He looked up into the sky, watching the clouds between the reaching tree branches. “I believe love could happen, but I also know that’s no guarantee. I mean,” Another laugh, this one nervous. “I know you’re not happy with me so far, but I will admit I am fond of you already. But I know that could change.”

He gave out a dreamy sigh.

“I could end up hating you.” He mumbled. “Or I could end up so deeply in love with you I don’t know what I’d do.”

Damian stared at him, specifically at his sparkling purple eyes. “…The former is more likely.”

Jonathan blinked and the sparkle disappeared from his eye as he looked back at Damian. He gave another smile, but it was sadder. “Surely you think better of yourself than that, Your Highness.”

Damian shrugged. “It…has happened before. An occurrence I’m used to. Friends, family…look at my grandfather, after all. Why do you think my mother feels the need to beg for someone to love me?”

“Well then, I will just have to hope to fall even deeper in love with you myself, then. Show them all what they are missing.” Jonathan decided.

But the answer made Damian stop. Jonathan took a few steps further before stopping and turning back himself. Damian watched as he glanced over Damian’s shoulder, no doubt at Jason’s lurking form. “Why?”

Jonathan looked back. “Why what?”

“Why are you so keen?” Damian demanded. “You know nothing about me.”

Jonathan blinked, and that shine in his eye was back. “Of course I do.” Jonathan said simply. “I know a lot about you.”

“How?” Damian asked. “Your father?”

“No. By our own interactions.” Jonathan shook his head. “You don’t remember, and that’s fine. It’s not important, really. Maybe one day you will.”

“When did we interact?” Damian snapped. “When did we meet?”

“As children.” Now Jonathan frowned, glanced at the ground. “But if you don’t mind, I don’t wish to talk about that now. That’s not what today is about.”

Damian crossed his arms. “What is today about then, if not to get to know each other?”

“Get to know each other, yes!” Jonathan agreed. “But as we are now, not as we were.” He took a step towards Damian. “Maybe another day, when you trust me more?”

He almost sounded like he was pleading, and Damian couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. “Who says I ever will?”

Jonathan laughed again, bowing his head in admittance.

“Like I said, who knows how this will turn out. I’m hopeful, but have been wrong before.” He smiled. “But that is neither here nor there, and I won’t bring it up again. The future doesn’t matter, only today does. So let’s get back to it, shall we?”

Damian pursed his lips in thought, vaguely sensed the flower tucked behind his ear.

“Fine. Let’s.” Damian nodded, stepping off. Jonathan’s face lit up as Damian returned to his side and they continued their quiet stroll through the woods.

Jonathan kept his promise, he kept his romantics to himself the rest of the day. Instead, they talked about typical things. Not love and coups and kingdoms, but food, books, battles. Jonathan, it turned out, enjoyed cooking. He spent much of his time in Krypton attempting to recreate the recipes he was taught when they travelled to share with his court. He also loved competing, and learning a skill when it bested him.

Damian asked about the bloody armor he had from the day before. Jonathan admitted is was from an attack on Krypton right after his father had retaken the throne. He didn’t like war, or the constant fighting around the lands, but recognized the need to take part when he had to, especially when it came to protecting the innocent.

Jonathan asked about his own skills, especially by being the son of the notorious Talia al Ghul. Damian explained that was what was so silly about this suitor business – he could protect himself. Always has been able to. Just like his siblings.

He then talked about his family. How his siblings were all adopted, but it’s not like you could tell, since they all looked so alike anyway. Richard was adopted by his father, Jason by his mother, and Timothy and Cassandra after the two were married. Damian had been an accident.

Their rendezvous was supposed to finish by midday, but they were so distracted by their winding conversation that they did another two laps around the forest path, before making their way back into town in the late afternoon. Absently, Damian noticed when Richard joined Jason, but otherwise continued to ignore them.

He could also see the townsfolk all whispering already. Gleefully talking about how handsome Jonathan was, how close the two were walking. He even heard a few talk about how warm his own smile was, and how relaxed he looked.

He ignored them too.

As the sun went down over the hills in the west, he found them nearing one of the castle’s gates and decided to end their meet for the day.

“Shall we see each other again?” Jonathan asked after Damian said so. “Have I proven myself to be worth even a second of your time?”

Damian let himself have a small smile as he crossed the gate threshold and turned back. “I suppose we can. How long are you staying in town?”

Jonathan shrugged. “As long as I need. Unless I get a letter from Krypton or something, I have nothing urgent to return to presently.”

“Alright. Where are you staying, then?”

“The tavern a few streets away.”

“Okay.” Damian smirked. While the day had been pleasant, and Jonathan an interesting companion, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still going to have his fun. “I’ll come find you when I wish to see you again.”

Jonathan gaped for a moment. “And when might that be?!”

Damian just kept his grin. “Whenever I feel like it. So, if you’re actually serious about this. I suppose…well, don’t leave town.”

Jonathan stared for a moment more, then let out a bark of a laugh. “You’re cruel, Your Highness.”

“So I’ve been told.” Damian agreed cheekily. He turned to walk away, but:

“Damian.”

He hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. Jonathan was still there, looking down at his hands as he clasped them together.

“I…would like to apologize, for yesterday.” Jonathan muttered. “I didn’t mean to potentially embarrass you in front of your court. I only wanted to get your attention, by any means necessary, which was selfish of me.” He bowed his head. “That…is not me. Not really. Today, though, that was me. I promise.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Damian countered. Jonathan looked up, confused. “You never explained how you made the flower, how you know me, or why your eyes sparkle – and yes, I noticed that. You’re still hiding something of yourself.”

Jonathan lowered his head once more.

“But we all have secrets, I suppose. Masks we wear on occasion.” Damian relaxed his shoulders, and touched at the flower still behind his ear, still as fresh as the moment Jonathan gave it to him that morning. “So…all is forgiven, Sir Jonathan.”

Jonathan perked at his words. After a moment of silence, he stepped forward again.

“Damian?” He asked softly. Damian hummed in response. Without warning, Jonathan took hold of Damian’s hand and leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. He lingered there for a moment, breath brushing Damian’s skin as he whispered, “Thank you for a lovely day.”

As quickly as he approached, he retreated, backing up until he was almost in the street.

“Until next time, Your Highness!” He called as he raised his hand. And in a flash, he was instantly lost to the evening crowd.

Damian was left blinking owlishly at the gate threshold. As he heard Richard and Jason approach on their horses behind him, obviously coming into the courtyard from another entrance, he looked down at his hand, the one Jonathan had held.

A purple rose sat against his fingers.

He looked back into the crowd, looking for even a glimpse of that black hair and violet eyes. There was nothing.

He swallowed thickly. This was supposed to be a game. Damian wanted it to be a game. He wanted to break Jonathan down and send him back to Krypton weeping.

He’d wanted that.

Now…so quickly…he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t so sure what he wanted. Wasn’t so sure if it was a game. And if it still was, who was winning.

“…Until next time.”

#Damian Wayne #Jon Kent #jondami #crowns au #idk wtf im tagging this au haha

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

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I'm curious on what you could do with 15 and 8, babes! Love goes all to you

8. “Something tells me that’s not the only thing on your mind right now.” and 15. “I hope you didn’t think I was a bad kisser or anything...I did that after thinking a thousand times.”

It’s Okay to Not Be Okay - Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2k Warnings: slight angst, fluff Summary: He’s always there for you when you need him. Even when you claim you don’t, he knows better than that. A/N: i threw in a harry potter reference and now i’m sobbing yAy

As it turned out, balancing a double life as head trauma surgeon for SHIELD while handling the duties of a superhero were much tougher than you anticipated.

Of course, you knew exactly what you would be getting yourself into when you chose to go down the medical route. You knew what you would be getting yourself into as soon as you accepted the call to join the Avengers Initiative. but what you didn’t see coming was the immense effects it all would have on your physical and mental health.

If you were lucky, you got a few hours of on-and-off sleep in between missions before you were called to the OR to perform emergency surgeries on injured agents, or were deployed for another few missions back-to-back. So you relished in relaxing on the weekends. It was a rare occasion in which you actually got to kick back and do whatever you wanted without the pressure of saving so many people in a limited amount of time on your shoulders.

Steve noticed something was wrong from the moment you stepped out of the elevator and lazily slid your coat off your shoulders, hastily tossing it onto the sofa and setting down your duffel bag before trudging up to your room. He knew you had a long day, though, and wanted to help you unwind after your long shift. Chances were that you and him, or Natasha, would be sent off the next day and you wouldn’t get an opportunity to rest like this for the next week or so.

He silently prepared a steaming hot cup of your favorite tea, knowing you were most likely exhausted. Sixteen-hour shifts weren’t kind at all.

You tried to hide all the pills - pills that were supposed to treat your anxiety, the nightmares, the insomnia - but you weren’t subtle enough for Steve. You claimed you were fine, but he knew better. He knew you like the back of his hand - he could read into all those little signs you gave off, a skill nobody else on the team had except him and him alone.

Every inch of your body was aching immensely - the aftermath of rushing around and standing all night without a wink of sleep. Fatigue was tugging at your eyes and if it weren’t for the tiny last bit of self-control you had left, you would’ve collapsed right there on the spot.

“Hey,” he said softly as you came back down, this time exiting the elevator in a pair of sweatpants and his black T-shirt. He smiled at the sight. “How was your day?”

“It was fine,” you sighed, sitting down at the sofa and curling your knees up to your chest. He came over and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, gazing at you with genuine concern. “Fourteen-hour transplant operation and another two patching up other injured STRIKE team members.”

“From Rouen?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter over yourself. “Look, I’m fine...if that’s what you wanna ask. It’s just been a long night.”

His brow furrowed as he placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles across it. "Something tells me that’s not the only thing on your mind right now.”

“I told you, Steve, I’m fine,” you snapped, blinking rapidly to fight back tears that threatened to spill. You softened your tone as you noticed the look on his face. “Really.”

“No, you’re not,” he murmured, placing a finger beneath your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. “Come on. You really think I wouldn’t be attuned to your emotions by now? Just tell me what’s going on.”

You let out a shuddering sigh, briefly squeezing your eyes shut. You shook your head. “No. Steve, I told you-”

“Don’t lie to me. I know something’s wrong. Now tell me or I’ll have Bruce force the truth out of you.” His voice was commanding yet gentle at the same time. “Please, Y/N, tell me. I’m worried about you.”

You let out a sigh of defeat, shoulders sagging. You nodded and swallowed hard, “Fine. Today..I was in the ICU. There was a patient; an orphaned little girl who’d been brought in after a hostage raid on a HYDRA base up north- Scotland, I think? Katie was her name, I think. She was admitted about a week ago. But she’d been held captive for...almost an entire year. She was severely malnourished. She was losing hair, losing weight - she looked like a skeleton. It was only recently that I had diagnosed her with leukemia, but by the time the diagnosis was made there wasn’t much time left. But no amount of sickness could get rid of her contagious energy and adorable little smile. She reminded me so much of my younger self, it hurt.”

“She was dying. Steve, she was dying and I didn’t know,” you sobbsd, “I can’t believe I didn’t- if I had found out sooner, I could’ve helped. Now it’s too late. I could see the light fading from her eyes. Katies’ grip on my hand was growing weaker by the second and I just - I didn’t want to believe what was happening.

“She died with me by her side...a mere three minutes later. She died holding my hand. She died without a family...she died, and I couldn’t save her-”

“But she had you,” Steve whispered. “You were there for her, and I’m sure she’ll always be thankful for that.”

“I could’ve saved her!” you yelled, voice cracking. “But I couldn’t! It’s my fault she’s dead-”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. You didn’t know. And you did everything you could. That’s all that matters.”

You shook your head wildly, feeling more burning tears slip down your cheeks. “I wish I could’ve spent more time with him -”

You tried to open your mouth to speak again but instead, a choked sob escaped your lips. It was like a suffocating pressure was tightly lodged against your chest and prevented you from being able to breath properly. Anything you tried to say came out in incoherent sobs and gasps - you felt so trapped, like you were stuck in a tiny little box with no way to escape. It was draining.

Steve did the only thing he knew how to do and carefully wrapped his arms around you, quickly pulling you into his chest. You slumped against him and continued to sob - burying your face within the fabric of his cotton T-shirt to further muffle the sounds of your crying. When he tightened his arms around your trembling frame you didn’t bother to writhe in his grasp and fight back. There was no fight left. You didn’t want to keep fighting. You were done with it all.

“Hey hey hey. Breathe, darling, just breathe,” he cooed, smoothing your hair back, “you hear that? Listen to my heartbeat, breathe in and out, that’s good...”

You took one shuddering inhale and exhale after the other, until slowly but steadily, the hiccups faded away and your crying eventually came to a halt. You knew you looked like an absolute mess - with puffy, red eyes and tear tracks staining your blotchy red cheeks.

But if he was being honest, none of it made you look any less stunning than you were. Despite your glossy eyes and tearstained face, you looked breathtaking to him - you always did, and always would.

And he gets so wrapped up in gazing down at you that he loses sense of the world around him, and doesn’t realize that the two of you are slowly moving closer and closer to one another until there’s essentially no space left.

Then, he kisses you.

He knows he could’ve picked a better time to do this. He knows. It was wrong of him to choose now out of all occasions - you were emotional and out of the loop. But he couldn’t help himself - he didn’t know what else to do. After months of suppressing his feelings deep down, he was sick and tired of keeping them from you.

So he went with his gut instinct - which was to simply go for it. And he did.

When his lips initially met yours you didn’t know what to do. But then, you found yourself kissing him back, your arms going around his neck and your eyes fluttering shut. He went to cup your cheeks and gently held your face in his hands for just a few more seconds but when you pulled apart, you were left with an aching feeling - wishing it would’ve lasted longer.

Then almost as soon as it started, it was over. Whatever warmth you felt was now replaced with an eerily chilly sensation that uncomfortably enveloped your body. And he felt it too. And he hated it. But he was afraid to make a second move - what if you didn’t react the same way you did as the first time?

Steve looked down at you and wiped the last of your tears from your face with his thumb and reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers together.

...

You now have Steve’s oversized hoodie on over his shirt you were also borrowing, a mug of tea in your hands as he sat across from you at the kitchen counter.

You silently picked at the castella set in front of you on the plate as he delicately held one of your hands in his, rubbing patterns across your palm. It was soothing, almost distracting, in a way.

A full hour of silence had passed, and frankly, Steve felt a little relieved. He’d trade your tortured cries for radio silence any day - he hated seeing you in pain. It was like receiving a direct bullet to the stomach - and he knew those things hurt like hell.

“I’m sorry,” you wiped at your nose with your free hand, “I look gross right now. I’m sorry you had to see all...that.”

“Hey...it’s okay,” Steve reassured you. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse. You remember that day a piece of scrap metal got buried all the way into Bucky’s calf?”

You shuddered and laughed sadly at the thought. You remembered having to treat him and Wanda holding him down as he struggled not to cry out in agony. “Yeah. That was a mess.”

“And you saved him. You’ve saved so many people, Y/N. Don’t feel bad for being unable to stop something out of your control. Think about how many people are out there, alive, because of what you did,” he reminded you. “You saved Bucky, you saved Peter. You even saved me once.”

“I saved your ass multiple times, you mean,” you snorted. He cracked a grin. “Three times, to be exact.”

“You definitely did, sweetheart. And I’m sure Katie knows that. That you’re a hero.”

You felt your heart twist in your chest at the mention of her name. “I really hope so.”

“She knows. Trust me, she knows you are.”

“Thank you...” you muttered, “...you know, you didn’t have to stay awake for me. You could’ve just gone to bed.”

“Without knowing you were alright? That’s not happening, darling,” he chuckled lightly, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your forehead. “I’m gonna be here and I’m gonna wait for you, whatever it takes. I’ll always wait for you.”

“Always?”

He squeezed your hand. “Always.”

Your smile widened ever so slightly - and you felt stirring in your chest at his words.

Steve then raised an eyebrow at you. “I know this is off-topic and all, but...I hope you didn’t think I was bad kisser or anything. I did that after thinking a thousand times. Though my timing could’ve been better-”

“No, no,” you laughed lightly, “you’re all good. You’re not a bad kisser at all.”

“I hope you wouldn’t mind if I tried again, then?” He let go of your hand, and slid his hand up to the back of your head to pull you closer.

“Not at all.”

Your lips met, and for the briefest moment in time, you could pretend you were okay - for a moment, everything seemed like it would be okay again.

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lenalawlipop · 3 years

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December 31: Quiet

So... this is the final one! I'm posting three in a row today because I really just wanted to finish them xDD I hope you guys enjoy it! This happens in the same AU as that one other prompt I did with dog!Roach, but much further along.

Prompt list here ❄️

Read on AO3

Roach scratched at the front door as soon as she heard Jaskier’s keys jingling and heard him chuckle. The key turned, and he entered the flat. He ruffled her ears, and she whined, calling him to the bedroom. He followed.

“Geralt? Is Ciri still…?”

“Not asleep,” Geralt confirmed, with an amused huff. “I think Roach is more tired than us.”

“I think so too,” Jaskier laughed. “Let me take this all off and wash my hands.”

“Sure.”

Noooo nonono!

Roach whined again, and Jaskier laughed, stepping around her to reach the entrance again, hang his coat and leave his mask behind as well. He blew her a kiss, but ignored her pleas for a little longer still, washing his hands thoroughly.

“We can’t bring germs into the house, Roachie,” he explained to her for the umpteenth time. “Ciri is still very young and could catch something. We don’t want that, do we?”

He did, however, hurry towards the bedroom once he was finished, shedding his shirt in the way. Geralt looked at him, smiled.

“Take the jeans off too, no outside clothes in the bedroom,” he muttered, a tired instruction like the many others they had implemented since Ciri had come home.

Roach jumped onto the bed, whining when Jaskier put her back on the floor. He took her space instead. He’d put on a soft pair of trousers, and he was quick to scoop his daughter up, cuddle her closer. She laughed, tickled with the hair on his chest. Geralt sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“She’s been crying a lot today; I think she’s teething… But you know how much Roach hates it. She’s a bit desperate for affection.”

“And probably also for some exercise,” Jaskier added, softly. He leaned to the side to press a kiss on Geralt’s lips. “You should get some air as well before it’s too dark outside. I’ll put her to bed, alright? Take Roach on a walk?”

“Hmm, I should…”

“You’ve been cooped up all day lately, what with helping out with Pavetta and Duny’s funeral,” Jaskier added, even softer if possible. “Walk off some of the stress. I’ll fix dinner tonight.”

“Don’t worry… leftovers.”

“Right. Then I’ll have those ready to eat if you let me know when you’re on your way back.”

“Ciri might not go to sleep for a while.”

“I’ll sing to her. It’s been working so far, right?”

“Hmm.”

“We’ll make it work, Geralt.”

Roach put her paws on the bed again, but this time she wasn’t shoved off. Jaskier was busy looking at Geralt, who seemed to have burrowed his face into Jaskier’s neck. Roach whined, and they both looked at her. Geralt’s eyes were a little watery, but he didn’t smell of tears yet. He pet her ears.

“I think your other child is worried about you,” Jaskier joked. Geralt cracked a smile.

“She’s a good pup… She keeps an eye on Ciri all the time, don’t you Roachie?” he asked her. It lacked his usual warmth, but he sounded so tired lately that Roach didn’t mind. She nosed at his hand. “Let’s take you for a walk, then.”

Walk!

Jaskier’s voice was clear as she and Geralt left the room. He sang to the baby a lot, and it took Roach a few minutes to remember she was going after Geralt. He smiled at her when she joined him in the entrance.

“He has a sweet voice, doesn’t he?” he mused, his cheeks reddening slightly. “I suppose that’s how we got together, so…”

Roach remembered. Those days were quieter, but Geralt had started to hum along with songs when he’d found Jaskier’s music. Roach had come to him a few years before, and she’d never heard him sing before. He had a nice voice too, she thought, even though Geralt had always seemed rather sheepish about it. He had been serious, and taciturn, when Roach had first met him. He would take her on walks, and he would pet her and groom her, but it had taken him a while to start talking to her. They had gotten to know each other since then…

Geralt only talked to her like this when they were alone, though. It made her feel special, like he was telling her a secret, even though sometimes it was most certainly not secrets what he talked about. Like right now.

“I didn’t expect Jaskier to stick around,” he admitted. Roach had already heard him say this many times, so she continued walking ahead, listening with half an ear. “I wasn’t sure he’d say yes, either.”

Yet another familiar sentiment.

“Gods, Roach, you just don’t care, do you,” he laughed. “I’m getting married, you dork, and you don’t care.”

She barked at him. Of course she cared! But she was not nearly as surprised as Geralt seemed to be by this turn of events. Humans tended to give their mates shiny jewelry for their fingers, so frankly, it was grossly overdue that Geralt gave something to Jaskier.

"I think you'll get used to Ciri soon, too," he continued. "I got used to Jaskier's babbling eventually, didn't I? Well, now's your turn to suffer. Ciri isn't nearly as loud, at least not yet, so I don't know what you're complaining about."

The walk went on in silence for a few minutes after that.

Roach wasn’t really bothered by the small child. She was a little noisy, a little smelly, and slept very little. But she knew pups were like that too. She was rather more concerned about Geralt, if she was being honest.

Ever since he got this child, he'd been so quiet… almost like he was in the beginning. And it worried Roach, because Geralt had come such a long way… but now he was back to that, speaking very little, taking her on walks less, crying when he thought she and Jaskier were asleep. Roach didn't really know what had happened, but she'd gathered from Jaskier that someone had passed recently.

It worried her even more.

She wasn't getting any younger, and though she still had a good few years in her, she wasn't sure who was going to take care of her human when she…

"I'm getting married," Geralt repeated all of a sudden, startling her. "Fuck, I'm getting married. To Jaskier. I'm going to be Jaskier's husband."

He’d slowed down at some point, his usual strides much smaller than Roach was used to, and she returned to his side to nose at his hands with a whine. His fingers were trembling, but there was the hint of a smile in his face. He rubbed her ears.

“Do you even know what that means? I guess not, huh…”

Did it mean something? Mates were mates, weren’t they?

“In the good and the bad, in sickness and in health, from now until death do us part…” Geralt mused, and now Roach was starting to get really worried. “That’s what it means,” he explained. “Marriage. It’s… a promise. We already adopted Ciri, you and I. Now we’re getting Jaskier. Our little family grows, Roach. We have a family now. A family that should be Duny’s. He fought for his wife, they fought for their daughter, and now…”

For a moment they stood there, the winter wind cutting through their clothes and fur. Roach would have sat down, but the ground was covered in snow… A nearby voice was what finally got them out of their bubble. A lady with a poodle, asking if they were alright. Geralt looked up, and Roach was able to scent the tears in his eyes. He stared at the lady for a second, putting on a small smile for her. He hummed, somewhat affirmatively, and the lady went away, but Roach knew better. She got closer still, pressing against his legs like she used to do when she was a pup. He leaned down to pet her.

“Let’s keep walking or we’ll freeze our butts off… Jaskier would be so worried, too,” Geralt said, and he managed a huff of amusement at the end. “You know, one of these days, he’ll take your crown for number one worrier about me in this household, Your Majesty Roach The Mighty.”

Geralt hadn’t called her that in ages! She barked, wagging her tail, and he chuckled as they started walking again.

He’d given her an idea anyway. Jaskier! They were mated now, and married, whatever that meant. And they had a child! Jaskier would protect her human with her, and humans lived so much more than dogs… Geralt would be taken care of!

Roach waited patiently as Geralt wiped the snow and water off of her paws as they stepped into the apartment again, but she jumped at her first chance to go find Jaskier. He was still humming, more quietly now, in the living room. The baby wasn’t with him, but the noise machine that showed them whenever Ciri moved was by his side. He gasped when Roach put her paws on his lap, jumping on his seat. He took his earphones off, turning around. The computer had the funny pictures that meant he was composing.

“You said you’d tell me when you were on your way back,” Jaskier complained in a whisper. Geralt snorted.

“Forgot. Sorry. I’ll take care of dinner instead.”

“I’ll set the table in a minute, let me save this.”

“Easy.”

Routines, Roach supposed, weren’t as bad when they were already set. She’d need more time to get used to the Ciri routines, but this? This was simple enough. Dinner wasn’t usually quiet, but Jaskier seemed to sense there was something in Geralt’s mind and didn’t pry. He sneaked Roach some of his dinner though, to keep her quiet as well. She obliged. Geralt only noticed halfway through the meal, and frowned.

“Jas?”

“Geralt?”

“You’re quiet.”

“I’ve been speaking all day,” he pointed out mildly, amused. “I thought you liked it when I’m quiet.”

“I do,” Geralt rolled his eyes. “I just like it more when I make you quiet. Like this, it’s just strange.”

This made Jaskier laugh, and he extended a hand to lace their fingers together above the table.

“You’ve taken their deaths so…”

“Hm?”

“You’re so quiet, too, all the time,” he sighed. “It’s hard to say if you need help sometimes. I know you struggle with asking, but something like a death, so close, too… You’re carrying a lot on your shoulders, love.”

Oh, yes, this was good! Talking! Geralt always needed some prompting to talk. Well done, Jaskier! Roach wagged her tail in delight and made her escape out of the kitchen before Geralt could answer, using their distraction.

She’d been right about Jaskier, it seemed.

Her family would be in good hands.

#Lena writes #the witcher #geraskier #Roach #winter prompts #Witcher Winter Prompts 2020

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liloscreativeadventures · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Miss You

Summary: After 2 years of dating, AJ and OC have called it quits. AJ not wanting to be in a relationship in fear that it might end up the same way his previous relationship did. In a divorce. Decides to save OC the trouble of disappointing her.

Pairing: AJ Styles x OC (Esme De Leon); Finn Balor x OC (platonic)

Author’s Note: So sorta been rekindling my love for wrestling and AJ styles so this is what has come out of it. Song is “Yeah, No” by Elle Winter. Characters other than Esme belong to WWE.

You know everything about me But you don’t know a single thing about me Didn’t we spend enough nights That you should me inside and out? Yeah, you’d think you’d know by now

AJ Styles walked into the arena that was hosting tonight’s Raw. He wasn’t scheduled to be there at the taping today since he would now be appearing on Smackdown. He was just stopping by to visit and hang out with some friends. He was really hoping to run into Esme. Esme was his ex-girlfriend of 2 years. He was hoping to talk to her about the decision that he had made several months ago. His poor decision in wanting to break up with her.

He had met Esme when he had first made his official WWE debut back in 2016. She had been one of the few people to approach him and introduce themselves. It had taken her a lot of courage to talk to him as she had long been a fan of his work since his days with TNA. But beyond that was her crush on him. She had never told him when they first met but it had come up when they had first started dating. She had dreams of meeting him one day but always faced that reality that it may never occur. Esme was like a breath of fresh air for him. She was shy and timid when it came to meeting new people. But the second you got to know her, a different side of her came out. A vibrant and bubbly personality that was waiting to come out.

She never cared about the age difference. He was almost 10 years older than her but she didn’t care. If he loved her than she loved him too. Their relationship did not need to be defined by how much older he was or how much younger she was. She made him happy. It was the most complete he had ever felt in his life. More complete than his previous marriage. But he had fears that if Esme and he ever got married, it would end up the same way as his previous marriage. He didn’t want that. He wanted to protect Esme from that happening. So he ended the relationship to save him from his fear of commitment in another relationship and to protect her from being able to have her dreams of being a wife and mom.

But you’re oblivious, clueless, frankly kinda stupid Thinking that I’m spending m time Home alone crying, wonderin’ why-ing Wishing that you were still mine

Finn Balor and Esme stood outside of the men’s locker room just catching up and going over his match with Seth Rollins and Jeff Hardy. Esme would be accompanying him to the match. She was dressed in one of Finn’s shirts that wardrobe had cut to be a backless halter crop top with black pants and black knee high boots. Her black waist length hair had been straightened with her bangs brushed to the right side of her face. “I’m really just glad it’ll be a fairly simple match for you. I don’t know if I could do anything in these boots.” She said making a face as Finn chuckled.

“I mean you do get a piece of the action in the end of the match.” Finn said as she laughed.

“That’s true.” Esme said as Finn looked down the hallway to see AJ walking in their direction.

Esme’s brown eyes turned to follow Finn’s eyes to meet AJ’s blue eyes that were staring right at her. The butterflies in her stomach fluttering inside and she had to remind herself that it was him who had decided to call it quits. ‘Don’t fall for his trap, Emmie. He was the one who wanted out of your relationship.’ She told herself. Finn looked between the two noticing the hesitation.

“Hey AJ. What are you doing here?” Finn asked breaking the silence as he shook hands with AJ.

“Just stopped by to visit everyone. What are you two up to?” He asked looking at Finn then back at Esme.

“Oh, we were just going over my match tonight.” Finn said as Esme nodded her head, “But I was just about to head to catering to get some water before. Did you guys wanna come?”

“I think I’m okay. I was actually hoping to talk to Esme for a second. If you had some time, Esme?” AJ asked looking at her as Esme looked from Finn to him.

“Umm yeah that’s fine. I’ll meet you before the match, Finn.” She said as Finn nodded his head leaving the two alone.

Esme pulled at her top as AJ looked at her. God he had to resist the urge to just kiss her. Esme bit her lip before looking at him to ask, “So what did you want to talk about?”

AJ took a deep breath before saying, “I miss you.”

Esme blinked her ears trying to make sure she heard him correctly, “I’m - I’m sorry?”

“I said I miss you, Esme. God I miss you so much.” He said looking at her as she took a step back.

“No - No - No you don’t get to say that, AJ. You don’t get to say you miss me when you’re the one who broke up with me. You wanted this. You wanted out of this relationship because you wanted to ‘save me the trouble’ of being hurt when the idea of marriage came up. So don’t say that.” Esme argued looking at him.

“I know, Emmie.” He said as she shot him a look at the sound of her nickname and he threw his arms okay, “I’m sorry. Force of habit. Look, I know I was in the wrong, Esme. I was honestly afraid of what was going on with our relationship.”

“You were afraid that we were gonna end up like your previous marriage?” Esme asked as he nodded his head, “Look AJ, I’ve told you many times that I’m not her. I will never be her. I love - loved you with everything that I had because you made me happy. I mean sure I would have loved the idea of being married to you but if it wasn’t something you weren’t ready for I wouldn’t have forced you into wanting that.”

“And I’m sorry, Esme. I should have let you know how I was feeling. I was just afraid to hold you back for those things. I wanted you to be able to be a wife and a mom. I just I couldn’t see that for myself until I really sat down and thought about it. I’m really sorry.” AJ started to say as Esme looked away from him, “I realize that you’re not her. And if I could turn back time to fix everything, I would. Just so that I would have talked to you about this before I broke things up. I was stupid and I was afraid. But I want another chance with you. To prove that this time around things are going to be different. Esme, is there a chance that you would be willing to give us another a shot?”

Esme turned her head to look at him. Her brown eyes meeting his piercing blue eyes. Those blue eyes that she had come to love for so long.

Yeah, no, yeah, no Stop thinking I miss you Don’t, I don’t It never was an issue So let go Don’t tell me that you’re here for me ‘Cause I don’t give a **** boy, anymore Got my closure when I closed that door Bet you think my love is still yours, boy Bet you think my love is still yours, yours

Seth Rollins, Finn Balor, & Jeff Hardy vs. The Miz & Miztourage

Esme and Finn watched as Jeff and Seth headed out to the ring. Esme and Finn looked at each other smiling. They gave each other a fist bump. Something that had become a routine for them every time they headed out to the ring. Finn’s music started playing and they could hear the fans cheering. They stepped out to the top of the ramp and went in opposite directions to point to the fans before meeting each other in the middle. Walking down, Finn stopped midway to turn around to fix pop his leather jacket up while Esme blew him a kiss as her looked at her. They both made their way down towards the ring. Finn climbed the steps to rush to the middle as Esme climbed the stairs after him She met him at the middle and they posed. Her blowing a kiss to the fans as he bounced against the ring. She got in the ring as he made his way to the turnbuckle and climbed up to get into the ring. Standing next to Seth, they chatted for a bit laughing together.

AJ watched from the back. He took in the sight of her in the ring. He watched as she took Finn’s jacket and they shared a quick kiss. AJ’s stomach churned. He knew it was scripted but he was still protective of her. Esme smiled before climbing out of the ring with Seth’s help. She winked at him as he laughed at her climbing down. The ref rang the bell as the match started.

End of the Match

Seth pinned Miz to get the win as Esme jumped up and down outside of the ring. Seth got up to shake hands with Jeff but Bo Dallas went to attack them. Jeff caught him and hit the Twist of Fate as Finn climbed the turnbuckle hitting his move on Bo. They continued attacking Bo as Miz crept up behind Esme to grab her by the wrist. Esme screamed ‘Let me go!’ as the three guys looked her way and Finn got ready to jump out to help her. Esme leaned back to avoid the clothesline. Once his arm flew by her head, Esme turned her body so that she could kick Miz in the face. He fell to the ground just as Esme jumped on top of him to punch him in the face. Finn jumped out of the ring to pull her off. “That’s enough, Esme. Come on.” He whispered as she growled at Miz.

Jeff and Seth helped her into the ring as Finn climbed up beside her. Getting inside, the crowd cheered as Esme stood between Seth and Finn holding their arms up in the arm. The four of them climbed out of the ring making their way to the back.

After the match

They made their way back. They got out of gorilla and Jeff turned to look at Esme. “Did you really growl at him, Emmie?” He asked as the guys laughed.

Esme laughed punching Jeff in the shoulder, “I couldn’t help it.”

“The growl was extra emphasis on her attack.” Seth joked throwing his arm around her shoulder as they all laughed, “Come on. Onward we shall go.”

The guys dropped Esme off to the women’s locker where she grabbed her leather jacket and through it over her clothes. She wanted to go look for one of her close friend’s Natalya, who was also just visiting Raw. She found her in catering chatting with some other friends. Natalya got up and rushed to greet her. Pulling her into an embrace, “Emmie girl.”

“Hey Nattie! Good to see you.” She said as Natalya let go of her.

“How’s it been? Heard you ran into you know who.” Natalya said as they walked out of catering.

“I’ve been good. Technically I didn’t run into him. He was walking around the hallway looking for me” Esme said.

“Well what did he want?” Natalya asked as they walked down the hallway.

“Said he made a mistake and that he was sorry for breaking up with me.” Esme said giving Natalya the shorter version of the story.

But Nattie of course knew her better than that and looked at her, “And?”

“He wanted to see if there was a chance we could get back together.” Esme said as Natalya stopped walking.

Esme kept walking until she noticed Natalya wasn’t next to her. She turned to look at Natalya, “What?”

“He wanted to see if there was a chance you guys could get back together?” Natalya asked Esme nodded her head, “Please tell me you answered him yes.

Esme looked at her before saying, “Are you serious, Nattie? The guy was the one who wanted to break up with me. He was the one who wanted out because he “wanted to save me the trouble” of having my heartbroken if I ever thought of getting married with him because that wasn’t in his plans.”

“Emmie, what if he had a change of heart? I mean I know he was married before and he had fears that maybe your relationship would end up the same way his previous one did. But maybe he’s come to realize that you’re different and you’re not her?” She asked.

“That’s exactly what he said.” Esme said tugging on her leather jacket.

Yeah, no, yeah, no Yeah, no, yeah, no Yeah, no, yeah, no Yeah, no, yeah, no

But maybe just maybe she did miss him.

#aj styles x oc #aj styles x reader #aj styles image #aj styles imagines

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thedistantstorm · 4 years

Text

Project Compass 26

Read along on AO3 Here

<< Previous Chapter << >> Next Chapter >>

This time: Un’hee tires of keeping secrets.

Next Time: Ar’alani, Mitth’raw’nuruodo, and Eli’van’to finally have the talk.

Un'hee fidgeted beside Ezra. Across from them, Karyn Faro - who, despite the Chiss's attempts otherwise, retained both first and last names - updated Ezra on the situation. He knew whatever Faro shared would be expanded upon by Thrawn, but he did try his best to be attentive. The Navigator, however, squirmed in discomfort, as if she were being held against her will. She was even more difficult to feel in the Force today, murky and hiding, as if trying curling her aura into a ball.

"I know this is scary," Commander Faro said, trying to console her. She was good with most Navigators, but what she knew of Un’hee’s experiences before Thrawn and Ar’alani had found her definitely disqualified her from fitting under that umbrella. "Nothing will happen to you. They gave Captain Thrawn an antidote, so you have nothing to worry about."

Ezra patted her back gently. "Faro's right. Everything is going to be okay."

The girl hummed something noncommittal in reply and drew her knees up to her chest. "Okay," She replied listlessly, mostly just so they'd stop talking to her. Her red eyes closed almost entirely, but she didn't fight Ezra, who kept rubbing her back. "Will Captain Mitth'raw'nuruodo come back soon?"

"He will," Commander Faro confirmed. "We'll no doubt meet him later."

Un'hee hummed and turned her face downward, chin pressed to her knees. Ezra exchanged a glance with Faro, but there was nothing they could say or do to console her.

By the time the captains arrived at the officer’s lounge they’d posted up in, the girl had fully withdrawn, her morose red eyes sliding the length of the room and back before she let them fall closed. “Feeling okay, Navigator?” Ivant asked her quietly, crouching down to eye level.

She hummed, but didn’t expand upon her feelings. There was a silent conversation there, had with only their eyes, and completed with a gentle caress of the Navigator's head.

Ivant stood. “Ezra, do you think you could walk her back to the Navigator’s section?” His wood-brown gaze met the young Jedi’s, then swiveled to Thrawn for a brief, pointed moment, then he added, “If it’s alright with Captain Thrawn, of course. Given the current situation, I do not want any of the Navigators alone outside of their section. I’d walk her back myself, but I need to speak with the admiral about something else. Faro, you’re welcome to join me.”

“Do I want to?” She asked dryly.

“Probably not,” He said. “I’d suspect she’d rather you go back to the bridge.”

“Sounds like enough of an order for me.” Faro rose, considering squeezing Un’hee’s shoulder in a show of support, but decided against it. The little Navigator seemed like she’d jerk at the slightest stimulus, and Faro had no desire to upset her further.

Ezra blinked up at Thrawn. “Is that-”

“That is acceptable,” Thrawn agreed.

The human captain nodded, patting Un’hee’s head. “Call for me if you need to, okay?”

Un'hee hummed. "I will, Eli," She murmured.

Ivant proceeded to nod to Thrawn, then Ezra, and finally saw himself out. Faro was already long gone. Un'hee followed her human commanding officer’s movements with her eyes, remaining on the couch after the door closed automatically behind him.

In the silence that followed, Ezra stood. "I should take you back," He said. "Do you-"

"I need to speak with Mitth'raw'nuruodo," She blurted. Un'hee looked from Ezra to Thrawn. She wrung her hands in her lap nervously, then realized what she was doing, inhaled deeply, and turned the full weight of her gaze on Ezra as she stilled. "Alone."

Ezra's eyebrows crawled upward, and again he sought Thrawn's guidance.

The Chiss spoke slowly. "Navigator-"

Un'hee stood and whirled around on Thrawn. Her eyes were hard, yet glossy with the promise that she'd resort to tears if she had to. "Please, Captain Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

Thrawn considered. Then, he nodded his assent to Ezra. "Wait outside."

"Could you walk me back, instead?"

At the evolving request, Thrawn's eyes narrowed. "I believe the goal is to have a human with you, Navigator Un'hee, considering our perilous circumstances."

"I have confidence in your ability to protect me, and vice versa," She said, and meant it despite Thrawn's deepening frown. She was certain he had no qualms about his own ability to protect her - with his life, if need be - but what she could do probably seemed rather limited, considering. She pushed her argument with a forced cheerful, "Besides, the Navigators' Section is practically around the corner."

Truly, Un’hee didn’t mind if Ezra heard them. She doubted much stayed a secret between Ezra and Thrawn, specifically when it came to matters like these. This might, for all Un’hee knew, pertain to him as well. After all, he had abilities somewhat like hers and Vah’nya’s, like most of the other Navigators. She wondered if someday the Chiss could be like Jedi, but not like the Jedi were now. Like the old texts mentioned them: warriors of sound mind and pure heart who fought for peace and justice.

That seemed like a far-away dream, but a lovely one nonetheless. She thought about it from time to time, usually until Vah’nya reminded her she should be studying or Eli tapped her nose or patted her on the head and asked if she’d grown bored of keeping him company in the stillness of his office.

At her side, and much, much taller, Thrawn slowed his naturally longer gait to match hers, so that two of her steps was the equivalent of one of his. It was yet another reminder that he was kind, even if it remained hidden beneath that serious exterior. “As you said, Navigator, your section is truly around the corner. If there is something you wish to say-”

Un’hee exhaled slowly, controlling her breath as she focused. She looked first with her feelings, trying to see if anyone remained nearby, then followed up with a very obvious look around to confirm what her mind’s eye had not seen. She wanted to trust her gut - she did, really - but she had to take every precaution.

“It’s- about what happened aboard the Compass,” She began, trying to choose her words carefully. “With Commander Wes’lash’andi,” She continued. Was he curious that she didn’t sound fearful or nervous anymore? In another life, or maybe even in this one, if things had continued the way they were, she probably would have been afraid to say the name of Thrawn’s assailant aloud.

He did look down at her. She craned her neck up to peer up at him in turn. “What about it?”

“There is something you should know about what happened. Something I think the admiral is afraid to tell you.”

A door thrown open down the corridor made them both look up, the hydraulic hiss-click almost like an exclamation followed by the sharp cry of, “Un’hee!”

“Hello Senior Navigator,” Thrawn said, looking between the girls. Vah’nya crossed her arms over her chest, and Un’hee raised her eyebrows. “I was just dropping Navigator Un’hee off before returning to my duties.”

“Thank you,” Vah’nya replied, never once taking her eyes off the younger Navigator. “You cannot be serious,” She said to Un’hee. Neither Navigator broke eye contact. “I should have known you’d manipulate things. I told Eli-”

“We have to tell him,” Un’hee interrupted. “If we don’t, things will only get worse.” She looked up to Thrawn. “He deserves to know. And we’re the only ones who can.”

Unwilling to bear witness to their squabbling, Thrawn’s lips parted and he began to intervene.

It had not been necessary though, because Vah’nya sagged as if defeated, her shoulders losing a bit of tension. “You’re right,” Vah’nya admitted softly before Thrawn could utter a word. “Captain, Navigator, please.” She slapped her palm to the door toggle for her office. “Come in. I’ll make some tea.”

Vah’nya seemed to have more trouble with whatever was going on than Un’hee did. The younger navigator noticed Thrawn’s confusion, the way it overlapped with concern in the silence of the office suite until Vah’nya rejoined them. Un’hee sat to Thrawn’s right, ankles crossed and tucked against the support running between the chair legs. She felt only resolved, while Vah’nya was more resigned.

“If it bothers you so much, you can leave, and pretend you don’t know what I’m doing,” Un’hee murmured.

“You know I can’t,” Vah’nya said. She set wintermint tea in front of them both before sitting behind her desk with her own mug held between her hands to warm her. It was a junior officer’s quarters, repurposed to fit the eldest navigator’s tastes. Star charts were given ample space to project upon the wall to Thrawn’s left, and a music player - vintage, by the look of it - sat in the corner inconspicuously. After a moment, she opened a drawer and pulled out a jamming device, laying it between them. “I’d rather this be done safely,” She said. “And frankly,” She pushed her long blue-black hair over her shoulder so that it could tumble straight down her back. With it tucked behind her ears, she looked younger. Or at least, she did, until she looked up into Thrawn’s eyes. “I agree with you, Un’hee. Thrawn deserves to know.”

Thrawn waited patiently, not outwardly staring at either of them until they’d initiated it. “Navigators, what exactly is going on?” He asked, blinking down at the device and back to Vah’nya, then finally Un’hee.

“There is no antidote,” Un’hee said. “For the Grysk’s ‘Blue Death.’ They’re working on it, but…” The younger girl trailed off.

“That is impossible.” Thrawn considered them both, as if perhaps their expressions would be capable of giving him additional information either for or against the young Navigator’s statement. “I would be dead.”

Vah’nya watched Thrawn as he addressed Un’hee. His posture was tense. Un’hee cocked her head, ready to fight back- “You know that isn’t true,” Vah’nya interrupted this tim. The Senior Navigator smiled softly. "It's hardly impossible."

“Unfortunately, Senior Navigator, I don’t-”

“When Karyn Faro brought back the kidnapped Navigators, months ago” Vah’nya pressed, voice soft but serious, “You were watching me.”

The Captain looked at the holoprojection of their current system, cast in blue and orange upon the wall beside him, though he didn’t truly see it. He was revisiting his memory of the day Vah’nya mentioned. His bright eyes narrowed and he looked up at her sharply, the motion jerky. “The medics treated them.”

“I healed the Navigator’s face while you watched,” Vah’nya revised. “I have never seen Eli or Ar’alani so furious with me for deviating from the plan.”

“You said you hadn’t done that on purpose!” Un’hee squeaked, indignant.

Vah’nya shrugged, lifting the tea to her lips and taking a long sip before she continued to address the Steadfast's first officer, “I had hoped you would have caught on and come to me, but a rational mind will supplement reason and logic to bridge certain unfathomable gaps. The Admiral believed me to be clinically insane until I proved it to her,” She sniffed, "So I hardly blame you for your skepticism or disbelief."

Thrawn steepled his fingers in front of him, elbows resting on the armrests of his chair as leaned forward. “Navigator Vah’nya,” He began slowly, and it was obvious he didn’t entirely believe her, but he would not completely discount her without gathering enough information, “You mean to tell me you were able to save my life from certain death with these abilities?”

“Not Vah’nya,” Un’hee said. She turned entirely in her chair, as to face him. There was no pride in her tone, only conviction. “I did.”

He slumped back in his chair, and that single uncharacteristic movement was telling enough. Some part of him believed them. “How?”

Un’hee and Vah’nya exchanged a glance. “We forget ourselves, Mitth’raw’nurodo,” Vah’nya began. “We have forgotten what it means to be a warrior. We do not need weapons or ships to boost our ego and bolster our pride. A warrior’s duty is to protect. And a Navigator’s calling is to protect the warriors of the Chiss Ascendancy, to guide them through the battles yet to come.”

“This is the goal of Project Compass,” Thrawn said. Such secrecy would make sense, if it were true... “You are cultivating new abilities for the Navigators.”

“Yes,” Vah’nya agreed. “As such, Un’hee’s abilities manifested to save you,” She added. “We believe that moments of great strife create opportunities for Navigators to embrace their abilities. It’s different for each of us.”

Thrawn looked back to Un’hee. “If what she is saying is true, I owe you a great debt, Navigator Un’hee.”

“You saved me from the Scratchlings when we met. It is a debt repaid,” Un’hee smiled. “More than that, though, I wanted to protect you.”

Thrawn’s curt nod seemed to be accompanied almost by relief, though neither Navigator commented on such a thing. The Captain thought it over carefully. “Your moment of great strife,” He began, each word heavy, articulated carefully. Of course he’d put together the reason for Vah’nya’s title, he was one of the most brilliant minds the Ascendancy had ever encountered. “It-”

The door slid open and both Navigators froze. In the doorway stood Captain Ivant. His eyes were dark. “What is the meaning of this?” He asked, voice pinched. He knew, with barely a second’s glance into the room what had already begun to transpire. “The Admiral gave you specific orders,” He said to Vah’nya. “You are not-”

“We made the decision to tell him,” Un’hee admitted. She did not look guilty or fearful. “You are not a Chiss. You would have been punished. This way-”

“She’ll likely punish us all, Chiss or not.” Ivant’s eyes were wild yet glazed, as if sifting through his brain for some calculation he could run to salvage things. “I can’t protect you from this.”

“You don’t have to,” Vah’nya added to Un’hee’s earlier statement. “I don’t care what she thinks-”

“You’re the one who had the vision of the Grysks exploiting him for information,” Eli yelled, his drawl bleeding ever so slightly into his Chuenh. “Or did you forget that, Senior Navigator?”

“Vision?” Thrawn queried, though Un’hee wrapped her tiny, cold fingers around his wrist to get his attention and gave a subtle shake of her head, an indication to wait.

Vah’nya rose in fury, gesturing to Thrawn, who watched the back and forth of their argument with cool interest. “And I told her in my vision that he found out on his own. We had to tell him. He deserved to hear it from us. Aren’t you the one who-”

“I know,” Eli relented. “I know he does.” He sighed, stress and exhaustion palpable in the way he held himself. “But you should have asked her.”

“You’ve asked her for permission enough times for us all.” Vah’nya gestured to her chair, willing to give it up to him, even as he declined. Un’hee waited for Eli to approach to let him pick her up and situate her on his lap instead. Vah’nya returned to her chair with a final, “I respect her, I would die for her and our crew, but you are my commanding officer, Eli.”

“And she is mine.”

“Not when it comes to Project Compass. Not really.” Vah’nya's eyes flashed with some unspoken secret or agreement. “Technically, for the greater good of the Ascendancy, she gave you complete autonomy.”

Eli hummed dismissively, aware of Thrawn’s piercing gaze upon him at her insinuation. It was highly improbable within the CDF, and nearly impossible for such status to be given to a human. Still, he asked them, “You two are confident your actions will make all the difference?”

Both Navigators nodded.

Thrawn looked Eli in the eye when the latter turned to face him all the way, holding his gaze for a long moment. It was almost so long that the rest of the room felt like it didn’t exist. Neither Navigator interrupted, both girls patiently waiting. Their wordless exchange was a challenge, an appraisal, an unspoken test. Perhaps Eli was trying to ascertain Thrawn’s goodness or affinity for honesty, Un’hee thought, then considered whom she was talking about. If Eli were doing anything, she suspected it was actually trying to gauge how Thrawn was reacting to what he’d learned. He might pretend to be like a Chiss, but Un’hee knew better. Kindness was in his nature, even more so when it came down to someone he cared about. And Un’hee knew he cared for Thrawn most of all.

“Alright,” Eli said finally. He took a deep breath to brace himself. His eyes warmed. Un’hee released Thrawn’s wrist to pat Eli’s arm, which held her securely on his lap, a show of support that he’d come around. “So where’d you leave off?”

#thranto #eli vanto/thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #un'hee #vah'nya #eli vanto #sw fanfic #my wrtiting #karyn faro #ezra bridger #my writing

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nightowlfandom · 5 years

Text

Jungkook- Shameless Tease

REQUEST FROM PROMPT LIST- RIGHT HERE!! (Psstt I also write for anime too wink wink)

I like this request mostly because of the ‘uwu’ teehee. So lemme say I have an older brother so this is super awkward, so i’m sorry if this this doesn’t seem as good because I actually despise all of my brothers friends, but I won’t let that affect my writing i promise..

11- Do you not know what the word ‘mine’ means

21- Can’t you see that I...I..forget it

23- It was foolish of me to ever think you could want a relationship with me...forget it

32- Shhh, wouldn’t want the boys to hear us now would we?

70- You want me to name all the reason I love you? We’d be here forever.

Leggo!

Y/B/N= Your brothers name obviously.

...

You were excited! Your older brother was coming back from university! Six months without your hero there with you.

You had made all his favorite snacks and all his favorite foods. Your mom had told you to send her love from her. (She was on a business trip in Italy.)

“Hello!!!? Anybody home?!” You heard from the kitchen.

“Y/B/N!!” You yelled. You ran into the living room and now saw your big brother who now had dyed red hair and an eyebrow piercing. You ran into your brothers arms only to be lifted up and spun around.

“Is it me or did you get taller? You aren’t the same short geek I remember.” he joked.

“Stop it!” you poked his shoulder. “I missed you bro.” you hugged him again.

“I missed you too kiddo.”he chuckled.

“I’m not that younger than you!” you whined.

‘I’m a senior in college, I automatically have the right to call you a child no matter how old you are.”

“Whatever.” you waved him off.

“Wow, talk about a reunion.” another voice had interrupted you. “Hey Y/N.”

You felt your face heat up violently, you could only hope Jungkook didn’t see it. He smirked as he threw Y/B/N’s suitcase down along with a duffel bag which you assumed was his.

“Hm, you’re not the same cute little kid I met all those years ago.” he smirked.

“Uh..Hi J-jungkook.” you said shyly. You may or may not have had a crush on Jungkook since you graduated high school. You weren’t sure if he knew or not but you weren’t subtle about it either.

“Hope you don’t mind, kid. Jungkook is crashing here.”

“No, it’s fine.” you assured. “I guess.” you looked down.

“Something smells great.” your brother broke the tension which made you smile.

“Yeah! I made a lot of food!” you smiled, getting a little happy.

“Please tell me there’s spicy noodles involved.” he mumbled.

“Of course! It’s our thing!”

You and your brother had an obsession with trying different types of noodles, so when you found a recipe for super spicy noodles, you knew it would be perfect.

“I’m gonna go get the rest of my shit out the car, I have loads of stories to tell you kid.” your brother messed up your hair hair with his hand before bolting out the house. You were now left alone with Jungkook.

“You really did grow up.” he chuckled, which made you almost choke on...well oxygen. “You’re not that cute little kid anymore.”

“Y-yeah...I’ve blossomed!” you shrugged. Jungkook raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused. “That sounded wrong!” you suddenly corrected yourself. “I didn’t mean it that way.” Great now you sounded like you were talking about lady bits

Jungkook chuckled at your attempts to try and fix what you said. You were so cute trying to cover up your words. He thought you little crush on his was adorable and frankly, it only made him want to protect you more from other shitheads. He even had a mind to say he liked you himself, only your brother would kill him on the spot.

...

Later on, you were clutching your sides when your brother had told you his other friend, Baekhyun had did a streak across the college campus.

“He didn’t get expelled?!?!” you asked in disbelief, trying to contain yourself.

“No! He didn’t even get caught!”

“No wa-” you were cut off by the door bell ringing. “...I wasn’t expecting anyone else.”

“That would be me. Hope you don’t mind kid, I invited some friends.” you bro nudged you. “I know you wanted to spend some time with me today but they insisted we hang out.”

“It’s okay.” you shook your head. “We still got a whole lot of time together.”

Jungkook got the door and two model-esque girls strode in.

“Y/B/N is this her?!?!” A girl in a rose pink skirt and white shirt. “She’s so adorable!” she ran over. “I’m Vera! Your brother had told me so many amazing things about you.”

“Hi Vera!” You were shocked. “My brother didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend.” you looked at your brother who was blushing deeply. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’ve been waiting to meet you for so long, I wanted to get you a gift but this one over here-” she pointed to the girl standing by the door. “She was way too impatient so..I’ll just have to take you shopping! My treat!” she gave you a hug, which took you by surprise.

“I like her.” you mouthed to your bro who mouthed back. “I like her too.”

You saw Jungkook walk over to the other girl who looked less than happy to be there. She begrudgingly walked over and crossed her arms. You were about to sit back down when she had made a beeline for your seat.

“...Oh..I’m sorry were you sitting here?” she raised an eyebrow looking up.

“Lina, you saw Y/N about to sit there.” Jungkook sent a glance towards the girl.

“Oh, don’t worry...I can sit somewhere else.” you shook your head.

“The it’s settled! So..you’re Y/B/N’s kid sister?” she looked you up and down.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a kid, but yeah...I am his sister.” you looked down at your toes. “Lina was it?” you remembered Jungkook had said her name. “I’m Y/N...nice to meet you.” you trailed off.

“Hm, Jungkook was right. You are weirdly adorable in a geeky type of way.”

Jungkook called you adorable...woah. “Really?” you asked taken aback.

“Yeah, he also said that he spends a lot of time around you.”

“Oh don’t worry about me.” you shook your head. “No really you shouldn’t.”

“Yeah don’t worry Lina, Y/N here is practically harmless.” Jungkook began. “Nothing more than a shameless schoolgirl crush, she can’t help that she’s like my biggest fan.” Jungkook pat the top of your head.

“What?” you said, your jaw and heart dropping.

“Yeah, she can’t stop thinking about me.” he laughed, which made your heart sink even more. “It’s cute how she thinks I don’t notice.”

“Lhm...well she’s sure not gonna get your attention dressing like a 4th grader.” she chuckled, crossing her arms. “I don’t think Jungkook likes girls who wear Attack On Titan T-shirts and who still use bendy straws.”

“Lina that’s enough.” your brother warned. “Vera convinced me to let you tag along but that doesn’t mean i can’t kick you out.”

Silence...that’s all that rang throughout the room.

You looked at your brother, your hands shaking. You stared at Jungkook, betrayed evident in your eyes.

“Um...Y/B/N...I’m kinda tired...I think I’m gonna turn in early.” you looked down at your toes. Who cared that it wasn’t even dark out yet, you just had to get out of there.

“Hey, Y/N I was only kidd-” Jungkook held out his hands but before he could say anything else, you had run off up the stairs. You ran into your room and slammed the door, sliding down the door. You buried your head in your hands and cried silently.

How embarrassing, How humiliating, how...ugh

...

It was now midnight and you hadn’t left your room, instead you opted for crying into your teddy bear and watching anime. You felt embarrassed, humiliated, another word to describe how you never wanted to show your face towards Jungkook again.

There was a quiet knock on your door, and instead of pretending to be asleep, you figured you’d open it. Maybe it was your brother.

You didn’t expect to see Jungkook standing in front of you,

“Nice pajamas.” he chuckled. Jungkook wore low hanging sweats and no shirt, It was sort of hard not to stare.

You looked down at your pink shorts with bunnies all over them and black tank top with another bunny on the front holding a cupcake. You thought it was pretty cute. Jungkook was chuckling.

“What do you want?” you crossed your arms, hugging your teddy bear plushie closer to your chest.

“Can I come in? I don’t feel like standing in the hall.”

You hesitated but eventually let him walk into your bedroom and close the door. You walked over and sat on your bed, Jungkook following in pursuit.

“I came to apologize for making fun of you earlier.” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Whatever.” you said coldly. “Is that all?” You were genuinely hurt by what he said, especially after that stupid bitch of a ‘girlfriend’ of his disrespected you in your own house. If it weren’t for your brother stepping in and telling her to know her place, you probably would have been ridiculed more.

“Y/N...” he sighed. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Do you?!?!” you stood up. “Oh I’m just Y/B/N’s nerdy little sister, I’m just your little follower, your little fan. Don’t mind me!” you shot, fighting back the tears threatening to fall. “How dare you look at me and think I wasn’t going to be upset by what you said!”you hugged your plushie tighter, almost wanting to cry and scream at him to get out. “Get out...” you said.

“What?” he looked taken aback.

“You fucking heard me.” you snapped. “Get out of my way, Get Out Of My Room, GET OUT OF MY LIFE YOU-” you almost screamed.

You were cut off by Jungkook kissing you. Not a peck on the forehead or the cheek. He had held both your cheeks in his hands and slowly moved his lips against yours, causing your eyes to widen in shock. You knew part of the reason was to stop you from screaming even louder, but still.

“You’re so innocent Y/N...” he chuckled, almost pulling away from you.

“...and that’s exactly the issue.” you spat, turning away from him. “Y/N the innocent little child-like emotional little sister that you love to tease and make fun of. I’m not that younger than you Jungkook!” you crossed your arms. “I’m not gonna be your little teasing monkey anymore either.” No matter how much you wanted him to kiss you again...

It was foolish of you to think that Jungkook could ever want a relationship with you...”Forget it.” You finally said. “Just go-”

“Are you going to let me have a chance to talk now?” he raised an eyebrow at you. “Before Lina cut me off, I was gonna say something else.” he sighed.

“huh?”

“I was going to say after I said that it was cute how you think I don’t notice, that it was also cute how you don’t know that I have some feelings of my own.” he chuckled.

“I’m sorry what?” you raised an eyebrow. “I’m confused.”

“Hm...then how about this. Do you not know what the word ‘mine” means?” he asked, smirking down at you. “Can’t you see that I...Hm..Forget it. I’ll show you instead of telling you.” He smirked again.

Jungkook leaned down and kissed you again, this time causing you to drop your teddy bear. Jungkook gently caressed your cheeks. He didn’t want fo force, or scare you. He had already kind of hurt your feelings earlier and didn’t want to risk anything. He had told your brother he was interested in you, which garnered multiple threats from your older sibling.

“If you hurt her I swear to god I’m gonna slam your head into the side of a fucking mountain then drop your body into shark infested waters, bro. Don’t fucking play with her feelings or you’ll regret it. We’re cool and all but I swear-.”

His exact words.

His fears were put aside when you had rested your palms over his hands. You had realized you needed to breathe and had yanked yourself away, inhaling sharply. Your first kiss with Jungkook wasn’t exactly how you imagined, actually you never really imagined a kiss with Jungkook...Until now!

“Hm, Breathe. Y/N...” he chuckled. He leaned down and kissed your against, this time wrapping his arms around your waist. Shyly, you wrapped your arms around his neck. You were hoisted off the ground and carried to your bed. Jungkook threw you on the bed and crawled over you. Your eyes studied his shirtless body. His body was incredible.

“I know you didn’t picture our first time in the middle of the night in your bedroom, but I can’t wait anymore...can you?.”

Fuck no, you’d been waiting for this forever. As long as no one walked in, you didn’t care.

“I don’t have a condom yet...so we can’t do much.” he kissed you again, which made you smile shyly. Such a gentleman. “Plus your my best friend’s little sister, I want to take you somewhere special before we worry about doing that.” he trailed his fingers down your spine. “But I also want to make you feel good Y/N.” he bit his lip.

“U-uh...I’ve never really...done anything with another guy before...mostly by myself if I’m honest.”

You stopped yourself from speaking...you just confessed to masturbating to possibly the love of your life...real smooth Y/N.

Jungkook look surprised. “Damn...I didn’t know you were such a wild girl.” he chuckled. “Do I have permission to go further?” he asked, his face becoming serious. “I need a verbal answer.”

“Y-yes.” you trailed off. Jungkook hovered over you. Even in the dark you could see and admire his pale face. You had no time to register Jungkook pulling at the hem of your cute bunny shorts, taking your panties with them, which surprisingly had no bunnies on them. Well at least to his surprise. He didn’t coin you as the type to wear thongs at all but it was a pleasant surprise.

You squeezed your thighs together, trying to stop the weird feeling from building up even more, even thought it was futile. Jungkook would make sure you were a panting mess.

Teasingly, Jungkook brushed your slit. The pads of his fingers pressing down on your clit. The sudden feeling caused you to squeak out loud, making Jungkook laugh.

“Shh, wouldn’t want anyone to hear us now would we?” he cooed, pecking your lips again. “I wonder how you would react if...” he began rubbing your clitt faster, pressing down harder on the sensitive nub. “Listen to that sound.” he bit his lip, mentioning to squelching water sound that arose from you getting more and more turned on by the minute. “It’s so messy and wet down there Y/N.” he teased. “I love making you feel this way.” he expressed. “I love that face you make.” he mumbled again. “I love that you’re all mine, and no one else can steal you away from me.” he said, speeding up his fingers even more. “I would name all the other things I love about you...but we’d be here until the end of time, Y/N.”

Your arms, wrap around his neck kept you two close together. Despite it being cold in your room, you both were sweaty and trying to stay quiet. Mainly you. Jungkook grew impatient, he loved making you squirm and mewl for him, but he wanted to hear you say his name, moan his name, release for him.

Jungkook flipped you on your back, hovering over you again. With a silent laugh and a wink, he crawled down to where he was at eye level with your heat.

“Keep quiet Y/N.” he kissed up your slit. “Though I’m sure it’ll be hard.” he delved his tongue between your folds. “Hm, as a matter of fact...maybe I’ll enjoy this more than you do.” His lips stuck to your clit, making an exaggerated sucking sound that caused your back to arch (also quite exaggeratedly).

Jungkook held your thighs down, stopping you from moving around too much. You could only hyperventilate as his tongue lashed at your flesh. You knew if you made one loud sound, you’d be in trouble.

It felt like a ton of bricks, crashing down on you. Jungkook muffled his moans of gratitude, mostly with groans and praise through kissing up the length of your body.

“...You have to go back into the living room. If Y/B/N sees you in here-” you began to say

“I don’t care...I want you to be the first person I see when we wake up. Even if i have to sneak out.” he held you closer to him. “...and I’m taking you out tomorrow.” he mumbled, burying his head into your neck. You couldn’t answer because you had already felt yourself dozing off. “I don’t care fi your brother kicks my ass.”

You couldn’t want...for the date that is...

(This is very different than how I usually write, but I really wanted to capture the idea that Jungkook still cares about and respects you even as your bro’s little sis and wouldn’t do anything that could cause discomfort or scares despite being his flirty self. Bro I swear writing sex scenes makes me cringe into myself lol, but I do it for you guys.)

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bangtancentricsblog · 4 years

Text

the first encounter

Thank you again to my lovely wife @boymeetsweevil 😍💜💖

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, angst, lots of crying, alcohol consumption, mean Jb, brother sister bonding(?), manhandling, idk what else please let me know if i missed anything!

<< prev - next >>

🖤 (saturday 2:20 AM)

i have a surprise for you

You stare at your phone, and you have to convince yourself not to panic. It’s the first time since you’ve stopped seeing Yoongi that you feel ready to pick up the pieces of your broken heart and now you’re not sure you even want to try. A sense of dread fills you, what would have once filled you with some sort of comfort now does nothing but wreak havoc on your already distressed heart. How are you going to get out of this, surprise or not, you're absolutely sure you don't want it. Not anymore at least, it's with this that you take a shaky breath noticing the trembling of your hands as they grip the phone tight. You want to call Yoongi, want to hear the soft drawl of his voice as he takes your mind away from all the thoughts swirling in your head. You want to curl up in his bed, in the downy soft of his sheets, and feel his fingers run through your hair. You want to be with Yoongi. You take another breath gaze falling to the message once more, what did it mean? What could JB be planning, you can't begin to imagine what it could be, the tears come quick because you’re not ready. Not ready to face JB, not now, not ever.

You wipe at your eyes quickly, scrubbing the tears away, because now isn't the time to cry. You’d done enough crying in the last three weeks, had felt worse than you have all your life. Though it's about time you stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Life has its ups and downs and sure you had more downs than ups so far but that doesn't mean you should crumble so easily. It's now that you’ve managed to calm your breathing that you realize this was the end of you and JB. Somehow your brain registers your previous thought, the one involving Yoongi. The one that had your broken heart fluttering instead of filling with anxiety. You don’t think of JB, you push him to the furthest corner of your brain, because tonight you want to be you again. It's been so long since you’ve been the girl you were before JB, before Yoongi but had found yourself slowly finding her again.

Maybe it's because Yoongi had unknowingly reached into those hidden parts and slowly pulled her to the surface. Pulled her out from the depths of an ocean she had long since been drowning in. It’s been so long, you almost don’t recognize the girl standing in your mirror. She looks better than you had felt in what feels like forever, it's the first time since your break up (if you could call it that) with Yoongi and your time away from JB that you had felt comfortable in your own skin. Had felt beautiful without the low gravel of Yoongi’s voice in your ear, without the possessive and slightly belittling tone JB said it in. It's no wonder Jimin had been hesitant to leave you alone, you’re sure he doesn’t know what you’ve gone through with JB but you’re sure he would be pissed. Maybe his worry had stemmed from when he’d found you in the kitchen two weeks ago eating cupcakes straight from the tin.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." You mumbled cheeks full.

"Are those the cupcakes?"

"No," you paused, carefully unwrapping another cupcake "they’re baby cakes."

"Are you sure you’re okay? You’re crying in front of the fridge stuffing your face with cupcakes at 3 in the morning." Jimin sighed eyes trained on your figure as you lifted the aforementioned cake to your lips. Lips open wide as you pushed the entirety of the pastry into your mouth before closing it and proceeding to chew. ‘That’s disgusting’ he thought, face twisted in disgust watching you basically swallow the cupcake whole as you sobbed silently around a mouthful of cake.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Jimin says prying the clear container from your lap and setting it aside, it doesn't help, you already have two cupcakes in your hands. You shake your head still chewing as tears continue their trek across your cheeks.

“Okay, do you mind if I keep you company then?” you shake your head again and he realizes that maybe those few words from earlier is all he’s going to get out of you tonight. You two sit in the relative silence, the fridge light is soft on your features reminding Jimin just how much younger you are than him. He feels his heart clench, the last time he’d found you like this was when your grandma had passed and it had been like living with a complete stranger. You look broken, and Jimin wants to cry, to scream, to be angry because he doesn’t know how to make you feel better.

"It hurts, it hurts so much. I don't want to hurt anymore." You mumbled arms wrapping around Jimin before pressing your face into his neck and letting out some long suffering sobs. Jimin feels the tears prick at his eyes as he wraps you up in his arms. He’s quiet as he cries because he’s just so frustrated, how could he have let this happen. He’s disappointed in himself for not having noticed your suffering, maybe he should’ve paid closer attention. Yet he’s not sure if you’re feeling the way that you are because of Yoongi or because of something else. He thinks he should go see his friend, maybe he can figure it out if he talks to Yoongi. He doesn’t cry for long, there’s this weird feeling clinging to his shirt and he suddenly feels uncomfortable.

"Did you just stain my shirt?"

"M'sorry, it was an accident." You mumbled against the skin of his neck. He felt your breathing even out and soon enough your arms fall limp around his being. With a heavy sigh and a bit of struggling he managed to stand your form pressed against his as he made his way to your bedroom.

You had felt bad in the morning, eyes puffy and red rimmed from lack of sleep but you had apologized before puking your guts out from all the cupcakes you had eaten. You cringe at the thought, still remembering all that had happened afterwards, but today you feel good. It's time to move on, and if Yoongi never wanted to see you again then so be it. It would hurt but you had mended your heart more times than you could count and Yoongi would be the last person to hurt you.

There’s a heavy bass coming from the speakers in the living room, the floor is vibrating in tune with the beat and you’ve worked up a sweat with the people who crowd the dance floor. Some of the bodies are dancing and others have taken to bouncing around in a mosh pit like fashion, you’re having fun, but most of all you feel free. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the little bit of weed you had smoked from Jimin’s ‘hidden’ stash, you’re not too sure but it feels nice to really have fun. You feel light and the smile hasn’t left your lips since you turned up at this party, you don't think you have anything to worry about. The night is turning out amazing, a girl with dark hair smiles softly at you, her shoulders are bare and you eye her intricate mandala tattoo. It's beautiful with a half moon in the center, you briefly wonder where she got it done, your gaze travels just past the boy's shoulder who stands with her and you feel your knees buckle.

Steve Aoki’s ‘wake up call’ is ringing in your ears, the chorus deafening because you really want to wake up. This has to be a bad dream, there’s no way it could be possible. Your limbs lock up, body shoved this way and that by the crowd that had once easily embraced you, your eyes widened as you watch JB make his way to you with a smirk. His hair is tied up in a bun and he’s just as handsome as you remember but all you feel is dread. He’s dressed in a black button up tucked into fitted black jeans. Half the buttons are left undone revealing a little too much of his chest, something you loved once, but don’t know how to react to now. He easily makes his way to you wrapping an arm around your waist the other easily tangling in your curls.

“Missed me baby?” he murmurs pulling you close. Your breath is stuttered as you struggle to give him an answer. He doesn't like the wide eyed look you're sending him, he also doesn't like how much skin you’re showing everyone here.

“I asked you a question.” he breathes pulling on your hair, making you cry out in pain. Tears prick at your eyes as his grip tightens.

“Y-yeah, always miss you.” you say voice strained. There’s movement in your peripheral and you chance a glance.

Yoongi doesn’t know why he’s here, he hasn’t felt in the party mood for a while but he’s already here so he makes the most of it. Maybe he needs this, he could find someone to make him forget. The idea seems more and more appealing with every drink he has, sadly enough he stops at three. He doesn’t like to say it but he’s a sad drunk, likes to pick at old wounds and usually feels worse come morning because even drunk Yoongi was something sober Yoongi remembered. He’d spotted Jungkook some time ago huddled in the corner with a petite girl straddling his thigh. He hadn't gone over because Jungkook quite frankly was a freak, so the kid was a little on the quiet side but he’d done things Yoongi had only ever dreamed of.

Still he’s itching for a smoke, but besides Jungkook he doesn’t really trust anyone’s weed. The house is packed, bodies filling every room and hallway, he’s almost certain he saw Jimin swapping spit with a redhead near the bathroom. He can see Hoseok dancing with his best friend Luna from his seat near the alcohol and if you asked him they’re a little handsy to just be friends. He doesn’t care all that much though, who is he to judge them? He briefly wonders if Jackson is here, his need for a smoke is too much and even though Jackson’s weed makes him sick he’s willing to make the sacrifice. He’s quick to scan the crowd for that obnoxiously shiny head of hair but instead finds the man from the convenience store the other day.

There’s a furrow to Yoongi’s brow as he watches this stranger scan the crowd before he seems to find his target. He shouldn't care, especially since he doesn't know this guy to begin with but he follows his line of sight to you. You’re standing in the middle of the dance floor and it's the first time in weeks Yoongi has seen you. He takes some time to study you, your hair is curled hanging around your face making his fingers twitch, but what really gets him is the outfit you’re wearing. The lace bralette crop top and satin mini skirt make his mouth feel dry, he wants to walk over and beg on his knees for you to let him feel your skin beneath his palms. Wonders if you miss him as much as he missed you, but it’s now that he realizes that you too are gazing back at the other man. He wants to be upset at you but he can’t be, not when he isn't your boyfriend to begin with. Yet somehow, something in him screams to go to you. It’s not like Yoongi can just walk up to you like, ‘hey remember me, we fucked for a bit then i said all that mean shit to you? Yeah i’d love it if you could suck my dick again.”

He really isn't made for this lovely dovey crap he thinks just about ready to tear his gaze away from the display before him. Though he doesn’t because in the next moment this creep has his hands on you and you don't look to be enjoying it either. You’re standing stiff, arms limp at your sides as the other man embraces you, Yoongi narrows his eyes because he’s not sure but he thinks he can just barely make out the tears in your eyes. Something flares up inside him when he notices the hand knotted in your hair, causing your neck to arch back to gaze up the other man. He shouldn't get involved, for all he knows this could be your thing; but there’s this feeling in the pit of his stomach that says something is wrong. He’s out of his seat before he can stop himself, easily sliding in between the bodies of eager dancers. He’s just about to step in when he makes eye contact with you. Your eyes are swimming with unshed tears, eyes wide and slightly frightened as they meet his.

“Sweetpea you okay?” he asks, tone full of concern because Yoongi has never seen you look so scared.

“Sweetpea? Why is he calling you that baby?” JB mutters loosening his grip on your hair. His gaze darkens as he takes Yoongi in.

“It’s nothing, he’s a friend of my brothers.” you hurriedly say eyes darting between both of them.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks again when he sees the twitch of your fingers as he steps closer.

“M’fine.” you answer and he watches as you shoot a small glance at the other man before shying away, the hand on your waist pulling you into the man’s side.

“You sure?”

“Look man, she said she was fine.”

“Yeah and I wasn't asking you.” Yoongi snaps. JB laughs his gaze falling to you and you flinch in his hold.

“Oh I get it, she fucked you. Was he better than me baby, was his cock bigger than mine?” he asks but there’s a dark look in his eyes.

“N-no, no. You’re the best.” you say automatically and Yoongi feels his temper flare. Not because he doubts his sexual prowess but because he can see the pleading look you’re sending his way.

“Good, now give me a kiss.” Jb says as his thumb and forefinger dig into the meat of your cheeks, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. You seem like a totally different person standing next to this guy whom Yoongi can only assume is your boyfriend. You whimper the sound filling Yoongi’s ears and it's not one that he enjoys because you sound hurt. Yoongi can only watch as you flinch again when JB bites your lower lip, the pale rose flesh blooming with color the moment he pulls away. The tears have begun to fall, smile wobbly as you peak at the other boy under your lashes.

“Let's get out here baby, wanna show you how much I missed you.” he says eyeing Yoongi with a glare. You don't utter a word only nod slightly before being dragged out of the crowd. It's a last minute thought but yoongi reaches out taking your hand before you can disappear. He doesn't say anything just watches as you turn to him looking every bit as scared as he feels. Your hand grips his tight, but he doesn't know if it's to reassure him or to make yourself feel better. He wants to say something, anything to make sure this is what you want but he can't. Can't find the words to apologize to you, can't seem to form proper sentences because all he can feel is fear, is this the last time he’ll see you? Will you leave when the summer is over like a changing season, will you forget about him?

His heart aches with the thought, is it for the best? He doesn't think so, but perhaps you’ve already made your choice. He lets go of your hand, doesn't see the way your lips wobble, or the tears that quickly cloud your vision again. Doesn’t see the look of absolute dread on your face as JB pulls you along and out of the crowd.

✧✧✧✧✧

taglist: @bussy-posts, @peachymochimochi

#mine writings #emm writes #min yoongi x reader #college boy yoongi #college girl mc #college boys bts #College!AU #im jaebeom #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #park jimin #brother jimin #bts fanfic

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09yards · 5 years

Text

Don’t Call Me Angel / NCT secret agent au | read on ao3 here

pairings: Kun x Ten, Johnny x Taeyong, Doyoung x Jaehyun, Mark x Donghyuck, Lucas x Renjun and small Hendery x Yangyang

note: I changed the pairings from the original ones slightly and apologies for that but I think the story will work a lot better now. Anyways, enjoy (:

“I do not need some six-foot, macho-man, babysitter, Kun. I think I’ve made it perfectly clear I can take care of myself and we both know I work better alone.”

“Ten, when I came over last night I found you crying on the sofa with an almost empty bottle of expensive white wine over Grey’s Anatomy. You cannot take care of yourself.”

“Derek died Kun, gone , dead , never coming back! He left Meredith alone, and she’s pregnant! Think of the babies! Anyone with a heart would find that upsetting.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have a heart then,” Kun tisked, “And seriously, what is your obsession with babies? Can you move on from that soon—you keep mentioning them around Taeyong and he keeps whining about how cute they are too. Babies are weird, squishy things, they are not cute . They cry and scream and you can’t just leave them to their own devices. It’s so irritating .”

“Jesus, you’re such a bitch. You’re my best friend and I love you but god Kun, you can be so mean . But we’re getting off topic—I don’t need a damn bodyguard!”

“He’s not some bodyguard or babysitter Ten, he’s going to be your partner —your equal, if you will.” Kun stood up from his seat and walked around his desk to lean against it, gaze firm and business face on. “The two of you will be working together . He happens to be extremely skilled in the combat side of things and yes, he is much taller than you and appearance-wise he seems more fitting to the role. And his looks match your work a little more than yours do. He’s ex-military, his file says a Navy SEAL if I recall correctly. He will make sure you stay out of trouble while you charm and flirt your way through missions. He will allow me to guarantee—or at least somewhat reassure—your safety.”

“I sincerely apologise that I’m disrupting your usual conduct Ten, but I won’t apologise for wanting to make sure you’re safe. After what happened with Sicheng, neither me nor Taeyong are willing to take any risks when it comes to the safety of our agents. Even Doyoung is being assigned a partner for his field work. Taeyong is letting him know later, and so I give it—” Kun paused to give a quick glance to his watch and then the clock ticking against the wall. “—about forty minutes until the coffee table in the reception is smashed into several hundred thousand pieces, again . Remind me to ask Jungwoo to order a new one when we’re finished.”

Ten let out a soft chuckle, “I’m sorry too, by the way.” Ten took a deep breath, his voice was much quieter than normal, almost as if he was embarrassed. “I get where you’re coming from, I’m just not used to working with any other people aside from Doyoungie or Hendery in my ear, let alone working with anyone in the flesh. The only person I ever had as a partner was you, way back when we were still rookies.” Kun flashed him a small smile in return, an acknowledgement of some sorts of their rookie days. The days before Kun left.

“It’s going to be an adjustment, but I think it’s a good thing. Frankly, even though you probably won’t see it at first, you and Youngho will get along great. He’s coming from a placement in Berlin. He was originally part of the European branch actually, and he’s also bringing three other agents with him—Jung Yoonoh, Lee Donghyuck and Liu Yangyang. I’m not sure what code names they’re being assigned as of yet. Youngho is fluent in both Korean and English, and apparently his Mandarin isn’t terrible so you can pick what you like but keep in mind who your in-ear is. Don’t speak in a language they don't understand. That will remain the rule.”

“You mean if my in-ear is, for some reason, not Hendery or even Mark. You do know that there’s been only one case out of the four hundred and ninety-six missions I’ve worked where my in-ear hasn’t been one of them? And while we’re on that, please never assign Jeno to me again—he was awful but , in all fairness, I think he was just scared of telling me what to do.” Kun rolled his eyes at the fact Ten has memorised his exact number of missions and watches as Ten had visibly relaxed once again, kicking his feet up onto the arm of the sofa he was lounging on. His eyes widened as he tried to remember the information Kun had told him. “Wait, European? Kun did you finally find me the hot British agent of my dreams? I’m ready for my romancing. Okay, that’s a lie, but who knows.” He shrugged.

“No. I don’t know the logistics of how he ended up in Europe but he’s American, from Chicago—the place that, according to him and a quick google search, has really good pizza and is always windy. I wasn’t really interested in his life story, I was more interested in his stats on his transfer application. If it’s any consolation, Irene and Seulgi swear by him—gave him glowing references from their time in Paris and said he’s easy on the eyes, whatever that means.”

“Ah, Kun dearest ,” his voice dripping with sarcasm at the added endearment, “How would you rate his attractiveness?”

“I don’t know, Ten, I don’t pay attention to these things. Besides, I’ve yet to meet him in the flesh. I’ve only seen the pictures from his profile that were provided.”

“Bullshit! Just because you’re all work-focussed and don’t spend time on tinder doesn’t mean you can’t objectively determine if someone is attractive or not. What do our years of friendship get me if you can’t even tell me whether or not he’s ‘future partner with mutually beneficial relations material?’”

The apples of Kun’s cheeks turned rosy at that, a light blush washing over him as he visibly stiffened slightly. Ten always found it amusing that even with their years of friendship and his own distinct lack of a filter, when it came to most discussions—particularly his nonchalant approach to sex and the attractiveness of someone—Kun would flush instantly like you’d just caught him with his pants down. Unfortunately, Ten knew exactly how Kun reacted to being seen with his pants down, a price that comes with having been friends for many years and Ten’s old habit of showing up at Kun’s apartment unannounced. It’s safe to say Ten avoided him for several weeks after the incident, and now he always makes sure to knock or text.

“He—” Kun faltered, “—I guess, objectively speaking of course, I might agree that he’s attractive. Although he seems like a romantic so don’t get your hopes up. God , I need a drink before I talk about this with you and the tantrum Doyoung is going to throw—oh dear.”

“No worries, I can help you with that!” Ten jumped up from his seat, walking over to the large bookshelf filling the length of one of the walls of Kun’s office. He rummaged behind several boxes of files before yelling, “Found it!” and returning with a bottle of soju. Kun doesn’t want to know how or when it ended up in his office, but Ten seems to have gained psychic abilities because he counters that, “It’s a need-to-know basis and you don’t need to know. But you never know when you might need a bottle. It’s handy to keep one around.”

“Have you got glasses hidden somewhere too?”

“’Fraid not. We do, however, have mugs so that’ll do. Shot glasses are a pain anyway. You have to keep refilling them and with a mug you don’t.” Ten promptly poured the soju, filling the two mugs and whispering “It’s our little secret,” before sitting down once again (with his feet up on the arm rest again, Kun couldn’t help sneer a little—he was a fan of the no shoes on the furniture policy, but Ten doesn’t agree to it at home, so why would Kun expect him to at the office?).

“Stop glaring at me, Kun. I’m not putting my feet down. Now , finish what you were saying about my partner .”

“I really don’t know much else about him,” Kun sighed, “he requested that two of the other agents also received a transfer and the third was given a non-negotiable transfer. He got into some trouble while in Berlin so they had to pull him immediately, but even I wasn’t given the details. I do know that he speaks Mandarin, so you can have someone else to practice with when you feel like, and I’m sure Xiaojun will be roping him into the Chinese-only nights in no time.”

“Kun, you’re supposed to be the source of all information. How do you know so little? Oh quit it, I know you only know what the profile tells you blah blah blah.”

“You can tease Doyoung about this partner, if that makes you feel any better. I don’t know much about him either but he’s another ex-military poster boy, Yoonoh could pass as a high-end model too. According to Seulgi they call him ‘everyone’s first love’. He has dimples that are apparently ‘ to die for ’ and if the photos on his profile are anything to go by, he has some rather... prominent abs. Taeyong described them as washboard,” when Kun had asked him to explain, Taeyong had patted the younger’s head and told him that it was late and he was going to head home. “I practically had to wipe the drool off of his face after he spent far too long looking at the pictures attached to the profile. Who even attaches multiple shirtless pictures to their profile? We only need one for identification, not multiple for Taeyong to fawn over. Jesus , pass the bottle, would you?”

“Kun it’s not even 5 pm, I think one mug of soju is enough daytime drinking while at work, especially if the new people are arriving today.”

“Need I remind you that I’m your superior, pass the bottle so I can drown out that picture. He kept making jokes about how I never date. I was young and hot once you know? I had fun, I got around, I wasn’t old and boring like I am now.”

“Kun I do not need or want to know how your sex life has deteriorated. I lived next-door to you in college—that’s all I need to know. You’ll find someone when you’re ready. Who knows, maybe you’ve already met them.”

“Have you thought about my offer to live with me or on-base yet? I don’t like the thought of you living alone… not after everything.”

Ten raised his eyebrow at the comment. “I haven’t yet but I’ll think about it. Now , tell me about Yoonoh.”

“The only other thing I was told is that he’s supposedly quite the charmer and sweet talker, however he’s always declined any advances made towards him according to Irene. He seems to have a naturally flirtatious personality, though.”

“Ahh, brilliant! Poor Doie is going to fall in love with him so quickly, I can’t wait . I hope Yoonoh’s going to flirt with him. He isn’t going to have a clue what to do.”

“What you’re saying would sound sympathetic or supportive coming from anyone else's mouth, but from yours it just sounds downright sadistic.”

If Kun hadn’t known Ten as long as he had, the eerie smile Ten is currently adorning would’ve been alarming but alas, once you’d known someone long enough, and you’d risked death together and saved one another’s lives more than a handful of times, and a large part of your job involves killing other people, it takes a lot to creep Kun out these days.

“Hey, your forty minutes are up now and no smashed coffee table yet—“

As if someone of a higher power was listening in, the sound of glass shattering echoed through the ground floor of the building along with several screeches from whoever was milling around at the time. This wouldn’t be the last time Doyoung would throw whatever piece of furniture he could get his hands on off the balcony, launching it to the floor below and consistently nailing the coffee table in particular.

“As you were saying Ten?”

Ten pouted and mumbled, “Never mind.”

There was a sheepish knock on the door and Kun yelled a quick come in as a response.

“Sorry to bother you guys, just thought I’d let you know, Kun, but I’m putting the order for a new coffee table in now and a new office chair. Is there anything else you need?”

“No that’s all, thanks Jungwoo.”

“Wait? An office chair too?” Ten sat up a little, waiting for a response.

“Yes, Ten,” Jungwoo sighed, “That’s what Doyoung threw off the balcony—may need to bring a contractor in to fix the dent in the floor, but I think a new table will cover it enough that it doesn’t need to be done anytime soon.”

“I forgot you’ve never actually witnessed Doyoung throwing various belongings off the balcony. The money he costs me is ridiculous.”

“I’ll leave the two of you to it. I doubt it’ll be long before they make their way down. You know what Doyoung’s like.”

“No worries, thanks Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo had only just made it back to his desk where Xiaojun was waiting with a fresh cup of coffee when Doyoung flung Kun’s office door open, bypassing the now sheepish looking Jungwoo and closely followed by an exasperated looking Taeyong.

“For the last time, Taeyong, no! It’s not happening! I work alone, alone ! Do I need to spell it out for you? It’s a five-letter word, of which the meaning is to be by oneself, or shall we take the definition from the Oxford Dictionary where they define alone to be: one, without any other people or two, without the help of other people or things.” Doyoung took a second to catch his breath in between sentences, “I don’t need someone looking out for me, I look out for me. I’m the quartermaster, I head up our entire technology department.”

He jabbed a finger in Taeyong’s direction, “I’m regarded as one of the best amongst all the branches of NCT. Yes, I hacked my profile again to look. You really should get someone to make it less easy—oh wait, you can’t because I’m the only one who can because it’s my job. I am not some newbie field agent who doesn’t know how to reload a handgun in less than ten seconds. You made me go through the training just like everyone else, I can tell you that I did not engage in hand to hand combat on a daily basis with Lucas for shits and giggles. No one trains with Lucas for fun aside from Renjun but its Renjun. That kid scares me, he may be pint-sized but if Ten has taught me anything, the short ones can bite and they usually have high pain thresholds but not-so high patience and I’m not ready to die just yet. Honestly, I’m getting a tad concerned at the number of people we employ that appear very cute but just happen to be capable of snapping your neck or blowing your head off.”

“Are you done yet?” Taeyong sighed, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor. He was fully aware that Doyoung wasn’t actually angry, he wasn’t death glaring either Taeyong or Kun, and aside from the coffee table no major damage had been caused. It was typical Doyoung, whine until someone gives in.

“No. No, I am not finished. Thank you, Taeyong.”

“Oh my, please continue, Doyoung. Everyone here wants to hear your pathetic complaints.” Ten’s trademark sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Oh Ten, don’t act like you weren’t whining to Kun about this less than an hour ago.”

“At least I haven’t been bitching to Taeyong for an hour and thrown a fucking chair. You can be so dramatic Doyoungie.”

“Dramatic? Me? Have you met yourself?”

“Both of you, be quiet!” It was rare of Kun to yell at someone, to be angry with them—let alone full-fledged shouting in the confines of his office. “Taeyong, please may you check with Jungwoo on when the new agents will be here? Ten and Doyoung can join the meeting as well if they stop insisting on acting like children . Apparently, they seem to have forgotten that we may all be friends here, but while we’re at work, I am their superior and what I say is final.”

“Sorry to interrupt again Kun, but the new agents are here. Xiaojun is with them in the conference room and asked me to get you as soon as possible. He seems to find them rather intimidating.”

“Right, nevermind Taeyong and thank you Jungwoo, we’ll be right there. You and Xiaojun can feel free to head home. I’ll need just one of you to round up whoever’s still hovering and point them in the direction of the dorms—I don’t want to be interrupted when we give them the tour. Have a nice evening, and I will see you tomorrow.”

“Will do, thank you. I’ll be in for the conference with Japan first thing in the morning. See you then!” With a meek half-smile, he hurried out of the office once again. Jungwoo wasn’t a stranger to the tension of the office, so he knew very well that Kun rarely shouted, and he wasn’t for testing his patience.

“Okay then. Do you two still want to act like toddlers with your whining? Or can we all go and introduce ourselves to the new agents with the manners and respect we would expect to receive from anyone else?”

“Yes, Kun. Sorry, Kun.” They both mumbled simultaneously, standing up and straightening their clothes.

“Ready, Yong?”

“After you.”

#nct #dojae #jaedo #markhyuck #johnyong #kunten #markhyuck fic #luren #yuren #yukren #rencas #i dont know #henyang #nct fic #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct au

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losingmymindtonight · 6 years

Note

Ooooh - you ask me for fluff??? Have you considered TONY AND PETER WATCHING MERLIN??????? All the way from the adorkable beginning to the angsty angsty end??? Bcs I'm betting Tony would have some jokes about Merlin keeping his secret about as well as Peter does. 😂😂

I was born to write this

Today is Merlin’s 10 year anniversary! I miss my dumb boys…

Merlin spoilers ahead!

Also this… might not make any sense at all if you haven’t watched Merlin? I couldn’t really help it.

“What’re we watching, again?”

Peter plopped down beside Tony and tucked himself into the man’s side, a maneuver perfected through countless days of practice. “It’s an old BBC show called Merlin.”

“And why are we watching it?”

“Because MJ told me that if I didn’t, she’d spoil the ending.” Peter blinked up at him innocently. Tony sort of hated that it wasn’t an act. The kid really was that pure. “And because you said we could binge watch whatever I wanted.”

He had said that, to be fair.

It was Peter’s spring break, and May was out of town. At May’s request, he’d happily volunteered to have the kid over for the week. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Peter to be alone for that long, exactly…

Okay, actually, yeah. Neither he nor May trusted the kid to be alone for that long.

Could anyone blame them? He was a magnet for trouble. Tony was surprised Peter could walk five steps on the street without someone trying to detach his head from his body.

And so, in the name of what May called his “co-parental service hours,” Tony’s weekend would be spent watching a cancelled BBC show and living off of microwave popcorn and delivered pizzas.

He guessed that there were definitely worse things to be doing.

“So,” Peter maneuvered through the Netflix interface like it was a second skin. He tried not to be jealous, “give me a rundown. On what kind of journey are we about to embark?”

“It’s a show about Merlin-”

“Holy shit, I would’ve never guessed…”

“Hey!” Peter laughed, hovering the mouse over the first episode. “It’s like a ‘what if?’ story. What if Merlin and Arthur were the same age, and Merlin was Arthur’s servant instead of this wise old wizard? It’s supposed to be really good.”

I can’t wait. “Alright, kid. Let’s have at it.”

Peter hit play and tossed the remote onto the coffee table, leaning his head against the top of Tony’s chest as the first scene faded into view.

“No young man, no matter how great, can know his destiny. He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone, he must live and learn. And so it will be for the young warlock arriving at the gates of Camelot. A boy that will, in time, father the legend. His name: Merlin.”

And, damn it, Tony could already feel himself drawing the parallels between the gangly kid on the screen and the gangly kid curled up next to him.

Peter had no idea, did he? He couldn’t see the path that Tony saw winding further every day.

He had no idea that he was going to change the world.

He watched the Evil King character execute some random sorcerer with a weird taste in his mouth.

It felt too real, too present. Too close to what Tony imaged Ross would do to Peter if he ever got his hands on him…

He shook the thoughts away. No. This was supposed to be fun. They were binge watching a lighthearted show over the kid’s spring break. The occasion did not lend itself to thoughts like that.

He decided that he liked Gaius from the old physician’s very first scene. He voiced that thought to Peter, quietly, during a lull in the dialogue.

“Why?”

Tony shrugged. “He’s gonna suffer.”

Peter dropped his head back, craning his neck painfully, to stare up at his mentor with wide eyes. “He is?”

He chuckled, letting the sound release some of the tension from Peter’s gaze. “Of course he is. His job is to keep the reckless kid alive. It’s not easy, let me tell you.”

Peter hit Tony with a pillow, and the episode rolled on.

“Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?”

A flare of protectiveness for his Peter-stand in flared in Tony’s chest.

He shifted Peter a little closer, as if protecting his kid would protect the one on the screen as well.

He decided all at once that he didn’t like Arthur. He didn’t like him even a little bit.

“He’s an asshole.”

Peter seemed unperturbed. He played with the cuff of Tony’s shirt lazily, eyes tracking the scene. “People can change, Mister Stark. You did, didn’t you?” The kid smiled his special, unburdened smile. “Give him a chance.”

It occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, he hated Arthur because the prince reminded him of an outdated version of himself.

Young, brazen, self-centered, cruel. Blind to the ways his actions could hurt and maim and kill. Following doggedly in the over-sized footsteps his father left. Driven by false arrogance, one-size-fits-all ideals, and overwhelming bitterness on his tongue.

He sighed. “Sure, kid. I’ll give Prince Asshole a chance.”

As it turned out, his forced sympathy for Arthur his deadbeat dad was a lot harder to hold onto than he thought it might be.

This Merlin character really knew how to look like a kicked puppy.

“I’m not a monster, am I?”

“Don’t ever think that.”

Tony tightened his grip around Peter’s back at the same moment the teenager shifted to cling tighter.

He wanted to tell the kid that Gaius was right, and that Prince Asshole was wrong. He wanted to tell him that Merlin wasn’t a monster. That nobody could help who they were, and that it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of.

He wanted to tell Peter that he wasn’t a monster, a freak, a mistake. He wanted to make sure he knew that Tony would tear down anyone who said otherwise.

Instead, he just smoothed a hand through Peter’s bangs and hoped he could feel it through the solidity of their half-embrace.

“If you can’t tell me, no one can.”

The first season fell away along with the daylight.

He watched Merlin, who he had to repetitively remind himself was not Peter, stumble through a million different mistakes. He watched him drink some poison (stupid), harbor some fugitive child right under the Evil King’s nose (stupid), and offer up his life in exchange for Prince Asshole’s (stupidstupidstupid).

It felt like every turn the character took made him want to smash his head into the nearest wall. Repetitively.

(On the other hand, Prince Asshole was slowly, and painfully, growing on him. Not that he was ready to admit that to Peter, of course.)

The final episode of the season faded into credits, and Tony wordlessly flicked off the TV.

“Hey.” The kid’s protest might have held more weight if his eyes weren’t closed and the words weren’t soft with sleepiness. “One more.”

Tony made sure to keep his voice low and soothing, carding his fingers through the kid’s mess of curls. “You won’t even concentrate on it.”

“Will too.”

“Oh?” He turned the screen back on, slyly lowering the volume and hitting play on the next episode. “Okay then, buddy. Whatever you say.”

Peter’s breaths had evened out before the opening sequence could finish.

That night, Tony decided that sleeping on the couch was way underrated.

There wasn’t even a question of what they’d be doing the next morning. He sent Peter wordlessly to shower, ordered a couple of pizzas, and hit play the moment that the kid was re-situated on the couch, wet curls soaking into the front of his t-shirt.

At some point in the middle of the season, during an episode about a witchfinder, he let out an involuntary groan.

It was almost like this kid didn’t want to keep his magic a secret. At the very least, it seemed like he jumped at nearly every opportunity to reveal himself.

Peter flickered his eyes away from the screen and gave Tony a questioning look. “What?”

He rolled his eyes. “Merlin’s about as good at keeping his secret as you are at keeping yours.”

“That’s not true!” Peter’s glare just made him look younger. Tony nearly laughed at the way his face scrunched up. “Barely anybody knows I’m Spider-Man!”

“I figured it out, kid.”

“You’re you-”

“Ned.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know he was-”

“MJ.”

“She’s terrifyingly observant-”

“May.”

“She walked in on me!”

“Sure thing, kiddo.” Tony ruffled his hair playfully. “Why don’t you just shout it from the rooftops, huh? Might be a little more efficient, that way.”

Peter blinked, then huffed, physically turning away from Tony and fixing his eyes back on the screen. It was a clear dismissal, despite the fact that didn’t move away from the warmth of his mentor’s side.

The second season’s finale went to credits, and Peter stalled Tony’s hand before he could switch off the TV.

“C’mon, Mister Stark! We could totally watch the next season! It’ll only take, like, a few more hours.”

“Your idea of ‘a few more hours’ is actually about 8 hours, kiddo.”

“And?”

“You need sleep.”

“We’ve stayed up later in the lab.”

“On accident.”

“So?”

He tried his best to mimic May’s I am an adult and you will listen to me voice. “No, Peter.”

He kid blinked up at him imploringly. “Please.”

(The third season was good.)

They watched the two part series finale on Tuesday morning.

And, frankly, Tony wasn’t sure what he’d expected. But it sure as hell wasn’t… that.

“Just, just, just… just hold me. Please.”

Peter curled himself around Tony with a little whine. He rubbed the kid’s back comfortingly, gaze still transfixed on the screen. “No. He’s not supposed to die, Mister Stark. He’s supposed to live. He’s-He’s the Once and Future King. What about Albion? What about Merlin?”

He wondered if he could sue the BBC for making his kid cry.

“There’s something I want to say…”

“You’re not going to say goodbye.”

“No. Merlin. Everything you’ve done. I know now. For me, for Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build…”

“You’d have done it without me.”

“Maybe. I want to say… something I’ve never said to you before. Thank you.”

He watched the character die with a weird feeling in his chest.

He’d never been one for sentiment in general, and certainly not for fictional characters. But… something about Merlin and Arthur had made him think of Peter and himself.

Peter’s voice was small. “Merlin would’ve trade places with him.”

Tony’s answer came so quickly that it surprised him. “Arthur would never want him to.”

You ever try trading places with me, kid, and I’ll kill you my damn self.

“But what’s the point?” There were undercurrents to Peter’s tone that told Tony they weren’t just talking about the show anymore. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one drawing parallels. “If I were Merlin, I’d rather die than live without Arthur.”

He tried not to hear the implicit I’d rather die than live without you in the kid’s words.

“Someone always dies first, kiddo. That’s just life.”

Peter buried his face into Tony’s shirt, sniffling a little. “Yeah, well, I don’t like it.”

He set a gentle hand on the back of his head, shielding him from the screen, the daylight, the world.

“I don’t like this ending, either.”

Tony took a deep breath, focusing on the way his ribs pressed into Peter’s at the apex. “If it makes you feel any better, kiddo, neither do I.”

He’d pondered his death a lot. Once, he’d thought towards it with a perverted sense of lust.

But Pepper, Rhodey, Peter had changed that. Now, he just felt a peaceful acceptance. He wouldn’t go rushing to his grave but, when the time came, he couldn’t see himself reeling against it, either.

But for the first time, he thought about Peter.

If everything went the way it naturally should, he would die long before the kid.

He’d get to die, and Peter would have to keep living.

His parents’ deaths still left a hollow ache in his chest. He missed his mother with every single breath.

Is that what he’d be doing to Peter, when he died? Leaving him damaged irreparably? Dooming him to a life of sewing up his tattered grief?

He swallowed, hard, and shook his head.

Peter would be okay, because he’d prepare Peter. He’d give him everything he needed to do more than just survive once he and May were both gone.

He was going to make sure Peter thrived.

And he’d do everything he could not to leave the kid like Arthur left Merlin, or like his mother left him. Not violently, not suddenly, not in the heart of some blood-stained tragedy.

He’d linger, if he could. He’d grow old (something he used to shudder at the thought of). He’d give the kid’s kids too much sugar and poke him with his cane and complain about the technology Peter would incorporate into his newest invention to shroud the pride.

As he watched the final credits role over the dark screen, Tony Stark decided that he hated tragedies.

He also decided that he wouldn’t let his own life become one.

#irondad fluff fest #merlin owns my soul #happy anniversary to my two special bois #and my og fandom #merlin spoilers #irondad #spiderson #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #losingmymindtonight writes

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yuletide-fehstivities · 5 years

Text

@unwaveriinghearts (BP) wrote this for @summonedhearts (Abby) and said:

Hi Abby! Your Secret Santa likes the Nifl and Múspell siblings too, so I decided to write a ditty with them. I hope you enjoy it- I certainly did! Best wishes for the new year!

Happy Yuletide and a Merry New Year!

Flickering Embers

“Fjorm!” Hríd hissed, “Keep your armour on!” They were both garbed in ceremonial Niflese armour, custom-fit to suit them perfectly. Unfortunately, Niflese armour was designed to keep in their body warmth so they wouldn’t freeze at home. And now they were travelling to the capital of Múspell, where the climate was the polar opposite of that in Nifl.

Fjorm let out a cry of frustration. “Come on, Hríd! Can we really not take off one or two layers? Laegjarn will understand, and Laevatein has never cared about pleasantries and formalities!”

“Laegjarn and Laevatein may not care, but the court around them will. And now is the worst possible time to be interpreted as in contempt of the Múspellian court. We are here as representatives of Nifl, and we have to be on our best behaviour and presentation.”

“Come onnnnn… you’re cooking too in there!”

“I am, and I’m not fidgeting to get it off. It’ll just be for our arrival and departure and the late queen’s cremation, sister. We’ll survive. Do you have the Frostflowers?”

“Yes, right here.”

“Gunnthra’s letter?” She held it up, and Hríd nodded in approval. “Good.” Gunnthra couldn’t attend with them because she had extremely pressing responsibilities in Nifl, and Ylgr was far too young to be concerned with political matters. However, they had both wanted to express their support of the royal sisters of Múspell, so Gunnthra had given them a letter of apology and condolence addressed to Princess Laegjarn, and Ylgr had arranged a bouquet of Niflese Frostflowers they could give to Laevatein. He turned to look out of the carriage window once more, observing the almost alien landscape of Múspell. It was so strange to think the land of lava lakes and scorching heat bordered on their eternally snow-capped mountains. The clash between the dragons of ice and fire had continued well past their deaths… at least, that was the dominant theory.

He didn’t have much time to think on it- Fjorm sat up, leaning to a side as if that would help her look around the carriage frame. “There it is. Gods, I can’t wait to get out of this armour.”

Stepping out of the carriage, the first thing that caught Hríd’s eye was the Múspellian castle. Looming over them in all its obsidian glory, the only thing separating them a lake of lava and the lowered drawbridge. Something about it had always struck him as ominous, especially compared to the crystal palace of Nifl. It was so… dark. Cold, not in temperature but in feeling. He didn’t want to look at it for long, instead lowering his gaze to the people waiting for him on the drawbridge. Princesses Laegjarn and Laevatein wore their own full armour, but instead of Laegjarn’s usual colourful cape and Laevatein’s normal lack of one, both bore a thick cape of black feathers on their shoulders. A symbol of mourning, Hríd knew. He didn’t have to look to his side to know Fjorm’s eyes had widened in amazement, and if asked he would have to admit- he too wondered how they could stand to wear something so thick and stuffy in this climate.

“Prince Hríd, Princess Fjorm.” Laegjarn’s voice broke both their stupors, forcing them back to reality. “Nifl is generous to send you both as representatives.”

“Our sisters send their regards,” Hríd said, reaching forward to take the hand Laegjarn had already raised towards him so he could kiss the back as he bowed down. Next to him, Fjorm curtsied at Laevatein- a gesture that looked equally forced when the younger Múspellian princess returned it. “And their apologies. They simply could not attend.”

“We’d like to offer these, though,” Fjorm quickly said, stepping forward to hold out the Frostflowers to Laevatein. “Consider them their way of offering condolences.”

He saw Laegjarn smiling when she looked at Laevatein eagerly accepting the bouquet, just before she turned and gestured towards the castle’s entrance gates. “Please, come in. You’ll find the halls less stifling than the air over the moat.” And, a lot quieter as Hríd fell in next to her so that the courtiers and knights surrounding them wouldn’t hear her, “…as well as an opportunity to get some of those layers off. You two must be cooking in there.”

Fjorm didn’t waste a second: “I told you!”

Laegjarn insisted they wouldn’t have to be fully decked out in ceremonial garb until the cremation proper, so Fjorm gratefully used the opportunity to dump at least her armour and her leggings in the room Laevatein showed her to. “God, I’m glad to be out of those,” she said, running her hand through her sweaty hair. “I have no idea how you and Laeg handle the heat here.”

Laevatein didn’t respond immediately, still focused on the Frostflowers. “…they’re so cold,” she eventually said, one hand hovering above the roses to feel the chill that came off of them. “They’re different. I like them. Won’t they melt?”

“No, it’s fine. They’re Niflese Frostflowers- Gunnthrá and Ylgr grew them specifically so they wouldn’t melt under any circumstances.” Fjorm walked over, wondering for a moment if it would be alright to put a hand on the other princess’s shoulder. Laevatein had never been great with physical contact, especially if she weren’t the one initiating it. There was something else she was good at, though- Hríd had remarked at least once that Laevatein would be a terror to face on the battlefield, even more so than Laegjarn. She enjoyed the simplicity of combat and how easy it was to forget everything else when she was training. “…so, do you have training today?”

“No. My trainer’s forbidden everyone to spar with me for the entire week. He says I have to deal with my feelings and not hide from them.”

“That’s… not a bad idea, but somehow I don’t think that would work for you specifically… does it help?”

“I hate it.”

A short, awkward silence fell over the two, Fjorm hesitating. Laevatein could be hard to read, but it was clear she was struggling. Her mother had passed away and no one was helping her deal with the wave of emotions that had sent crashing over her. She didn’t know how to handle those. And being denied her outlet was- “Okay. Tell you what- do you have a lance I could use?”

For a moment, Laevatein only looked up at her, confused. “But… my trainer-”

“I’m a foreign royal,” Fjorm said, “Your trainer doesn’t have the authority to forbid me anything.” Hríd, on the other hand, might have her head later. But that was a concern for the future- right now, Laevatein needed help. And if that help took the form of fighting in a controlled environment, then that was how Fjorm would help her. “So. Lance?”

“We have practice lances in the barracks,” Laevatein said, placing down the Frostflowers on the nearby dresser. “But you can borrow a silver one. It will conduct your ice better and give you a chance against Laevatein.” Fjorm had to laugh at the matter-of-factness with which she said it. Not a hint of cockiness or overconfidence in her voice. But if nothing else, she saw the other princess’s lips curl up a teensy bit.

“I’ll take silver,” she said. “And if anyone asks why you’re on the training fields- you’re helping me work up an appetite, alright?”

“Alright. …thank you, Princess Fjorm.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Laegjarn wasn’t doing much better than Laevatein. In fact, while most of the dignitaries he overheard praised her for the way she ‘kept it together’ as now queen of Múspell in what must surely be such a trying time for her, Hríd could tell she wasn’t keeping it together at all. Government came naturally to her. She’d slipped into the role of queen with ease- that much he could see, and that much he could tell was genuine. But she wasn’t Laevatein. She couldn’t turn off her emotions because people willed it. He didn’t get a chance to speak with her in private as shortly after their arrival, she was called away to tend to affairs; and during dinner he was seated too far from her. Laevatein did seem more at ease, as did Fjorm, but concern for Laegjarn kept him awake after he’d been excused for bed. Concern, and the still uncomfortably high temperatures of the castle.

Sighing, and putting on a shirt more for the sake of modesty than anything else, he took a lantern and left his room, hoping that a stroll through the courtyard would help him get his mind off of both issues. If nothing else, he knew the gardens to be beautiful and, frankly, fascinating, even if he didn’t share Gunnthrá’s interest in botany.

He hadn’t been in the courtyard for long before he realised he wasn’t alone, though. On a bench between two bushes of faintly glowing orange blooms was Laegjarn, still dressed in her full ceremonial garb and armour and clutching her cape of feathers with one hand. Hríd stopped in his tracks, debating whether to turn around or to approach her. He had wanted to talk to her in private all day, true, but… she looked so vulnerable. Wouldn’t she just be upset that someone saw her like this?

Indecisively, he shifted his weight- and that made his choice for him, as a branch snapped under his foot. Laegjarn shot to her feet, posture immediately straight as she turned towards him. “Who’s there?” she asked, voice steady as she looked around and took a step forward.

“It’s alright, Laegjarn. It’s just me.” She turned towards the sound of his voice, letting out the breath she had been holding and relaxing slightly when she recognised him.

“Gods, Hríd. I was ready to lop your head off- or at least your hand.”

“I thought as much, that’s why I spoke up.” He gestured his head at Níu, strapped to her waist. “I like having my head atop my shoulders and two hands at my disposal.” She scoffed at his poor attempt at humour, shaking her head and giving the first genuine smile he’d seen all day. She sat back down, and he found himself approaching her. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Not at all. I would welcome the company.” She moved over a little bit to make enough room on the bench for him, so he joined her. “…the past few days have been a whirlwind. You’d think that with her illness dragging on as long as it did, Mother’s death wouldn’t affect me as much as Father’s did. I fear the years have made me soft.”

How was he supposed to respond to that? For a moment, he scrambled for words. He had to say something. He couldn’t just let this uncomfortable silence drag on. A clearing of his throat bought him a precious second to order his thoughts. “King Surtr’s passing didn’t drop you in a position of authority and custody, though. You could give rise to your grief in any way you wanted and not be held back by…” he made a helpless gesture with one hand, not sure how to capture it in one word. She understood well enough, fortunately.

“I’m told Fjorm sparred with Laevatein, despite the groundsmaster’s protests,” she said. “She was instructed to process her grief before setting foot on the training grounds again. Your sister broke protocol.” Before Hríd could apologise, she continued. “I’ll have to be sure to thank her later. I haven’t seen Laevi be so… herself since the day. And as for you, Prince Hríd of Nifl.” She supported her head with one hand, making a show of looking him over. “Is your sleepwear really your idea of an appropriate get-up for a private conversation with a foreign sovereign?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “The heat in here will never feel right to me.”

“Now you know how I feel when I visit Nifl,” she admitted, but Hríd shook his head and continued.

“I’m also worried about you. You talk about how Laevatein hasn’t been herself, but you don’t seem well yourself. I know you’re bound by protocol, but have you taken a moment to just… cry?”

“A queen of Múspell does not cry.”

“No, but a child who’s lost her last parent would.” He looked into her eyes, the sudden seriousness in his own catching Laegjarn off guard. “When Father died, I thought we’d never stop crying. Ylgr was too young to realise of course, but Fjorm, Gunnthrá… I wanted to be strong for them and give them the time they needed by taking all governmental responsibility onto my own shoulders, and being a father figure for them to lessen their pain, but that just made me miserable.”

“…you’ve never shown that,” Laegjarn admitted. “You always did seem strong. When Fjorm didn’t want herself to be seen and Gunnthrá was obviously grieving, you were… well, princely. I remember admiring how together you were.”

“Confession time, Laeg.” He shut his eyes, sighing. “I was not together. I only managed to look together because behind closed doors, Gunnthrá held me and gave me an opportunity to cry until my tears dried out. And I took that opportunity. I know it’s not the Múspellian way, but… surely the fire can’t burn at all times.”

She turned away, her bangs obscuring her gaze. “It must. Even you understood that as long as you were seen, you had to be a prince of Nifl. I… cannot be seen breaking apart.”

“There’s only one foreign dignitary here to see it,” he said, shrugging. “And he’s been through similar things. So…”

“Damn you, you soft-hearted Niflese-” Laegjarn didn’t even get through her insult before throwing herself at him and burying her face in his chest. For a split second, Hríd froze -no matter how friendly the terms they were on, seeing a Múspellian general lunge at him would always catch him off guard- but he soon recovered, patting her back.

It wasn’t long until he felt her shuddering and heard the muffled sound of sobs coming from her. He didn’t try to shush or speak to her. Any attempts to stop her outpouring of emotion after he’d urged her to start it would just defeat the point. He’d just wait until her tears ran dry before telling her it was okay to be emotional. He knew how strong she was, and how strong she had been for Laevatein. But if she was going to have to be strong constantly, her pain would only fester and make her miserable long after the appropriate mourning period. And that was something he wanted to prevent at all costs.

Queen Laegjarn would continue Múspell on the prosperous, ridiculously hot path into the future that her mother had charted for her, with General Laevatein at her side to advise her and support her. But right now? Right now, Laeg and Laevi needed a shoulder to cry on. And Hríd and Fjorm would provide those shoulders, just as Gunnthrá had done for them years ago.

#unwaveriinghearts #summonedhearts #Yuletide Fehstivities 2018 #fe rp secret santa event #muspell #laegjarn #laevatein #hrid #fjorm #nifl #fe fanfic #feh #Gift Submission

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kelskiel · 7 years

Text

“Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.” - Brene Brown

---

With all of the #metoo posts, I felt compelled to write. And.. I am not sure what it means. Not sure how often I will write now, but it feels good to be back here, typing it all out.

“Me Too”

I guarantee anyone reading this saw it. Whether it was on your Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or any other form of social media. Millions of people posted it. It was overwhelming, to say the least. It had me reading article after article, blog after blog, story after story of people opening up about their experiences. It was scary, it was heartbreaking, it was intense, it was hard and it was emotional.. but it was also inspiring to see everyone’s bravery in regards to such a hard hitting subject like sexual harassment / abuse (in any form, from any person).

---

I don’t think I realized how many stories would hit as close to home as they did. Whether is was friends opening up about the cat calls on the street, or the fear of walking home late at night past a group of men, to hearing horror stories of abuse that happened in their life - it was all moving enough for me to take a deeper look at my own experiences. So. Here I go.

---

I’ve really come to terms with the fact that growing up uncomfortable in my own skin for so long, ((because of a (long) list of reasons that really all come down to my lack of self confidence, I think)) unfortunately led me to make excuses for the things I went through. Excuse after excuse. That was always just how it was. If it was happening to me, it/I was normal. Someone put it perfectly.. It was always, ‘boys will be boys’. For so long, I didn’t think twice about some of, or, a lot of it.

---

At age 13, (and frankly, probably even younger. I ‘matured’ early as some people put it) walking down the street getting honked at and cat called. “Oh, if that man thinks I am attractive, I can dislike myself less today.” But not actually realizing that was going through my head. I was 13, it just seemed… regular.

---

At age 15, walking through the halls of my high school in the school uniform and getting my ass slapped. Thinking that “if that guy thinks I am attractive, I am doing something right. Maybe it’s okay that I don’t completely love how I look today, because he seemed to.” Almost waiting for it to happen. Seeking a validation, almost. Literally walking past some of the guys in my high school and wondering if he was going to reach out and tap my butt. Again, just seemed.. regular.

---

At age 18, coming to in a junior’s bed with him on top of me, me telling him to stop but him doing the exact opposite. Somehow getting back to my dorm room. Showering and trying to forget it happened. To later that week walking with a teammate and her boyfriend at the time (who had heard the junior talking about it in the LOCKER room) and I mentioned how I “barely remembered it” and “I was pretty drunk”.. and him saying, “well that’s not a good thing no matter what”. I brushed it off. I pretended it wasn’t a thing. I was drunk. Extremely drunk. I remember feeling so uneasy that this person on the outside looking in at the situation thought it wasn’t a good thing that happened. It was a big deal junior thinking I was attractive? I was probably fine. Its whatever. It was another validation, I guess… To this day I see pictures of him, every once in awhile, and it reminds of that night, of that time in my life, and it shows me, which a swift punch, that the pit in my stomach will never actually leave.

---

It wasn’t until years later that I finally opened up to one of my best friends about that experience that night freshman year. I vividly remember texting her, opening up about it. It was around the time the Stanford rape case made headlines. It was that headline, that top story, that triggered me to talk about it with her. A whopping 7 years later. Why did it take me so long to talk to her about it? To talk to really anyone about it? Not totally sure why, but I am grateful that she allowed me to open up about it and listened and shared her experiences with me. It reminded me that I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t meant to hold it in. We’re not meant to hold it in..

---

This could go on. From drunk men telling me what they want to do to me at the bar at age 22, to the stares and the un-welcomed gestures at age 24. It happens more often than people may realize. I think because it's been such a *regular* part of being a female in this world we live in, we’ve become somewhat numb to it. It’s just always been part of “it”; part of living life as a female.. I’m not sure if I get it more now, than I did before, but it is absolutely still a big part of my life.

---

I feared writing this. I think for so long, for such a HUGE part of my life, I was searching for a way to feel accepted. Whether that was from a man or friends or society, it was always apparent that my self-love was always pretty minimal. For years and years I thought that’s just how it was. I hated how I looked and felt in my own skin, but if a man told me I was a “sexy piece of ass” then maybe I was? *shoulder shrug emoji*

It wasn’t until I started looking inward; started really working on loving myself for the imperfect, brave, mistake-making human that I am; reminding myself on a daily basis that I am ‘ENOUGH’, just as I am, that I have been able to come to terms with what I went through, and what we women continue to go through.

---

I stand with you. I support you. I am here, learning my way through this thing we call life, healing through it, just like you. I still think about it. I still hurt from it all. I still want to scream and cry and thrash my fists around because of it, but less often. And I don’t think we’ve seen even close to the end of it, in fact, I know we haven’t. But the bravery I’ve seen in the last few days, from the simple Me Too’s alone, gives me hope. ‘You learn courage by couraging’. So let’s be brave together when bravery is needed. Let’s support each other when we feel helpless. Let’s stand in each others’ corners no matter what. Why? Because you are enough, just the way you are. Right now. ‘Only Up From Here’.

---

Two days later disclaimer:

I wasn’t sure I was going to post this anywhere.

Wasn’t sure if it was necessary.

I was scared, because a lot of people don’t know this about me. I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve told.

I wasn’t sure I wanted people to know. To feel like they had to treat me differently. (plz dont)

A big part of me was just writing to write.

Thinking about all of it.. “out loud” and “on paper”.

I am posting it, though.

I am putting it out there.

Maybe it can help someone.

Maybe it can give someone a bit more bravery in facing any demon in their life. That’s all I can hope. <33333333

“There isn’t a way things should be. There’s just what happens, and what we do.” Terry Pratchett

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years

Text

Fic: Interconnect (ao3 link) - Chapter 1 Fandom: Flash, DC Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart

Summary: Fate has decided that Leonard Snart and Mick Rory are soulmates.

Yeah, okay, they're good with that.

(for @coldwaveweek2017)

A/N: Instead of doing different fics for coldwave week, I decided to do one with multiple chapters, each based on the various days.

Chapter 1: Early Days

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

"What're you doing today?" Mick asks his favorite stuffed animal, a polar bear that he'd gone crazy for when they'd visited the zoo.

His dad said he was too old for them, but his mom hushed him. She was just glad he was talking more now. His older brothers thought he was just weird, talking to a bear

"Nothing much," the bear says. "I'm having trouble walking, but no big deal."

Mick nods, then frowns. "Ain't you like nearly two?" he asks. Mick's all of five, now – well, almost – and it's been two years since they met, and that means...something.

Two plus two equals four. Mick likes the math they do at his kindergarten, if only because it's much easier than reading. The letters don’t make sense to him the way they do to the other kids.

"Well, yeah," the bear says. "But my dad stepped on my foot and it hurts."

Mick scowls. "Why'd he do that?"

"I was crawling underfoot," the bear replies. "What's underfoot?"

"Under-your-foot."

"Oh," the bear says contemplatively. He was younger, so he didn't understand things sometimes; their conversations had gotten much more interesting when he'd figured out how to get his eyes to focus. "I wasn't, though. He came over." A pause. "He was yelling at mom again."

"That's not nice," Mick says wisely. His mom is very firm about how you should be nice to women. Especially if you're holding hands with them. Or something like that. She'd been very loud about it, anyway. "You should do something."

"I cry sometimes," the bear says. "Doesn't help, and it makes mom sad, so I stop. Maybe when I'm big, like you."

Mick nods. "You'd better get big like me," he says firmly. "Then we can play for real."

"I'd like that."

A creak of sound. Mick tenses. "Someone's coming," he says. He's learned not to talk to his bear when someone is around. Mom's okay with it, but Dad and his brothers - no. "Bye-bye." He kisses the bear on the head.

A hundred miles away, a toddler sighs audibly, a mix of happiness and sadness. Happiness, at the comforting gesture; sadness, that they couldn't talk anymore.

"What is it, lemele?" his mother, Shoshana, asks. "Are you okay? Did you drop your doggie?"

She checks, but he still has his dog plush clutched tightly. He loves that dog so, she reflects; a big shaggy dog with a frankly unnerving snarl, but he'd seen it at a yard sale and shrieked bloody murder until he'd gotten it.

Lewis hadn't been happy about that, but when was he ever happy?

At least he didn't take it out on her little Len.

"Do you want me to sing to you?" she asks, disregarding the question of his adoration of the dog. He spoke to it as often as he spoke to her, but it was normal, wasn't it, invisible friends? It wasn't related to - no, it couldn't be.

"Uh-huh," Len says, cuddling his dog. "Please?" He holds up the dog. "Mick says please, too."

Shoshana smiles, and wonders where Len thought up the name Mick.

Television, perhaps?

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

"No!" Leo shrieks, throwing himself at his dad's feet despite knowing the danger. Sure enough, he gets a kick, right in the side, and it sends him rolling away, but he just scrambles up again, tears of pain mingling with the tears of panic rolling down his cheeks. "Give him back!"

"You're too old for toys," Lewis snarls at him.

"He's not a toy!" Leo howls. "He's Mick! He's my Mick!"

"He's only six, Lewis!" Shoshana protests, but she can't seem to rise up from the couch. The medicines for her sickness have made her very frail. "Let him have his dog."

"He needs to learn some respect," Lewis says. "You know what he did? Walked right into one of my business meetings - to get some water. For him? Oh no. For his dog. Which isn’t even a real goddamn dog!"

It'd been a Family meeting, too. Lewis had been horribly embarrassed by the lapse in professionalism, but more than that, he'd been afraid that they would just pull out their guns and put him in the ground, either him or his boy. He hated being afraid, hated it bitterly, and he lashed out to everyone around him, to make them afraid, because when they were afraid that meant he was in control.

Luckily the Family rep had thought Leo was cute.

"Give him back!" Leo is still shouting.

"I'm gonna light him on fire," Lewis shouts back.

Leo goes silent, stricken with horror. He's always had a terrible fear of his dog catching fire; neither Shoshana nor Lewis had any idea where it had come from, but it was there and it was bone-deep. "No," he whispers, eyes big and wide and blue. "No, don't! Not Mick!"

"I am," Lewis says. "And maybe you'll learn a lesson!"

"It's his favorite, Lewis," Shoshana says, struggling to her feet. "Leave it alone -"

He slaps her, and she falls back into the couch and looks up at him, eyes big and wide and blue, just like her son.

Lewis feels a flash of guilt, but that just makes him angrier. He gets his lighter from the kitchen cabinet, ignoring the small boy beating at his legs and trying to stop him.

He lights the flame under a paw.

Leo shrieks as though he himself has been lit on fire, and he doesn't stop, not for air, for anything.

"Oh, shut up," Lewis shouts, but nothing seems to penetrate. Finally, in the interest of his eardrums, he clicks off the lighter - the paw is singed, but no real damage has been done. He tosses it back to Len, who immediately goes quiet and starts checking it over and cooing at it as if it's been really hurt. "There, you have it back. Bet you learned your lesson, huh?"

Leo looks up at him, silent and solemn, his mother's eyes looking up at Lewis, reminding him silently of all his flaws, how he never gave her the life she'd hoped for, all the anger between them.

"I wanna be called Len," he says.

"What?" Lewis asks, taken aback. It'd been a long-standing dispute - a humorous one, one of the few that generally stayed humorous and didn't escalate - between him and Shoshana, whether their little Leonard was a Leo (Lewis' preference) or a Len (Shoshana's). "How's that?"

"I wanna be called Len," Leo repeats, very slowly and very firmly.

"Where'd that even come from?" Lewis asks, bemused. He didn't really mean it as a question - who cared? Kids were weird and had strange whims - but Leo's brow wrinkles as if he's very seriously considering the answer to the question.

"Because," he says finally, standing up, holding his dog tightly to himself, "I hate you."

"Don't talk like that to your father," Lewis says automatically, starting to bristle.

Leo looks at him, right in the eyes, his mother's eyes solemn and serious and honest, and he says, "But it's true. I hate you."

And then he turns and he leaves the room without another word.

Lewis stares after him for a long moment, temporarily unnerved. Leo had been so serious, so solemn, like he'd finally given up on whatever last bit of hope he'd had for Lewis. Then Lewis shakes his head and turns to the kitchen, grabbing himself a beer.

Kids are weird, and they have whims.

Leo'll get over it.

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

"They're gone," Mick says to the shrink. "I know they're gone."

She nods encouragingly. "That's good," she says. "Not that they're gone, your family, but that you know it. Now why don't you tell me more about Lenny?"

"What about him?" Mick asks, bewildered. "He's mine."

"He was -" she checks her notes, but Mick's pretty sure she does that deliberately; she's asked him about Lenny at every session before. "- your bear, right? A polar bear?"

"Seemed fitting," Mick says cautiously. She's getting at something again.

"And he burned in the fire, too, right?" the shrink asks. She talks to Mick like he's dumb. He knows he is; he knows that he's behind in his classes, even for an eleven year old boy. He knows that most eleven year old boys didn't have the fascination he did with fire.

He knows that most boys don't burn their whole family.

He doesn’t like to think about it.

Maybe that’s why he hates these stupid shrink sessions.

"Yeah," Mick says. "It burned."

"So why do the nurses tell me you're still talking to him?"

"Because only the bear burned," Mick says, confused by the question. "It took a while before we figured it out, but the bear was just convenient."

Convenient, yes. Also beloved, of course. It was as close as he could get to holding his Lenny in his arms, and now it was gone.

He was using a lamp back in his room, which worked, but it wasn't the same.

"So you understand the bear burned?"

"Of course I do," Mick says. "I get that my family burned, I get that the house burned, I get that the bear burned."

"But you keep talking to him?"

"Well, yeah," Mick says.

"Why?"

"Why - not?"

"Isn't Lenny the bear?"

"Lenny's only sometimes the bear," Mick explains. "Lenny's dad takes away his dog sometimes - that's me; I'm the dog - and we had to figure out a different way to do things. Do you know he's got a brand new sister?"

"The...bear?"

"No, Lenny!" Mick says, exasperated. "And she's not quite brand new, she's a few months old now, but he keeps being really impressed by how she blows spit bubbles or something."

The shrink looks deeply confused. "Are you perhaps confusing Lenny with someone in your own family? There was a baby..."

"Nate was a baby boy," Mick tells her. He's not sure where the confusion is coming from. Maybe she's dumb like him. "Not a girl."

"I - see."

"Can I go now?"

"Sure," she says, shaking her head. "Come back after dinner and we'll do some more cognitive therapy."

She means supervised lighter time. Mick likes supervised lighter time.

He also likes dinner, so he scampers off.

He swings by his assigned room first, though. "I think she's gonna give me the green light soon," he confides into Lenny-the-lamp. "Which means foster homes."

"I've heard bad things about those," Lenny says. "Be careful. Try to palm a knife and bring it with you."

"They don't really got knives here at the hospital, Lenny."

"Well, when you get out. I don't want anyone thinking they can hurt you or take advantage or something."

"Take advantage? Of what?"

"Dunno. Something Brittany said."

Brittany was Lisa's mom. Lisa was Lenny's new baby sister. Lenny’s real mom had died a while back; they'd both mourned that pretty bad.

She'd been a good one, Len's mom. She never told them to grow up out of it or anything, and she sang them songs, and she even told them about The Curse.

"You think I should tell the shrink about the curse?" Mick asks.

"Mom said we shouldn't tell too many people," Lenny points out. "She said people might look at us weird and act weird. Not everyone has a curse like us."

"Good," Mick decides. "I don't want everyone to have something like us."

"So don't tell. They're adults. What'll they do?"

Lenny didn't trust adults, which was fair. His dad was a pretty bad example of one.

"Okay," Mick agrees. It's not really any of the shrink's business, anyway. "I'm going to dinner."

"I'm going to my grandfather's place."

Good. That meant Lewis wasn't around.

"Later, Lenny."

"Later, Mick."

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

Mick can barely stand still with excitement.

Lenny's coming.

It'd started after Lenny got set up to take the fall on a job by his old man and got sentenced to go the juvie for a couple of months. He'd been anxious as hell about it - he didn't want to leave little Lisa with Lewis - right up until he'd told Mick the name of the juvie center he was heading to, in the hope that Mick - who'd been in and out of juvie a fair few times by now - would have advice.

That's when they found out that the juvie Len was going to was the same one Mick was staying at.

They were going to meet.

Mick's going to get to see what Lenny actually looks like.

Of course, Mick's plans to meet him when he gets off the bus are dashed because the shrinks notice his excitement and assume he's lit something on fire, so they haul him in to an extra-long shrink session (he barely has enough time to tell Len-the-chair).

He mostly ignores their questions, which just makes it longer, but eventually they let him out.

Mick goes out and beelines to the cafeteria.

Len-Lenny-Len-Len!

He finds the kids all crowded around a fight - some new kid got mouthy with one of the gangs that get formed in juvie.

Mick pushes his way forward, eyes scanning the crowd. Nothing. No feeling of recognition, no sudden awareness, nothing.

He turns his eyes on the fight right when what's-his-name, that asshole, pulls out a shiv to the impressed oohs of his companions.

Then Mick's eyes drop down to the kid held down on the floor.

Recognition.

Awareness.

Mine!

Mick bellow and charges forward.

Len scrambles up from the floor to help.

It's their first fight together as partners.

When it's all done, and all the kids have testified that Mick wasn't at fault, Mick and Len are finally allowed a moment's peace.

Mick scarcely knows what to do. He looks at Len - at a human being, flesh and blood, and sees the only friend he's ever known. That's never happened with a human before, only with objects that he could see Lenny in.

"Lenny," he whispers.

"Mick," Len replies, his eyes big and wide. He's a gawky kid, all elbows and shoulders, a shrimp with a fair bit of growing to do ahead of him, with messy black hair that curled too much to be controlled, with the fading traces of old bruises making his face come off as lopsided.

He's the most beautiful thing Mick's ever seen in his life.

Mick steps forward and pulls him into his arms.

Len's arms rise around him, clutching at him tightly.

"Mine."

Mick's not sure which one of them said it.

But it's true.

Soulmates.

#dccoldwave #mick rory #leonard snart #coldwaveweek2017 #my fic

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tgwltw · 7 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a Damian x sister!reader where she's a bit younger and has Damian wrapped around her finger? Thank you!

I’ll be working on your requests so look out for some updates from me today! I received many things that made me happy today so I’m super pumped up to write some more! Thank you for sending in your request and hope you enjoy!

Damiannever thought he would not be the youngest of the Wayne. Then again, he alsonever thought he would ever have big brothers that he secretly looks up to letalone be a big brother to anyone. Oh, he thought wrong.

“Da-mi-an!”You shout his name at the top of your lungs as you ran around the park, chasingTitus and Alfred the Cat. Damian shakes his head, crossing his arms when therest of the people turn to look in his direction. They were all probablywondering why the youngest two of the Wayne family are out and about in ameasly park with their pets. “Come on!” You call out to him, letting Titus havehis exercise without you running after him and somehow, in order to notaccidentally step on Alfred the Cat’s tail, you ended up tripping over your owntwo feet.

Damianrushes over to you when that happens, concern plastered on his face. Your lipsbegin to quiver and tears start welling up in your eyes when you catch sight ofyour scratched and bleeding knees. “Damian,” You lift your hands up, showinghim that your hands are scratched too but thankfully they are not bleeding.

Titusbarks, nuzzling his head on to your shoulder. He always seems to know when tocheer you up and when Alfred the Cat meows at you, you sniffle, looking atDamian.

“Tt.”Damian picks you up in his arms, making sure to hold you in such a way thatwould not irritate your injuries further. You wipe your snot on his shoulders,causing Damian to tsk in disdain. “Honestly, Y/N.” He rolls his eyes as he carefullywalks to the bench he had been sitting on. “Had you listened to me earlier whenI told you not to run after Titus, this would not have happened.” The bite inhis tone is not present and instead, Damian is talking to you softly, lesscondescendingly and gently. He only ever talks like this when he is with you.

Apout appears on your face and you rub your eyes. You don’t want to cry rightnow, at least not in front of your big brother. What if he doesn’t let you joinhim on his walks with Titus and Alfred the Cat anymore? What if he doesn’t wantto bring you to the park? Where are you going to play chase?

Damianreaches the bench and deposits you carefully on it. “Tt.” He shakes his headonce again, calculating the time he would need in order to go to the drug storehe had seen earlier. “Stay put, Y/N. Do not go running off with strangers andif anyone threatens you to go with them, what do you do?” Damian looks at youright in the eyes and you almost pout before you remembered the answer.

“Kickthem where the sun doesn’t shine!” Jason tells you every single time when hebrings you out for ice-cream runs and you giggle at the annoyed look onDamian’s face. “Or you pretend you aren’t Y/N Wayne and run away!” You correctyourself. Honestly all of your older brothers tell you different things to doin worse case scenarios so sometimes you get a little bit confused,

“Tt.”Damian merely pats your head. “Of course, might as well do as you havementioned. Be good, Y/N.” He might need to talk to the rest of his olderbrothers and give them a serious reprimanding – they also probably should starttraining you properly too. Lest anyone tries to take you away from them (notlike Damian will ever let them get away with you).

Youwatch your big brother until he disappears from your sight with Titus andswitch to looking at your hands and knees. Alfred the Cat climbs up the benchto settle beside you. You grin at him before assessing your knees: it hasstopped bleeding and the blood is starting to dry up. You begin to hum a songthat you heard from one of your favourite cartoon shows, scratching Alfred theCat’s head, wincing every time your scratches sting with pain.

Damianappears in front of you. Titus lays his head on the bench, right next to Alfredthe Cat. “Sister.” You grin happily at your brother and blink a few times whenhe crouches in front of you. “Here, something for you to munch on.” He handsyou your favourite ice-cream and frowns. “Just make sure Pennyworth does notcatch wind of what I have given you unless you want him to not bring dinner forus.” Damian still remembers that one time you accidentally let it slip toAlfred about how Damian had given you sweets and chocolates right before dinner(it spoiled your appetite) and that had been a nightmare.

Yougiggle, nodding your head as you held out one of your pinkie to Damian. “Pinkypromise! Timmy said I should do this!” You wiggle your pinkie and Damianfinally lets out a small smile at what you have just said before connecting hispinkie finger with yours. “Done! I won’t tell Alfred!” You tell him happilybefore eating your ice-cream.

Watchingyou enjoying the treat he had bought makes Damian think he is finally gettingthe hang out of this whole thing about being a big brother. There are timeswhen he feels exhausted just by being with you but there is that air ofinnocence in you that he cherishes a lot. It is, frankly speaking, a nicechange of pace.

Damiancan ever hear Todd snickering in his mind. “She’s got you wrapped around herlittle fingers.” Damian rolls his eyes even though he could no longer denythat. You truly do have him wrapped around your fingers. Like going to thispark for instance. You had been expressing your desire to go to the park to runaround (Alfred has banned you from running around the Garden with Titus becauselook what happened to his flower beds) and Alfred was supposed to bring you(this was the compromise) but unfortunately, something unavoidable came up(Alfred simply must be the one to pick up Father from his company). So themoment you turn your puppy-eyes to Damian, that is when he knew he lost.

Hehad actually wanted to train earlier but he couldn’t even say no to. Damianthinks he isn’t able to say no to you.

“Didyou get my favourite Band-Aid?” You ask with your mouth full of ice-cream so itsounds very garbled and incoherent. Not so surprisingly, Damian understoodevery single thing even if he thinks you might need a lesson on etiquette.

“Tt.Must you ask?” He pulls out your favourite Band-Aid causing you to giggle.“Next time, we should consider getting knee-pads for you.” Damian murmurs,making a mental note to suggest to Father and puts the Band-Aid on your knees,quickly packing away everything he had used to clean your knees. He stands upand dusts his shorts. “Come, let us head back.”

Titusbarks happily and Alfred the Cat simply pads over to Titus before settling ontop of his head. Titus barks again as he starts heading towards the directionof the manor.

Younod your head before jumping off the bench, quickly finishing your ice-cream.You throw the rubbish out before holding on to Damian’s pinkie. He shakes hishead and holds on to your hand properly, the smile on his face widens. “Let’sgo home, sister.”

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x reader #Damian Wayne x reader imagines #Damian Wayne imagines #Robin #Robin x reader #Robin x reader imagines #Robin imagines #dc #dc comics #dc universe #dc insert #dc imagines #dc comics imagines

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smrtboi2120-blog · 6 years

Text

Absence/From The Heart

So I’ve been gone quite some time. But as usual, I don’t want to spend too much time on that and I just want to dive into reflection and feelings concerning my mother. But I should mention some things. I felt compelled to start this blog, and it’s almost like, once I started it and wrote so much in the beginning, it relived a lot of what I was struggling with inside about all this, so I didn’t feel as compelled to write anymore. That and I’ve gotten busier and busier getting my life back together.

My life right now feels crazy. My mom’s appearing sicker and sicker from chemo treatment. I just received some very concerning news about a family member very close to my heart. And I’ve just seen 3 of the greatest films of the year within a 2 week period. My life feels so intense. It sounds silly but it’s true. I wouldn’t call it a dream, because I feel that implies something I desire. And I wouldn’t call it a movie because that implies a base of fiction, and this is all very real. Surreal would probably be the right word to describe this.

But let me just dive into free flowing thoughts about my mom and see what becomes of this.

I think about my mom and how I remember her when I was smaller. She had a lot of energy. She still does now, but it’s hidden and fighting under an ugly sickness, I don’t know how to address it properly. Cancer sounds so scary.

She’s lost basically all of her hair now. I tell her to shave it so it doesn’t look so....I don’t know...outstanding in a rough sort of way basically. But I think she’d like to hang on to all the hair she can.

It’s so hard for me to talk about my mom like this. She always seemed so strong to me, and she still does, but it’s hard to think about how this sickness is bringing her down, or at least trying to.

It’s been so long and I’d rather save time by not re-reading everything so far so I’m not sure if I’m repeating myself. But she’s putting all of us to shame. She’s still busy running around the house, keeping things in order and clean. What are we going to do without her. Us two males, my stepfather and me might become quite lost. My mom doesn’t want me to think that way of course, but I cannot help it.

Have I talked about how my mom is my best friend in the whole world? She is my whole world. I know that probably doesn’t sound exceptional. I’m sure most people are close to their mothers and I’m just another person. But this is all I can do as my own person, my own personal “catharsis” for all this as my sister said.

Maybe I should talk about what my mom was long when I was much smaller, in her younger years. She was very outgoing with all her female friends early on from what I can remember in my early adolescence. Actually, there were multiple times where I would cry so hard at night missing her and hoping she was okay when she stayed out late. I just couldn’t slip. My brain insisted on crying until she came home. That’s just one of many examples of my extreme attachment. It may be a bad thing, but it is what it is. I’m not going to shy away from it now, in this moment.

It’s been hard seeing her get sicker and sicker, suffering side effects from the chemo. But as long as it works, I believe this wil be all worth it. She had stomach problems, and then we got her medicine for that. She complained of severe throat pain and started losing her voice so I googled remedies for that on reddit like I do for EVERYTHING and like I’ve been doing for EVERYTHING concerning her and even my own personal life and daily remedies I need. And I saw that honey/ginger/and lemon tea seemed to be a popular soothing solution. So I made her some and it seemed to make a difference.

I know it seems small compared to everything else, but I don’t know, I don’t know what else to do. I feel so helpless so many times thinking about it. I’m ashamed I might not be a good son. That I’m not stronger. That I’m not more independent. I can’t help it. I’m not trying to make excuses and I can explain it but that’s not what I want this to be about. I wish I could make this go away for her with all of my might. Like I wish I could hug and squeeze the sickness out of her. I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless. Sometimes I feel inadequate, but medication is help even/block that out.

Then she got a bloody nose recently and that’s worried us. But again, I just want her to be strong because I know chemo is the most effective form of treatment we basically have, so all my faith is in it. I just want to keep her weight up and her emotions high.

Not so long ago we got into an argument that I really regret. And I’ve vowed to never get into another argument with her again, no mater what, to keep her stress levels as low as possible.

I even want her to stop going outside because I know she can protect her vital immune system that way. When I secluded myself for almost a whole year on two different occassions, I NEVER got sick during them. I firmly believe this is because I never left the house and we keep our house very clean. All the various viruses and bacteria are all out there, in the wild atmosphere. But I honestly don’t think I’m going to get her to stop. She wants to stay active and for things to appear as normal and possible, and I totally respect that. I just really really want to protect her health.

I could talk about us going to the movie theater together, but idk. That’s not really striking me right now.

I might of mentioned this before, but something that’s been consistent about the way my brain has been dealing with this, is, a lot of times I’ll forget about this reality and like block out the fact that she’s sick and go about myself as if everything is fine, not thinking about it. I’ll sort of lose myself, like I really tend to do. And then, out of nowhere, like in some moments of boredom or stillness, it’ll hit me. How crazy it is to see my mom like this with such a grave sickness. The fact that I could very well lose her. The fact that the rest of my life could be without her completely. And then it just kills me. Like a punch in the gut, I lose the control or feeling of air or oxygen in my system and I sort of feel lifeless or like nothingness, a sort of loss of identity or purpose on top of the lack of them that I already have. And it only adds to the helplessness.

I really didn’t ever think things would be this way, that my life would turn out like this. I suppose I took my relationship with her for granted, but I don’t know, I just figured we still had some decades together. That eventually I would figure myself out and I could really start to pay my mom back and we could really start doing things together worthy of dreams. But now I don’t know if that time is ever going to come. It’s probably just best to look back on the life we had together for what it is. I don’t even know what to call it or how to classify or quantify it.

I should have been such a better son. As my mom said, this whole experience has been so “eye-opening”.

I miss my mom ALL THE TIME at work. ALL THE TIME. I just wish I could lay with her forever as she experiences this thing and rides it all out, however it ends. That’s why it’s so important for me to take her to chemo myself. I have to do this. I need to do a better job at creating moments with her while I still have her and I really am getting better rapidly and rapidly. It’s a funny thing what you do in desperate times when survival instincts really kick in. We should make simulators for that to help out people before things get seriously bad.

I’m fortunate enough to have sorted enough of my own problems out for this, to be able to be there for her in whatever capacity I am able to.

I want to get better and better at cleaning the house and upkeeping it, I’m going to have to, and I should have just in general. I’ve been cleaning the floors on my hands and knees and I’ve actually been enjoying it.

I really want my mom to write an epic list of everything important about life, all her advice, her guidelines, her tips, her ways. I want her to write a book. A guide to life for me. So she could still be with me when she’s gone. Maybe we’ll start to work on that, but I’m so busy.

I don’t know what else to say. I’m trying to get better, I really am, and I truly believe I’m making quite the head way. I miss her every moment I’m gone. When I drove to the theater in Chicago alone for the first time in a long time, I immediately felt her abscence in the car as I started to make the drive there. It was so quick and powerful, so noticeable and loud. It hurt so much. I seriously debated turning the car around and just staying home and hugging her. But I know she wouldn’t want me to do that. She would want me to live my own life and follow my own desires, as hard as that may be for me.

I’m getting tired unfortunately, but frankly I’m quite proud I finally got around to writing this. I told myself today at work that this was the first thing I was going to do after spending time with her when I got home from work until she fell asleep, if it’s the last thing I do. And I did it.

I just think about the punishment I’m seeing her body and mind and spirit take and I just have to block it out and fight the thoughts because if I really think about it, I might lose it. The reality of living a life without her in it at all is so mindblowing, it just leaves me with no air, that’s the best way to describe it. It feels like this huge black hole or void engulfs my whole chest/rib cage inside of me. I want to be a better son, a better person, and I am working on it. So far, so good.

Hopefully I don’t take a long break from writing here again. I’d like to get more specific or focused next time, but I just really wanted a legit refresher at least and I think I got it. I still have to go into more depth about what she was like when I was much smaller, a child. You guys, please ask specific questions to help spark ideas from me, to bring it out from me, and to keep me writing.

I don’t know. It feels like such a crazy ridiculous time. And I’m always worried that my anxiety will come back and I’ll shut off and seclude once more, but luckily it hasn’t really these past couple months especially. You have NO IDEA how truly grateful I am for that. And you have no idea how grateful I am for everyone’s support. I want to send a special shout out to my close internet friends Rosa, Chelsea, and Lily who were there for me from the first day I found out about my mother’s sickness and have always made themselves available for me throughout this whole time and have never really faltered. And a big thanks to each and every one of my family members for everything they’ve done, the gifts they bring, and the love they give. It’s invaluable. And to my co-workers who know my mom, thank you for your kind words and concerns.

Alright, I’ll leave for now and just be happy that I did this.

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likeadiamondfrost · 7 years

Text

Mother & Daughter || Em & Meg

Megan: Megan was standing in the kitchenette of her shared abode, her roommates out to their various routines. Keller already gone to the Hamptons, Bobbi probably out to lunch, and she was left alone. Which was pretty perfect considering that Emma had seemed rather upset. The kettle of warm water squealed and she began pouring and steeping the tea into two rather generously sized mugs. Her door, still unhinged was leaning against the wall so when she caught the feeling of Emma's presence she wasn't really shocked, moving to greet her with a warm smile and a mug of tea. "We can go to my room if you'd like? The lack of door out here creates very little privacy." The young blonde offered.

Emma: She felt silly. This wasn't something Emma Frost did but even she could realize when she was feeling overwhelmed and alone. It seemed that everything was a conspiracy against her. First Ty, then Felicia and now Scott. She knew better than to let people into her life like this but there she was. She chewed her lip. "No one else is here right?" She asked rather tentatively before looking to the door. "This is fine.I won't bother you long..."

Megan: Megan's face fell. "Completely alone, as per normal." If her room was this barren she would usually be at Emma's or out on a run. There wasn't much here to do over the summer other than study, and frankly, she felt like she was doing a bit too much of that anyhow. "If you insist." Her feet led them over to the couch where she sat and pulled her feet up onto the couch with her. "What's been going on, love?"

Emma: She rubbed at the back of her neck before running her fingers through her hair. "I'd take that over everyone and their mum coming over all the time invited an welcomed or not." It was a low muttered. She was tired of that happening. A little respect was all she asked and she didn't even have that. Spending her time cooped up in her room, ignoring the world--avoiding it. "Terribly nothing, I'm afraid. Nothing can go on when no one likes you I guess." She offered with a slightly strained smile trying to play it off as nonchalant.

Megan: She sighed, a hand leaving her mug to run through her tousled hair. "Roommates. There's very little respect in those regards I fear." She didn't have the best roommates, but half of them usually kept to themselves. That was better than not. "Come now, that's not the case at all." She had been noticing the tension recently though. "I'm sorry for Felicia, she doesn't seem to be the greatest in any case. I wouldn't bother with her much. Is there something I'm missing? You wouldn't look so tense otherwise. Talk to me."

Emma: Emma nodded, "Understatement. The change in housing can't come fast enough." She brought her knees up to her chest resting her chin on the tops of them looking at the younger girl. "Oh, it is." She knew better than to lie about it. "Don't be. It's what I do best according to Scott and everyone. So why should I care?" She cleared her throat slightly. "I'm just...not handling it like I should I guess. There's only so much even I can take from people before it gets to me..." She looked at the girl too with a shrug. "I'm sorry this is horrible unlike me I know..

Megan: Megan moved to set her tea on the coffee table as she listened before turning to face the woman head on. "Anyone who says that can shove it." She defended. "There is no wrong way to handle a situation like this. I think how you're acting is perfectly normal. I mean, of course, you should be upset, even angry." Lord knows Megan would be reacting the same way. "Nothing is unlike you either, that's the beauty of feelings. If they are yours, then you are always you."

Emma: Emma mustered a laugh; it wasn't a genuine laugh. "That'd be all of the campus..." She supposed by then that meant she was back to where she was when she first came to this bloody school. "I'm not made for open emotions... I'm upset," She felt tears building, "I'm angry. I'm tired of this happening." A scoff, bitter and self-loathing left her, "I should be used to people leaving though. It was only a matter of time..." She sniffed she wasn't going to cry. She pressed her forehead to her knees hiding her face. "I suppose but when you're a Frost it's best just to remain...unemotional."(edited)

Megan: "Your name shouldn't stop you." But she knew Emma, if not almost better in that. Her own Emma hardly showed anyone how she was feeling. Even going so far as to hide it from her own family. "This is stupid you know. People who leave, they aren't worth your time. You're better than that, better than them." Megan placed a hand on Emma's shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. "Don't you dare go diamond on me right now, Em. I know you're going to pick yourself up from this, but I want you to feel this. Recognize that feeling something, good or bad, it's a part of you. It's part of your human make up." Emma: "You never met my father..." She mumbled. If he could see her now she thought. His words echoing in her head over and over again. "I just want someone to stay...Just once....I want someone to pick me not because I'm there and that's all they have but because they want me..." Her words came out on a slight sob. She cleared her throat trying to push it away. A gargled laugh left her. She had been so close to just closing it off. To just shut it away. "Will I? Because Scott...doesn't trust me..." She felt the tears now, "I wouldn't be surprised if he decided I wasn't worth it too... My best friends both hate me. All anyone ever wants from me is my telepathy or to use me as some pawn..." Her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs, clutching herself together. "I don't belong here....I belong in New York beside Sebastian. At least there I was used to being played."

Megan: Emma had her there. "You're right. I didn't meet him, in fact, Mom denied him any sort of access. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he had no idea of my existence. For the best after all." Megan, stubborn as ever, shook her head. She moved over to wrap her arms hesitantly around the woman. "Loving someone is pain, it's up to you to decide where to go with that pain. Are you going to let him go so easy? Or are you going to sit down and make him talk it out? That's a choice you have to make." She couldn't help there, it wasn't her place or her expertise. "Stand up for yourself," her voice lowered. "you are so much stronger than this, and you deserve so much better than the shit you're getting. AS for New York... I don't know much about that..." Emma: "He's an awful man...So yes probably for the best." Emma shook her head. She would have done that too. Would still do it. Winston was a monster. But so was she. She lifted her head from her knees to the girl. "What's the point in trying to hold on?" She looked away, "He deserves someone better...Someone he can trust to always do the right thing, who will let him in without needing countless pushes." She lifted her shoulder trying to keep that from stinging. She sniffed wiping her eyes ."We did talk..in Palermo...doesn't change the reality of it all..." She'd live with it. She leaned into the girl's touch. "I'm not today I guess. And this, is what I deserve...and more" She swiped once again at her eyes, "You must think I'm being over emotional huh?"

#log #[ please don't fight these hands that are holding you; my hands are holding you: m. summers ]

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