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superbat-lmao · 3 months ago

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So then Damian shows up and it’s difficult because he doesn’t get along with Tim and Dick understands not wanting to get along with a sibling you feel like has been forced on you. And Tim still isn’t out of Jason’s shadow but Damian is difficult in some of the ways Jason was, and Dick has already resolved himself to trying harder. And now he’s trying harder at the expense of Tim, like any good parent.

Because Tim tried to be the easy sibling and Damian is the youngest and even if none of them have had siblings before, it’s expected of Tim to be the bigger person even when it isn’t fair.

Because now all Dick can see is someone who was trained since birth to be a killer and fill in their father’s shoes. Designed by someone who wanted to manipulate Bruce and found the one route that Bruce uses to self flagellate - taking in kids who he’s convinced need him, that only he can help, only to reject them when he can’t fulfill their actual emotional needs. It’s Bruce’s double edged sword, how he desperately wants a family and can’t seem to hold onto them correctly. It’s too tight or not enough.

It slow going.

And then Bruce is gone and Dick has to step into two mantles he never really expected to fill (we all believe our parents are immortal, especially if yours has literally changed the world) as Batman and now, Damian’s dad.

It’s being a circus performer 24/7 trying to maintain a shifting mess of facades just to get through the day. Forced levity, forced seriousness, holding back rage and resentment and grief at losing your own father and then basically becoming one.

Because Damian needs someone who will treat him compassionately, someone who will convince him of his right to be a child and make mistakes and have fun. And to place that sole responsibility on Dick, who is grieving his father, means that his sense of what to do, who to prioritize, how to handle this is shot to hell.

He takes Robin away from Tim to give to Damian. Just as it was taken from him. And he doesn’t seem to understand that he’s Tim in the situation because for a moment, he has so throughly embodied Bruce he’s unable to see what he’s doing as hurting Tim.

And when Tim leaves to go find Bruce, well, out of sight, out of mind. He believes Tim can handle himself, or he needs Tim to handle himself because Dick is already struggling to handle everything else.

And Damian?

To be thrown into a group of people who lack clearly defined social status, in another language, that do not properly explain rules or punishments beforehand and seem to dole out expectations at random, it’s like the universe giving you anxiety. It you didn’t doubt yourself before, everyone around you is trying to make you do so and it’s like never leaving fight or flight mode.

US soldiers and prisoners who are from this country have significant difficulty readjusting to “normal” life when they come back from deployment/lockup. To have a child go through that without adult support/comfort must be like swimming in the deep end of the pool. There is a forced casualness to America, an idea that people as individuals are free to do what they want, but it’s a lie. There is a social hierarchy, it just isn’t talked about to the point that people forget it’s there. To have to learn that hierarchy from people who can’t properly explain it to you unless you’ve broken some social boundary/moral code that also wasn’t given to you as a child is exhausting.

On the one hand, all of the adults in Damian’s life want him to “be himself” but on the other, each of them has some sort of mental image of what it was to grow up in the League and how terrible they think that would be, and picture Damian as a child that has had to repress “who they really are” beneath League training. Bruce and Dick and Alfred and Tim have clear ideas of what they think a child should be/act like. And it isn’t Damian. And instead of treating him like his own unique person, they are asking him to fit into their idea of who he should be as a child without explaining anything until after it would have mattered.

So yes, Damian falls back into League training or his Mother’s ideals sometimes, because it’s part of who he is, not something that was forced on him. If the others consider it trauma, that’s their business. And as he learns more of their world, he can eventually begin to see the positives of aspects of extreme individualism, like helping people or having personal interests and valuing others. But those weren’t exactly lacking where he came from, just expressed differently.

So he’s in a new country living with a man who didn’t know he existed and the weird amalgamation of a family he’s been collecting and has no clue how he fits into it. He feels lied to, like he had been promised someone who would understand him and teach him as all his masters before to prepare him for the responsibility of what is expected of him. (And Bruce could damn well understand him if he chose to make the effort, if he loved Talia and trained in the League then he’s the only one who could understand him. But he’s so wrapped up in his own angst he can’t see his son.)

And then Bruce dies.

And the tenuous nature of his position in the family, something he was told is beyond reproach, is suddenly in question.

He never asked for siblings, and if he had them, was under the impression they would be younger than him. So to have to now come to terms with the loss of his father and new reliance on his “brothers”? He’s not coping well.

And to Tim? Damian is perhaps the biggest betrayal Dick could make.

Because Tim idolizes Dick, loves him beyond measure. He understood his fight with Bruce over taking Robin. How it hurt him so badly that he wasn’t able to cope with the addition of Jason. And for Dick to turn around and hand it to a kid that hates him and repeatedly tries to hurt him?

Yeah, that’s betrayal.

So when Damian finally does learn to acclimate, does begin to trust Dick as Batman, to then have Tim show up with his Father?

That’s betrayal too.

It really strikes me how in so many fics where Dick Grayson meeting Jason Todd goes badly, where Jason is written to have a past history of sexual abuse usually, how callous/direct/abrasive Dick comes across through Jason’s perspective.

Like returning home and being suspicious of a stranger in your house, being so in the middle of your own feud with your adoptive father and family problems that it doesn’t even occur to you to snap into Robin/Nightwing training.

There are some I’ve seen where Dick actively makes it worse for Jason, like asking who the hell he is or saying to Bruce “you didn’t tell me you were getting another one” or especially anything A/B/O related because people love to write highly emotional reactions with those sorts of subtexts being explicitly laid out with the “scent” meanings.

But just, it strikes me how many people write him as an aggressive teenager who thinks he’s been replaced and that his father, who revoked his access to being a hero/his mother’s name for him out of a fucked up/misdirected sense of protection, doesn’t want him anymore. That it wouldn’t occur to him, in his own home, to have to respond to a situation with the same level of caution and understanding he grants survivors as Nightwing. That he’s really just 18 and in a space where he’s been conditioned to keep “cape business” downstairs and is reacting with all of the emotional volatility of a teenager because it’s the level of compartmentalization that Bruce instilled in him and he’s so woefully unprepared to have to code switch back into being Nightwing when met with familial turmoil.

And that Jason couldn’t possibly know any of this from The King of Emotional Repression™️ and that the man didn’t think to inform Dick of Jason’s situation. That Bruce can’t understand why it would hurt Dick to come home to something like this, or how it would harm Jason to be met with teenage hostility that is adult hostility.

There are a lot of fics where people write that Jason thinks B will “get rid of him” and other sorts of self deprecative phrases about him being homeless, a street rat, “turning tricks” in some cases. And that Dick is so blindsided by his own personal problems with Bruce that he just, none of this occurs to him.

That he really is only 18 and suddenly expected to be able to handle things he’s never even considered. He’s been trained to handle difficult cases, to see the worst of the worst, but Dick’s only 18 and has far less experience with families than he does with drug smuggling.

He’s an acrobat and a hero because of his training. He’s still learning to be a son, and now a brother.

#dc universe #damian wayne #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #nightwing

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zealous-whispers-of-us-redux · 3 years ago

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a different kind of song

(A/N: no one ever asked for this, but there isn't enough merman!Bucky/reader fics out there, lol. Also, her song is basically "Siren Song" by Margaret Atwood)

Warning- allusions to sexual assault. Do NOT read if that bothers you!

Summary: The sea swallowed her whole, and she was reborn with saltwater on her tongue and webs between her fingers.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

She did not remember her life as a human. All she remembered was the war, and the hunger, and the men raiding her village. She remembered the sweat-soaked skin of a warrior snatching her up as she cried out for help. She felt the slide of his body, his blade against her throat. Then when he had finished, she remembered being thrown away into the deepest part of the sea, left to die. But she was blessed by the primordial sea god Phorcys, a child of Artemis, and was allowed to live again. Her new body was formed from misery and blood, and the reward for her suffering was eternal life with the chance to kill as many humans as she wished with no divine interference. The killing of human men, for men were the chosen victims of any siren. Women were not drawn in by their song, and if, by chance, a woman stumbled across a siren, that siren would leave her alone.

Slowly, she began to forget the trappings of humanity, the sound of her mother's voice, and the taste of human food. She aged with the world, hidden deep beneath the waves. Countless men fell prey to her beautiful song, and she learned how to kill quickly. She grew to love the taste of flesh, the sound of someone drowning. She forgot what it was like to be lonely.

Now, she only knew starvation.

An all-encompassing hunger clawing at her belly made her whine with pain. Humans had avoided this part of the sea for a few years, and she last ate three months ago. She'd had to survive solely on fish, which, while technically food, were not filling nor even tasty. She was beginning to hate fish.

There were no boats; she checked three times in the past hour. It was dangerous for her to be so close to the surface because the air outside was toxic. There was also a very likely chance that she would be spotted by anyone who could harm her. But she was so hungry that she forgot herself. She floated just beneath the surface and sang, letting her voice ring out through the water, enticing any man into approaching. The setting sun shined down on the outcrop of rocks above her.

And there! A flash of something!

She sang louder, opening her eyes underwater. There was a man with darker hair than she had ever seen lying on a gigantic rock. He was acceptable, she guessed. She barely knew what that meant.

He had yet to notice her, dumb as he was. She could see her song was affecting him as his eyes started to close, and his hand inched unconsciously closer to the water. His finger just barely skimmed the surface before she lunged, yanking him into the sea with her. He began to fight back as she dragged him down to the sandy bottom. Thrashing against her hold, he scrabbled to gain purchase on her body, but to no avail. Her skin was as hard as stony coral and difficult to cut. She sang her trumph, mocking him as she brought him up to break the surface, only to bring him right back down.

But this man had a tail, and she did not realize it until it hit her in the face. She squawked in surprise, her song cutting off. The merman twisted out of her slackened grip. She snarled, baring her teeth as she swam at him. Sirens were stronger than mer, especially in deeper waters, so it did not take much to grab him again. They wrestled, flipping over each other. She sliced his side with one of her nails; his tail knocked the wind out of her. He pulled her lure too hard, and she made a pained sound, biting at his hand. He cried out as she ate clean through one of his webs. Blood leaked into the water, making her ravenous.

"This is the one song everyone would like to learn: the song that is irresistible," she began, "The song that forces men to leap overboard in squadrons, even though they see the beached skulls!"

The merman ceased struggling. He stared at her, his eyes growing vast and dreamy. She grinned toothily. She had only had mer meat once before. It was harder to draw in mermen than human men, so because of that, she was only able to entice a single merman. But that was years ago, and he wasn't nearly as delicious to look at as this mer.

She dropped the tone of her voice to a seductive curl. "This is the song that nobody knows because anyone who has heard it is dead, and others can't remember. Shall I tell you a secret? And if I promise to, will you come nearer? I will tell my secret to you, to you, only to you. Come closer, closer to me."

She lifted her finger, tempting him to come over so that she could take a bite. The merman swam closer until their chests were pressed together. He said something in a language that she had never heard before.

"This song is a cry for help, my dear. Help me! Only you, only you can, for you are unique!" she cried sadly.

His tail curled around hers, and she frightened at the gentle touch broken out of her song. She spat and gnashed her teeth, but still, his tail stayed where it was. He opened his mouth and said something, but she still could not understand. She went to bite his nose off, but he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers so plainly that she stilled. She was not sure what was happening. She was not sure what she was supposed to be doing. She floated there, letting him mash his mouth against hers. His mouth tasted bizarre.

Finally, the merman stopped. He pulled away only minutely, still looking spellbound. Strange. Her song had ended. Why did he continue to look at her like that? He reached out and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. His own were darting back and forth across her face, searching for something. He spoke more things that she didn't understand.

"Uhh-h- hello," the merman said in a language she could understand. "Hi."

"Why were you crushing your mouth onto mine?" she asked.

"What, never heard of kissin' before?"

His smile was much too pleasant. That was unacceptable. Food was never supposed to look nice. She wanted to claw the smile right off of his face.

"Kissing?"

"Yeah, touchin' lips. Usually done as a sign of love or, you know, desire."

"Desire?"

"Sweet Thetis, you're fuckin' gorgeous," said the merman, ignoring her confusion.

His hand shot out to touch her lure, but he thought better of it and withdrew.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

His smile grew bigger, how funny: "Beautiful. Pretty."

"Pretty? What's that?"

"You know, like when you find a shiny thing, an' you wanna keep it forever?"

"I do not know," she grumbled (How dare this mer make her feel unintelligent!). "I have never had shiny things."

"Never had… Hold on, my pretty one."

Mystified, she waited just as he'd asked as he ruffled through a pouch that she had not noticed before. She had never seen anything like it and wondered where she could acquire one. Of course, she never had a reason to have a bag since she had no use for possessions. Perhaps it could hold weapons! Or bones to snack on!

"Ah-ha!" the merman said, thrusting something in her direction.

She stared at the thing in his hand.

"Looks even prettier underneath your lights," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"What is it?" she replied, her hand darting out nervously to touch it.

She pulled back almost instantly, but the merman grabbed her wrist.

"It's called gold," he explained, tipping it into her hands. "The humans use it to get other shiny things. D'you like it?"

"I am not sure. I do not know what I like."

"You can keep it."

"What kind of trickery is this?"

"No tricks. As I said, you're beautiful, and beautiful things should have beautiful things."

"No tricks, certainly, but what do you want in exchange?"

For the first time tonight, he looked sheepish. She noticed that his stomach was turning pink, but for what reason, she was unsure. She wondered what he was trying to work up the nerve to say.

"Well, er, matin' season is comin' up," he began.

"Not yet."

"Right, it isn't for a few months yet, but I was taught to woo the mer, er, the creature that I choose with shiny things. It's my first matin' season, you see."

"Mhm."

"An' the wooin' part takes a while. An' then there's the courtin' stage, which takes even longer."

"If you need a mate, there are mer all around this area during this time."

"Well- heh." The merman rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I'd like it to be you."

"Why?"

"Because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Ah."

"I have more shiny things if you want 'em," the mer said, reaching for his pouch.

She shrugged. "I have no use for them."

"You don't gotta have a use for 'em. Where's your home cave? I can bring 'em there."

"I do not have a home cave," she said.

"Oh, right, where is your family's cave, then?"

"I have no family."

"No family? You mean, you're out here all by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you lonely?"

"What is lonely?" she asked.

"Sad, because you have no one with ya."

"What is sad?"

"Whaddya mean, 'what is sad?' It's sad! Don't you know what that is?" the merman twisted his face up like he was in distress, though what kind she was not sure.

"I only know hunger," she told him.

His eyes lost some of their shine. "Oh, yeah, right. How long's it been since you ate properly anyway? You don't look so good."

"I have not caught a human in months."

"D'you need help huntin'?"

"Can you ensnare a human with your singing?"

"No, but I know some good spots for fish."

"I am not in the mood for fish," she said.

"You just haven't found the right kind," the merman replied, closing his left eye.

He turned tail, swimming away from her before glancing back to see if she would follow him. The hunger in her belly was making her act quite strange in that she was willing to go along with this merman. She felt, oh, what's the word, she knew this, like mer, she was curious. She decided to follow him, keeping a bit of distance between them until the merman flipped around in an impressive display of tailfins and long dark hair, and decided they would swim side by side. His hand kept brushing hers, trying to grab onto her fingers for some reason. She tugged away, unsure of what he was trying to do. She still had not yet decided if she wanted to mate with him anyway. Sirens did not mate in the same way that mer did, that much she knew. They called it breeding, and it was over in a frenzy of teeth and claws. There were no gifts of shiny things or "kisses."

"What's yer name?" the merman asked.

The question stunned her. She could not remember her name before the sea took her in, and she had no use for a name now. No one else called to her. Her name was simply another memory, another casualty to add to her list.

"I do not know," she said.

"You know what a name is, right? Like, I'm Bucky, for example."

Her fingers drifted up to her lips, searching for her name. If she remembered the shape of her mouth as she spoke it aloud, perhaps she could remember the correct sounds. She thought back as far as she could, to the feeling of water filling her lungs, to the sounds of screams, to the smell of a fire burning down her village, to her blood staining her tongue. She wanted to remember her name. She had not even realized this was something she had lost until she needed it.

Then there was a flash of memory, jagged and cutting. Her heart began to race. In her mind, she heard it. Her mother had been crying. Her mother had been screaming at the men to stop. Her mother had been shrieking to let go of her, let go of my daughter. Her mother yelling at her to be brave, hold her breath, be strong, my love, my dear. Her mother. She remembered her mother.

Her lips parted, and she whispered the name into the water. The merman, Bucky, repeated it.

"Again," she said.

He did, and oh, she felt something new, something besides hunger. A hole opened in her chest. Her lower lip wobbled, and then she was singing a new song, never before heard from a siren. It echoed around her and Bucky, reaching out to the farthest depths of the sea. It was filled with desperation, isolation, and salvation, but it was hope and home too.

"Is this what sad is?" she asked Bucky once her song was over.

"Yeah, it is," he answered, curling his tail around hers.

When he went to wrap her up in his arms, she let him, falling into his embrace.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mermaid au #angst #fluff #merman!bucky #siren!reader

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rapspud · 3 years ago

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Bittersweet

Bittersweet A/N: Decided to rewrite this one. Please enjoy.

Yoongi looked at your friends as he sneered at your prone form sprawled out on the ground, your fingers scrambling to find your glasses.

“Aw what’s the matter? The poor baby can't see?” He purred as he picked up your glasses and dangled them in front of your face before throwing them into the dumpster. “Have fun diving!” He cackles as he slides past your prone figure, cruelly stepping on your hand as he passes.

You could hear the snickers of his friends behind you. You watched as his best friend, Seokjin clapped Yoongi on the shoulder, and whispered, “Oi, I get the whole I hate “y/n” thing but seriously—that was a bit much don’t you think?”

Yoongi couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “She ratted us out! So I fixed it-and now she can’t see to snitch! And shouldn’t you be on my side? You’re in just as much trouble as I am!”

Seokjin could only look at Yoongi like he had a third head, “ Yeah I guess, but still...there is-” at Yoongi’s raised eyebrow he swallowed what he wanted to say, instead choosing to leave rather than to help Yoongi’s victim, “Hey I gotta go I’ll catch you later okay?”

Yoongi smiled and waved good-bye before walking away from the group. How could he possibly explain how much he hated Y/N? No one here knew the truth about your families-how he had to share a home with you, your family serving his. He had no respite from you. Yeah, Y/N deserved everything she got, he thought as he got into his car. Plus it's not like you wouldn’t rat him out when you got home about what happened. This time as he drove past you and saw you hunched in on yourself, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as he saw you clutching your injured hand, staring resolute at the dumpster, knowing full well that you would go in after the glasses. After all, he knew how hard your mother worked to buy them for you, he knew how you worked 2 jobs and also kept track of your younger brothers. Deep down, he really hoped that maybe this time you would finally explode and tell everyone about all the horrid acts he committed against you.

Except that you never did tell on him.

In fact, you avoid Yoongi like the plague. After finally scrambling into the dumpster and reclaiming your glasses, you clambored back out, hand still screaming in pain. As you stand there wiping the garbage from the lenses and picking off random refuse from your clothes you honestly don’t think you can sink any lower than this. You swipe grimey hands at your cheeks as hot tears run down them, thankful that you are alone. And as you walk away you begin to make plans. You couldn’t keep doing this. And with renewed energy you begin walking home, not didn’t looking back choosing instead to forge ahead, putting one foot in front of another until finally you were in your mid=twenties, and had your own little place. You were happy with your life. But you should have known. All good things must come to an end eventually. You hadn’t thought about him in years, attending school, graduating, opening up a bakery with your best friend. Essentially you were hiding, but not really.

And then by some ill stroke of luck, he found you.

You awaken to the blaring of your alarm with a groan. Was it really 8 am? The flashing numbers of your clock inform you that it was in fact 8:59. Shit you were late. Cursing your snooze butten, you scrambled out of your bed and grabbed the cleanest clothes you could find off the floor and stumble as you attempt a whole new balancing act: pulling up your pants while holding a hot cup of coffee and a piece of toast dangling precariously from your teeth. As you run down the street towards the bus, slinging your backpack over your shoulder while you scramble to tuck your shirt in you promptly run into a solid wall and fall on your ass. Your hair is covering your face as you look up at what you had plowed into, an apology already leaving your mouth when you got to the face. “Um…hi, uh…sorry about that.”

“Y/N. From YHSN?”

“Yes?” you become wary, no one around here really knows you as you chose to keep to yourself…“Do I know you?”

The grin that spread across the man’s face could be described as nothing less than cruel and vicious. “Yeah, Y/N L/N right? I am here to inform you that you have 24 hours to vacate the premises. Good luck.” He stated before unceremoniously dropping an envelope onto your lap and turning on her heel to leave you in a stunned heap on the floor.

What the hell had just happened? Maybe you were still dreaming?

You were dazed for a moment as your brain tried to compute the absolute absurdity of what had just happened and then you were on your feet chasing the man, yelling at him to stop but he just kept on walking.

Finally catching up to the man, you grab her arm, “What the fuck man?” you yell, “this is illegal as hell! Thirty days is the minimum!” You shove the notice back at the man, hitting him in her (very solid) chest hard.

“Y/n, Y/n, I see you're still full of venom huh? It’s completely legal actually-you see I” he leaned forward, “own the building now. And to my delight, what do I learn? I find out that Y/N L/N happens to be a tenant! Guess how happy I was to finally find you again after all these years and then get to have you vacate your home.” he laughs as you gape at him like a fish.

“Min fucking Yoongi, I do not have time for your petty ass childish bullshit! ” you hers, voice laced with venom.

“Aw kitten you remembered! I am truly honored! But alas I cant stay and chit-chat, and well, neither can you. Tata chica!” With that he jerks her arm from your grasp, sending you back to the ground in shock for the second time that morning, before climbing into an expensive black car and driving away.

You scream curses to the sky, because after 8 peaceful years, the man you had spent so long running from and then finally forgetting, had found you. But of course, the sky only decides to rain. And as you trudge back home to call into work, (because seriously fuck this day) you can’t help but wonder how everything came to this moment. After a shower and change of clothes, you fall into your bed, allowing yourself one moment of respite before you begin to tackle this new problem, closing your eyes.

You were back there again, trapped both in a small body and the cave that haunts you as you watch helplessly at the rising water. Your tiny voice is raised, tinted with fear, “I told you we shouldn’t come here! My mama said-“

The boy next to you cut you off, “Crying ain’t gonna fix it, I will save us”

“You can't even swim,” You yell, unable to remain calm.

“I AM GONNA SAVE US!” the small boy shouted, “so don’t cry Y/N.” He gave you a small smile, one that made you feel slightly safer and he took hold of your hand. “Follow me and don’t let go no matter what.”

“Okay,” you say, for some reason feeling braver after placing your faith along with your hand into the boy’s hand. He said he would, so of course he would save both of you. After all, he was your best friend and you don’t pick losers.

It was a lot harder though, when all was said and done. Yes, the two of you made it out of the cave alive, but not without nearly drowning, and you had slipped and injured your ankle along the way. Luckily, you did make it out, and while the two of you spent a cold wet night huddled together on the beach, you were alive. In the morning, you were rescued further as the search teams found. And while your mother had you wrapped up in her warmth and was crying and thanking the people over and over that had saved you, the same welcoming was not happening to the young boy. You could hear screaming as a woman in a fine dress and her husband yelled at the boy, your tiny hero, before there was a loud smack. You watch as the boy falls, hand clenched to her face, tears streaming down her face as her mother continues to land hard blows upon her body until she is dragged away. You cried out for you friend and as the two of you met eyes, for the first time you saw hatred reflected back at you. That was the day Min Yoongi stopped being your friend and became your tormentor.

He followed you everywhere, taunting you, breaking your things, and ultimately breaking you. Your mother finally quit working for her house the day he’d thrown your glasses into the garbage and you had come home, broken glasses in hand, face streaked with tears and reeking of garbage -you had finally confessed what had happened, what all had been happening. You had moved away, your mom working several jobs and then as well as yourself working, then you working to pay your way through chef school and finally moving out into your own place. And all of it had just been destroyed because he found you.

You sigh looking up at your ceiling letting your anger consume you as you curse Min Yoongi to a lifetime of diarrhea. And an itchy butt. And you hoped her eyebrows fell out, just for good measure.

You look around your apartment one last time before closing the door with finality. this asshole, you think to yourself. “Just wait” you say as you look down at the address your brother had just texted you.

An hour later you stand before a gated house and ring the doorbell. And ring it. And ring it. And continue ringing it (after all it was nearly 6 am, and as you had learned that morning, if you want to ruin someone's day, do it first thing in the morning) until a sleepy figure stumbles outside and smacks your hand away. You take this opportunity to dart inside the gate and into the house carrying your things with you.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Yoongi yells at you from outside, beginning to stomp back to her front door. You could only grin as you take in the pajama bottoms and robe, while you stand there like a goddamn Amazonian queen, “You took my home. this is payback.” and then you dialed the police, “Yes? Officer? There’s a half naked man on my lawn, please send help! I’m so scared”

You couldn’t help the grin that covers your face as you smile at Yoongi, “Good luck asshole.” You say sweetly, before slamming the door in her face. Nothing had ever sounded so sweet as the sound of the lock turning over, followed a second later by desperate pounding at the door. And Yoongi could only pound on the door until the cops showed up and he explained that this was, in fact, her home, as well as that the intruder was actually you. The officers had asked him if he wanted you arrested and for once he let it go, telling them that you were having a lovers quarrel and apologizing that they had to come out over something so silly. As the cops pulled away, he went to the back of the house and slammed the sliding glass door open only to find the house seemingly empty. As he walked from room to room he couldn’t help but get angrier and angrier. But when he found you passed out on her bed, he paused, somehow her anger dissipating instantly. He stood there, looking at your sleeping body and wondered if you would ever know her real feelings for you. If he would ever be able to tell you. And the real question: could you forgive him? He knew it was asking a lot, but he could only hope. He sat and thought about how to express to you the things he needed to say. He wondered how exactly did one explain how guilty he felt about how he treated you, how he didn’t really understand why he went out of her way to make your life miserable back then…and then you had left him. How, when you left he realized just how broken he was inside. When he bought the building he couldn’t believe her luck when he saw your name as one of the tenants, but her old ways came back hard and for some ungodly childish reason he couldn’t control himself. That he should have been apologizing that morning and telling you how thankful he was that it had also brought you back to him. He guessed that it was far too late for him to ever have your forgiveness and he couldn’t help the smile that played on her mouth as he approached the bed. He reached out a hand to smooth back some hair that covered your face when you wherpered, “Yoongi...” he stilled, “…I’m sorry” you mumbled. What could you possibly be sorry for? He couldn’t help it, but it made him angry that you would apologize to him after everything he’d done and especially while in such a vulnerable state that the next thing he knew he was grabbing the blanket and ripping it away from your curled form. It’s momentum sends you over the edge of the bed to land in a heap on the floor. You sit up cursing her very existence,

��What the hell Y/N?!” He yells right back, while you could only manage to stare up at him from where you sat on the floor. But this time you weren’t having any of her bullshit. You jump up and get in her face “ What the hell? What do YOU mean what the hell? Who the hell buys a building solely to evict one person?! Are you that rich? Do you hate me that much?”

Yoongi yelled back, “Hell yeah I do!“

"You have issues, Min Yoongi! I did nothing to you except be born! Do you know how hard I worked to forget what you did to me? And you come just back,” you pause, swallowing thickly, you would not cry. Not here. Not now, “But not anymore! I won't let you break me again Yoongi. I am worth so much more than that!”

Exhausted, you move to push around him but he grabs your wrists instead and pins you against the wall.

“Let me go you asshole!” you yell at him fighting back for once in your life, all while trying to hide your face and the tears that were no longer just threatening to spill over. “Can't you just hate me from a distance? I’m sorry your mom was a horrid cunt to you! I’m sorry, okay! But please, just let me go! Leave me alone” And then her hands were gone, and you were free. You couldn’t help it, you looked up and stared him in the eyes, for once determined to make him see how he wrecked you.

Yoongi could only stare at you, watching as the tears fell, tears once again caused by him, and then he heard the five words that ripped open her wounds, words he knew he deserved, said in a voice so broken he didn’t know where he should start to even attempt to repair it.

“I hate you Min Yoongi.“

He couldn’t stand it, he knew he deserved them but he just couldn’t stand there and just accept them. Accepting those words would be like giving up, and giving up probably the only pure thing he still had in her life. Had. And so he moved, not thinking about consequences, only a desire to cleanse those words from the air around him. He grabs you again, pushing you against the wall, capturing your face in one hand, forcing you to meet her eyes, while he brushes your hair away with the other, "Good. Never forget it.”

And then he crashes her mouth against yours.

You didn’t know how what was happening was happening and some stupid part of you was excited to have him pressed against you, mouth was moving against yours and then you were responding and for some reason it felt so good–like coming home. It was like your body suddenly was against everything you wanted-you found yourself wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, a giggle bubbling up when you nipped at her lip and he groaned. and then you both were tearing at each other's clothes in desperation. And then the world stops making sense. You and Min Yoongi, enemy of the state #1 were having sex. And it was good. It felt so right, like you two had been made to fit each other only. When it was over he lay behind you, placing gentle kisses along your neck and down your collar bone. The last thing you remember before falling asleep in your enemy’s arms was Yoongi gently wherpering a muffled “I’m sorry” into your ear over and over.

When you wake, you are surprised to find an arm wrapped around your waist and you freeze as the memories of the night before come rushing back and you begin to mentally beat yourself up as you carefully slide out of the bed and grab your clothes, making a mad dash out of the house, dressing yourself along the way.

No way had you slept with Yoongi and enjoyed it. You were an idiot of the highest order. You slept with the man who wanted you homeless because he hated you.

You let out a deep sigh as you did a very new special walk of shame to your job, where your boss, Mandi greeted you by yelling, “Oi ! What cat pissed in your cheerios?”

Causing the other workers to laugh until you pinned them with your patented Crazy-eye ��, at which point they scurried away except for that moron Seokjin who slung his arm around your shoulders jovially, “So why is my favorite girl doing the walk of shame?”

You glare and shrug his arm off, “None of your business.”

“Dude its obs-you’re like a whole 4 hours late-and you are never late. So what happened? Anyone I know?”

“You’ll just call me an idiot if I tell you.”

“I swear on cake I won't.”

You raise an eyebrow before saying a name you never thought you’d say just to see him eat his words. “Min Yoongi.”

“Shut the front door! You’re an idiot”

“The cake is ashamed of you and asks that you keep your distance.” You say as you move to the back rooms to put away your belongings.

Not giving up, Seokjin follows you, even going so far as to hand you your apron, “Seriously? Didn’t he like-”

“Terrorize me to the point of moving? Then find me years later and evict me? Yep.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?” Seokjin asked worriedly, For the shit talking between the two of you, you smile to know he does really care.

“I have to be.”

“Did you at least use a condom?” He asks.

“Oh my god.”

“You really are an idiot. But don’t worry…you know I’ve got your back right? Well, we’ve got your back.”

You could only stare at Seokjin as your mind whirls through the consequences of last night, “It should be fine right?” you ask.

“Sure, cupcake. Keep telling yourself that”

There is a ding from the door and you see your brother Jungkook shuffles in with your other brother Namjoon, and giving Seokjin a look that clearly says “Keep your mouth shut if you want to live” you take a deep breath and head behind the counter to wash your hands, greeting them as you go.

“COFFEE. COFFEE NOW.” Namjoon grunts demandingly, taking a seat and burying her head in her hands, while Jungkook adds a half-hearted “Please…and a raspberry jelly for me.”

“Rough night?” You ask as you pour the two men coffee and grab Jungkook her donut and slide it in front of them.

Jungkook grins, “Nah, Joon thought he could out drink me. He thought wrong.”

“Shhhhhhhhh!! You’re so loud,” hersed Namjoon, shoving a hand at Jungkook’s face and missing entirely.

You grin and speak extra loud, “Shouldn’t you know by now to let the kids drink and you go home and sleep?”

Namjoon just glares at you, “I have a gun.”

“I aint scared of you.”

The shop bursts into laughter as Namjoon buries her head in her arms on the counter, “Why do you hate me so much?” He whines.

“Mom likes you more, and I’m a petty bitch.”

Jungkook grins, “But she likes me most!”

Both you and Namjoon glare at him, “Shut up!”

Yoongi wakes up to an empty bed and he frowns, crawling out of bed and pulling on her boxers. He wanders around the house looking for you, hoping that you haven't run away and when he can’t find you, her heart sinks. Was he that awful that you would still run away from him even after what you had shared? And worse, what if he had gone too far this time?

He makes her way back to her room and grabs her phone, calling her secretary.

“Yo.” Answered Hoseok.

“Really that’s how you answer the phone? You do know that I am your boss right?”

“Debatable today.”

Yoongi rolls her eyes, “Anyways, I need you to find someone…”

“Well you know Imma need a little more…”

“Y/N. You remember her right?”

“You mean the girl you tortured in school because you didn’t have the balls to tell her how you lurrrrrrrved her.”

“I see you wish to die today.”

“No, not today. So you wish for me to find your wayward love?”

“Yeah.”

“Mandi’s shop.” Hoseok cheerfully replied, as if this should be common knowledge.

“Oh yeah, great idea bring me some coffee please?”

“No, you idiot, Y/N works there. She is actually her partner” Hosoek irritatingly says matter of factly.

“The hell?! Why do you know this but I don’t?”

“Dude, seriously? You do know they were friends growing up and just because you made her run away by being a complete ass doesn’t mean they stopped being friends.”

“My best friend and my sister have been lying to me.”

“It’s not lying when you never asked. But Yoongi…you should let her go. It’s been a long time and I know you had feelings but with how you treated her–“

"She was here.” Yoongi grunted, running a hand over her face as he stood in her closet trying to think of what to wear. What says “I come in peace”? Maybe he could get Hoseok to dress up as Spock and talk to Y/N before he does.

“What? And you’re alive?”

“Yeah. We…um…she was gone this morning,” Yoongi sits down on her bed, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh…” and as realization hits, Hoseok intones sagely,” ...oh my god you’re fucking moron.”

“You know I can fire you.”

“Please bitch, I know all your deepest darkest secrets you ain’t gonna fire me.”

“Just…shit…what should I do?” Yoongi asks, finally letting go of her big bad boss act.

“Dude, I don’t know. You slept with her…maybe you should just…”

“I um…fucked up more than that…” He thinks about how you had felt, how he had felt...how absolutely perfect it had been for just one night, A flicker of fear strums through her heart at the thought that this was not salvageable at all.

“No. no way. Our friendship is over.” Hoseok cracks from the other side of the phone.

“Just help me okay?”

There was a long pause before he heard a heavy sigh, “Fine, but no games. She has a good thing going on and you-”

“I swear it's different this time!” Yoongi pleads.

“Whatever. I should warn you though.”

“Warn me about what?”

“Her brothers.”

“Namjoon and Jungkook? We were old friends, what about them?”

“You were old friends until they found out how you treated her. And bonus points-they are both cops now. Partners even, so you should probably pray for your soul.”

With a groan, Yoongi finally gets up and begins to get dressed putting Hoseok on speakerphone. “I’m so dead.”

“Yep,” affirms Hoseok, “So does that mean I can have your stuff?”

Rolling her eyes and thinking he really needs a new assistant, Yoongi growls out“See you at the office.” only to hear Hoseok laughing before he hangs up the phone.

Yoongi finishes getting dressed, and running a hand over her face as he contemplates this new information. You’d been right under her nose the entire time and everyone had kept it a secret. He guessed he deserved it though, he was a complete and utter ass to you. He also guesses it’s time to make it up to you and hopefully, you would forgive him and let him into your heart, where he belonged. After all, you’d always been in his.

2 months later

Yoongi stands outside her (former) sister’s shop watching as you serve your customers, and realizes sadly that it was the first time in a long time that he’d really ever seen you smile. He wanted that smile for himself and himself alone, but he wasn’t sure how to get it. When he had remodeled your former apartment, expanding it through the two vacant units on either side of you, you just got mad at him for evicting you, when he was just redoing the apartment and you claimed it was far too large for you by yourself now. But that was the point wasn't it? He was hoping that somehow you would just...come back to him on your own and he wouldn’t really have to put any work in. Yoongi realizes then that he is an absolute dumbass.

After all, nothing he’d done so far had managed to make you smile at him or hell just give him the time of day and he was beyond frustrated. Couldn’t you see how hard he was trying for you?

Mandi pokes her head out of the shop interrupting his train of thought,

“What the hell are you doing here?” she snaps at him.

“Wow, do you greet all your customers like this?”

“Yoongi. Listen. Whatever it this is about now isn’t–”

Realization hits for the second time that morning, “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Mandi pauses, looking him up and down, “There’s nothing to tell if you already know.”

He could almost feel the metaphorical walls slamming down around him as Mandi went on guard. “Mandi!”

“No. Not about ther.”

“I’ve known for almost a month.”

“Then you should go know somewhere else.” Mandi stepped outside, becoming a most effective blockade. If someone was to ever wage war against his sister, his money, hell, his entire fortune would be on Mandi.

“Listen, you’re my brother and I love you and I know you know what you did wrong, and really it's sweet you want to make amends but …Yoongi, sometimes things…”

“I slept with her.”

“Do you want a trophy?” Mandi snapped, her fists clenched, before she shook her head, “you have five seconds or I’m opening ther door and I’m calling her brothers out here.”

“We didn’t use protection.”

“Well then I guess today you die you little fucking weasel.”

“I love her.”

That’s when he remembered his sister’s left hook and then the lights went out.

Mandi stomps into the store grabbing you by the arm and dragging you upstairs ignoring your protests, shoving you into the bedroom and giving you a look reserved for her son’s Taehyung and Jimin when they are acting up. “Stay.”

Mandi goes back downstairs and motions Namjoon and Kookie over, “Listen, I know you hate Min Yoongi with like the passion of 7 fiery suns but I need you to hold that rage in and help me get his ass inside.”

Namjoon was already up and out the door at the sound of Min Yoongi’s name, and seconds later was dragging a barely conscious Yoongi in by the collar. While Kookie held open the door, Namjoon made sure Yoongi purposely whacked his head on the door frame and when Mandi winced he gave her a look that clearly said “sorry not sorry” before dropping Yoongi on the shop floor like the sorry sack of shit he thought he was.

“I’m sorry folks,” Mandi announces, “due to my crazy family, the shop will be closing early.”

The patrons all scrambled out of the shop while Jungkook handcuffed Yoongi to a chair and dumped a cup of ice water on him.

Yoongi jerked back, fully awake now and met by 3 pairs of eyes. 3 very angry pairs of eyes. He shook his head and tried to move but found himself handcuffed to the chair and he gives Mandi a look that says “Really?”

“Kook uncuff him. Seriously. And you and Joon leave.”

“No.”

“Did I stutter?”

“Okay, but we get dibs if you decide to kill him.” Jungkook, grumbles as he undoes the handcuffs.

“I’m not going to kill him. Today.”

“Fine.”

Jungkook finishes unlocking the cuffs and Yoongi immediately rubs at his wrists and watches warily as Jungkook and Namjoon leaves the shop, rolling his eyes when Jungkook gives him the international sign for “I’m watching you” while Joon drew his thumb across his neck. They were dramatic as fuck, but then again he might just be dramatically fucked.

Mandi pulls up a chair and sits across from Yoongi and stares at him for several long moments until Yoongi breaks the silence, “Just say it.”

“Why?”

“It just happened like that.”

“Bullshit.”

Yoongi sighed, “I’ve grown up since then. I no longer want to pull her hair.”

“Clearly. And you didn’t just pull her hair, you did a lot worse.”

“Shouldn’t you be on my side?”

“I am fucking Switzerland.”

Yoongi couldn’t help the anger that swelled up and choked him, “Clearly not. You knew where she was all these years and you never said anything. This is why you never let me come to the shop then? You knew I was looking for her, that I wanted-”

“Of course,” interrupted Mandi.

“Why?”

“Because you are an idiot who doesn’t know how to communicate. Look at what happened--when you did find her, your first action was to take her home. Who fucking does that shit?”

“You’re right, I was. I was cruel and spiteful. Keyword: was.”

“Bullshit. Taking away her home wasn’t because you were being spiteful. You wanted what she had. That’s called envy. She left because she wanted to live, and the only way she could was to leave. You made it like this. I almost lost my friend. So of course I kept it a secret.” Mandi sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. “Look I know. I know what y

our mom and dad did. How they treated us. We were mere points on a checklist of creating a picture perfect family. But you had no right-”

“I was stupid. You think I don’t know? That I don’t regret it? I love her. I always have.”

“Actions-”

“Speak louder than words I know. I’m trying to fix that now!”

Mandi closes her eyes, debating her next few words "Can I trust you? That’s the-“ ”

“Yes. I swear I'll spend my life…”

“Doing what?” You interrupt, “Sorry, since you seem to be discussing me I couldn’t stay put,” you say to Mandi. “Yoongi I don’t want your money and if you are worried because we didn’t…,” you swallow before continuing with a brave face, “....I’ll be fine. but you really have to stop sending me presents. I don’t want them. Can’t you just stay…”

“Y/N I’m sorry. I was an ass.”

“Still an ass.” Mandi interrupts, “Look, you two clearly need to talk this out so I’m out. Come on Seokjin, let’s go see a movie.”

With that Seokjin and Mandi beat a hasty retreat leaving the two of you alone.

“Your jaw is swelling.” You say after noticing the blossoming bruise that marred his handsome face. Handsome? What the hell were you even thinking?

“Mandi hit me.”

“Why?”

“I told her what happened. She’s very protective of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…that night…I shouldn’t have that.”

“I let you. It wasn’t just you alone.”

“Please, just listen. I’m sorry. For everything. And I’m sorry for not saying that when we met again. It's just…”

“It's just..what?” You questioned, meeting his eyes.

“I don’t know. When I look at you I want you. You are so good and pure and you deserve the world. I wanted you to myself but I was scared…”

“Scared of?”

“You.”

“Me?” You scoff at the idea of anyone being afraid of you.

“Yeah,” Yoongi stood and walked over to you. “You had everything even though you had nothing. Brothers who worshiped you, a mother who did everything for you…what if I ruined that? What if my mother-”

“How would you ruin that?” You ask, finding patience from who knows where.

“I was messed up…and the older I got the worse…things got worse. You saw, you can’t pretend you didn’t. I took out my suffering on you because nothing good could possibly exist and you were just hiding your real nature. But you never retaliated. You kept reaching out to me over and over again. ”

“But I did retaliate.”

“By locking me out of my house after I took yours? Not really. I mean…I deserve far worse,” chucked Yoongi. He wanted so badly to touch you, to pull you into his arms and just...feel you.

You stare at Yoongi. This broken version of Yoongi with tears in his eyes. Could you trust him? You wanted to give him a chance.

“Let’s….go on a date.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, “What?”

“You like me right?”

“Well–I mean–I did when I was—I do”

“Take me on a date, final offer going in one–two..”

“Fine! I’ll take you on a damn date,” Yoongi smiles.

“No fancy shit tho. $100 limit.”

“I’ll take you on the best damn date of your life!”

“Good.”

Yoongi didn’t know why he was being snippy now, but as he left the shop he couldn’t help but do a little cheer when he got into his car. Hoseok rolled his eyes and politely ignored him.

Yoongi stood at the door of your apartment, and for the first time in his life he hesitated, hand poised to ring the doorbell, and then you swung open the door and suddenly the world stopped. You looked amazing. Your hair was curled, makeup accenting your eyes perfectly, wearing black skinny slacks, a hound’s-tooth patterned sweater over a white button down and pink heels. He took in the perfection that was you and thought, “She was made for me.”

And the fear was gone as he smiled at you and he took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah let me grab my purse,” you say as you try to let go of his hand to grab the bag on the chair beside your front door but he wouldn’t let go. You couldn’t help the blush that blossomed over your cheeks as he stepped inside and grabbed the bag for you and waited for you to lock up so you both could leave.

He pulled you along, never letting go, until he reached his car and opened the door. It was only enough time for him to run around and get the car moving before he was locking fingers with you again.

“What’s up with you?” You smirk.

“Just…making up for lost time.”

“What?”

“I just…I should have been doing this for years now.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “So…are you always this cheesy?”

Yoongi’s eyes went wide, “I mean…I’m not…no…,” Yoongi stuttered and then stopped, “I guess I am cheesy it's just…I can tell you I’m sorry but…”

“Actions speak louder than words?”

“I see you have met my sister,” he joked softly, “And we’re here.”

“A movie? Really?”

“I always had wished to take you…”

Yoongi’s eyes stared into yours, “Yoongi…” you say timidly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not her anymore you know? I grew up…you grew up…let’s leave it behind us and start fresh yeah?”

“What do you mean?”

You stick your hand out, “Hi, my name is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Yoongi stared at you you’d suddenly sprouted a third eye on your nose before awkwardly taking your hand and shaking it, “Min Yoongi…the pleasure is all mine.”

You can’t help but laugh at his stunned expression, not knowing he was just in shock from receiving your smile. To him, your smile in that moment could have powered a thousand suns.

Yoongi was quiet but still took your hand and you entered the theater with a smile on your face, happy that things were getting better, that you could almost believe you had your first love back.

2 hours later.

“Yoongi, why are you pouting?” You ask as you take his hand.

“Look no matter how I look at it, it's just not fair.”

“What’s not?”

“Mandi. Seokjin. They have spent years with you…years that should have been with me.”

“I thought we were moving forward.”

“But.”

You sighed. “Look. You want to know the truth?”

Yoongi stopped and stared at you, “yes.”

“Okay then.” You face him, “You crushed me in every way possible. You were my world. I followed you everywhere. I trusted you, and you were always there and then you weren’t. The night we got stuck in the cave I gave you my faith—but it also is and was the moment I gave my whole heart to you, willingly, without any doubt. And the next day when we were found…you stomped on it. And you continued to stomp on it. I cried so many tears everyday because I hoped that one day my hero would come back. But he never did. He became a villain.” You couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, “And even through all that I still…” you sighed. “I can't do this Yoongi. I can't. I’m sorry, I was wrong to try.” You turned on your heel and ran away, ignoring him yelling after you, you just ran until you couldn’t hear him anymore.

And then you found the alcohol.

You sat at the outside bar drinking as you thought about the past two months. All the things you had done with Yoongi , and how disgusted you were with yourself for letting your old feelings come back so easily. You knew it wasn’t the right choice, but it was the one you wanted. You had decided to drown yourself in alcohol, and you were on your third bottle when the object of your conflicting emotions, sat down across from you.

“Y/N.”

“Mmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Drinking!” Your giggle turns to a frown when you hear the heavy sigh come across from you, “Are you judging me? It’s not nice to judge you know! “

“Why are you drinking Y/N?”

“Because,” you leaned forward, whispering conspiratively, “I’ve been bad.”

“Bad? How so?”

You sigh dreamily, a wistful smile playing upon your lips, “There’s this guy…”

“There always is.”

“Shhh! This is my story!” You shout.

“Sorry.”

“Where was I?”

“Something about a guy…”

“SHHHHHH! So rude interrupting me! Anyways…I’m supposed to hate him but…” you thump your chest hard as tears prick your eyes, “But…”

“But what?”

“I can't…I remember him before…and the him that I remember…he’s still there…and all the warning alarms are going off and I’m so scared to love him but I…I think…”

“You think?”

You lay your head on the table, mumbling, “Think it’s too late…think I love him. Think it has always been too late for me. Even after all the bullshit…you see…he’s still here” You thump your chest hard and sigh as you feel the tears slide down your cheek to land on the table, “ I love him and I don’t want to…I didn’t mean too…”

“Mean to what?”

“To love him, but…”

“You do.”

“Yeah” you whisper softly.

“Yoongi…” you can feel the man smile, you don’t know how you know but you do, “why do I have to love you?”

“You love me?” He asks, the hope wrapped in fear in his voice twisting your heart even more than all the past crap that had happened. You wanted to let it go. You wanted to love him. You can only nod your head as your eyes slide close, and you struggle against the darkness when you hear him whisper, “I love you too Y/N…I’m just scared…I’m not good enough…I was such an ass…and I know you said to let it go…but God Y/N…I should have treated you like a princess…because the truth is…”

Those words cause you to sit up, eyes squinting hard as you try to make out his face, “Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

You lean forward and his face comes into focus, a smile spreads on your face and you lean forward to press your lips to his, softly at first, and then he responds, a hand sliding up your arm to cup your neck as you express to him what you can’t say in words. This was so much better than petty arguments and revenge pranks.

You pull away, breathing heavy as you rest your forehead against his, “Yoongi,” you whimper, keeping your eyes firmly on the buttons of his shirt, scared to look up, scared to see the fear in his eyes. Does he not know? “Can I…can I be yours?“ You ask in a voice so quiet it is almost lost in the noise of the world that surrounds you.

"Can you forgive me?” The pain in his voice was sharp. “I forgive you.” You whisper into his mouth as you make promises with your lips.

He pulls away for a moment, and you lock eyes finally. “Then believe me when I say, I was always yours, and you were always mine.”

“I was?”

The amount of disbelief in your voice causes Yoongi to tear up as he pulls you into his arms, “Kitten?”

“Yeah,” you say as you rest your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

This time it was his turn to ask, “Am I yours?”

“You always were Yoongi. I was just waiting for you to remember where home was.”

Yoongi places the softest of kisses on each of your eyelids, and then he kisses away your tears and finally his mouth was on yours, and the kiss was full of yearning. “Y/N.”

“Yes?” You ask, sad he had pulled away.

“Don’t leave me again…I love you too.”

“Okay.”

#bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi scenarios #bts enemies to lovers #bts smut

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letsfluxshitup · 4 years ago

Text

the winter festival (ao3)

tw: violence, angst, suicidal ideation (very different from my other fics woops)

It was a festival and it was an execution because what's a festival without a little politically charged murder.

If history was going to repeat itself Quackity may as well help it along.

Ranboo stood hunched in front of him, wrists tied behind his back, expression resilient and strong. So calm for a kid facing his imminent demise. Ranboo leaned down of his own accord, forcing eye contact at an equal level.

Equals.

They weren't equals. Ranboo was a traitor and Quackity had an axe and they were not the same.

He shoved Ranboo down, landing him on his back, axe held high over his head. He straightened his back as he stared down at Ranboo.

"I know what you were doing. I know you're working with Technoblade." Quackity hissed between gritted teeth. Ranboo's expression cracked, fear leaking through at the raised axe.

Quackity focused on his chest, on his heart, instead of looking into mismatched eyes.

Ranboo would respawn. Quackity would not.

"Listen, Quackity-" Ranboo started, stuttering slightly.

"Quackity, don't do this." Tubbo interrupted, hand outstretched towards Quackity's raised arms. "You're not Schlatt, don't act like him."

Quackity jerked slightly, static filling his ears. He wasn't like fucking Schlatt.

He snorted.

"You're right." He tilted his head slightly, looking to Tubbo, shoulders relaxing slightly.

He snapped his attention back to Ranboo, making eye contact as he spoke again.

"Schlatt pawned off the dirty work to others. So, you're right. I'm not like him." He brought the axe down hard, and axe met wood.

He'd missed.

He blinked, looking up, having reflexively closed his eyes.

Philza.

Of fucking course.

"Philza, get out of the way." He dug his heel into the ground, stumbling slightly as he pulled the axe out. He hadn't thought he'd swung that hard.

Philza stood still, clipped wings flared out in front of Ranboo, the enderman hybrid sprawled on the ground from where Philza had knocked him to the side.

Philza looked... Different.

The normal Philza was relatively laid back, posture lax and expression calm.

Now, though, wings raised high in defense and face closed off and cold...

It was easy to see why people feared the Angel of Death and the Antarctic Empire's co-leader.

He had a sword gripped tightly in hand, and was looking Quackity over. Sizing him up, analytical in every movement.

Without thinking Quackity rushed forward, swinging wildly. His axe was easily caught and deflected away, sending him stumbling to the left.

Apparently, good balance was important and throwing your body weight forward wasn't the best strategy. Philza sent him careening to the ground like he was nothing.

He flipped around quickly, wings flaring slightly as he scrambled back, dragging the axe with him. Philza stood over him, looking vaguely amused.

Quackity quickly got to his feet, face flushed from being knocked over, brushed aside, so easily.

He had a clear shot towards Ranboo, and he lunged, again, because he doesn't fucking learn, huh?

Quackity wasn't entirely sure what happened, vision swimming from the abrupt movement, as he landed on his ass again. Philza stood between him and Ranboo, frowning down at him.

"Your quarrel is with me and Technoblade, Quackity, not Ranboo." He said, voice sharp and just on the edge of irritated. "Ranboo's just a kid, he has nothing to do with this."

Quackity blinked up at him, heartbeat loud in his ears. Normally, talking came easy, one of the few things he was good at. But now the words stuck behind his teeth, acidic on his tongue.

He was still crouched on the ground, Philza standing in his way. Philza had been a problem before, refusing to say where Technoblade lived, and openly opposing them.

Philza was a threat.

Philza's brow furrowed at the blank look on Quackity's face, stance relaxing slightly.

"I didn't hit you that hard, did I? Are you-" He didn't get to finish his sentence, blunt side of the axe catching him across the jaw in a, frankly, really fucking lucky shot.

Philza hit the ground hard.

He ignored the shouts from Ranboo, Tubbo, the faceless mass of people in front of the stage, and raised the axe again.

Threats needed to be taken care of.

Before he could swing, something sharp and curved caught him across the neck from behind. It ripped him backwards, throwing him to the ground like he was nothing.

He gasped roughly, wind knocked out of him and throat aching from the pressure. He blinked rapidly, vision clearing to-

Technoblade.

Huh. He looked weirdly calm. Their last fight had been a flurry of thrown words and snarls, but Techno looked... Indifferent, now.

Quackity decided he hated that look.

He started to sit up, desperate to get to his feet again, but a sharp kick to his chest stopped him.

He wheezed again as he lost his breath, head connecting harshly with the ground. He felt the taste of copper fill his mouth from where he'd bit his tongue.

There was a jeer from the crowd, faces blurring together, and he was reminded of another time with blood on his tongue and tears in his eyes.

He wanted to fight, and scream and curse and do something. He pulled in another desperate breath, stifled by the boot crushing his chest. He'd felt a definitive crunch from the stomp, and it was getting harder to breathe.

He should fight.

Or.

Or, he could give up here. Let go. Technoblade wasn't all bad, Quackity knew. He was a threat to the government but he wasn't a threat to the people.

Well.

You know what he meant.

He wondered then, if he'd disappear like Schlatt or be cursed to wander forever like Ghostbur.

And it would be a curse, wouldn't it? The universe's last kick while he was down.

He knew what he preferred.

He knew what he deserved.

His blinks were lasting longer, eyes blurring. He could make out enough to see that Techno wasn't looking at him anymore, deep voice arguing with another voice.

Techno's heel was steadily digging more and more into his chest, pressure becoming unbearable.

It was too hard to focus, a ringing in his ears steadily climbing in volume.

Suddenly, the weight on his chest disappeared, Techno moving to squat next to him.

"Quackity? Quackity, can you hear me?"

Quackity blinked, confused, because Techno's mouth wasn't moving, face still blank.

He hated his indifference. He remembered before when he'd snort at his stupid jokes, mock his messy wings and help him fix them.

How did they end up like this?

The voice chimed in again, Sam's cool hand coming to cup his cheek, carefully turning his head to face him.

The creeper hybrid looked so concerned, as he lifted a healing potion to his lips.

It would be so easy. To close his mouth, turn away.

Die, here, with everyone watching.

A bitter mockery of Schlatt's last moments, his enemies standing over him, his last friend at his side, and the release of death ahead of him.

He understood, now, why Wilbur had begged Philza to kill him, instead of facing the consequences.

But he wasn't Wilbur.

He wasn't Schlatt.

He opened his mouth, and he drank.

#quackity #technoblade #philza #ph1lza #ranboo #mind the warnings uwu;;;#flux writes #hurghj idk why the ao3 link is being weird #ok to reblog ;]

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redwineconversation · 3 years ago

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Catarina Macario OLPlay Interview

Summary of Catarina Macario's interview on OLPLay, which was done in early January. PSG loss and ASSE draw hadn't happened yet.

As a reminder, her close circle within the team are Carpenter and Damaris (and Bruun before she left), so a lot of the time she is implicitly referring to these players. I'll try and point it out as much as I can but it's just something to keep in mind.

Likes the city of Lyon, the club as an entity, the teammates.

Since a lot of the players also speak English, it helped with the integration into the team. Having English speakers around makes her more comfortable in expressing herself (Note: she is probably referring to Carpenter and/or Buchanan).

Lessons learned from first year in France / playing professional football: she has become more mature as a person and as a footballer in how she takes care of herself whether it's with regard to recovery, nutrition, etc. On the field: learned so much because of the club's standard of excellence and being surrounded by international players during training. It makes you step your game because you have to be on their level.

Defeats / blank season: was a new experience for the team, they're not used to losing / don't handle it well.

Improvements: first touch has improved because Bompastor is very demanding on the little details.

Hardest thing to adapt to: the cold weather

Key difference between football in US and football in Europe: Europe has more possession based football; US is more transition based.

First game she played for OL: it was against Montpellier; it was a rough first game. You have to raise your game on every level: mentally, physically, technically. Felt like she was being thrown in the deep end of the pool and players were like "you did have swimming lessons, right?"

Had to learn to adapt to the speed of play: there's a lot of things going on at the same time, a lot of movement off the ball.

Team chemistry: they know each other better now, so it's easier to anticipate what the next pass is going to be or where you should position yourself. Lyon has great team chemistry on and off the field

First of 2021-2022 season: really good first half of season, got back Lyon's DNA / winning mentality. Lyon is showing what they are capable of doing.

Hegerberg: completely different person on/off field. On field: "a monster". Off the field: really nice person (is Macario's roommate for away games).

"Ada is inevitable"

Team injuries: hard, players who got injured made a difference.

During injury crisis: had to play in Majri's position, there are a lot more responsibilities in that position because you have to do more in terms of attacking and defending. You're in the heart of the game.

Lyon almost needed the blank season because they were so burnt out and needed to feel alive again. Lyon plays better when angry.

In order to get titles back: you need everyone on the same wave length and fighting for the same cause

[Preseason gets mentioned. Since there is no international tournament Macario gets to experience the bike ride up the mountain for the first time this summer. PreSeason!OL is going to be so much fun! Can't wait for Macario looking like she wants to die.]

Asked if she will stay in Europe long-term or go back to the US: said that she really likes Lyon and likes Europe, but we'll see what the future holds. Said she would like to stay in Europe a bit longer.

Goals: win the league and win the Champions League

#all good love stories start in the rain #catarina macario

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yoditorian · 4 years ago

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lacuna- part 3

din/reader

she’s dropping early because i have no patience and i’m extremely proud of the last 2/3rds of this. thanks as always to my darling @brothersdrxke for being encouraging and yelling with me 💛

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.5k

warnings: swears, overuse of italics, discussion of violence including graphic injury, mentions of scars (causes not discussed), one use of ‘their’ as a pronoun for reader, usual poetic smut, 18+ no babies thanks

You didn’t think you’d be back here.

Maybe ever, but definitely not after only a couple of years, and your smile is tight as you flick the lever to lower the small freighter’s boarding ramp. You’re sure it won’t come back if you drop it.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Qin’s teeth are sharp in his own smile.

“You’re not.”

His snarled response is cut off by Ran’s booming laugh before it starts. Your old boss claps him on the shoulder, saying something in lieu of a real greeting about how he’s missed your jokes. It’s a little tense, the way the men take you in for a moment. You didn’t wear your uniform, there’s not a thing on the ship that points any fingers towards the Rebellion, but it’s clear you’ve done well for yourself since leaving. Something they clearly have not, judging by the holes in the jacket tied around Qin’s hips.

“Thanks for letting me stay, system hopping takes a lot longer when your hyperdrive’s busted.” You relax a little, let your shoulders drop, let them think you’re more than comfortable under their scrutinizing gazes.

“We’ve probably got something laying around here you could use. For a price, of course.” Ran grins, in that predatory way that he always has. He seems so unassuming, but you know different. You know better.

“Your prices always land me on the wrong end of a blaster. I’ll take my chances in open space, thanks.”

He laughs heartily again, and you can breathe. At least they seem to believe you.

Ran had offered you your old room, something you’d graciously thanked him for, and left you to it. The station seems to run the same, more or less. He hasn’t hired anyone in your place, or in Din’s for that matter, but it’s difficult to find somebody without loyalties to any one side of the war. Leaving the spots open for now is probably safer for him. You’d raised a hand in greeting to Xi’an when you passed her in the hall, she’d hissed in return but any time she didn’t threaten to cut you is always a win. So at least you’re still in somebody’s good graces here.

Still, good graces don’t last long. And neither does your patience. It’s only a few hours into the night cycle on the station when you creep out of your room and towards the main hangar. Your old workspace looks exactly the same, a few bits and pieces missing, but mostly untouched by time and sticky fingers. Good. It takes less than an hour to completely gut the bench. Every single old motivator, circuit board, gear, and valve packed up neatly in the cargo hold of the ship. There’s still larger engine pieces that the base mechanics are in desperate need of, but Shara’s working on that lead. You find a black marker lying on a nearby workbench and draw a big smiley face on the dulled metal. For good measure.

It’s with a deep breath, and a prayer you never have to return, that you maneuver your ship up and out of the station. You ease it into lightspeed, the definitely-not-busted hyperdrive humming, and disappear.

“Did you think I don’t keep tabs on people, Mando?”

Din would rather go swimming on Mustafar, or get swallowed by a Krayt dragon, or be literally anywhere else in the galaxy than the hangar on Ran’s station. How he’d even known he’d joined the Bounty Hunters’ Guild is a mystery to him, but the call came through nonetheless. The new representative on Nevarro, a very theatrical man if their short contact was anything to go by, had popped up in the holo-com display talking about a special assignment and given him coordinates he knew all too well. Whatever it is, it isn’t good.

“You know, Xi’an’s still broken up about you leaving. Convinced herself that you and the pilot organised it, that you’re holed up somewhere together. But we both know that’s not true.”

Din says nothing. He doesn’t need to, Ran’s tone leaves nothing to be discussed. Whether he knows for sure that you went straight to the rebels or not, he has his suspicions. Xi’an can think whatever she likes, he’s just grateful he doesn’t have to deal with her trailing after him like a lost puppy anymore.

“They said you have a job for me.”

Ran gestures out for him to follow, leading him to a desk he knows all too well. Your workstation was always cluttered, always a tangled heap of wires and unidentifiable spare parts. Organised chaos, you said, it was about the piles. Except it’s been completely cleared out. There’s shelves underneath that he didn’t even know existed, and a big smiley face drawn carefully on the worktop. Din turns his head towards Ran, a wordless question.

“We had a visit from our old friend, a favour done out of the kindness of my heart. So imagine my surprise when we all woke up to find their room empty, and my hangar pillaged.” Ran’s laying it on thick, thicker than usual. Pillaged is a strong word, it’s clear you only touched your own bench, those parts belong to you as far as Din’s concerned. But it’s not his concern that’s the problem.

“So, what’s the job?” He doesn’t feel like playing games anymore. He doesn’t see what any of this has to do with him anyway.

“I’m putting a bounty on that little thief, it can be yours or it can go to the Guild. Or,” Ran hesitates, watching the way Din’s shoulders tense, “You can help me out. Help me with this one thing and I’ll drop it.”

Din doesn’t even ask what he needs to do, he only nods and finds himself trying his best to tolerate Qin’s chatter from the Crest’s passenger seat while he flies.

It should worry him, that he didn’t even consider his own safety. But something about it feels right, he’s sure he’d put anything on the line if it meant you were safe.

It’s almost boring, standing guard at the door as Qin ransacks some official’s office on a planet he’s already forgotten the name of. Ran mentioned something about a trade agreement, although given the largely illegal nature of his dealings it doesn’t take a genius to work out exactly why something like that would have been refused by any law abiding citizen. Although law in the Outer Rim is generally subjective to everyone’s personal code.

“One more office and we’re done.” Qin assures him as he exits the upturned office, pressing a drive into Din’s gloved palm. He pockets it without question, experience has taught him that wasting time asking will only get them in trouble.

Trouble seems to find them anyway. It always does.

He races through the beige hallways, following the blinking dot on the display of his vambrace with Qin hot on his heels. The security guards aren’t fast, they aren’t even armed, there’s no point in shooting when the two of them so clearly have the upper hand. Until a burly Trandoshan leaps out of a doorway and tackles Qin to the ground. But Din doesn’t look back, he just presses forward to the Crest.

Din hightails it out of there, jumping to lightspeed still in atmosphere. Just in case. And breathes his first sigh of relief since he stepped onto the station. He’s not sure what’s on the drive, honestly he doesn’t want to know, and he just hopes it’s important enough to Ran that he might overlook the tiny detail of leaving Qin to the guards.

Ran only seems mildly annoyed that Din comes back alone, more interested in the drive dropped into his waiting hand, and agrees to forget about setting a bounty. So long as you don’t turn up on his doorstep, lie, and steal from him again. Din promises to pass on the message.

You’re on Tatooine, arguing with a scrapper in Mos Espa over the price of a rusted laser cannon, when he finds you. The scrapper quiets when he appears over your shoulder, and nods reluctantly at your suggested fifty percent of the asking price. It’s hot and you’re tired, you don’t have the patience to pretend to be surprised when you turn to see him standing behind you.

“Help me with this?” You ask. Din watches a bead of sweat drip down your temple, tries not to wish it was his tongue instead, and nods wordlessly.

Between the two of you, you manage to haul the cannon to your docking bay and roll it up the loading ramp. Only once it’s secure in the hold do you take a moment to survey his armour, the way you did last time.

There’s no obvious new scratches, although the dust on this rock of a planet will dirty anything in a matter of seconds, but you find yourself relieved by the familiarity of his dark red armour. Nothing has been replaced since the last time you saw him, it seems. You’ve come a long way since then.

“You’re stealing from our old boss now?” Din’s voice breaks your careful study of his armour, and your brow furrows. You thought he might understand, out of everyone in the galaxy, but you don’t even know how he found out.

“We’re in a war.”

“You’re in a war.”

Your eyes snap up to his visor, and he has to physically plant himself so he isn’t rocked back by the intensity of your stare. You find his eyes every time, you always have. But yours have never held such a cold fury for him than they do now. It’s kind of terrifying, it’s kind of beautiful.

“This is not about me. This is so much bigger than just me. You may have grown up underground learning how to kill people with your thumbs but I grew up under imperial rule. I grew up building parts for star destroyers and running messages for rebels. All I know is this fucking war.” You’re rambling but you don’t care. He has to know, he has to understand that this is what you do now. The last couple of years have been the best of your life, you’ve found a purpose. Something that makes you want to get out of bed in the mornings and reluctant to go back to it at night, you’ve thrown yourself into the brewing fight and it feels like you were born for it. The names of all the friends you’ve lost to the Empire sit heavy on your tongue for every TIE you take down, every supply you steal, every bit of intel you scrape together. It’s for them, it’s for everyone who came before, it’s for everyone who will come after.

Din says your name softly, but the tears are falling and you can’t stop.

“I’ve been fighting my whole life so kids in the future don’t have to live the way I have. I think a few spare parts are worth that.”

You tell him your whole story, standing there awkwardly in the belly of the freighter. You tell him about the messages you ran between workers who resisted, who rebelled, who heard whispers of uprising and felt the roar of hope in their chests. You’d started young, too young really to understand the danger of what you were doing. But what about being young on Corellia was not dangerous? You tell him how the group started to grow, branching out from your factory line to the docks and the mechanics and further. The way they started to include you more as you got older, planning and whispering in darkened corners and safehouses away from the ears of the Empire.

Not that it did anyone any good in the end. You tell him how they stormed the house one night. No warning, no whispers. Blew the door out of the wall and started shooting. So you’d started running. Nothing but the blanket from your bed, the one you’d had since you were a child, around your shoulders and a younger girl’s hand in yours. You’d almost gotten her to the loading docks. To safety. Almost. You can still taste the blood in your mouth when the blaster bolt split her head open, but you’d left her where she fell and kept running. You tell him how you dove into the first open cargo bay you saw and hid. For days. How you’d cried when you felt it finally lift from the bay. How it had been Ran’s ship, one of his first trades. You hadn’t had the courage to leave the station until somebody had shown you it was possible.

Din doesn’t interrupt once. He only watches. Watches as the tears stop streaming, as you pull yourself back together again. He’s sure you didn’t want him, anyone, to see you so vulnerable. You’ve always had that mask of quick jokes and bright smiles, it’s only now that he realises it's a mask, and it’s oddly fascinating to watch you piece it together. You wipe at your cheeks with the sleeve of your jacket until there’s no trace of your tears and take a deep breath. In the blink of an eye, it’s as though you never cried at all.

Even so, the bags under your eyes don’t lie. He’s sure he’s got a pair to match.

“When’s the last time you slept?” He asks quietly, and if you didn’t know better you’d swear he was concerned about you. But you do know better.

You shoot a glance over to the freighter’s sorry excuse of a bunk. It’s even worse than the last one he took you in, although you’re not sure he’s suggesting a good fuck will get you off to sleep. It’s very pointedly not been touched, starched sheets still stretched military-tight over the mattress. Not that it’s much of a mattress.

“Let’s find a room somewhere. I think a real bed might do us both some good.” He makes it sound like an offer, but you know it’s non-negotiable. And deep down, you really could use a good hour or two before you have to fly back to base. The pilot’s seat is definitely more comfortable than the bunk, just about. You dip into the cockpit at the last second to snag your old blanket. For comfort’s sake.

There’s not a lot in the room that an older Twi’lek woman hands you the keycard to. Only a desk with a chair, an attached refresher, and a small bed. But it’s big enough for the two of you. The suns start to dip below the horizon, and Din finally reaches out to touch you. Just barely, just a light stroke of his fingers along your shoulder. But it’s enough to convince you to take a shower, you’re sandy and sweaty and tired and it’ll take more energy to argue than it would to just take the shower.

You’re in there for longer than you intended, zoning out as your eyes lose focus of the little square tiles on the wall, and it’s dark outside by the time you’re dried and dressed in the spare clothes you keep in your go-bag. Din’s pulled blinds shut, locked the door, and piled his armour carefully on the desk. The ancient wood creaks under the weight of the metal. The man himself is lying spreadeagled on the bed, in only his underclothes and his helmet, the dull light from the single bulb in the refresher reflects off of his visor when he turns to look at you. It might make you laugh if you weren’t so tired.

“Better?”

You nod. Of course you feel better, anyone would after scrubbing what felt like an inch thick layer of sweat and sand off of their skin. You smell of the pleasantly neutral soap from the dispenser and, for the first time in days, you think you can breathe again. Although the weight of exhaustion threatens to drag your bones through the floor.

Din pulls himself to stand with a low groan, shoulders protesting when he rolls them, and tucks the sheet back far enough that you can get in comfortably. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s laid your blanket out beneath them, a thought that sits jagged in your throat. He approaches you slowly, carefully, as though he’s afraid you’ll bolt if he moves too fast. But you take his hand the moment he offers it and leans around you to switch the fresher’s light off, let him lead you back to the bed, and follow him down onto it.

There’s the barest sound of metal brushing against his hair as he pulls the helmet off and sits up for a moment to set it down on the floor.

“Din?” Your voice is quiet, careful not to disturb the peace that’s settled in the room, but it makes him shudder all the same. He returns to you, tucks the blankets up around you both, and tugs you into him. The Armourer’s words, the ones that swirl in his head every time he thinks of you like this, are silent. Din finds he’s not even a little bit guilty.

Warm fingers trace your body, soft over your exposed skin, light as they dip under your shirt. He says nothing, only traces the scars on your back, on your sides, along your ribs. He doesn’t ask how they got there, running his touch along the raised marks you’ve collected through your life and leaving goosebumps in his wake. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel quite so empty.

You shift further into the warmth underneath you, a vain attempt to keep a hold of the last few dregs of sleep. But you feel rested, at least. That’s not something particularly familiar, and you bask in the feeling. A hum rumbles beneath you. Oh, that’s where you are. You’re not embarrassed, or shocked, like you thought you might be if this ever happened. If you ever thought it possible he wouldn’t leave you to wake up alone. But Din is solid under your head, under your arm, the soft fabric of his shirt clutched in your fist. He’s speaking softly, coaxing you from dreams. It’s still dark as anything when you finally open your eyes, so it can’t have been more than a few hours you spent snoozing.

It’s his story, you realise when your brain finally kicks into gear. He’s whispering about the memories he has from before, his parents. You’d always assumed he was born and raised Mandalorian, how he carries his Way so heavily on his shoulders, but the shake in his ribs as he recounts them tells you all you need to know. Your fist tightens in his shirt when you shuffle a little closer, press your face into his shoulder, a little more over the top of him. A human blanket.

Din likes it, the weight of you on him, your body helps him to keep focus. He never thought he’d tell anyone what happened to him. A dirty secret to be kept hidden away. But something about you pulls it out of him, something about the peace he’s created here with you in this little room makes the truth ease its way out of his throat. You’re not the only one who felt the wrath of the Empire as a child, you’re not the only one who wants it gone, he needs you to know that.

It breaks something inside you, to hear him so clearly struggle through the details of the attack and his rescue, and you can’t help but push yourself up further. Unwrap your hand from his shirt to find his cheek, press your lips to his softly, slowly. He’s suffered enough. You need him to know that you’re here, you have him. You’ll always have him. You let him lose himself in your body, and maybe your heart. He’s already made a home there anyways.

It’s careful, tentative, more so than the other times. The way you hold each other as though you’re made of glass. There’s no rush, no pressure of a goodbye, no adrenaline of a hunt. You have time. And, god, does it show. The way Din touches you is reverent, like you’re holy. You put everything you are, everything you have, behind every kiss, every touch, every whisper. It belongs to him, you’re happy to give yourself over. Just as he belongs to you, you’re sure of it. The fear that he touches someone else in the way he does you is soothed by the roughness of his voice in your ear, the way his teeth scrape against your throat, the way you hear the words without them needing to be said. Because he does, as you do.

You’re the first one to leave this time, blindly finding your clothes in the dark. You leave him a neutral comm, one you already have the pin saved for. He’ll know what it is. It connects to your personal pin without leaving a trace, and you can buzz him at any point. So long as he keeps it, you think he will. You take a moment to listen to him breathing, steadily in the dark, and raise your blanket to your nose. Din.

There won’t be a day goes by where you don’t think of him, of that you’re certain.

TAGLIST (lmk if u want on or off the list):

@brothersdrxke @remmysbounty @aq-vetina @1800-fight-me @mandos-co @kesskirata @sarahjkl82-blog @firstofficerwiggles @keeper0fthestars

#lacuna #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star war #fic #liz does words #obligatory prayer to the tag gods that they work #smut

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amphxtrite · 4 years ago

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2 • Hideaway.

chapter summary: Cedric finally catches the chance to talk to you, hidden away in the shelves of the library. What starts as an innocent attempt to befriend you ends in your walls crashing down, but Cedric is willing to change and listen.

series summary: alone almost everyday from the moment you were born, thrown to the side by everyone in society because of who your parents were and who you were said to be, a death eater. Your parents were to of the most powerful dark wizards ever known and because of that you were shunned everywhere you went. When the hufflepuff golden boy sees you for the first time and falls, but is he willing to be judged, feared, and hated, and how far will he go, To Be At Her Side.

warnings: swearing, flashback, breakdown, mentions of wanting to be dead.

taglist: @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @hoe4cedricdiggory @queenl04 @persephone-archives @0niko-san @annasdani @joalinbenefits @awritingtree

word count: 2.2k

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

Hideaway.

a place used as a retreat or a hiding place.

The Hogwarts library was a grand room, filled top to bottom with books of all kinds; Fantasy, romance, science fiction, history, anything you could imagine, could be found in the pages of a thick leather bound journal or thin paperback with a cracked spine.

Most students took the library for granted, preferring to spend their time at Hogsmeade or around the lake, but for you, anywhere with too many students was a disaster waiting to happen.

The library was your hide away, a retreat from the prying eyes of the student body. A place you could smile, read and do whatever you pleased without judgement. Madam Pince had practically left this place for you to roam, she was far enough away where you could be at peace from her constant shushing, and because of the lack of students most days, it was usually just you.

The past few months, you’d been slipping into the deep bookshelves to hide yourself, immersing yourself in the text of the wise witches and wizards who had come before you, reading their stories and spells and learning all they knew.

Your safe space became the closed shelves, home smelt like old books and wood, tranquility came in the form of muggle stories and old journals.

While you sat stowed away in a far corner of your hideaway, eyes scanning over the stories of old Greek heroes, Cedric sat in the great hall, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

He had barely seen you since the incident in potions all those months ago, winter had arrived, and he felt strange saying it, but he missed you.

He missed the girl whom he’d never even spoken to.

He missed your eyes filled with strength, holding yourself with pride despite what people believed.

He missed your hair that frames your face so perfectly.

He missed you although he barely knew who you were, and he wanted to see you more than just a quick glance in class before you disappeared through the door.

Cedric wasn’t proud of it, but he began following you after your last class with him, to see where you snuck away to.

The first couple tries resulted in him losing you through the crowd, but he’d managed to catch you slipping into the library on a Saturday morning during breakfast.

His hand hovers over the door knob, mentally debating if he should enter, try his luck at talking to you.

It was Saturday, Hogsmeade weekend. No one was going to be in the library today, he should be alright.

Pushing open the large door, Cedric readjusts his eyes to the dim lighting of the library paired with the bright white light streaming through the windows.

He made sure to be quiet, closing the door and slowly walking through the room, using his lightest steps in hopes not to be noticed.

Pince must’ve been at breakfast because besides the small ruffle of pages being turned in the distance. The library was completely silent.

A small yellow light flickered in the corner of Cedric’s eye, guiding him as you lay unaware, nose stuck in a book.

He follows the sound of paper being turned, and light breathing.

He begins his ascend up a stairway to the second story of the library and through the shelves where he saw the flicker of light.

His heart began to rush as your breathing grew closer. His hands were clenched into fists and his face was flushed. This was it, he was finally going to talk to you.

You sigh in content as you set down the muggle classic ‘To Kill A Mockingbird.’ You lay for a couple moments just staring at the ceiling as you shook your head, maybe you didn’t have it as bad as what others dealt with in the muggle world.

You sit up and pick up the small novel, slipping it back into place on the shelf.

“Harper Lee. I’ll have to read up on her.” You mumble to yourself as you skim the old spines.

Your thoughts are cut short when a shiver runs down your spine and you sense a presence behind you. Swiveling your body, only the sight of rows upon rows of books make themselves present, but you knew better than to believe you were alone.

“Who’s there?” You ask no one in particular.

You’re about to open your mouth again, when a mess of brown hair, pokes out from behind the science fiction shelf.

“H-Hello.” The boy spoke, finally revealing himself from the shelf.

You recognized the boy as the one from your classes. The one you gave the note too.

He doesn’t give up does he?

“If you’re here to make a snide remark, please leave me alone.” You sigh, pulling a random novel from the shelf as you turn and retreat back to your spot.

“I-I would do no such thing.” the boy states, beginning to follow you. “I’m Cedric, Cedric Diggory. We have potions and transfigurations together!”

“I’m aware.” You nod, trying to ignore him.

You almost felt bad for the boy, Cedric. He obviously hadn’t planned this far and his mind was frantically searching for words.

“Look I’m sorry for coming around like this I just-.”

“I don’t need your pity Diggory, now please just leave me be.” You remark, sitting on your blanket laid neatly on the floor.

“No please, y/n right?” Cedric smiles extending his hand.

“I know you know my name Cedric. Everyone at this bloody school does.” You hiss, voice laced with venom, surprising Cedric and causing him to step back.

You don’t mean to be cold, but you were not in the mood to make friends. This was bound to end in disaster, and you didn’t need to add another person to the long list of failed attempts.

“I-I understand, I was just-.”

“Oh that’s rich.” You scoff.

Cedric can see your attempt at being rude, but for some reason, he isn’t hurt by it.

Your eyes are jumping around him, refusing to meet him. Your leg is shaking up and down anxiously. Your hand is massaging the area on your chest your locket should be.

You were nervous.

Cedric takes a deep breath, refocusing himself.

“Look y/n, I just wanted to talk to you, try and become your friend.”

Your eyes flicker down, doubt and fear swim through them as you shuffle away from Cedric, trying to make yourself as small as possible, hoping he’d grow bored and leave.

“W-Where’s that locket you always wear?” He attempts, only causing you to flinch back further and drop your hand from your neck.

“None of your business Diggory.

Cedric wasn’t about to give up, and he took a seat on a chair at a desk not too far from you.

“I-I’m not interested in making friends.” You murmur, cursing yourself for your voice, cursing yourself for being weak.

“There’s no need to be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

Your mind is thrown into a distant memory that haunted you, and your head begins to spin.

The horrid day the aurors surrounded your house.

Your parents clutched you close to them as the wizards holding wands to their throats ripped you from their grasp.

“Take the child for a moment.”

Unfamiliar arms encased you before placing you on the carpet, leaving you as you bawled for your parents. You could only see them being disapparated away as your mother's locket appeared in your hand. Your last piece of her and your father.

The large boots of ministry workers and auror’s stood before you, discussing amongst themselves what to do with you.

“There’s no need to be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you.” One remarks, lifting you up, but holding you an arm lengths away.

“There’s no way people will be safe around her.”

“Her parents have probably already brainwashed her.”

“Can someone shut her up?!”

That was the last thing you heard before the sleeping charm was cast on you.

Your vision goes red, your fists clench and without thinking you pull your wand from your pocket and stomp forwards.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me, but you ruined my life! You’ll never know what I fucking went through because of your ignorance. I was a child you asshole, I was three and you fucking took my parents from me and left me to die at that god forsaken orphanage!” You scream, eyes clouding with tears as you press your wand closer to someone’s neck, but it slips your mind, who.

“They may have been evil, but they were all I ever had! You should’ve just killed me there, it would’ve been better than living this life!” You rage, bringing your wand to meet their neck.

Cedric stands with his hands beside his face in surrender, his breathing heavy as he watches your grip on your wand tighten and your tears stream down your face.

“Y/n, I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. P-Please don’t hurt me.”

Cedric’s eyes squeeze shut and after a couple moments of silence the sound of wood cluttering on the floor signals him to open them again.

Your hands fly to your face as your legs fail you, dropping you to the ground as you back yourself into the nearest wall, tucking yourself into a ball.

“I-I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.” You sob, pulling your hair and using your palms to wipe the tears.

“Y/n!”

“No! Stay away from me! I’ll only make it worse.” You sniffle, trying to escape Cedric’s gaze.

“Please just leave me, I’m a monster Cedric, leave before I do hurt you.” You sob, hiding your face again.

Cedric ignores this and slides to the floor next to you, pulling a handkerchief from his book bag and holding it to you.

“No, y/n it’s not your fault. I made you remember something. Didn’t I?” Cedric sighs, sitting in front of you.

“Does it matter? I could have killed you! I’m just like them.” You shout, turning away from the hufflepuff as he turns with you.

“Y/n, look at me. Please look at me.” Cedric pleas.

“You’re afraid of me, admit it.”

“Y/n, I-”

“Admit it Cedric.” You cry, pushing yourself farther away.

“It's not your fault I made you cry y/n. I’m sorry.” Cedric apologizes, gently pulling your hands away from your tear stained cheeks.

“D-don’t touch me. I could have hurt you Cedric. I can’t forgive myself for that.” You whimper, turning your head to avoid his kind grey eyes.

“I’m fine y/n, look at me. You didn’t hurt me, just scared me is all.” Cedric smiles, attempting to reassure you.

“What have I done?”

Cedric’s smile drops at your comment.

“Y/n.” Cedric lifts his hand to wipe the tears from your face.

“No, please don’t.”

Cedric sighs and drops his hand, opting to take your hand into his instead.

“You could never hurt me y/n, please don’t do this to yourself.”

“Oh it’s too late for that Diggory. I’ve been doing this my whole life.” You smile incredulously.

“I’ll always be the daughter of the l/n’s. I’ll never be able to change that. And you saw what I did. I’m just like them.”

Cedric opens his mouth to deny your claim, but you cut him off.

“You know what's funny too? I still miss them, I still wish they’d come to hold me, but I guess that’s just the childhood loneliness talking.”

“Y/n.”

“How could they bring a child into this world after everything they did and expect it to be okay? How could they leave me here?” You whimper as a fresh wave of sadness hits you.

“I’ve been alone everyday of my life Cedric, treated like an animal, a threat, a monster.”

You take a deep breath and allow the tears to flow freely.

“I feel like I’m just payment of a debt my parents owe, l-like I’m nothing.”

Cedric listens intently, slowly stroking the back of your hand and offering the handkerchief to you again.

You shake your head.

“I-I’d like you to go now.” You mumble, retracting your hand from Cedric’s warm grasp.

“Please don’t push me away y/n. If you don’t want my pity I understand, but I really do want to be your friend.” Cedric smiles gently and extends his hand out to you.

Your eyes flash in fear and doubt again, but you accept his outstretched hand.

“You understand how hard it’s gonna be for me to trust you?” You state.

Cedric nods his head.

“You’re not going to be afraid to be seen with me in public?” You push, remembering the first day he saw you.

Cedric freezes for a moment, knowing what you’re referring to, his head fights with his heart, but he knows his answer. He pushes his own fear aside and smiles.

“Why would I? You’re my friend now right?” He chuckles, earning himself a small grin from you.

“You have a beautiful smile you know.”

Your eyes lift from their spot on the floor into Cedric’s bright grey ones.

“T-Thank you.”

Cedric nods, sitting in peaceful silence beside you as you slowly catch your breath.

“Any chance you’d like to meet here tomorrow?” Cedric suggests, scratching the back of his neck.

“I-I’d like that.” You smile, sniffling into your sleeve.

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter imagine #cedric diggory imagine #harry potter #cedric diggory fluff #cedric x y/n #cedricsbrowncurls #angst

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years ago

Text

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 08 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

Word count: 2.2K

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (07)

Next part (09) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

Something In The Woods...

To say you're pissed is an understatement. A storm is passing by, which brought a heavy summer rain over Hawkins. And since the pool is closed when it's raining, you called Billy, inviting him over for lunch. But minutes later Monica called you to say that the manager wants to make a training session on first aid with all the lifeguards. As if you didn't know. You, as did everyone, had to go through a test before getting the job.

It's impressing to know that you wouldn't be so mad if you didn't have plans with Billy. So you make sure to close the meeting room door with a loud thud when you get in, muttering good morning to everyone before sitting beside Billy in the back.

“So much for that lunch date.” He says.

“It wasn't a date,” you tell him. “I just wanted to make a lasagna and since my aunt had to go to the clinic, I thought you'd like to join me.” Shrugging your shoulders, you give him a sassy look. Of course you wanted to spend time with him, and this rainy day would make it perfect...

“Doesn't Diane get tired of driving all the way to Indianapolis? It's a two-hour drive.”

“Diane loves driving. And she owns the clinic so she can pretty much make her own schedules.” You feel when your leg touches his. “Why do we have to do this training thing? As if we didn't know how to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation.”

“Anthony is a dick.” He mumbles as the manager starts talking. But you don't plan to pay attention. Billy suddenly pulls your chair closer, so it's glued to his. He then puts an arm around your shoulders. “Better.”

Rolling your eyes, you pretend to listen to the long speech Anthony gives. It goes on for two hours, and you can't help but make funny comments with Billy, as he holds back the laughs, what makes the manager give you both angry stares. When the training is done, Anthony says that those who were supposed to be working today will have to stay. Which is great because it means you.

“I swear to God I'll report Anthony,” Monica complains, sitting beside you and Billy by the pool, your legs on the water. The rain stopped, but the heavy clouds are promising that more is to come. “May I sit here or will you guys make out?”

“I'm down for it if she is,” Billy smirks.

“Of course you can sit here, Mon.” You elbow him, rolling your eyes. “How's Christopher?” You decide to change the subject and tease her instead.

“He gave me this.” She shows her hand, which has a ring on it. “It's nothing but... It means something to us.”

The sweet smile on her lips brings joy to your heart. It's no doubt they're in love with each other. You wonder if you'll be attending to their weeding someday.

Your hand comes to the necklace Billy made you, which you've been wearing every day. As you feel Monica's ring has a secret meaning, known only by her and Christopher, this necklace has a secret meaning too. You give Billy a quick glance, just to check if he's wearing his. And you smile to see he is. Your stomach burns when your eyes meet, and you look away.

“You look very good together,” Mon says, gesturing at you and Billy.

“I know,” Billy says, and you can hear the cocky smile through his voice.

You elbow him again, a little harder, and you laugh at the exaggerated groan he makes. “I–” You're cut off because you're suddenly lifted and thrown in the water. You sink right before pushing yourself up again. “You idiot!” You throw water at him, and Monica moves away

“Oh, he got ya,” Mon yells in between her laughs.

“I hate you!” Using both his knees as a support, you push yourself up, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him into the water too. You're aware he actually pushed himself because you wouldn't be able to pull him all by yourself. But you ignore it, slapping him lightly and throwing water on him.

He does the same, but soon enough he starts pulling you close. You're a breathless mess, trying to swim away from him. But, obviously, you slowly surrender, allowing him to hold you. “We should get out. Anthony won't like it.”

“As you wish, princess.” He won't push you. That much is clear.

At the end of the day, you're walking to your cars under light rain. You invited Billy for dinner since lunch was ruined by Anthony and all the small amount of power he let get to his head being the manager. He gives you a glance when you part ways. “What?”

“Come in my car.”

“But I have to drive this baby home.” You gesture at your car, walking backwards.

“Why don't you let me pick you up and drive you home from now on? Save up some gas.” It's so stupid how his smile makes you blush even from afar.

“What about your gas, Hargrove?” You ask as you get into the car. “Let's get going. That lasagna won't make itself.” Winking at him, you speed away, determined to get to your place before he does.

He does make a mess on the road since he was quick to follow that you were trying to outrun him. The dark clouds are making the night crawl in faster, and it's getting dark soon. Eventually, you both get stuck on the same red light, and you take a look at him through the review mirror. You're growing closer, way too close, but you're trying not to think about it too much. You're enjoying it, taking in all the moments you share.

You still can't force yourself to kiss him... It would make you go way too deep in this, head first, and you think you need some more time. But it doesn't mean it's not torture when he stands too close. It's a freaking war against yourself to step away. That's the big decision you've been avoiding.

Taking a deep breath, you look at your right, at the woods. This road is one of your favorites because it cuts through the forest, and you have the trees surrounding you from both sides. It looks beautiful, even through the darkness. You would certainly get lost in there. Guess you'll still need some time for that too, to get used and learn your way through Hawkins woods. A smile comes to your lips when you see something moving, among the trees. A deer, maybe. You know there are deers here. Squinting your eyes, you try to see it better, to find out what it really is. Most of its body is hidden behind a thick tree, and when it moves, slowly, you can see the head. You're suddenly taken aback because that's not a deer. It bolts away, further into the woods. A strange sensation builds up in your core. But you push it down. There must be several wild animals here, and that must be one of them... It looks more like a dog, a strange dog because its skin looked weird, naked. Sticky, even.

You're dragged out of your thoughts when Billy's speeds pass you, blasting the horns. Rolling your eyes, you set in motion too.

Billy gets to your house first, waiting by the front door with a smirk on his face. “You won the battle, Hargrove, not the war,” you say, unlocking the door and stepping in. “I saw something in the woods back there, by the way.”

“Another squirrel?”

“No, it was bigger.” You move to the kitchen and he follows you. “I thought it could be a deer but the head was shaped differently. And it looked like the fur was ripped off.”

As you start getting what you'll need for the lasagna, you wait for him to say anything. But he doesn't, so you turn to look at him. Billy is frozen, by the table, his eyes with a blank expression, suddenly glued to the floor. You've never seen him like this, worried as if there was an imminent danger around you right now. “Billy? Are you ok?” You walk over him, taking his hand. He takes a deep breath before looking at you, his eyes softening.

“Yes, I just remembered the accident. Not a very pleasant memory.”

“Well, try to relax.” You pull the chair and gestures for him to sit down, and when he does, you start trying to massage his shoulders. By what he told you, Billy had a rough life, and you hate to see how sad he gets when a bad memory hits. You like him, so very much, that you just want to make him feel better. “I suck at this, hope I'm not hurting you.”

“Uhm...” He grabs your arms and pulls you suddenly, making you bend over until both your arms are around his neck, your face is next to his. “But this is much better.”

“Jerk,” you mutter, standing back up and going to the kitchen counter. “Now come help me.”

“Immediately, ma'am.”

“So... You kept your promise,” you say, avoiding his eyes. “You've been wearing your piece.” You gesture at the earring.

“I told you I would.” He moves closer, a hand taking the earring that's around your neck. “I'm glad to see you're using your piece to, princess.”

“Stop calling me that, Billy,” you say in a low voice. The name makes you so damn nervous, and the tone he uses only makes it worse. It's low, calming... And it feels like it burns right through you.

“Why? I know you like it.”

“I–” You're interrupted by the front door being open, and Diane's light voice greeting you.

The night goes on pretty nicely. Your aunt gives you some space, only joining you for dinner. When Billy goes home, it's almost eleven. But in the next three days, the summer storm keeps the pool closed, and lucky for you, one of the days was your day off. So you went to his place, spend all day there, doing literally nothing, just laying on the couch and talking.

All the time you spend with him is never enough. You always have to go back home, and when you do, you're missing him already. You usually wake up holding the pillow and imagining how it would feel like to lay on his chest and fall asleep beside him...

Today, the storm finally was blown away, and it looks like the sun is angry for being hid for days because it's so damn hot. You've never seen the pool so crowded, and you've been walking around all day, looking out for the kids. You're drained out after lunch, and despite trying to stay on your chair, you can't. A five years old kid slipped and fell into the water, and you had to pick him up. Thankfully, he was well and resumed playing in seconds. But the sun is being rough on you today, and the heat is so much worse. Even in the shadow, you feel it like you're in a damn oven.

“(Y/N). Drink some water.” Billy hands you a bottle and you take a sip. “Have more. You're a little pale today.”

“Yeah, this place is overflowing. Half of Hawkins is here.” You tell him, eyes still scanning through the sea of people. “I need you to go back to your chair, please. The kids are crazy today, Billy, help me out.” You touch his shoulder, using his body as a support for a few seconds. “If you yell, they'll obey.”

“Alright, but drink some water every once in a while, ok?”

“Alright.” You let go of him, offering a small smile when he worriedly looks down at you.

You start pacing around again, warning the kids over and over again not to run. Your head is killing you, like the sun is hitting you with a freaking hammer. And you're so damn tired already, but the people just keep coming, diving and yelling. You're usually happy to see them having fun, but today you're beaten up as if you were hit by a car this morning. The ground bellows your feet starts moving, and you have to use the wall to regain your balance. Your throat is dry, but the cafeteria is on the other side of the pools and you're way too exhausted to walk all the way there. You decide to just head back to the chair to rest a bit.

You see white dots on your sight as you walk, struggling to move on a straight line, using one of your hands blocking the sun from your eyes. When you finally reach your chair, you breathe out in relief. You're about to push yourself up when you lose your strength, lowering your body until you're sitting on the ground.

“Are you ok?” Someone asks, and you see her figure kneeling by your side.

You nod, trying to get back up, but your body doesn't seem to work. You close your eyes shut when everything spins around, and then it just goes black.

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @tilesandtokens @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy stranger things #stranger things imagin #stranger things imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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blindbatalex · 3 years ago

Text

a carraville royalty au fic, in which Jamie is angry. [[cw for discussions of past character death and war.]]

Jamie’s steps echoed in the stone corridors as he walked to their bedchambers at a brisk pace. He stopped, at the last minute with his hand at the doorknob, and unclenched first, his jaw and then his fist, taking a couple of slow, deep breaths.

Time was, he would train when he got like this, train until the fire eating him from the inside out had cooled, until he could barely stand. Stevie would take one look at him, and with a gentle laugh, send him outside, declaring him unfit for human society as a twinkle lit up his eyes.

He opened the door. His shoulder hurt with such a deep, visceral rage, he thought two swings of a practice sword now would reduce him to tears.

Inside was warm. The fire that burned in the fireplace despite the summer made him want to take his jacket off as soon as he stepped in. Gary, on the other hand, did not seem to share this sentiment, holed up as he was in bed under a heavy duvet that he had pulled up to his chin.

“Where is everyone else?” Jamie asked, frowning at the otherwise empty room.

Gary shrugged with his eyes.

“Just wanted a bit of peace and quiet. Which is quite hard to get around here.” He coughed- once, twice. “But the blame is mine; neither of them wanted to leave. I yelled at them threatened to throw them into jail for disobeying their lord.”

Classic Gary. Jamie had left him here with Gini – their physician – and a servant with express orders to both to stay put so that if Gary managed to get rid of one of them the other would still be there. But of course he had underestimated just how obstinate Gary could be.

Jamie sighed and clenched his fist again, looking outside so he didn’t have to look at Gary.

“How is the boy?”

On the courtyard, the summer evening carried on as usual, servants and soldiers and the residents of the town criss-crossing the well-worn cobblestones on their way here and there.

“He is like you,” Jamie replied, not taking his eyes away from the scene below their feet. “Shivering and coughy but he will be fine.” Probably. He had seen men survive drownings before only for the water they inhaled to rise up in their lungs and choke them later. They had both been half-dead by the time Jamie and his men had pulled them out of the water, their bodies convulsing violently with cough after cough.

“That’s good.” There was a pause. “You were good out there.”

His head whipped to Gary at this despite himself, and the bastard was smiling. Not one of his smirks or a shit-eating grin or a sneer, but a genuine smile that reached across his pale face and into his tired eyes.

Would war really break out again if Jamie murdered him? Surely, they would understand.

“Well, you were really stupid,” he spat out, not bothering now to keep his calm. “What were you even thinking, jumping into the stream like that? Let me guess- you weren’t thinking. ‘Just saw the boy fell into the water and jumped after him, James.’” His eyes landed on the book on the side table next to the bed and it made him even more angry. “Of course, you would know next to no one survives falling into that stream if you had bothered to learn about your surroundings than tree dragons!”

He stopped and took a slow, deliberate breath. Damn him. The reckless, stubborn fool. Gary had stopped smiling now but his eyes, more brown in the evenings than green and always so stubborn, were still on Jamie.

“That boy would have been dead had it not-” Jamie took a step towards the bed, quite possibly to actually murder Gary because he knew what Gary would say next. Had it not been for me. As if either of them would be alive now if Jamie hadn’t shouted at the group of merchants who had been standing next to the bridge with their horses and in less than a minute got them galloping at full speed towards where the stream narrowed some half-mile downstream. If he hadn’t yelled at them to form a human chain into the water, with Jamie at the very tip, and nabbed both of them out of the stream.

But Gary surprised him once again.

“That boy would have been dead had it not been for us.”

Us.

Gary coughed again, once, twice, three times and Jamie wanted to break something- he didn’t even care what, just something that twisted and snapped in his hands or shattered into a thousand sharp pieces, that cut and bled him. And yet, Gary had the audacity to laugh.

“It’s really touching you care so much about me, James, but I promise I’m fine.”

“You-” Just a soft, weak laugh, and when Jamie looked a twinkle lit up his eyes and a smile played on his lips, equal measures fond and smug. Jamie couldn’t hear anything now for the pounding of his blood in his ears. “You think I am angry because I care? About you?” he said, spat out. “Did you know I didn’t get to say goodbye to my bloody soulmate, my Stevie? It took him a day to die and in his agony he called for me, over and over again—or so I am told. But I wasn’t there because a Mancunian archer had shot me under your orders and I didn’t know where I was, who I was, as he lay dying.”

He realised he had been screaming at the top of his lungs but he didn’t care. He didn’t. He was furious.

“And yet I married you. Not because I care but because the war destroyed everything. Did you know the boy- his whole family was massacred in the war, mum and siblings and infant brother in front of his eyes, their village burnt down, and he and the one sister who survived travelled for days to get here? And even now, while their lips speak of peace, councillors hunger for war, looking for an opportunity, a spark. If you die in my castle, doesn’t matter if it’s because you wanted to throw your life away or slipped on your arse and hit your head, they will say I did it, I let it and we will be back to where we started.”

He took a shuddering breath. Gary’s face was as pale as that of a ghost. “I’m sorry,” he rasped quietly and Jamie had seen him look- this broken, only a couple of times before, only after the most dreadful of his nightmares as he sobbed into Jamie’s shoulder.

Jamie had held him today, coughing and spluttering, rubbed his back and said “it’s alright, you are going to be alright,” over and over again. He couldn’t tell you if it was to reassure Gary or to reassure himself. He couldn’t be in this room.

So he tore his eyes away and left as quickly as he could. On his way out, he stopped in the kitchens and asked Mrs Torres to borrow Lucille and sent her up with instructions to call for the physician if anything in Gary’s condition changed. She was the one person Gary would not threaten with jail or execution and she, the one person who would not budge no matter what he did.

He spots Gary. There. The currents are punishing but he is somehow managing to keep both of them afloat. ‘Over here, Neville,’ he calls at the top of his lungs. Gary sees him almost immediately. But the current is fast and he is too far. With his free arm Gary swims towards him, once, twice, Jamie stretches and stretches but- Too far. Too far. Then, impossibly, their hands close around one another. ‘Hold on!’ Jamie yells, ‘I’ve got you.’

She stood up and curtsied when he came back, hours later. Gary was asleep but he had been fine, she reassured him. Jamie took the seat she vacated at the head of the bed and Gary’s eyes fluttered open at the click of the door as she left. He frowned when he saw it was Jamie.

Could Jamie blame him for that?

“’s alright. You were right,” Gary murmured, as if he could read Jamie’s mind, on his lips a half smile. Jamie wanted, more than anything, to reach out and push away his fringe, to fall on his knees and sob.

“No, Gary-”

He wanted, more than anything, to find the words to explain. Explain how the boy’s sister had thrown herself into his arms before she remembered herself and begged for mercy at his feet, in choked off sobs and frantic pleas to spare them. How old and world-weary her eyes were when she should be braiding her sisters’ hair and giggling over the boys she liked. Explain how scared he’d been. How much he cared and how that scared him more than anything else.

“’s alright,” Gary said again on a long exhale. His eyes had already drifted closed. Jamie promised himself he would find those words before the morning, even if he had to travel to the four ends of the world tonight. He had to.

#carraville #royalty au #football rpf #my fic #offers bouquet of apologies <3 #also id love to say then they fixed it in the morning #but they wont rip #bc gary is a stubborn bastard 😔

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falconfriend · 4 years ago

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AU where some different things are possible. Don't read too much into Jay's techno babble, quite honestly, I might edit some of it out, it's not the point.

Don't be surprised if you see this edited before the final ff.net post, but it's here, and I'm happy with it. The original concept has a chapter in which our two main characters talk together and process, and that is still very, very important to me, I'll probably bring it back.

See tags for warnings.

The amount of power Zane is channeling right now shouldn't be possible. Jay made darn sure to learn everything he could about Zane's possible repairs while Dr. Julien was still alive—the other guys didn't like to think about it back then, but come on, he was old, Jay knew, everyone else knew too even if they weren't saying it— so anyway, he'd spin wild hypotheticals, ask what happens if one tiny piece of machinery goes wrong.

Lloyd would hit the point where he wanders off, self-consciously chuckling that this isn't really his area but he feels like he's kinda learning things, and Jay would watch the clock tick until Nya got bored... and then, that was his opening, to fire off whatever question would come off as too rude while the others were around.

The doctor would smile in a sort of understanding, if slightly flummoxed, way, and he'd start answering. Jay got a lot of answers! He figured out how to put all of Dr. Julien's numbers into his numbers, you know, the kind we learn in the modern century, and made a copy of Zane's schematics with his notes. He had a harder time finding the focus to figure out the Falcon, but Nya and Lloyd are on that anyway. Logical division of labor.

What is he talking about. What was he thinking about. Zane's dying.

Distractedly, he answers- "I said critical mass. If he doesn't contain that, he could go nuclear."

"He's containing it, right?"

"It doesn't- matter." Containing it also means dying.

"Why wouldn't it matter, Jay-"

Jay asked a lot of questions, but he never did even think to ask about Zane's power source. Shouldn't that be the first thing? Why weren't we asking questions about the power source?

He knows approximately how much power Zane runs on. He knows it isn't this much. He knows how a storm feels, right before lightning is about to strike, what builds up in the air and how much damage it can do, right before he—

Jay takes a step forward.

Wu puts an arm across his shoulders, pulling him back. Jay just about slaps him off before realizing that's a quick way to get himself thrown to the ground and shut up before he can start,

So he waits, a frustrating two, three seconds, until he finds words.

"I can help." His throat is dry and he wouldn't mind except that he needs to be louder. "Get me to him, I can help!"

The rest of the ninja are turning to look at Jay… so… slow. Cole looks like he could be swimming through molasses. Jay seethes, and flexes and unfurls his fists by his sides to let it out, and takes a small step back instead of forward.

It works. Sensei releases him, almost.

Kai looks like he might be committing a crime if he lets himself look away from Zane, which isn't helping. Finally, though, he opens his mouth before Jay can. "Your powers? …Do you think?"

"'Do I think-' yes, I think, that's electricity. Or, electromagnetic- whatever. It's energy. I can feel it, Kai- this is taking too long! Where's Pixal- Pixal! Pixal, yoo-hoo, tell them I can help!"

"That won't be necessary," says Wu. Everyone is moving like an old man right now, taking their time; Jay's sure of it. Remember that comment about Cole? It feels like Jay's the only thing who isn't wading through molasses. Jay and the Digital Overlord, that is, and Zane, who cries out so bad Jay spends that moment sure that everything's over and Zane is gone now-

Everyone is moving like the slow old man Sensei talks like, but then Jay sort of- must have blinked, or something, because suddenly, they're all shifted. Cole sets a hand sturdily against his shoulder. It takes him a moment to realize that they're all on his side.

Jay finds a hardened, gold feeling deep in his chest, and latches onto it, and uses it to find his voice. "Okay." Okay. Look. Think. "Cole, I'm going to run at you and I need you to launch me, onto that web. Lloyd, use your energy to boost me."

"But-"

"We don't have time! It's just a scratch."

"Keep him on the edge of the blast. Try to center it about two meters from him." Jay looks back at Nya, Nya looks back at him. It's like they're both realizing how small everything has been. They're nineteen- Jay's nineteen, Nya's eighteen. It's like- like, we didn't need to know the shape of the care right now, I care about you.

Nya waves him away to the task at hand with a smile that means What? Anyway, you're coming back.

Jay looks at Cole and Lloyd. They look back at him. "Well, let's go." With a serious expression, not a word in response and not wasting a second, Cole stoops, palms up and fingers intertwined, a foot-sized platform.

"I'm ready for you, Walker."

He gulps. Time freezes for a second and then skips forward again, like half a second that definitely shouldn't be allowed to be that long. "Okay."

Kai steps forward, like he's going to- hug him, maybe? Rub his back? Push him forward?

"Okay ninja-go—" he kicks off and twists. Off the ground, off Cole's intertwined hands, launching him into the air- about to panic and yell Now, Lloyd when Lloyd finds the right moment anyway, blast re-aiming him just as he's about to fall-

He's sailing through the air, back sore and ears still ringing as the wind whistles past them. Ninjago city sails beneath him. He's two feet short of Zane's hand. He's going to miss.

He's going to miss, he's sorry, and they don't have a second shot, and not that it would be okay if he didn't but now he's going to get all caught in the explosion too,

And Zane reaches back, and grabs his hand.

The jolt that immediately moves through Jay is an absolutely massive electrical discharge. It tries to run from him straight to ground; at first, he was not connected to the circuit, so the electricity is looking for him as its way out. Here's the thing about electricity—it doesn't ask questions. It's already moving by the time your question is halfway out of your mouth, and that's why you need to either be five steps ahead or be ready to start improvising right now or else you're dead.

Something about that isn't how electricity should work, though. It doesn't rush into... a wire that isn't connected to a throughline. Batteries have two ends, positive and negative, and a wire that isn't connected to both of them might as well not be a wire at all— electricity isn't trying to get out, it's trying to get to somewhere, electrons hungry to get to that battery's positive side. Every single electrical invention in the world is formed by humans forcing those electrons to take the long way.

This electricity doesn't have a destination.

The Digital Overlord is always destroying. That means energy in him is leeching outward; this isn't just entropy, this is entropy gone rogue. Jay doesn't know where he's getting the electricity from, but- if he can destroy, maybe he can create. Who knows. Whatever. What becomes apparent right then is that it seems like the Overlord needs to always leech outward, and what Zane is doing is containing him. Sooner or later the snake eats its own tail.

Zane nods, with a firm little hum, as if he can tell from Jay's face what's going on in his head. It's businesslike, and it jolts Jay back to work. Jay can stand this for a few minutes longer, but Zane- Zane's dying.

So: parallel paths. Create two paths, two options, and the electricity will keep looking for how it can be the least crowded. It's like the reason air leaves a popped balloon, kinda like pressure but with a thousand electrons that all hate each other and feel indifferent about you. Or picture... getting into a crowded convention center, and someone coming running to announce they've just opened a second doorway, and that you can get in through either line. Create two paths, and only half of it goes through Zane.

Zane releases his hand.

They really, really need to have a talk later, but Jay is relieved it's not a talk about being willing to be saved. He's helping himself be saved.

Jay holds one of the golden contact points in one hand, and one in the other. The energy rolling around his ligaments and bones deflates, taking the easiest path.

"I had hoped you would do that behind me," says Zane, whose eyes are now closed.

Jay doesn't really try for a little laugh, so much as his body tries for a little laugh, like his brain is fine-tuned into making his excuses with or without him. "You could've said that earlier."

"No, it's alright. Just… here, scoot a little to the side-"

"This is pathetic," hisses a condensed-evil murmur over their shoulder, like it's obligated to, "YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEAT ME?"

"Yes," says Zane.

And the bluewhite what-is-that-stuff that he'd once used to take down a plain old treehorn beams closer past Jay's cheek than he can really say he's comfortable with. It's almost like being near a fire- a live wire, static. He's not too cold, but he's sure if he touched it, it would move straight through rapid-action frostbite into part of his face falling off.

"Jay, now." Jay isn't sure what he means by now, that uh, isn't very clear, but he spends a half-second in panic before realizing Zane's ice is running a cable to ground. It'll keep a direct hit from coming back for them. It means, since this is the only window before it connects, they need to hit him now.

Jay pulls the electricity out of himself, out of the air- he takes whatever excess Zane will give him, when he touches his hand- and he breaks the circuit. He shoves it, with force, the opposite of the ways electrons want to work, not the way lightning wants to work—but that's the first step of making lightning. You build up a gap. The buildup snaps from him into the Digital Overlord's metal body. Something is wrung out of him like a sponge.

There's a thunderclap that shakes the city and an explosion that's- like a video game character died. Like it's not a real explosion, it's just something- dissipating. The city just turns white.

Jay becomes aware that he's flying again for the first time in two years, and Zane is holding onto him but losing strength. And then it turns out that he's got his arms around Zane, too. He only figures that out when he starts to panic that Zane's going to fall, and the tug of Zane's weight on his arms doubles, and alerts him that they're there, secure. His body was thinking ahead, even if he wasn't.

Zane's out. He's… fine. He's fine. He's got to be fine.

And while we're at it, Jay's hoping he's fine. His heart feels- wrong.

The first thing he needs to do is get back to land, the second thing he needs to do is look at… is get Nya to look at Zane, he's not even sure he can trust his senses. Huh, hang on, there's a sound other than the ringing in his ears.

"Jay!"

That's Pixal.

"Jay!"

She's standing on the roof of Borg Tower, waving her arms, and just as Jay starts to settle enough to realize he's not frozen, adrenaline's not gonna stop him from moving and he should fly somewhere. ...Huh. He has to pick where.

It would be a really good move to let their friends see they're alive. Nya's good at robotics.

Pixal and Borg… can probably fix him faster.

Zane sparks, hard.

Like Superman, made of light, Jay descends toward Borg Tower in a graceful arc. His feet connect with the roof with a very soft patter. He locks eyes with Pixal to hand off their boy to her.

"Whoa, okay, Sparky, geez. Just thought I'd keep the sweat out of your eyes."

Well. That's not correct.

There are the tiles of a hospital ceiling in front of his eyes, which feels more correct. Apparently, Kai is also in the room, because—

"Yeah. He's okay."

—well, because that's Kai.

Cole, of all the things that could happen here, squeezes Jay's hand. It occurs to Jay that he could have died on- on really, really weird terms with him.

Whoof. Jay takes stock of his body. He starts by feeling the sheets, just to figure out where his body is, then investigates the muscles and aches beneath them. He's in one of those medical gowns that closes in the back.

Everything feels... pretty okay? No, everything feels like he's just been stretched in every direction like a piece of toffee.

No, everything feels like he's just been stretched in every direction like a piece of toffee, but also maybe like he is toffee, so he's fine.

He, uh, definitely can't move. And that feels wrong, but at least he's identified the reason he's in a hospital bed, rather than wondering. He'd find this a lot harder to process if he had walked away from it without a scratch at all, even though it would have been cooler. He sort of wonders if anyone would bring his chart over where he can read it.

"Uh, yeah, that's all great, but what about Zane?"

Kai lets out a small, slightly-amused very-concerned snort. "Jay, you asked that already. He's okay."

"Go easy on him."

That's Lloyd. There are, wow, a lot of people in this room. It's gotta be a pretty small room? Hospital rooms aren't that large. Are his parents here?

"They're on their way."

"My mouth keeps saying whatever's in my brain."

Cole laughs. "Hey, don't worry everyone, he's back to normal."

Jay's breath does a weird thing in his lungs. It's like his body is focusing on every sensory detail except where it hurts. "Yeah, you're just jealous of how I looked up there."

Cole could nearly double over laughing at another time, but right now everything about him is subdued, gentle. Jay could see him ruffling his hair if he wasn't, you know. In a hospital bed. "Sure am, sparkplug."

And there's quiet for a beat.

Jay continues, still staring at the ceiling, "Hey, Nya, how bad are you gonna kill me."

"Oh, uh—" That's Lloyd again, kicking one heel awkwardly back against the wall. Kai speaks quickly—

"She wanted to be here. It's killing her not to, I mean— everyone did. Sensei, too. We told them we've got you."

"That's nice."

"I-I said I'd run and call her once you're awake, just to let her know. I should probably go do that now. She's—"

"With Zane," Jay finishes, no bones about it. Kai nods. "That's nice." The way energy thrums from Jay's palms feels different now, like he's not just pulling it from the air, like there's a battery under his skin, but that's. That's a question for training time. It's sleep time, now.

A/N: Why did the writers say "it's reaching critical mass." I still don't know what that means. Zane's power source is presumably based on some kind of nuclear fission then, but I'm not sure what "critical mass" has to do with the Digital Overlord encounter? If anyone knows how that's relevant to how Zane died, please lend me your knowledge, I'd be very grateful and schooled.

Anyway, critically, this is an AU where it is possible for Jay to help, not an AU where Jay notices he can help. It's built on the assertion that there was nothing Jay could do in the original, but in this universe, different things were possible.

#ninjago #jay walker #zane julien #jay ninjago #zane ninjago #warnings:#hospitals #there's some narration of Jay's thoughts not making linear sense which might be disorienting to some readers

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jaminjims · 4 years ago

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found family {imagine}

@catsandstrawberries requests: Hi I have a request. Can you do an ot7 x youngest female 8th member reader maybe late teens (like 17 18ish) maybe fathers day is coming up and reader never had a good relationship with her father or any male in her life (abuse, abondment, trauma, etc) and maybe just a bunch of fluffy and angsty scenarios of her relationship with the boys when they become more like older brothers/father figures to her. Maybe one where she choreographs a dance and shows Hobi and he openly stares how proud Cont. 🐣

He is of her and maybe it just really touches her. Or maybe one where she falls asleep on the couch and one of the boys brings her to her room. And maybe a final angsty one where she tells them how much she loves them and how hard it is to know her own family didnt care about her but the b o us are like, you're wrong, your family does care about you, were your family. Something like that. I really love your writing and hopefully you can write this, if not dont worry, much love! 🐣

a/n: ahh this was the fic i wrote 4.3k words for but then decided i didn’t like it so i started over lmao. i don’t really know why this fic was kinda difficult for me to write but it was still something i enjoyed writing a lot and i’m proud of myself for finishing it! and this is probably one of my favorites that i’ve written if i’m being completely honest. the found family troupe is what i LIVE for and this one literally melts my heart. and of course thank you so so much to the lovely catsandstrawberries for the request! i really enjoyed writing it so i hope you enjoy reading it!

pairing: platonic ot7 x f!reader (reader will refer to the older members as hyung though!)

genre: angsty in the beginning but it turns really fluffy so just hang in there!

warnings: brief mention of child abandonment, child neglect, bad father daughter relationship, loneliness, insomnia, forgetting to eat

words: 6k

[disclaimer: when writing idol aus, i will only be focusing on the struggles of the reader, not of the idols themselves because i don’t personally know what struggles they go through and how they handle them.]

{song(s) i recommend while reading: someone’s someone - monsta x}

~**~

here’s the thing about family: it’s sometimes fickle and sometimes strong

you came from a prestigious family of bankers, except you wouldn’t really call it a family

it was more like relatives tolerating each other more than anything

your mom had left when you were young so you only had faint silhouettes and hollow laughter to remember her by. but that just left the two of you

you and your father

instead the memories you grew up with were of a dad who was cold and controlling and never really around long enough for you to truly feel like he loved you

it was always “y/n you have to look good for the family” “y/n you have to do this for the families reputation” “y/n you have to smile for the media so they think we are a happy family”

the word family was thrown around so much you didn’t think you really knew what it meant anymore

because it was always “y/n you need to do better” “y/n why are you so flawed?” y/n you’re more of a disappointment that a daughter”

never “y/n, i’m proud of you”

it was always what he wanted and never had he asked what you wanted

he never once helped you with your homework, never once had a family meal together

never once said he loved you

you had to instead learn to cook yourself, learn to swim, learn to ride your bike, all by yourself

all things a father should have done, he never did

instead it was all fake laughter and smiles in front of the media and cold stares and loneliness behind closed doors

you used to cry yourself to sleep because of how lonely and lost you felt but now you just opted to barely sleeping at all

and you often forgot to eat because it would just remind you what you could’ve had but didn’t

you also tended to be alone at school because everyone knew of you but no one really knew you

the only thing that really saved you was dancing

it was the only way you could really express yourself without needing words and you found that comforting

it was intimate and deep and it was your raw soul being transmitted through movements

and it was your only reprieve from the fake media, the fake smiles, the fake laughter

and the fake family

so most of your days were spent in a dance studio, choreographing your own pieces and dancing your heart out and it was really the only way you knew how to express yourself

it was when you were fifteen when you had discovered that music companies were hosting auditions and you wanted more than anything to be up on a stage and preform

you had never longed for something more than you did now

but you knew your father would never allow it and maybe that was the thought that pushed you to make the decision of joining

because you knew if you continued to live the way you did now, you would never be enough for him and you were sad and lonely and just tired of faking everything

so if you were always going to be a failure to him then at least you could have fun along the way, right?

so you auditioned to every single company you could and in the end it was only one who had accepted you and for the first time you were really happy

so, so happy that you danced all the way home and cried and for once didn’t pay mind to the eyes looking in

your dad was of course furious when he found out and it hurt that he was so against your dream

but the elation you felt at finally doing something for yourself, with no other reason but because you wanted too, it was something thrilling and if you had known that freedom would feel like this then you would’ve done it a long time ago

but it still stung when he cut you out of his life completely, like you weren’t even there in the first place. like you never existed

cut off all means of financial support. insurance, healthcare, even schooling

all because you didn’t want to be what he wanted you to be

and you cried for the first few nights because this was your conformation. conformation that he really didn’t love you and only saw you as a means to continue his legacy

but you continued on. confidently packing your bags and leaving that place that was never really a home to you

and when you moved into the dorms bighit had for trainee’s, you felt like this, this was your chance. and if you failed, then you would go crawling back to your father and beg for forgiveness like you knew he wanted

you only had one opportunity, and you used it for everything it was worth

you had gotten a part time job, something you wanted to experience because for every other kid it was normal. got to stay out late and dance and sing and just experience things that you had never gotten to do in the confines of your old home

in the confines of your father

and even if you didn’t get to continue your education (which you were greatly distressed about) you were happy because you were doing stuff you wanted

it was when you were eighteen, when you spent two years as a trainee before you got the news that...

you made it

you had made it! you were going to be put in a group! and even if they had already long ago debuted, you were going to show them that you were worth it

you were worth more than what you father had said about you, than what he had planned for you

but with that elation came hesitance

because you were joining a group that was composed of all males, seven of them, and you didn’t have a good experience with any males (well, male) in your life and you would be lying if you said you weren’t even a little bit scared

because you were never good enough for your father, what made them any different? what if you weren’t ever going to be good enough for anyone?

but they were different. they showed you that not every male was going to be like your father, that you were enough and more

when you had first met them, you were a timid little thing because you had previously been sheltered and didn’t really have any friends

you didn’t really know how to open up to anyone because no one ever cared to really try to connect

they were all smiles and politeness and you blushed under their attention because no one really showed an interest in learning about you, not like they had

but you didn’t tell them everything. actually, you didn’t really tell them anything because you were scared that if the found out the truth, they would think you were useless just like your father

so you told them your name, age (which they were surprised about because you were young compared to them), and half truths

about how you were not really close with your family, about how you weren’t really close with any friends

and you expected them to look down on you for your answers but instead they welcomed you with open arms and treated you like they would treat anyone else

and you loved it. loved that they saw you for you instead of just a rich mans daughter

so slowly, you started opening up to them

they treated you like a normal person (a thing which you craved because it was something you never experienced) and they never only pointed out the things you were doing wrong, like your father had

instead they pointed out your flaws and also pointed out what you had excelled at

“y/n, you should turn your body and bend a bit more for that move, but your energy was really good!” “maybe reach a little bit higher for that note? it went a little flat for a second, but your part in the bridge was perfect.”

and it was those comments that you held close and cherished because they pushed you to do better but it was different than than the way your father pushed you

because you refined the things that you could actually fix instead of just thinking everything about yourself was horrible

and maybe it was weird, but you really started to look up to them and that only caused you to work harder so that you would make them proud

but it wasn’t until a late night in the dance studio with jimin that really shifted your relationship with all of them

you couldn’t sleep again (like most nights) and you were dancing to a song that you had choreographed yourself

you slightly overstepped and pushed your body forward by accident and had ended up twisting your ankle

you almost started crying because what if the boys thought you were going to be a hindrance? what if they thought you were a failure for holding them back?

but then the the dance studio door opened and in came walking jimin and you felt yourself shrink in, trying to make your body as small as possible because you were so scared

and it was weird because you never felt this scared when you thought your dad would look down on you and you had only been in the group for two months and you shouldn’t be feeling this attached

and everything was overwhelming and jimin gasped when he spotted you on the floor crying with a bruised ankle

his heart hurt to see you this upset so he quickly walked over and tried to get you to slow your breathing and when his calm and soothing voice reached your ears, you couldn’t help but relax slightly because he didn’t seem to be angry, only worried

and then what he said next had you crying for a whole different reason

“is it ok with you if i look at your ankle?”

he had asked. he had asked if it was something you wanted and that surprisingly meant more to you then it probably should

and once again they proved that they were different than your father because your dad would just do, without any concern to what it might do to you. but they thought about you, about your well being

you found yourself nodding and once he saw you were crying still he creased his eyebrows with worry, “does it hurt that bad?”

you shook your head again and managed to get out, “you aren't mad at me?”

and the world seemed to stop for a second and you held your breathe as you waited for his answer, and when he opened his mouth you got scared that he was actually angry

“you thought i would be mad? of course i’m not, it wasn’t your fault. it’s ok, you’re ok.” and even with your hurt ankle you leaned forward and hugged him because you were so relieved that he didn’t think you were a failure, glad that he still thought you were worth it

and even though he was confused at your reaction, he hugged you back anyway because he wanted to be there for you in any way he could

and your adoration for them only increase since then. you were really starting to feel closer to them and really starting to rely on them

the week your ankle was healing, they made sure to check in every hour to see if everything was ok and it was a little overwhelming at times because you had never been this looked after before and it was new to you

and at least one of them would arrive home from practice early and give you everything you needed

one time when yoongi came back early, he had come into your room and asked if you needed anything and you said no because you didn’t wanna hinder him but then your stomach growled in betrayal and you blushed

he frowned and sat beside you on you’re bed, rubbing the back of his neck, “now, i know that i don’t look like the comforting type, but i’ll still help if you ask.”

and your eyes widened and you shook your head, shooting up in bed because it really wasn’t that you thought he was bad at comforting but it was because you really just forgot to eat again

and that’s what you told him and he frowned for a different reason, “you forget to eat?” and then you would look down in shame because you thought he was disappointed in you

he looked at your lowered head and sighed, lightly bumping shoulders with you, “hey, it’s ok. i’m not mad or anything. just worried.”

and you tentatively looked up at him, hiding behind your hair, “i... just don’t eat that much. reminds me of the things i can’t have.” and then you looked back down

and yoongi thought that his heart broke a little bit because you sounded so small and sad and he was confused as to why but what he did know is that it hurt him to hear and see you like that

he then bumped his shoulder with yours again so you would look up and then he flicked your forehead when you did

and you looked at him with a slightly offended expression while bringing your hand up to touch the spot he flicked and once he saw the look on your face, he smirked a little, “what are you thinking about now?” and you would get this confused look on your face, because why was he asking? “why you flicked me.”

and then he would smile triumphantly, “then it worked.”

and it wouldn’t be till later that you realized that he had gotten you too think about something else so you wouldn’t dwell on the bad memories you had, and you smiled brightly trying to fall asleep that night

but you noticed that they all would start to bring more snacks in their bags whenever they went anywhere and offer them to you and it was hard to say no because you were kinda hungry when you thought about it

and food started to taste a little better when you were around them

and as time passed, they only surprised you more and more with their personalities and you started to really like just being around them, you felt like a better person

and over time you had all grown closer too, up to the point where you would get into petty fights like real siblings (at least you liked to think of it that way, you never had any siblings)

for example, one time you were sitting on the couch scrolling through a phone the company recently got you and here comes jungkook running down the hallway

he then jumps and lands right on top of your sitting figure on the couch and you yell because it scared you and why was he sweaty?

“yah! get off me!” you then would push him on the face but it would get you nowhere because he was quite literally almost twice your size

“no, i don’t wanna.” then he would shrug and pull out his phone while he was crushing you with his body weight and then you would scream out “hyung!” in hopes anyone would hear you and all of them would come running into the room because you never yelled and they thought it was an emergency

but then it would sink in that, that was the first time you had called them hyung and they would get these goofy smiles on their faces (even jungkook, from where he was sitting on top of you) and you would look at them and then realize what you did

you gasped and started apologizing because what if they didn’t want you to call them that? (obliviously not getting the message that they did from their faces alone)

but they would just shoot down your apologies because they would be happy that you finally felt close and comfortable enough to call them that

and jin would walk up and ruffle your hair - well as best he could while jungkook was still sitting on you - and “come help your hyung in the kitchen.” and your smile would be worth more than anything to them and you would push jungkook off of you easily this time while yelling yes

you then stuck your tongue out at him and he made a funny face back that had you giggling

but something was always weighing on your mind, and it was the lack of your education. since your father had cut you off, you had no means on furthering your learning and it was something that really upset you because who couldn’t even complete highschool education? and you were afraid that the other members would be disappointed in you

so you asked manager sejin (which he had grown pretty fond of you over the months) for a computer because you wanted to complete your education online if anything and he was completely behind the idea and backed you up 100 percent

so you started your online learning but you had to admit, it was hard when you didn’t have a teacher to consult things with

and you would get so frustrated because why couldn’t you just get this right? it was simple math! and you were disappointed in yourself because this was a big blow to your ego

you were afraid that the others would would laugh at you but then you thought about how they proved time and time again that they were different than your father and so with that thought in mind you summoned your courage and went to knock on namjoon’s door

he was surprised to see you but smiled anyway and you sat down on his bed with your hair covering your face because you were still embarrassed and they didn’t know that you hadn’t finished highschool

and he saw that you were struggling with what to say so he waited patiently because the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off

and you were grateful for that, so after a few minutes you gathered your thoughts and decided to just plunge right into the conversation, “hyung,” and they still smiled when you called them that, “i’m doing online school and um, was wondering if you could help me? i mean you don’t have to or anything but i just-” and he put a hand over your head to stop your rambling and smiled that dimple smile of his, “of course i’ll help. what do you need me for?”

and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little surprised because it was highschool sophomore math because he thought that you had already graduated highschool but he still was glad to help you anyway

and you could tell he wanted to ask but was hesitant, so you made it easier for him, “i wasn’t able to finish highschool.” and he looked perplexed for a moment but when he took in your sad expression he didn’t say anything more so you quietly added on “i don’t have a relationship with my father so..” and you trailed off and he sighed silently because it was hard for him to wrap his head around why someone would make you so sad, especially if that someone was your father so instead he opted to take your mind off the issue

so he spoke up, “yah, the pythagorean theorem isn’t gonna learn itself.” and so the two of your stayed up and you understood the subject more when he explained it than in any real class you ever had

so, these teaching sessions are almost a daily routine and sometimes it would be the others helping and it became something that you really enjoyed

because no one was ever willing to help you like this

after months of living and knowing them, it was finally the crunch time to get ready for your first comeback with them and you were so nervous

you would stay up later than usual to practice and they would be lying if they said they weren’t a little worried about your lack of sleep but they used to do the same thing before comebacks so they let it slide somewhat

but what they didn’t know was that you were also going to be doing a solo dance performance and you were so scared that no one would like it so you finally crumbled and asked for hobi because you wanted his opinion on your routine

but his reaction to your dance sequence was one you didn’t expect

as you flipped and glided through your choreo, hoseok stared wide eyed at you in wonder because he knew you were an amazing dancer but when it was just you and him in the dance studio, the emotion that you portrayed... it was just an astounding site to see

and when you finished you saw his expression and blushed, hiding your face in your hair because no one had looked at you like that before

“what? was it bad?” and it was a couple more moments before hoseok really gathered his thoughts to put them into words and he just walked over to you and put his hands on your shoulders so you would look at him

“y/n-ah, that was amazing. just everything about it... aish you have me speechless.” and he gave you that hobi heart smile and you couldn’t keep your eyes from tearing up but what he said next really got the waterworks going

“i am so, so proud of you, y/n”

and you openly cried and hearing that sentence from someone you really looked up to was something you never knew you needed and you hugged him so tight and said ‘thank you’ over and over again because you really were

you were so, so thankful

and he carded his hands through your hair because namjoon had told him about you not having a good relationship with your dad and knew this was probably something that meant a lot to you. but he really was so, so proud of you because you had grown so much since being that little timid girl he had met months ago

so you went home and played videogames with everyone and just had a good time so you wouldn’t get to stressed and later when you had finally managed to fall asleep, hobi would gush about your dance to the other members (without knowing you were going to be preforming it soon) and everyone was excited and wanted to see it too

but with hobi’s encouragement came more determination for you to work harder because you were going to amaze everyone if you had anything to say about it

so you started to stay out late to the point where you would come back to the house when everyone else was sleeping and just be so tired that you would fall asleep on the couch, not even making it back to your room

and they would wake up and see you and look at you so fondly because they could see that you were working so hard and could see how badly you wanted everyone to succeed

and it would usually be jungkook who would pick you up and bring you back to your room so you could sleep just a little bit longer

they really were so proud of you

and then it came to your comeback date and you were still so nervous but they’re presences made it better

it was taehyung who came up to you then right before they were supposed to go onto the comeback stage and what he said would always stick with you, “no matter what happens out there, i, we, will always be there for you, no matter what. we will always be proud of you.” and you would tear up and the makeup unnie’s would get angry and push you back down in the makeup chair but they would have this gooey smile on their faces anyway

and your performance went perfectly

it seemed like the audience was just as memorized as hoseok had been when you preformed your solo and army, thrown off by your presence, still accepted you because they could see the bond you had with the boys and how pure it was

and even though some didn’t agree, it was ok because seven other people where proud of you and that’s all you really needed

and then because of the amazing performance the eight of you go out to eat and you all joke and laugh and the food tastes amazing

and you think, this is what a family dinner must feel like

and you almost cry again because this is all you really ever wanted, to be accepted, to be seen for your achievements instead of your flaws

and you've only spent five months together but in those five months, you had grown so close to these people that showed you that you were more than what your father had told you, that you were amazing and perfect in your own way and they would never look down on you for your flaws

you could definitely get used to this

so the next day taehyung took you out on a shopping spree because he wanted to spend time with you and you both basically wrecked havoc in a gucci store trying on everything you could

and he wold tease you when you came out of the dressing room with a size that was way to big for you and you would taunt him back and bicker back and forth

then you both went to the store and got ice cream for everyone and you all set up a fort in the living room and it was easily one of the best days of your life

and after that the eight of you experienced things and created memories together and they showed you what real friends were, what real companionship and love felt like

and before you knew it, fathers day was in two days and you didn’t know what you were going to do, but you still felt like you should do something because father’s day is a day to celebrate the important males in your life

you had never felt like doing something like this when you lived with your actual father, and that spoke volumes to how close you had come to these boys

so on the saturday before the actual day, you tried to wake up as early as you could and get all the ingredients you needed

when you saw that you were missing eggs for the cake that you wanted to make for them, you tried to be as quick as possible so your hyungs wouldn’t be wondering where you went if they woke up

it was the probably the fastest trip you had ever taken but it was all for naught when you walked back through the door

you almost dropped your newly bought eggs when you heard a scream come from the living room and suddenly there were arms wrapping around you in a tight hug

“j-jimin?” was all you could squeak out before a barrage of voices tumbled over each other in efforts to scold you for leaving and not telling at least one of them, if not all of them

“what were you thinking!? you scared me! you scared us!” jin said in your direction, where jimin was still wrapped around you

“yah! we thought you left! or-or got kidnapped!” hoseok’s raised voice was one you decide you didn’t like

once jimin let go, yoongi was quick to envelope you in a hug, “aish. i never wanna wake up to that kind of scare ever again.”

once he pulled away you spotted taehyung and jungkook pouting with their arms crossed sitting on the couch, namjoon fixing you with a serious stare. “promise me you won’t do that again.”

“promise us!” taehyung quickly added in and all you could do was nod because your head was still trying to process what just happened over the span of the last ten seconds

it wasn’t until your pinky was wrapped around jungkook’s in a pinky promise that the situation really set into your head and you lowered your head in shame and embarrassment, “i’m sorry.”

jin sighed and ruffled his hair, “we were just worried. sorry for yelling y/n-ah,” and it warmed you with how protective they were over you and you looked up at him teasingly, “sorry eomma” and jin frowned while you and the maknae line snickered

it was when you got up to finally put the eggs away that jimin pulled you back down to sit beside him, hugging you again, “we worry about you because you’re our yodongseng, y/n-ah” and it was that one sentence that had you all smiley and giggly because that was the first time any of them had called you that, the first time anyone called you that and you were so happy

because they saw you as their little sister and a bond like that was something you hadn’t felt before, and one you would never want to break

“thank you” you whispered as you got up and went to put the eggs away, the boys following after you

“so why did you go to the store?” taehyung said as he looked at all the ingredients littered around the kitchen counters

you gasped and remembered what you were doing and quickly turned around, “all of you, out! go away!” you yelled while physically pushing hoseok and yoongi out the kitchen door

“wha- why?” namjoon got out before almost being pushed over and into a table by jungkook

“surprise!” was all you yelled as you got all of them out of the kitchen but seokjin waited by the door. “hyung, what are you doing?” hoseok questioned. “just wait for it.” was all he said as he started counting down from five. and as he was just about to say one, you popped your head back through the door and shyly asked, “hey jin-hyung, can you help me with something?” and then he looked toward the others and smirked at their bewildered expressions. “i told you. she always asks for me when she needs help in the kitchen, and she always needs help.” you then hit him on the arm, “yah. i’m not that bad.”

then the both of you would enter the kitchen and you would try to explain that you needed to make a cake without really telling him you needed to bake one and it just led to a lot of confusion

in the end you gave up and told him you needed to make one but you didn’t tell him what for, still trying to preserve a least a little bit of surprise

the both of you joked and laughed about useless things while mixing the eggs and milk and flour, making a cake from scratch and the others listened to your banter and smiled among themselves

when the both of you settled down and put the cake in the oven, seokjin called your name, “y/n-ah,” and as soon as you turned around a wad of flour hit you in the face and jin’s windshield wiper laugh echoed out

but that was only the begging

“this is war!” and then all of them came running into the kitchen and the flour that was supposed to hit jin, hit yoongi instead and you could’ve sworn you heard namjoon face plant at one point and then fifteen minutes later everyone was covered in flower and the kitchen was a mess

and you all found yourself sitting on the floor, waiting for when you had to take out the cake. and just being surrounded by all their presences, suddenly got you emotional

“thank you” you said again, for the umpteenth time since you’ve known them. you took a deep breath, “i never got along with my father and-,” you sniffed and they waited for you to finish, jungkook nudging you with his shoulder and taehyung gently holding your hand, “and, all of this, the comfort and compassion you’ve shown me,” tears started to fall from your eyes and hoseok who was sitting across from you leaned over and wiped them off your face, “and i’m really grateful.”

but before they could say anything to that, the oven went off and you took another deep breath and gathered your emotions, once again pushing them out of the kitchen so you could decorate the cake you would show them tomorrow

and while they were sitting in the living room together, waiting for you to finish, they all looked at each other and they could easily say that they would do anything for you because you really were their little sister and they cared about you so much

and while you decorated your cake for them, you thought that a giving them their surprise a day early couldn’t hurt (and you knew one of the maknae line would definitely come and sneak a bite of the treat in the middle of the night)

so you walked out, flour caking your hair and clothes, holding the vanilla frosted cake that said ‘happy father’s day ‘ in purple, messy icing

and oh my god they were so touched they could have cried (and some of them did)

and you stood in front of them, gathering your thoughts and as soon as you saw that jimin was about to say something, you started talking. “so, uh, originally i was going to give you all this tomorrow but i figured that it wouldn’t hurt to give it today. and father’s day is not only to celebrate fathers but to celebrate the important males in your life.” and there you go tearing up again, “and when i was younger, my mom left before i could really remember her, and my dad, he-” tears fell and you wiped them, “aish, i’m crying.” then you giggled and their hearts were simultaneously breaking and filling up at the same time. “he was never a father to me, so i never knew what it felt like to have one, to have a family. and it hurt everyday to think that no one in my family wanted me.” god you were a wreck and your words were coming out blurred now. “but then i came here-”

and before you could get out anymore there were seven pairs of arms wrapping themselves around you and your burrowed your head into the chest of nearest person (which happened to be yoongi)

“that’s not true y/n” namjoon murmured and for a second you were confused because why would he say that about your situation? but then he continued, “we will always, always, want you in our lives. we are your family. and always will be.” and you were full on sobbing and so were they

and all you could get out was a sloppy, sobbed filled: “i love you” but they understood perfectly

“we love you too, y/n” and that was the single best moment in your life.

and then perhaps the next day you did anything they asked of you which led to the younger ones being scolded about how you weren’t their maid but then you would get up and get what they asked for anyway because this was their day

and the bickering, the love, and even the fights you would have sometimes, it would all be worth it in the end if it led you back to them

[end]

end note: oh. my. god. i’m not crying, you are. the ending? when i was writing the flour scene? PLEASE I WAS SOBBING. this is one of the fics that i am most proud of and i really didn’t mean to make it this long, but here i am. i hope everyone has an amazing father’s day, and you get to celebrate it the way you want to! everyone reading this (and those who aren’t) deserve happiness, no matter who you are. and you are more then what people say about you. i love you guys to the moon and back, make sure you stay safe! (and as always, sorry for any spelling errors!)

~**~

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uniquelyaro · 3 years ago

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Living a Lovely Loveless Life

I am a creature of contradictions.

I love swimming at the beach, but you couldn’t get me out in open water for love or money. If I can’t see land, if the ocean is so deep I can’t even imagine the bottom, I am terrified.

I admire the raw power of storms and adore the smell of rain, but I flinch when lightning flashes, because I’m petrified of the loud crack of thunder that always follows.

I love the cold, because it means I can wrap myself in the warmest clothes and take my showers boiling hot.

I am aromantic, and yet, I am in love.

I never expected to fall in love. I’ve never had anything against the concept, but I was fairly sure I wasn't capable of it. I'm still sure, actually. But, I'm also in love.

If that sounds confusing to you, don't worry, I'm confused too.

I’ve been confused for most of my life. I spent the first 21 years of my life confused about my feelings, and about why I never seemed to feel the way my friends did. I was confused why I never seemed to experience things the way the media and society told me I should. I stopped being as confused when I found the aromantic label and community. Finding a word to describe myself felt like coming home. For the first time I had people who understood me, who helped me understand myself.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for me to realise that in some ways I was still the odd one out. The aromantic community is simultaneously both very anti-romance and very pro-love. Contradictory and confusing as that as that sounds, it makes a certain kind of sense. We reject the expectations of romance that society forces on us, while simultaneously reminding people that love doesn’t have to mean romance. Aromantics aren’t heartless or cold. We can love just as intensely and deeply as anyone else.

Well, other aromantics can. Me? Kind of a different story.

I honestly believe that I have never felt an emotion I can comfortably point to and call love. Not romantic, not platonic, not even familial. It feels like such a terrible thing to say, that I don’t love even my family, but it’s true. I care for them, for people, and I often care deeply. But I'm not sure I love them. Most people seem to think that’s sad. Even other aromantics have told me how sorry they are for me, how difficult life must be without love, but I don’t know any different.

Instead, the difficult thing for me is seeing how much the aromantic community likes to focus on love. They reject romance, sure, but instead other forms of love, such as platonic and familial are placed on a (very high) pedestal. Queerplatonic relationships are a big thing in the aromantic community, and it's treated as the pinacle of aromantic relationships, the thing to strive for. It’s very common to see an aromantic say things like “love doesn’t mean romantic love/romance”, “aromantics still love their friends and family”, or even “saying aromantics can’t feel love is a harmful stereotype.”

These statements aren’t wrong. On their own, they are very important things to point out because the ‘heartless cold aromantic’ trope is a harmful stereotype, and should be combatted. However, all too often it comes at the expense of aromantics like myself, the aplatonics and ‘loveless’ aros. It feels much too similar to the old “asexuals can still feel romance” for me. As a stand alone statement, it’s not wrong. For some people it’s even an important argument to make. However, it’s usually coupled with the harmful implication of “see, we can feel X thing just like normal people do. There’s nothing wrong with us”. It just moves the goalposts of acceptable differences, at the cost of people like me. It's a different bus, but I’m still being thrown underneath it.

That isn’t the only way I feel like an outsider in my community however. While aromantics can be very focused on the idea of platonic, queerplatonic or familial love, they tend to push romance to the side. Even when they don’t outright hate it, romance isn’t usually seen in a positive light within the aromantic community. It’s understandable, because amatonormativity and the pedestal it places romance on is a problem. Society’s expectations and views of romance as the be all and end all of existence is damaging, and the main reason I thought I was broken for so long. But you can reject toxic romantic ideals without rejecting romance altogether, something it doesn’t alway seem like the aromantic community understands.

I don’t feel romance, but I don’t hate it. It’s the opposite actually, because I like romance. I enjoy dating people, as long as they are aware of and respect my identity. I like romantically coded actions, and I seek out emotional intimacy. I’m completely comfortable with people feeling romantically about me. Strangely, I had more romantic partners after coming out as aromantic than I did before, most lasting for at least a year or more. I was even engaged to be married last year, and I'm hoping to be engaged again in the near future.

In fact, my planned future follows some fairly traditional romantic goals. My partner and I plan on getting married, having some kids, and settling down to live our lives together, although not necessarily in that order. It’s the kind of life I thought I wouldn’t be able to have after I realised I was aromantic. I convinced myself it wasn’t what I wanted, both because I thought it wouldn’t be possible for me and because the aromantic community tends to be very focused on the rejection of traditional romantic scripts. I thought that because I was aromantic I should be smashing through amatonormative expectations, a shining beacon of why traditional romance was overrated and wrong, why it's expected goals are harmful.

My partner changed everything for me.

We met through our online Dungeons and Dragons game. A friend of mine invited me after I complained that I hadn’t played in years (also about my very poor social life). Turns out, it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

At the time most people in my life (myself included) thought it was a risky one, for a multitude of reasons. I had previously had bad experiences with long distance relationships and he lived halfway across the country. I was already engaged and although I was polyamourous he had no experience with those kinds of relationships. His name started with J, and I already had (at least) 7 evil exes all starting with the same letter, two of which even shared his name. I was skirting close to 30, he was barely 21, and my previous (traumatic) long distance relationship had also been with a much younger partner. Each of those reasons alone should have been enough to give me pause. Combined, it very much felt like the odds were stacked against us.

Yet, we’re still together over a year later. Our relationship survived him moving here just three months into it, the first time we met in person. It survived the fact that he arrived just before the state borders closed and lockdown started properly, so we spent a lot of time unable to leave the house, stuck in each other’s company. It survived the breakdown (and breakup) of my engagement to my fiance, and the rocky transition as we learned to live as exes and housemates rather than partners. It survived the late nights, larger workload and infinitely more stress when I got promoted to a higher position at work. It survived, and more than that, it grew. It grew into something different than anything I have ever felt before, because in the middle of it all, I fell in love with him.

It wasn’t a sudden thing. There wasn’t one particular moment when it hit me, because I couldn’t even make sense of what I felt at first. I just knew I felt very strongly, and that it was a different feeling then I had ever had before.

Oftentimes when I ask alloromantic people what love feels like, the answer I get the most is “you just know”. Not the most helpful answer, but I don’t really blame them for it. Love is difficult to describe in a singular way. The truth is I could ask five people to describe love and get twelve different answers. Everyone has a different view on love, and it changes with each person you love. How you love them, why you love them, it changes from day to day. How could you ever properly describe the shifting nature of something that never stands still? Something that grows and changes with each action, each word and look and touch.

I don’t feel love, but I think I understand it. I sit on a very unique intersection of aromanticism and love, an experience not often seen and very seldom shared. I don’t feel love, but I’m also not romance repulsed. I don’t hate romance, or reject it. I participate in it, seek it out, even crave it. Now, I get to experience it.

Does my love feel the same as the love an alloromantic person would feel? I don’t know, and quite honestly, I don’t care. Love isn’t something that can be compared between people, because no one else can feel love the way I do, just as I can’t feel love the way someone else does. My love is as unique as I am, as unique as the person I love is. The love I feel right now will never be replicated, whether I never love again or I love a hundred thousand times.

What I do know is falling in love let me make peace with myself, and all my contradictions. I don’t have to feel love to surround myself with it, to give and receive care and affection and intimacy. I can hate amatonormativity and fight against it while also wanting traditional romantic goals for myself, because this time I chose them. I can feel at home in a community while simultaneously being an outsider, because sharing a label doesn’t mean we share all the same views, opinions and experiences. I learned about myself because of what we shared, but I also learned because of what we didn’t.

I am aromantic and I don’t feel love. I am aromantic and I am in love. Both statements are true at the same time, because humans are messy and confusing and full of contradictions. I embrace mine as part of who I am, what makes me, well, me. And there’s no one I’d rather be, than me.

#aromantic #aro #loveless aromantic #personal thoughts #long post #some thoughts I've wanted to put into words for a long time #even in loveless aro spaces I don't always see this view #someone who is loveless but also participates in romance

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whump-town · 4 years ago

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Nation Of Two

(Hotchniss/Hotly, language warning)

(You can also read the full text here)

It’s no secret that Emily Prentiss and Aaron Hotchner make a great team. Nearly in sync in every way possible. To outfits and biology- it’s fairly uncommon to stumble upon two people who seem to share everything in common and yet nothing at all. Mild-mannered to a short fuse, wildly protective, and a force to be reckoned with and yet what had created those similarities could not separate them more.

At the same time, Morgan had never seen two people get under each other’s skin as often as those two. In one breath, they’re moving in tandem the next arguing over a cup of coffee. Communicating through a single glance shared across a busy room and then at each other’s throats.

Dave had just broken up one of their more heated arguments. Given the profanity riddled sarcastic retort Emily had thrown as a final blow, Morgan could make a fairly educated guess that they were arguing about the headache Hotch is attempting and failing to hide.

Arguments over injuries and ailments always procure the worst scenes. They get heated, worse so when Hotch is the injured party in their das reich der zwei. Their Nation of Two- the dream team, in it together till the end of the line. The line, of course, being injuries. They want to protect everyone and when that spotlight finds itself pointing at one of them, it creates a unique kind of challenge.

A pain in the ass.

“Reid,” Hotch’s rough baritone breaks through the precinct. “You’re with me,” he announces, his dark eyes purposely flicking to Prentiss. “We’re going to the dock.”

Reid realizes he’s now been roped into this. Going with Hotch means he’s siding with Hotch and like a fool, he’s only got one option. He sets the marker in his hand down on the table and sends Rossi a panicked look- knowing he’s the only person who can help him at this point.

The older man offers him a short shake of the head- great, he’s really screwed.

Prentiss’ jaw clenches as she glares at Hotch, her fist clenched at her side. What point is he proving right now? Look at me, Aaron Hotchner, all buff and big because I’m going to get an ear infection going outside in the snow without any protection for my busted up ears! So manly, so cool.

Fuck him.

She hopes he gets an ear infection, it would only serve him right. Asshole.

Picking up Reid’s discarded pen, she sets back to her work. At least this way one of them would be getting something done.

__________

“Hotch?”

The snow had started coming down harder once they got in the car. Reid had learned a long time ago that as sensible as his boss was, one of the largest mistakes you could make around him was getting in a car while the man was angry. And as worrisome as the car ride had been- the tall, lanky creature standing on the dock is shaping up to be worse.

“FBI!”

Reid blinks, just watching in confusion, and fear as Hotch keeps his solid pace up.

“Identify yourself.” No one’s supposed to be on that dock. Hence the yellow tape wrapped, practically, all the way around it. If he could see the tape through the snow then surely so could the figure.

Hotch comes to a staggering halt, fingers itching to draw his gun.

“Step closer,” the figure shouts over the snow, “and I’ll slit this little bastards throat.”

A father-son duo… admittedly, Hotch wasn’t expecting this. “Just let him go,” Hotch replies, evenly. His hands raise, slowly, making sure everything stays just as it is. “We can talk- tell me your name?” The kid looks no older than sixteen and terrified. Trembling.

“I'm not going to jail!” The man shouts, “those girls had it coming! They deserved it!” The father jerks the boy closer, his son’s body covering his. “Now, fuck off!” He pulls them closer to the edge.

Hotch’s heart is thundering in his chest, he’s really not in the mood to watch a father kill his son. “Just- Just-” he falters and that’s all it takes. Hotch shouts in horror as the father throws both himself and the son over the ledge. He’s aware of Reid shouting his name but he tears off for the desk. The whole way losing articles of clothing- his phone, his gun, his jacket-

The water hits like a punch, stealing the air from his lungs. He breaks the surface and his face burns from the freezing water and the wind. He shakes his hair out of his face, searching for blood or hair or- His eyes zero in on a small splash, a hand breaking the surface.

He dives back under, muscles burning as he forces his way through the water. There’s a mass of murky movement, two bodies in motion. Hotch struggles to tell son from father for a moment- a moment too long. A hand reaches out and grabs his leg, puling him down too and he knows.

With all the force he can manage he kicks down at the hand, a sickening water muffled snap coming to his ears. Hotch wraps his arms around the smaller figure, his lungs burning and body growing tired. He kicks them up but there are other limbs connecting with the soft tissues of his body. The cold has numbed his body and he doesn’t feel the pain that should be coordinated with those blows.

His head breaks the surface and all he feels is pain. Up his sides, in his lungs, and his face. “Stop-” his head goes back under the water, a wave knocking them back under and over. He has to fight harder to get them to the surface and the body in his arms turns limp- like a ragdoll.

This time Hotch’s head breaks the surface and there’s no pain. Just numb, soft cold. Hotch hooks his arm under the kid’s armpits, resting his head on Hotch’s chest. He lays on his back and starts to kick, starting the exhausting and long trip back to dry land.

“I see him!” It’s Reid, his voice edged with panic. “Hotch! Keep swimming you’re almost there!”

A wave hits and Hotch is forced back under. His body stops fighting, for a moment his brain screams but his body just sinks. It’s not even a fight. The water stops feeling like water- it’s warm and… well, somethings just can’t be explained. His body is detached, his thoughts slowing.

Jack-

The water fills his lungs and the blur of the world turns black.

Emily-

Sharp pain in his chest-

Burning lungs, his eyes shoot open looking and seeing nothing. Water and stomach acid burning the back of his throat and on his back he chokes- the water starting to slip back down into his lungs when he’s seized by his belt and shirt sleeve, heaved up onto his side.

He gags, chest burning as water is forcibly removed from his lungs. He attempts to struggle away but it’s to no avail. His body is not responding.

There are hands all over him, burning warmth spreading through his veins. Like lava. “Hello Agent,” an unfamiliar face greets. Hotch just stares at the other man as he’s vaguely aware of being laid on his back. A large hand cradling his neck. “Your friend told me dove in that water,” both men’s eyes wander to the dock and the waves crashing into it. “You suicidal or something,” the medic says with a shake of his head, “ or just stupid brave?”

The Emily in his head answers “stupid brave” but Hotch can’t manage anything more than a wheezing breath. It’s taking all he has to manage that. The medic keeps talking, going on about how Hotch is either crazy lucky or an unusually good swimmer.

“Reid?” He croaks, his head feels heavy, wrong but he can see a familiar blur in a sea of red vehicles. How? How did he get out?

The medic stops his talking and frowns down at his patient. “Is that the scrawny one?”

Hotch swallows thickly and nods.

The medic nods back, “he’s okay. Looks a bit like a drowned rat but he saved your ass.” He motions with his head to their left, just slightly up the bank. Reid is sitting on the bumper of an ambulance, a shock blanket around his shoulders. “He’s a tough kid, though.”

Hotch keeps his eyes locked on him, assessing the situation. Reid is stronger than he gives him credit for.

A sudden weight is placed on the center of Hotch’s chest, a foot on his sternum. To his own ears his cry of pain is muffled. Vaguely, he’s aware of the sound of a monitor making frantic noises, the medic’s voice drowning in with it. Someone shouts his name but the black encroaching on his vision is too much. He succumbs to the lava in his veins.

__________

Morgan knocks at the open door, hoping to draw Reid from his silence. “You okay, kid?” The nurse had said he was fine. They thought he was in shock but his core temperature hadn’t dropped that much thanks to the EMTs fast work at warming him up. That hadn’t spurred him to say anything though.

He hasn’t said a word since they pulled him from Hotch.

Reid keeps rocking himself, knees tucked to his chest and arms around his shins. He’s still freezing and it’s all his fault. He should have been faster.

“Hotch!” The adrenaline is pumping back through Ried’s body, knees and hands shaking as he watches the waves hit the side of the dock but Hotch’s head doesn't come back up. There are no bubbles coming to the surface, no signs of a fight happening below the surface. “Hotch!”

It’s been a minute but when Hotch dove in he was under for nearly two.

Seventy-six seconds.

Even if Hotch is a good swimmer-

Reid pulls his jacket off, stripping layers of clothing from his skin. This is such a bad idea. So bad. 911 has been called, back-up is on it’s way but that’s no good if Hotch drowns.

“I hate this job,” he mumbles, staring into the water. “I hate it. I hate it. I hate it! I hate it!” He tears into it, knowing that this is bigger than his slight aquaphobia and the freezing sting of the water on his skin. “Hotch!” He takes a deep breath and plunges into the water.

It hurts. Burns. It’s like a thousand hypodermic needles kissing his skin.

He pushes his hair from his face, scanning the water. Looking back to the dock he estimates he needs to go about five more feet to his right. Using long strokes he cuts through the choppy water, a wave hitting his face. He has to stop and recover, blinking the sting from his eyes. “Hotch!”

And it’s still freaking snowing.

Reid is begging Hotch to pop up. To hear his deep voice berate Reid for getting wet too.

He hates this job.

Reid dives under the next wave, forcing his eyes to open under the water. He’s afraid to see what he’ll find. His fingertips hit something hard and covered- hair! Reid pushes himself down further, lungs burning but he’s found someone and he can’t come up yet.

He wraps his arms around the trunk of the other person- his brain supplying Hotch was wearing a white buttoned down shirt and the hurt digging into his skin is blunt like a button. He kicks with all his might but the body- Hotch- doesn’t move. His lungs are under too much pressure and with a silent cry he kicks himself up the surface.

“Argh!” He screams into the air, lungs burning in an entirely new way. He takes two deep breaths, treading water to gather his breath. He can’t give up. He goes back down. His panic is driving his heart rate up, making his oxygen last in even shorter amounts.

His hands connect and he has to remind himself to save the energy of being happy. ‘Come on’, he pleads. Reid tucks Hotch closer, one armed wrapped around his chest and the other extended above his head. Feeling for where the water breaks to air.

Every muscle in his body is screaming. Lactic acid building up in his muscles and if he had the air to he’d scream in anguish.

His fingers sting and with a new burst of energy Reid’s head emmerages from the water. He gasps for water, his cold cramped fingers losing their grip for just a fraction of a second. Hotch slips from his grasp but Reid’s scream is muffled by the waves crashing around them.

They’re going to die and it’s his fault.

He’s crying, tears streaming down his numb cheeks. He has to stay level headed, he has to fight.

That’s what Hotch would do.

Right, Hotch.

Reid pulls him closer, flipping him into the rescue position. Head above water, breathing or not- it has to be enough. Hotch won’t forgive him, ever, if Reid saves Hotch to leave behind that boy. A killer or not.

The water is well beyond cold enough to, hypothetically, protect from brain damage.

Reid has to pray that's enough.

He goes back under. His lungs hurt nearly as soon as his head goes under, the cold water hitting his forehead is strangely… nice. The rest isn’t.

It’s harder. All of it.

The current twists him, his muscles tired from swimming. If he can’t find this kid soon, they’re all going to drown.

A wave above crashes hard, it’s force pushing him down.

He sees nothing.

It’s all just black and freezing.

He kicks into something and whirls around, finding flesh and hair. Reid pulls but the kid doesn’t move. For a moment, Reid nearly leaves him. His lungs are burning, his body exhausted, and with a long fight still ahead… The bodies had hesitation marks. Shallow marks where someone young- someone incapable of murder had done as requestied but not whole heartidly.

The kid isn’t a murderer.

Reid kicks upwards with all his might, his head feeling like it’s going to explode.

He breaks the surface and could sob with relief at the sight of the shore lit up with emergency lights. “Help!” His voice croaks, breaking. There’s no way they can hear him. Reid pulls the kid so he’s on his back, just as he had Hotch, and begins to tug them both in the direction of Hotch’s freely floating body. “Help!”

He rolls onto his back, taking a wave to the face. He recovers quickly, a new surge of adrenaline working through him. His limbs are shaky but working. “Alright,” he says to himself, floating for a second to gain control. “Let’s do this.” He grabs the back of Hotch’s collar and the kid’s shirt and kicks with everything he’s got. Hoping that the waves hitting his face can push him towards the shore.

“Kid-”

Reid flinches, his whole body recoiling. He blinks slowly raising his head in confusion. “M-Morgan?” He looks around him, surprised to find hospital tile and not the wet sand he’d left Hotch on. “What-” his mouth is impossibly dry, his body still cold.

Morgan takes a step closer to him, weary. In nothing but a hospital gown and a pair of hospital socks Morgan can see his friend’s bony body. It’s no surprise he didn’t hold up well in the freezing water- he doesn’t have any fat on his body to keep him warm!

“I brought you some clothes,” Morgan lifts Reid’s bag up. He sets it down on the bed beside Reid, allowing him easy access to the clothes. What he’s not expecting is for Reid to start crying. For a moment he’s just struck, he has no idea what to do. He takes a tentative step closer, putting his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “Hey,” Morgan gathers him up in his arms, holding him close. “Kid, what the hell? What's wrong?”

Reid shakes his head, pushing his face into Morgan’s warmth. He just wants someone alive, someone warm to hold him. “I’m sorry,” he sobs. All he can think about is Hotch. “I tried, I did!”

Morgan pats his back, “what do you mean? What are you talking about?”

Reid’s chest heaves, his sob taking him by surprise. “Hotch!”

“Oh,” Morgan pauses for a moment, not sure what all he should tell Reid. “Kid, Hotch is…” fine might be an overstatement. A little rough but- “Hotch is sitting down in the ICU with Emily, right now.” He rubs Reid’s back, shushing him gently. “Kid, he’s fine. Hotch is gonna be fine.”

Reid pulls his head back, “what?”

That can’t be true. Reid saw.

The EMT pulled the buttons on Hotch’s perfect white shirt open. His chest bare and unmoving, as pale as the snow under his back. CPR wasn’t working. Reid saw. His ribs were bending under each compression but nothing was working.

He was dead.

Reid saw. Hotch was dead.

__________

“We caught the pulmonary edema early,” the doctor promises them. His tone is light, hopeful. “He’s on a course of diuretics to clear his lungs and on oxygen until his stats come back up but he’s already doing much better.” He nods his head, clearly happy to give them a good prognosis. “There was some irritation in his right ear so I want to start him on a course of antibiotics for that, to get ahead of the ear infection.”

Emily snorts, both her hands coming up to cover her mouth but her shoulders are still shaking with the force of her laughter. It’s a horrible moment of reacting to news the wrong way but an ear infection? “I’m so sorry,” she manages to force her palm against her lips. Forcing her smile down. “I’m- I really am sorry for that I don’t-”

The doctor holds his hand up in a clear sign of acknowledging her apology. “It’s perfectly fine,” he reassures her. “Everyone has different reactions to these sorts of things.” His smile is a strange mix of sadness and amusement as he recalls giving grimmer news than this to families and garnering a similar reaction. “I assure you, it’s not the first time someone’s laughed.”

Emily isn’t sure whether to feel reassured or sick. She lowers her hands and wipes at the bottoms of her eyes, beyond the point of caring if she looks like a raccoon or not. “Is he- Can you take me to him?”

The doctor looks at the little group behind her, all looking equally as eager to his patient. “It’s against protocol to let all of you back, yet, but I can let one of you back.” There was a name, someone Agent Hotchner had managed to call out for. “He was asking for a-a…” he can’t remember the name though. “An Emma or-”

“Emily.”

The doctor nods, “yes. He asked for Emily.”

“Well,” Emily looks back at the other’s. Swallowing the lump in her throat she says, “I’m Emily.”

The doctor claps his hands together, “well, then come with me.”

Emily looks back over her shoulder once- to JJ and Rossi being left behind in the waiting room- and offers them a small wave. Smiling sadly when they wave back.

“He was alert when I went in a few minutes ago,” the doctor tells her, coming to a sudden stop. “Try not to get him too worked up-”

She’s partially aware of what he’s saying from then on out but her attention is on the man on the bed. The man intently watching her from under the oxygen mask across the bridge of his nose. The doctor pats her shoulder, offering a smile and she nods and smiles back despite not having a clue what he’s just said.

Stepping into the room, she hesitates for only a moment before taking his hand and sitting on the edge of his bed. “Hey.” He’s cold to the touch and she sets to rubbing his fingers between her own to warm them up. “How do you feel?” With her distraction in place, it’s easier to ignore the obvious pain in her chest. Tight and wrong.

He’s too pale for even him, shivering under the layers of shock blankets and heating pads pressed around his body, but he offers her a warm smile. Reaching up with fingers that are still too cold to work properly, he fails to pull the mask from his face. She pulls it down for him, tucking it under his chin.

“Hey,” his voice is weak, hoarse from disuse. “I got an ear infection,” he rasps at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

She keeps the mask pulled back for a moment longer, leaning in and kissing him tenderly. She runs the side of her finger along his jaw, clenching her teeth in a failed attempt to hold her tears at bay. Carefully, she places the mask back on his face. Feeling a sick twist in her stomach because she’s glad it drowns out the sound of his labored breathing. “Serves you right.”

He smirks at her, a goofy lopsided little thing. Oxygen deprived or still cruising on his adrenaline high he says something, intangible between his slurred exhaustion and the hiss of the oxygen over his face. She makes just enough of it out to lift the mask back up and asks, “did you ask me if I’d still love you if you were deaf?”

It’s hardly the time to be having “would you still love me” hypotheticals when he’s hardly awake. Especially when his breathing is still so rough and if it gets any worse it’ll be her fault. Then she’ll have to kiss her visitor’s pass goodbye. Still, she can’t help but love him and his stupid questions.

He nods.

“I think so,” she places the mask back down. She runs her hands through his hair, smiling as he curls himself closer to her. “I mean, you don’t listen to me now, what would change?” She chuckles after she says it and he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling at her. That’s when her chest gets tight, her emotions bubbling up as he frowns up at her with those big old sad eyes.

She almost lost him. Permanently. This time there would be no Paris for recovery, Afghanistan for penance- just permanent goodbyes where the last things they said to one another were cruel misguided words. Things that didn’t matter because that’s how the world works.

The credits cut before the movie’s over.

Romeo and Juliet isn’t a love story.

And he dies on a dock.

No more Sunday’s spent in his backyard. The two of them tangled in a hammock meant for one person. A book balanced on his chest, his voice a deep rumble and the only sound in the world- “ I had taught myself to covet nothing. It was not a loathing of death that froze me. I had taught myself to think of death as a friend. It was not heartbroken rage-”

No one could properly replace him.

She’d never felt this comfortable with another human being. To try on clothing, twirling in place to show him that it not only has pockets but it swishes when she moves. How many men would look up from whatever teen magazine quiz he was reading and raise an eyebrow in approval? Noting she also wouldn’t have to shave above her knee in it either.

He pushes the mask away, twisting the flimsy plastic from his face. “Come here,” he manages, breathless. “Let me hold you.”

She’s momentarily adamant to get too close. He’s hurt and tired and- pulling her closer. “Fine but only for a minute,” she caves and she always caves when it comes to him. It takes a minute to work around the machines and the wires, then moving so she’s not laying on him. “I mean it, Aaron.” She tucks her head closer to his chest, breathing in the natural scent of him. Just Hotch.

“You scared us,” she whispers against his chest.

She’s close enough now that he can smell her conditioner. “I scared myself.” It’s not like drowning was something he was looking to do.

Emily looks up at him, turning her head on his shoulder. “Let’s not do that again then?”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” his voice is rough again, breathing ragged.

She reaches up and pulls the mask back over his face. Gently raking her nails through the hair at the side of his ears. “Get some sleep, huh?” He’s just a big softie and she knows that playing with his hair is going to put him out like a light. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” he mouths, eyes dropping already.

And how is she gonna say no? “Always,” she whispers. She holds him closer, scratching at his head.

She’s waiting for his soft snore but now she wraps him up in her arms. Enjoying his proximity. He may be a stupid man but that’s what she signed up for.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #spencer reid #derek morgan #hotchniss #hotly

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mommymooze · 4 years ago

Text

Big Girls Have More Fun

You were always a very big girl. Your mother had complained when giving birth to your brothers that their shoulders were so wide it was a miracle that they ever made it out. When the midwife had problems getting you to leave the warm comfy space known as your mother’s womb, Mommah cried because it was going to be another boy. She and Father were so happily surprised that after all these years they finally had a girl. Weighing in at almost 10 pounds, you were also the biggest of her children. Everyone who saw you when you were little thought you were a big boy. It didn’t help that you had plenty of hand-me-downs from your brothers so your clothes were always masculine. You were bald headed until you were two, until your (h/c) hair finally started to grow in. Mother always styled your hair so cutely with lots of ribbons and bows. Being the girl and the baby of the family, you did have a few beautiful dresses that you wore on special occasions, but you preferred the tough pants that were from your older brothers. Girls clothes never fit very well in the shoulders, so your dresses were custom made. Having 6 children’s feet under the table did not call for a lot of extra money for clothing, and you preferred your older brothers castoffs anyway.

Always chasing after your brothers and their friends, you were as much of a boy as they were. Instead of dolls and dress up, you preferred wrestling and play fighting. If someone said you couldn’t do something because you were a girl, you had to push yourself until you could climb higher, run faster or swim farther than any of those silly boys. Mother tried to get you to wear makeup when you turned 13, hoping that some feminine influence would stick. They found out all to quickly that most of the powders and eyeshadows made your face break out until you looked like a chipmunk. Since you would not wear dresses, when you were older your mother convinced you to wear loose-fitting long-sleeved blouses that had a bit of frill around the neck or cuffs. This was to make you look more feminine because…well because you had muscles. No tea parties for you. It was much more fun to hang out with one of your brothers. Your oldest brother was a carpenter so helping lift stacks of wood, hammering nails and learning to build things was fascinating. Your next brother was a bricklayer. Helping him move pallets of bricks, stir the bonding material to go between the stones and hand him bricks as quickly as he could lay them was always fascinating. It was so satisfying seeing a line of bricks suddenly become an entire wall by the end of the day. The middle brother was apprenticed to the blacksmith. This was your favorite brother to work with. He would let you pump the bellows and work on basic metal pieces and he would finish them. Your fingers were a bit smaller and more nimble than his, so he had you assembling pieces together he would hammer in the rivets to join them into the finished work. He taught you how to make shoes for horses, some in different lengths and widths. You really loved hammering on a piece of metal, molding it into something new and useful.

Shortly before you turned 18 your parents were killed in a tragic fire. Having nothing left to keep you home you had heard of the Academy at Garreg Mach. With the blessings of your brothers you headed out to become enrolled and most importantly, to see what you could make of yourself. The atmosphere at the school was exciting. You had been homeschooled by your parents. Taught the basics reading and writing, a bit of etiquette (though your brothers still attacked every dinner like a pack of ravenous wolverines.) You were invited to join the Golden Deer, a mostly wild and boisterous bunch except for Marianne and Ignatz. It was a perfect fit for you. Raphael was just like one of your big brothers and loved to spar and wrestle with you. You found Leonie to be a great friend, easy to hang out with because neither of you were extremely ‘girly’. That word was more for Hilda and Marianne, who would dress up and fix their hair for hours, complain about getting dirty. Still, they were still sweet and became good friends. Even Lorenz could behave himself and tolerated in small doses.

Claude was the ‘leader-man’ for the deer. He certainly was mischievous, playing pranks or generally annoying at times. Much of the time he follows their Professor, Byleth, always asking questions and trying to get more information than Byleth probably wants to supply. You arm wrestled him once. He’s an archer, great upper body strength, you thought he would be a challenge. But he lost pretty quickly, telling you that you should stick to someone more of Raphael’s or Caspar’s build. It was really strange when one day Claude and Byleth are called away on a special mission. A few of the other students, the heads of the other two houses and Hilda are not seen for a couple weeks. Some of the knights filled in for teaching when they are available. Otherwise the Deer are thrown in with Professors Manuela and Hanneman for most of the classes.

You are thrilled to get extra training on brawling from Catherine and Alois. Alois is okay, great at brawling, but his jokes are something hard to stomach. Being a brawler meant you were always well armed. Ugh. Catherine is a ton of fun, she is built a lot like you. Broad shouldered and incredible upper body strength. She is a plethora of knowledge. She’s constantly giving tips on the best holds, the best way to take someone down. Knowing that you would come across a lot of male opponents as there were few female brawlers such as you two, she gives tips on distractions, specific grabs and holds that were very effective against men. Some of it feels like cheating, especially the sudden fake flirts and the like, but any weapon in a battle for your life. The other students may not have enjoyed the few weeks without Professor Byleth, Claude, and Hilda, however you are having a blast.

Byleth and all of the missing students return without a word as to what happened while they are gone. You decide to trail Claude today because he’s acting extra suspicious. He stops at an area close to the sauna, not far from where Byleth’s room is located. He is talking to that shifty merchant guy that hangs out over there at times. Your curiosity gets the best of you and you approach greeting Claude loudly.

“Hey (y/n) talk about timing! I can use a strong pair of arms if you have a few minutes.”

Instinctively you point to yourself. “Me? Sure, I’ve got a few.”

Claude grabs your arm and pulls you behind the merchant showing that there is a hidden entrance to somewhere underground. The air is cooler down here, but a bit stuffy. After a couple turns down the corridors you are met by a tall guy with a deep voice and purple hair. The two are speaking in low voices, you can’t make out what they are talking about. The new guy looks as you so you give a little wave of your fingers. The two men lead you down several more corridors, you feel like you are going in circles now. Finally, they stop and the new guy pulls out a key and opens the door, ushering everyone inside.

“Glad you brought Muscles here, Balty is a bit busy at the moment.” Says new guy.

“I want a look see before I hand over the payment. I’m sure you understand.” Claude says with a grin.

Yuri grabs a dagger and works on a board, loosening it to reveal the contents of the box is a large cache of lances.

Claude pulls one out and invites you to take one in hand.

“Dagdan construction.” You spin it, twirl it and look it over carefully. “Decently made.”

“Who made you the judge, friend?” Purple hair snips.

“Apologies. Worked as a blacksmith for a time. Repaired lots of stuff from lots of places.” You place the weapon back in the box. “I’m (y/n)” you give a bit of a smile introducing yourself. You really get a good look at purple hair. Is he…wearing makeup? It looks good on him. Your face grows into a bigger smile.

“Yuri.” He says. At least he grips your hand firmly.

Claude puts the weapon back in the box, so you grab the board that was pulled off, put it back on and hammer it into place with the butt of your dagger from your belt. You pick up the box (use your legs not your back) and hoist it onto your shoulder. Yuri silently escorts you and Claude back to where you first met him.

“Glad to do business, friend.” Claude gives Yuri a tap on the shoulder.

“Always.” Yuri turns to you, “Come visit sometime. I’ve got a friend who would probably be interested in a spar or two.”

“No prob!” You wave with your free hand and follow Claude back to the surface.

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

A few weeks later, after the Golden Deer have returned from a successful mission, Claude pulls you aside.

“Can you spare some time, friend? I have a special sparring match you might be interested in.” Claude’s eyebrows waggle a bit, a half smile on his face.

“Spar? I’m always up for a challenge. So what’s up?” You answer, it’s been a while since you’ve been in a good match, and the Professor has been teaching you some cool moves and holds that you want to try out.

“Remember Yuri? He’s got a friend that just loves to fight and grapple. Thought you two should be introduced. Maybe teach each other a thing or two?” Claude informs you as he leads you down into Abyss. He leads you to their tavern and you see Yuri seated there with a big dark haired guy wearing chains across his chest. His chest is very muscular and well developed, certainly a brawler like yourself. Claude introduces you to Balthus. The both of you reach out for a handshake, you grasp each others hands and it immediately turns into an arm wrestling type of match to see who can squeeze the others hand the hardest. After a minute you both stop and laugh at each other.

“Way to go, Pal!” Balthus laughs, slamming his large hand down on the table making everything on it rock and wobble.

“Good to meet you too.” You say back to the big guy, a shy smile coming across your face.

Yuri is the next to speak. “So friend, we thought it was time to introduce the two of you. Are you interested in a friendly competition to perhaps determine who is the better brawler?” The half smile on his face lets you know there is some sort of mischief behind this invitation, making it all more enticing to accept the invitation.

You agree to the match. Yuri slaps you on the back. “You won’t regret this, come on.” He says as he leads you off to who knows where in Abyss. You’ve turned left and right and gone through enough doors you do your best to simply keep up and stay with him until he’s led you to a small room. Hanging on a hook is a soft gold tunic and short pants.

“You weren’t exactly dressed for this, hope you don’t mind we’ve provided clothing for you. I’ll leave you to get yourself ready. Be back in a minute.” He says as he closes the door behind him.

Just what kind of a setup have you gotten yourself into? You wonder as you put on the clothes. You do a few squats, throw a few punches and hooks. They are easy enough to move around in you suppose. Just before your mind starts to spiral wondering what the heck is going on, Yuri appears again, grabbing you by the hand. He’s leading you to a door that he pulls you through then slams the door shut behind you.

You find yourself in a well lit but small auditorium. There are rows of benches filled with people of the Abyss. On the opposite side of the dirt floor area you are in is Balthus, wearing pants like yours, but in a shimmery gray color. He looks like someone spread oil all over him, his muscles are shining in the light. He’s waving and blowing kisses to the audience.

A voice booms loudly into the room and the crowd quiets, “And now for the main event, our own Balthus vs. (y/n)!”

WTF? This was going to just be a wrestling match. What is this horse and pony show?

“Brawlers, meet in the center and shake hands. Start at the ring of the bell.“ the voice booms in the room, bouncing off the walls with a slight echo. Balthus wiggles his fingers in a “come here” sort of gesture.

As soon as your hands touch, the bells go off and he’s grabbing you trying to throw you to the ground. You grab his wrist, twisting it behind him, kicking at his knee to get him off balance. He tries to use his free elbow to jab you in the side as you pull him back towards you shoving your knee in his ribs. The crowd surrounding you is yelling and jeering, throwing garbage at you for trying to hurt their champion. For good measure you grab the back of his head with both hands, smashing his face to your knee.

The grappling goes back and forth for a while. You’re able to grab him and throw him against the ground, then he grabs your foot, pulling you off balance and you land face first in the dirt. Next he’s got an arm pinned behind you, so you pull him quickly over your back to flip him down into the dirt. Most of it is arms flailing, smashing into the other to get a good grip and really pull the other into a good position for a finishing move. You’re still confused as to how all of this is happening. Claude and Yuri have some explaining to do.

Balthus is smiling. Smiling! As he grabs you around your waist and flips you upside down dropping to a seated position forcing you into receiving one hell of a piledriver to your skull. You were able to brace a bit on his thighs, so your neck wasn’t broken, but you were going to have a hell of a headache after this match.

The crowd is now screaming “Bal-tie! Bal-tie!” and stomping their feet so hard the ground feels like it is shaking.

He flings your legs to the ground and leaps up to give you a hard elbow drop, but your instincts kick in and you’ve rolled out of range. Once he hits the ground you’re behind him, knees in his back, your right arm grabbing him under the chin pulling it straight back. Balthus’ neck is straining against the pull. He’s stuck in your powerful chinlock.

“Tap out or I break it!” You scream.

You feel the slaps on your calf as you let him go and fall back on the ground. The crowd is booing and screaming and throwing rotten food at you. You struggle to your feet, raising your fists in the air. Your head is screaming at you, bruises in places you haven’t had in a while as you limp back to the door that let you into this goddessforsaken place. You bang on the door once, “Let me in before I bash it down.”

The door opens a little as you smash it open into the wall behind it.

“Great going there kid! I knew you could do it!” Claude is beaming at you until you grab his shirt and pull it tight around his throat and shove him against the wall and as far off the ground as you can get him. “Gah!” he screams as he’s holding on to your hand, trying to take some of the pressure off of his throat.

“What. The. Hell. Was. THAT!” You are seething with rage. Your teeth are grinding so hard he can hear the crunching as your eyes are fixed on his, burning with hellfire.

“Calm. Calm d-down (y/n).” He stutters, patting your fist still holding him up on the wall. “Let’s talk. C’mon. You had a great fight, just like I promised.”

You let go and he drops to the ground sitting against the wall. You move to a nearby bench, taking a seat you close your eyes and shake your head. The Claudster had manipulated you into this. You should have known.

Claude gathers himself back together. Standing he brushes himself off, straightening his collar as best he can considering most of it around his throat is now shredded material.

Yuri pokes his head in the door. He looks at Claude. “You’re still alive? I’m surprised.” The violet haired man takes a small step into the room. “Catch, Tiny!” he laughs as he throws a bag at you, coins jingle inside as you catch it. Before you can look back he’s closed the door.

“Tiny?” you ask.

“That’s what everyone said when you walked into the arena. She’s so tiny compared to Balthus. Your head doesn’t even come close to his shoulder. Now they’re calling you the Tiny Terror.

#fe3h x reader #balthus von albrecht #yuri leclerc #claude von reigen #fire emblem three houses #fe16 #my stories

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notalwaysthevillian · 3 years ago

Text

My Whirlpool of a Life

Ships: Kaminari/OC

Word Count: ~2.2k

I will not be doing a tag list for this fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 6: Never Have I Ever

Some of our classmates started to circle up, as Mina had requested, but there were also quite a few that opted out of the game. In the end, we had Mina, Kirishima, Bakugo (who Kirishima had bugged into joining), Jirou, Sato, Midoriya, Uraraka, Sero, Hagakure, Mineta, Karminari and me. A few of the others hovered around to watch, but the rest headed up to bed.

Todoroki sat a little bit behind me, observing. “I do not understand how you play this game.”

“Hey Mina, could you go over the rules?”

A heard a whispered, “thank you” behind me as Mina launched into her explanation.

“Okay, in case anyone has never played!” She stood in the middle of the circle, slowly spinning as she spoke. “You hold up...let’s say five fingers because it’s starting to get late. I’ll start, and I’ll say something that I’ve never done. If you have done it, you put a finger down. It’s a great get to know you game.”

“And a great game to find out some spicy stuff from the ladies.” I heard Mineta whisper.

Kaminari zapped him. “Dude, chill out.”

I squeezed his hand, flashing him a grateful smile.

“Alright, we all good?” Mina double checked that everyone was ready, before taking a seat next to me again. “Never have I ever...well, kissed a boy. On the lips.”

I rolled my eyes, putting a finger down. I saw Jirou put a finger down too, but no one noticed. She saw that I saw her, but I just winked, not caring to draw attention to it.

“Never have I ever kissed a girl on the lips.” I said, earning a few groans from the boys. Sero and Sato both put a finger down. “Ooooh.”

Sato laughed. “It was my grandmother, when I was little. She was weird like that.”

“I don’t kiss and tell.” Sero said with a wink, earning a few giggles from the rest of the girls.

“Bug, it’s you.”

Kaminari glanced around the circle. “Hmm...never have I ever thrown up in public.”

Uraraka, Sato, Bakugo, Midoriya, and Kirishima all put a finger down.

“Ewwwww!” Hagakure cried out. “That’s so gross.”

“I can’t help it.” Uraraka was a deep red. “If I use my quirk too long, then it makes me queasy.”

“Alright, let’s move on to some juicy stuff.” Mineta rubbed his hands together. When he saw the six-way glare he was getting, he held his hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. Never have I ever been in love.”

Wincing, I put a finger down.

No one else did.

“So, Nima,” Mineta licked his lips. “Who -”

“Nope, not talking about that.” I cut him off, looking in Hagakure’s direction. “Your turn.”

“Okay!” Her hands moved around the circle as she pointed. “Never have I ever...broken a bone!”

Everyone looked at Midoriya, who laughed. “Is it a finger for each bone? Because then I’m out.”

“No, just one.”

Midoriya, Mina, Sero, and Kaminari all put fingers down.

Sero stretched his arms behind his head, hiding how many fingers he had still up. “Never have I ever messaged a pro hero on their website.”

“Come on, man, you can’t expect me to not message Crimson Riot!” Kirishima put a finger down, as well as Midoriya, Hagakura, and Mineta.

“Okay, my turn.” Uraraka’s eyes lit up as she came up with something. “Never have I ever learned how to play an instrument!”

To no one’s surprise, Jirou put a finger down. But so did Bakugo.

“I’m not explaining -”

“His mom had him take music classes when he was younger.”

Bakugo immediately launched in Midoriya’s direction, held back by Kirishima. Sero jumped up to help as Midoriya screamed and zipped off to the stairs with his quirk.

“Well, I guess we’re done.” Mina jumped to her feet. “I learned a lot, even though we didn’t finish playing.”

Yawning, I put my hands up. Mina tugged on them, helping me to my feet. “I’m going to head to bed. More training tomorrow, I don’t want to be sleep deprived.”

Mina leaned in closer, whispering, “If you want to talk about that guy you were in love with, I’m here for you.”

I gave her a quick hug. “Thanks.”

“I want a bedtime hug!”

Whirling around, I wrapped my arms around Kaminari. He pulled me close, gently pressing his lips to my forehead.

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

Over the next few days at training, I managed to nail down Geyser, thanks to Bakugo’s explanation.

“Great!” Midnight praised as I landed it perfectly for the thirtieth time. “Any ideas for another move?”

“Yeah, actually! You know Todoroki’s ice wall?”

The rest of our training days consisted of me trying to perfect what I was calling Tidal Wave. It was a move that could push people away, as well as potentially immobilize them if I could keep them in the water.

Over those days, I got to know my classmates a lot more as well.

After dinner one night, Todoroki and I were out in the back, practicing again. Kaminari was sitting on the steps, content to just hang out.

I had a feeling he was a bit jealous, but since nothing was ever going to happen between me and Todoroki, it wasn’t something I was too worried about.

“You know, you could make an ice platform.” I was saying as I launched up with Geyser, giggling as I caught myself. “If people needed an escape route.”

“Oh I’ve done that already. When we went to I-Island.” The tips of his fingers frosted over.

“Dude, I barely remember what happened for most of that trip.” Kaminari piped up from the steps, coming down to join us on the lawn. “I was fried.”

“You and Mineta fawned over that one girl.”

Kaminari went red as I turned to him, hiding my laughter. “Oh?”

“It was before I met you! And you’re way prettier than she is, and sweeter, and -”

I held a finger to his lips, laughter now pouring out. “Bug, it’s fine! I’m just teasing you. But thanks for feeding my ego.”

“You’re the prettiest girl I know.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed against my skin, and I breathed in sharply.

“This feels like a moment.” Todoroki interrupted, heading toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone, and let the others know to leave you alone too.”

“Todoroki, it’s fine, we’re heading in too.”

Kaminari followed me in, his hand sliding into mine.

Another night, I found myself in Jirou’s room, listening to her strum something on her guitar and quietly sing as Momo and I did some homework on the floor. Hagakure sat nearby, doing her nails.

“You’re really good, you know.”

She flushed, half-hiding behind the instrument. “Thanks. My parents are musicians, and they started teaching me when I was young. Do you play anything?”

“Oh, no. I’m no good at playing.” I waved a hand in the air. “Dancing, yes. But singing and instruments? Forget it.”

“Not even the harmonica?” Jirou joked, making all of us laugh.

“Maybe the harmonica. Or a kazoo.”

A small breeze came from Hagakure’s direction and I could only assume she was waving her nails in the air to dry them. “So…how are things with Kaminari? You two seem like you’ve gotten pretty cozy.”

“Things are great!” I couldn’t help the heat in my cheeks as I thought about him. “He’s…sort of the opposite of my ex in a lot of ways? But the core thing is still there. He cares a lot about his favorite people.”

There was a beat of silence before Momo cleared her throat. “Could we ask about him? If you’re willing to talk about it, that is.”

I sighed, knowing that I was going to have to talk about it eventually. “Let me text the other girls.”

Soon enough, Tsu, Uraraka, and Mina joined us. They all sat on the floor, while I paced a bit. “Um, ask away I guess? But there are some things I might not answer.”

“We’ll respect that.” Tsu said, and the other girls nodded.

“What’s his name?”

I shook my head. “That’s a no-go.”

Uraraka raised her hand. “When we played never have I ever the other night, you put a finger down for having been in love. Was…was that with him?”

“Yeah. It was.”

“What did it feel like?” She asked, blushing.

“It felt like…like I’d do anything for him. Protect him if he was going to get hurt and help him if he was already hurt. Make him laugh when he needed it, hang out if he needed someone. I’d drop anything to be by his side. But we were best friends before we dated, so I’m not sure if some of that was still lingering.”

“Are you and Kaminari in love?” Jirou teased, twirling her earbuds around her fingers.

I shrugged, deciding to be as honest as possible. “Too early to tell. We’ve been together for a little over a week.”

“Who broke up with who?” Momo asked, before covering her mouth. “Apologies, that shouldn’t be asked.”

“No it - it’s fine.” I swallowed, remembering that day. “He broke up with me.”

Hagakure’s glove went into the air. “Why?”

I shook my head. “I think I’m done with questions.”

“One more thing, and it’s more of a statement than anything.” Momo said, tilting her head as she looked at me. “You should tell Kaminari about him. Eventually. He probably wants to know too.”

“I will. Just, maybe after the assessment?” I rubbed my arms. “I don’t want to throw him off or anything. I can’t be the one who makes him not get his license. But after.”

Jirou nodded. “Good call.”

More training days went by, and I’d managed to mostly get Tidal Wave down. It was hard for me to keep people trapped in it, because they could pretty easily swim out, but I was satisfied with my progress.

“WATCH OUT!”

I turned to see some stone falling towards All Might. Before I could even move, Midoriya was there, kicking through it and blasting it to pieces.

“Midoriya!” I surfed over to him, sweeping the water back into my improved belt. “That was awesome!”

“Yeah, man, I always thought you were more of a puncher.” Kirishima said as he walked up with Kaminari.

“I am!” Midoriya shuffled his feet in the dirt. “Or, I was. But this style helps save my arms from more damage.”

“Sorry for the scare, young Bakugo!” All Might called up.

“WATCH YOURSELF, ALL MIGHT!”

An explosion above had me rolling my eyes. “He really needs to work on manners.”

“We’ll crack him.”

Midoriya sighed as he looked up. “He’s always been like that. Hey, have you guys made costume adjustments too?”

“Yeah! We look pretty awesome, huh?” Kaminari asked, throwing his arm across my shoulders.

Kirishima nodded. “You’re not the only one with a new style. We’ve all been making changes here and there. Gotta upgrade, right?”

“Just wait!” Kaminari pointed his thumb toward himself. “My special new gear is gonna blow your mind. It’s a serious power boost. Wanna see? It’s totally amazing!”

“That’s enough, Class A.”

I turned to see a man dressed in red standing in the doorway, more students lined up behind him.

“Who are they?” I whispered, not recognizing anyone.

“Class B.” Kaminari whispered back. “Most of them are alright. But keep an eye out for -”

“Hey, did you hear?” A boy in what looked like an old magician’s costume stepped forward. “The license exam has a 50% pass rate. That means your entire class might fail!”

He started laughing, and I noticed a ginger girl behind him roll her eyes.

“Um, sorry, who are you?” I asked louder, looking directly at this kid.

He shot me a grin. “You can call me Monoma, sweetheart.”

I flashed him my sweetest smile, fluttering my lashes at him. “Call me sweetheart again and I’ll drown you and make it look like an accident.”

His eyes flew wide and he took a few steps backwards. “That’s a threat!”

“Is it?” I put a hand to my heart. “I meant it as a joke, I swear.”

Kaminari and Kirishima were both stifling laugher behind me. Midoriya looked horrified at what I’d said.

“Unfortunately, his observations are correct.” Tokoyami said as the rest of the class gathered around us. “If we’re taking the same test, then we’ll crush each other. That’s the hand fate has dealt us.”

“And why we won’t be in the same location.” Aizawa spoke up. “Our classes applied to different spots.”

“Hmm, a shame. I was looking forward to fighting you.”

Monoma glared at me. “You probably aren’t even that good!”

I threw a wave up, pinning him to the wall. “Want to find out?”

“Enough.” Mr. Aizawa activated his quirk and the water splashed everywhere no longer under my control. “Let’s go.”

“You’ll be facing kids from other schools.” Mr. Aizawa said as we walked out of the training grounds. “Very few first years try for provisional licenses. You’ll be facing older students, who have had more training, and with quirks you don’t know about. The content of the test is a mystery. You will have a hard time. Don’t get hung up on that, but keep it in mind.”

“Yes, sir!”

#mha #my hero academia #kaminari x oc #kaminari/oc #my hero academia fanfic

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