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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years

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Not Your Captain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!!! Lots of Angst in this one, guys, lotta feels, some Fluff to counterbalance it, but mostly Angst, Cursing

A/N: This is Part Two to my previous FATWS writing, His Only Contact. FATWS SERIES STERLIST HERE! This one is from Reader’s perspective and gives you a bit more about Reader’s backstory. There will be multiple parts coming out in the next day or two based just on this new episode because damn. It was loaded! Due to this and my workload this past week, I haven’t been able to post the first chapter of my College!AU, Erased From the Stars, but I promise it’s coming! This’ll be my main focus for the weekend though! Expect more parts in the next 24 hours! I’ll be making a masterlist for this particular project in that time, too! Taglists are open! Please contact me if you want to be tagged! Thank you and please enjoy, loves! (Not beta’d, so sorry for mistakes!)

AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The moment you saw it on TV, you knew you had to get to Bucky. You weren’t planning on leaving until the next day, but there was no way you weren’t going. So you caught the first plane you could from the base you were staying at.

You’re feelings were all over the place. Steve had been your best friend for more than the past decade. You were the one there when he first woke up. You were the one to help him get situated. You were the one to help him whenever he needed, to go over to his little place in DC when he was having problems, like the time he thought he was having an asthma attack when it was an anxiety attack or when you had to help him find a new phone after he accidentally broke his.

You were that close to falling in love with him. But life went the other way and, in a weird twist of fate, almost as if the universe wanted to spare you of the heartbreak it knew would come if you gave your heart to the dashing captain, you ended up tripping over your own feet for someone else.

Someone you would never tell.

He was the last thing you had left of Steve and you couldn’t ruin that because of your stupid feelings. And you couldn’t ruin the relationship you had now because it was working. He trusted you, more than anyone else. He trusted you because Steve trusted you and you wouldn’t dare break that trust.

You just hoped, with everything going down in relation to the shield - to his legacy - that you’d be able to keep that promise you made to yourself.

You were in front of his door early in the morning - around four - hesitating to knock. It didn’t take long for him to respond the moment your fist did meet the door.

He looked…tired. You wished, oh how you wished, that you could do more. Anything more. He insisted you helped him plenty already; he claimed he never had nightmares when you were by his side. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he’d been through. You felt as though you were merely putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.

His chocolate locks were short, above his ears. You could remember how hesitant yet eager he was about doing it. It was difficult to not cut his ear off because he kept moving in anticipation. You would know: you cut it. Those blue eyes that made you trip in the first place were outlined by thick lashes, dark ebony bags beneath them, making the azure pop. He was shirtless, as he usually was when sleeping (or at least trying to sleep), his dog tags resting against his sternum.

You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. His eyes were bloodshot as if he was watching TV for too long and his hair was less messy than it would be if he actually slept.

The moment his eyes found yours, his plump, chapped lips turned up into the grin he reserved for you and he was pulling you in. Your reaction was instantaneous, your arms slipping around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder as he found home in the crook of your neck.

He was touch deprived. You knew this, but you never brought it up. Especially considering you were one of the only people he touched willingly. You didn’t want him thinking he was broken, more so than he thought he was already. And you definitely didn’t want to push him into fixing himself. So you didn’t tell him, even though you were pretty sure he knew, and you just let him take the lead.

Sometimes it meant he grabbed your hand in large crowds, or tucked you under his arm when he was threatened. Other times it meant laying his head in your lap when he was tired late at night, or a soft hug in greeting.

Hands slowly tracing his spine, fingers dancing up and down his back, you gave a small smile when you felt him practically purring in your embrace. You could never decide if he was more puppy or kitten. You used to make jokes about the three of them, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, being like a puppy, kitten, and bird that you had to reluctantly pet sit for a friend. You would give almost anything to be joking around like that with them when you went to visit Bucky in Wakanda with Steve.

“Buck?”

He hummed. You didn’t want to pull back, you wanted to stay connected with him for as long as possible, but you had to talk. You didn’t want to talk about it, because that would make it more real, but you had to. You had to.

“Have you seen the news recently?”

His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulling down. “What happened? Is it Wanda?”

You looked down the hall, your lips pressed together tightly, before nodding inside. “We have to talk.”

He nodded, stepping back and pulling you inside. Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor against the far edge of the sofa made you inwardly sigh, but you didn’t say anything about it. Steve was the same way at first.

“Is she okay? Did you find her? Where-”

“It’s not Wanda.” Turning, you faced him, trying to control your own anger at the situation, knowing it wouldn’t help him any. “It’s…it’s about Steve.”

Those spectacularly blue eyes narrowed, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. “What about Steve?”

You gestured for him to come closer, holding out your hand in offering. He took it and followed you as you led him to the couch. A cleared throat and a deep breath later found you gently explaining what happened to him. That the government had taken back the shield and had given it to someone else. A ‘hero just for America’. A ‘new Captain America’.

You could see his features harden with every word, his jaw ticking dangerously, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. You squeezed his hand as you finished. “He’s got meetings and stuff with senators and governors. They’re taking him on a tour this week. They-they want me to meet him, considering I’m the last of the original seven. Active on Earth, at least.”

The tears that started forming in his eyes made you swallow your own emotions down thickly. He didn’t need your hatred of this wannabe to fuel his own. He needed your support and comfort. He needed to know you’d be by his side through this.

“Are you?”

You blinked, not expecting his first words to be that question. “Am I what?”

“Going to meet with him?”

“I-I…” You stopped talking, knowing that if you continued you’d end up ranting about how he wasn’t your captain. How he could never be your captain. Debating answers, you decided on a simple, blunt reply. “No.”

“Why…”

Running your thumb over his knuckles, you leaned over slowly to press a chaste kiss to his bare skin and blood shoulder. “Take your time. Collect your thoughts.”

He responded to your words by taking a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw so tight you feared he might chip his teeth. It was a tense minute before he said anything, the room being filled with his harsh breathing. “You said he gave them the shield.”

“What?”

“Yesterday. You told me he gave up the shield. They put it in the Smithsonian. But you just said they took it from him.”

“He did give it to them, but-”

“Why?” His eyes snapped open, his features twisting into ones of frustration and resentment. “Why’d he give it to them?”

You shook your head, knowing Sam didn’t mean for any of that to happen. He had called you a few weeks ago to ask about your opinion on the matter. You told him that Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so if Sam thought that was the right thing to do…you trusted him. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Don’t be mad-”

“Don’t be mad?! Don’t be mad?!” Bucky shot up, ripping his hand away from yours, making you bite your lip and hang your head as he paced in front of you. “Steve gave it to him! And he just gives it away like he’s regifting a shitty frisbee as a Christmas present! And you don’t want me to be mad?! Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!”

Cringing at the use of your name, which you rarely hear fall from his lips, especially in vexation like just then, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Bucky, I get it. I do. I’m mad, too. I’m-I’m furious. But you can’t blame Sam. Please. He just - he’s trying, Buck. Just like me. Just like you. We’re all trying.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell as he stared at you, eyes darting from feature to feature as he studied your face. Before you could say anything else, he was on the floor in front of you, in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face pressed into your stomach.

You could tell he was holding something back - something big - but you wouldn’t push him. You never did. Displaying feelings was always hard for him, even in the early 1900’s; Steve used to tell you stories when you were looking for him after the fiasco in DC. Bucky grew up being the oldest of four and the only boy. On top of that, his best friend was a scrawny, stubborn, punching bag of a boy. According to Stevie, neither of them really learned how to cope or how to deal with feelings. And it showed. Boy, did it show.

Instead of getting on him and asking what was wrong and begging for him to talk to you, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, as you sat back to make the position more comfortable for him.

“Stay with me. I need you.”

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his head, nodding into his hair. “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me, Buckaroo.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@happygoreading, @thatsdarwinism, @satellitespidey

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sluttyminghao · 3 years

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Part 1/?

✧ pairing: wen junhui x gender neutral!reader ✧ word count: 2k ✧ genre: smut ✧ warnings in this chapter: camboy!jun, masturbation, masturbating on camera, camboy!minghao makes an appearance ✧notes for this chapter: reader only makes an appearance at the end of the installment, i hope it makes sense as you read it! ✧ a/n: you asked, and i delivered! this is the first installment of going live! a series about camboy jun and his adventures! i hope you all enjoy, and if you would like to be added to a taglist pls inbox me! feedback is appreciated! ✧ synopsis: he’s a shy college boy who is stuck in financial difficulty, and his best friends gives him a suggestion that may or may not be a good idea.

A slight glance at the clock on his nightstand indicated that it was 10:49 pm, and he knew that within a matter of minutes he’d be doing the exact thing he said he would never do. His palms had grown sweaty and he felt his heart rate quicken at the thought, and all he could think to do was wipe his palms on his sweats. He remembers the conversation he had about his thoughts with Minghao vividly, even though it had happened months before his current situation.

“I just don’t see how you can do it, how do you not get embarrassed? Aren’t you being watched by...god knows how many people?” Junhui spoke between mouthfuls of ramen, immense heat rising in his cheeks at the nature of the conversation that had come up when talking about Junhui’s increasing level of financial difficulties. Minghao raised a brow at the older, before erupting into a fit of giggles and making Junhui cock one of his brows in confusion. Did he say something funny?

“Why would I be embarrassed about my livelihood?” Minghao began, wrapping some noodles around his chopsticks expertly and blowing them lightly to cool them down. “I make so much profit off of doing camming and making videos, that I’ve been able to pay my rent and amenities for the next six months, as well as keeping on top of all my art school debts,” he continued, an amused smirk finding its way onto his face at Junhui’s shocked facial features.

“Six months? That’s crazy... I’m basically living paycheck to paycheck at the minute,” he mumbled and let out a small sigh, picking at the small pieces of meat left within his ramen bowl with his chopsticks. “Well, that’s kinda what you get for working at a small and dingy diner run by a bunch of college students,” Minghao quipped while giving him a pointed look, letting his napkin fall to the table to signify he had finished his meal.

Junhui sighed. He knew Minghao was right, 99% of the time he generally was, but this was one thing he really didn’t want to admit to him. “But...would people recognise me? That’s one thing I really don’t want,” Junhui spoke shyly, and Minghao’s face softened towards his elder, before shaking his head slightly. “You can use blurring filters or wear items on your face so people won’t recognise you, that’s what I do, and no one knows who I am to this day.”

He thought a little more about it, and Minghao could practically see the cogs turning in his brain, deciding to offer a piece of advice to his struggling long-time friend. “Hey,” he spoke, gaining Junhui’s attention, “you should really think about it, especially if you need the money. With a face and a body like yours, I’m sure you’ll have thousands of subscribers in no time.”

Well, what did he have to lose? He sure didn’t have any shreds of dignity left, may as well give it a shot.

In all his years of living, he had been very well off financially, but in recent months his rent had become increasingly more expensive and the cost of living had jumped up exponentially. To his dismay, he found himself without a choice, needing the money as soon as possible so he would still have a roof over his head and the bare minimum of food.

He had been staring at the webpage for the camming website for the past 45 minutes, trying to hype himself up, but he had just become increasingly nervous as the time had passed. Minghao had explained to him countless times that this website was very reputable and a great starting point for beginners going into camming, and he knew that he could trust the words of his younger friend.

But even still, the nerves would not stop pouring over him, almost acting like a cascading effect, flowing down his back like a waterfall and seeping into every crevice of his body.

He sucked in a breath before exhaling shakily and picking up his phone to call Minghao. He knew that if anyone was able to calm his nerves, it would be his long-time friend. He tapped on Minghao’s contact before placing the phone to his ear, listening to the phone ring a few times before he was met with Minghao’s groggy voice.

“Were you sleeping?” Junhui’s voice is quiet as he speaks into the receiver, awaiting his companion’s response even though he was almost sure he knew the answer already. “No, I was out feeding the ducks, of course, I was sleeping,” Minghao sighed sarcastically, and Junhui suddenly felt a pang of guilt for the late-night call to his friend. “What did you need, ‘Hui?” Minghao continued, sleep laced in his voice.

“I’m sorry for waking you up...I’m so nervous...I don’t even know how to start the camming videos…do you have any...pointers, maybe...” Junhui trailed off, and he could hear Minghao hum from the other end of the phone. He remained silent for a few beats, only further amplifying Junhui’s nerves to the point where his leg had begun to bounce incessantly.

“I think you just need to relax a little, maybe have a drink or two to settle your nerves,” he replied smoothly, wanting to end the conversation so that he could get back to sleep. “If you’re really worried, why don’t you just show everything from the neck down when you’re recording?” He continued, waiting for his older friend’s reply.

Junhui was contemplating the options laid out to him and decided to combine both, deciding he didn’t have anything to lose. “Thanks, Hao, I owe you,” he rushed, hanging up and throwing his phone on his desk and standing up to get himself a bottle of alcohol. He assured himself that he was only going to have a few sips to loosen himself up, but he figured that he may need to down the whole bottle by the night’s end.

A few swigs of his precious alcohol later, and he had finally built up the courage to remove his shirt but left his sweats on as a safety measure. Minghao was right, the alcohol definitely loosened him up, and before he had even realised what he was doing, he had pressed the record button and had started his live stream.

He didn’t know what he was doing, not a single clue. His mind was fuzzy and his last shreds of dignity left him the moment his pants were pulled down and thrown haphazardly to the side. The only thought that was now running rampant through his mind was how much he wanted to cum. He wasn’t even focused on the live video anymore, only focused on his hardening cock and the way his hand wrapped around it.

Normally when he got himself off, he would take his time and relish in the sensations, not wanting to rush. In his nervous and alcohol-fueled state, however, he wasn’t going to beat around the bush like he would if he was sober. His hand moved up and down the length of his cock rapidly, small whimpers eliciting from the man’s lips as he pleasured himself.

Junhui could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge the faster he pumped his cock, but he knew he didn’t want to cum just yet. He slowed his hand significantly to a steady pace, almost feather-like touches, and moved his free hand up to flick at his nipple, sighing at the sensation.

Not that he would ever admit to anyone, but his nipples had always been extra sensitive and even just the slightest feather touch would have him reeling and wanting more.

The whines poured endlessly from his mouth, even as he built up his orgasm for a second time. He kept one hand on his cock, pumping up and down swiftly and gaining speed, while the other pinched at his nipples. It was getting harder for him to hold himself back, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer in the position he was in.

Before he could even think about stopping himself from cumming again, he felt the string snap in his abdomen and felt the hot streaks of white land on his stomach. He gasped at the feeling and let his hand continue to move steadily, letting the white streaks hit his chest. His head had grown fuzzy from the sheer intensity of his orgasm, and he could feel his hips lightly bucking up into his still closed fist.

When he was sure his orgasm had ebbed away, he removed his hand from his softening cock and sighed, leaning back in his computer chair. After a moment of stillness, his eyes widened upon seeing the small red recording dot on his computer, reminding him of the act he had just performed.

He clicked the stop button hurriedly and closed all his tabs before slamming the lid of his laptop shut. He couldn’t believe what he had just done; his mind was whirring with a thousand and one thoughts, his heart was about to leap right out of his chest, and he knew that there was no going back from the acts he had just performed.

He pushed himself out of the chair and headed towards his bathroom, showering in an attempt to get the cum off his body and somehow trying to scrub off the gross feeling he had from his lewd behaviour. It wouldn’t come off that easily, however, so all he could do was face the consequences of his actions and own them as Minghao told him to.

After a hot shower and a whole lot of contemplation later, Junhui knew that he would have to use his laptop again and see the damage that he had caused, so he decided to simply bite the bullet and take a look back at his video and see if anyone had commented or liked it. It didn’t seem likely in his opinion, since it was his first video and he had no subscribers, but there was a small glimmer of hope buried deep within him.

His eyes widened at the results in front of him. He truly could not believe the sight he saw when he clicked back on to his video to check for feedback.

200 new subscribers, 800 stars and 27 comments

He blinked rapidly, thinking it was all a hallucination. How could this be? He only sat in front of his computer for roughly 10 minutes jacking himself off and had garnered a huge response to it. He clicked the refresh button, thinking that it was simply a mistake on the website’s part. Surely he, a newbie to camming, did not just rack up over a thousand notifications from a ten-minute video.

When the page refreshed he saw the same notifications, except for one new comment that had caught his attention. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to look at just one comment and then head to bed, so he let his mouse hover over the little star-shaped notification icon and pressed on it. His eyes moved across the screen quickly, and he couldn’t help but feel the heat rise to his cheeks at the comment he had seen.

angelbaby96: you’ve got such a nice cock, and such pretty noises too. I would love to hear more of them sometime <3

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untaemedqueen · 4 years

Text

SandB Series

Alpha Werewolf!Taehyung x Mate!Reader

Chapter 12.

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Smut, Angst

Warnings: Feelings of Inadequacy, Use of Oc's Powers, Dirty Talk, Begging, Praise, Lactation Kink, Sexual Acts Involving Jeongguk, Jimin, Yoongi, Use of The Term: Bitch, Pregnancy Kink, Milk Drinking, Cunnilingus, Knotting, (Minor) Jungkook Handjob, Cream Pie

Being in Summit is eye opening on levels you never thought you would begin to grasp.

It's not just discovering you have powers, it's seeing how these two species you once considered mythological act around each other.

Even how they act within their own groups.

You've come to understand recently, or feel more accurately, that the Fae do not actually like the werewolves. In fact, there's a film of hatred that pours from their territory into the wolves.

It's shocking in all honesty, how do they keep up the charade? How do they keep the wolves from not knowing their fervent hatred?

It astounds you almost everyday.

What you've also come to realize is how different packs are than the one you're in.

Yes, even though you're a human, you've been told very rigorously by the servants that you are indeed still a part of the pack.

With your mate being pack Alpha, it seems that you're also held to a higher standard than all the other wolves in this group.

You can feel constant judgement from other female werewolves when you pass them in the streets or when they just pass by you on a whim.

Sylai, a female Omega you've been spending time with almost as much as Namjoon has been, seems to know all the hot gossip at the drop of a hat. However, she is timid and skittish at times whenever your best friend Alpha is around.

The pretty Omega is always quick to tell you why you're an outcast here and although you shouldn't be upset about it -- you almost always are.

You've come to terms with the fact that werewolves don't normally find their mates in humans, you've heard it from Taehyung's lips on more than one occasion, but you didn't think it would disgust others as much as it does.

When you've had the chance to view other packs, they seem to operate on levels of hierarchy you've never seen before.

The Alphas are always on top, the Betas a close second and the Omegas, most times, are treated like play things. Which is why you can understand that Sylai makes herself so small around Joon.

When you've been able to see other Alphas mates, they're very accommodating and docile. They're almost always pregnant which you understand and they bow to their Alphas every wish.

Sometimes you recall your past fights with Taehyung and lump forms in your throat. You can remember how he wished that you would just listen sometimes or not make comments and it truly makes you wonder… what if you aren't right for him?

You feel strong, thick muscled arms curling around your waist as you stare at the other packs down below your bedroom balcony.

"Hi, beautiful," your mate whispers, spreading his hand over your small belly.

"Hi," you breathe, letting your eyes flutter shut.

He's been away a lot recently, most because of the High Council asking his opinions of what to do with the rabid werewolves still at large -- including his parents.

"I missed you, baby girl." he coos, drifting his lips slowly over your mate mark.

You hum in agreement, running the tips of your fingers over his arms.

He peeks over your shoulder to look down at the random pack near the forest's edge.

He watches the Alpha snarl and snap his teeth at a Beta when he gets to close to his mate. Your fiance chuckles, burying his face in your hair.

"What's funny?" you inquire softly.

"Betas don't know how to behave sometimes," he replies, lifting the hem of your shirt to caress your growing belly.

Sometimes you feel completely out of your element and this feeling has been growing ever since you found out you're one of the Fae.

Maybe it's because you feel like you don't even know yourself anymore. You don't know who you are or who you should be.

The soothing scent of pine and musk breeches your senses once more and you allow yourself to be calmed by your mate at this very moment.

"Sylai has been spending a lot of time with Joon." you comment to him.

He hums in agreement, wanting to ignore his Alpha duties for just one minute of the day. If he accepts this fact, then his wolf will have to welcome someone new into the pack and he would just rather have these moments alone with you.

"I've seen it." he murmurs, pulling you closer to his body.

"Are you going to let her join your pack?" you ask, turning around to him.

You really like Sylai and you would really appreciate more female company around.

"Probably, Joon deserves to be happy." he answers, not wanting to dive head first into the matter.

"I mean, she's really sweet. I think she would be good for your pack."

The words 'your pack' don't sit right with your mate for a second. And he voices it openly as he pulls you over to the bed. "Why do you keep saying that? You keep saying 'your pack'? It's our pack. You're my mate, you're in this pack too." he inquires with a raised eyebrow, sitting down on the bed.

He pats his lap, leaning back on his elbows and like always you straddle him immediately.

"Well, I'm not a wolf. I'm a Fae or… just human so…"

He can smell your timidness, he can hear your heart hammering with worry and his wolf suddenly feels protective.

"What's wrong, baby?" he whispers, dragging his thumb over your lower lip.

You shake your head slightly, running your fingers over his tight black t-shirt that seems to hug each and every sinewed muscle on his chest and stomach.

"Hey now," he breathes, flipping you over so you're laying down beneath him.

You don't make eye contact with him, you don't so much as look above his stomach as he lays down beside you.

"Y/N?" he murmurs, kissing your temple.

It's stuffy in the room, you've come to realize or it just feels that way with his prodding questions.

"Y/N?" his voice is more forceful and you're just embarrassed to speak.

Werewolves aren't known for their patience. They need to know what's wrong, why this is happening and how to immediately fix it or there's very little in the world that will calm them down until the problem is solved.

The growl Taehyung emits throughout the room is a warning to you. It's a warning for you to speak up.

But you've seen Alphas immediately give in to their mates when they bare their necks. So you do so as well.

Taehyung's heart clenches in the recesses of his chest and he can almost scoff at your meekness. "Don't do that," he breathes, nuzzling your neck with his nose.

"Where's my spit fire mate today? What's wrong, baby?" he gasps, burying his face into neck.

"I'm sorry," you bleat.

"Sorry? Sorry for what? You're perfect, baby."

Your fiance can quite literally feel his heart panging with worry. He can hear some of your thoughts like you're screaming in the quiet room.

Inadequate

Unaccepted

Different

Human

Disgrace

"No, baby, no." he hisses, turning your face to look at him.

When your eyes don't meet his, he can only swallow thickly.

"I love you, baby girl." he promises, drifting his lips over your jawbone.

"I love you too." you mumble, looking down at your engagement ring.

"If-If you wanted to get another mate… maybe a wolf… I would understand."

The sharp breath Tae takes between his teeth, makes you shudder beside him. "Don't you dare, ever, suggest something like that. You're my soulmate, do you understand? You're my woman. My mate. I don't want anyone else, I could never be with anyone else."

"I'm not a wolf," you explain, turning to face him.

"So?! What does that have to do with anything?" he scoffs, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Well, most other wolves are disappointed that I'm a human. I'm not-"

"Who fucking cares about those newborn pups?! Who cares what the fuck they think?! They aren't in my pack and they aren't my mate!" he curses, sitting up and carding his fingers through his silver mullet.

You can see his chest vibrating with growls and snarls. You know you're pushing him to the edge but you just can't help it -- your insecurities are trumping everything right now.

"Are you embarrassed of me? Embarrassed of our children? Our pups?" Taehyung inquires, looking at you with hardened blue eyes.

"No," you reply, turning your body away from him.

"Then what is going on in that head of yours? You feel inadequate? Because wolves look at you differently?"

You stay silent, squeezing your eyes closed.

"Answer me, Y/N." he urges, running his hands over your back.

"They...They just look at me like I'm a disease or something. Like I'm not worthy of being with you. And… I don't want to be a burden to you or your pack."

He scoffs loudly, hooking his arm around your body and pressing his chest flat to your back.

"I don't care about others. You're not a disease. You're not a burden. You're mine. You're my beautiful, precious, headstrong mate who is just as much a part of my pack as Guk or Jin." he breathes.

When your silence bleeds throughout the room, he doesn't think he can stomach it for another second.

His canines drop out of instinct and he clamps his teeth softly down on your mate mark. If you were a wolf, you would be arching back into him needily already but it grounds him to know that things aren't so easy.

Yeah, you're stubborn and reflexive but you're his. And he loves that so much that if the Earth was crumbling he wouldn't care as long as you're in his arms.

Taehyung lifts the hem of your shirt, cupping your small belly. "I don't need anyone else but you, Y/N. You're a fierce woman and I count myself lucky to know you and to have you as mine."

"I'm sorry… I was just embarrassed… I don't want to burden anyone." you hiccup, looking down at his hand.

"Never, baby. You're never a burden." he promises, pulling the straps of your tank top down.

From your belly to your clothed core, his hand digs beneath the band of your leggings.

"Why would I want a meek little wolf when I can have a fierce fairy in my bed." Tae quips, turning you flat on your back.

Your breath hitches and you gasp gently when his fingers part your lower lips.

"T-Tae," you whimper, allowing him to position you as he sees fit.

As he climbs above you, his eyes roam over your body as if you're prey and you can't help the excitement that begins to bleed from your pores.

"Do a little magic for me, babe," he quips, kissing down your neck.

Snapping your fingers, you relish in the deep growl he gives when you both are stark naked.

"Pretty girl," he drolls, palming both of your breasts in hand.

When your nipples begin to bead milk, he can almost surely feel his knot twitching to expand already.

"I love you." his voice is a purr that echoes throughout your limbs.

"I love you too."

The kiss he captures you in is passionate and heated. You can feel the sharp points of his teeth raking over your bottom lip until your aching with need at your center.

"Flip over for me, my wolf wants to show you how loved you are." he coos, suckling at your nipple.

Flipping over onto your front, you perch your ass in the air for him and the complete sense of dominating ripples through your mate.

His eyes harden over, pupil dilating as he stares at the puckered mate mark that scars your skin.

"My bitch is so pretty full of my pups," the Alpha growls, knocking his forehead against your temple.

His movements are fluid and firm, spreading your legs to situate himself between them.

The head of his cock glides through your now sodden folds and you quiver with anticipation.

"Alpha, please," you beg, lowering your forehead to the pillow.

His sharpened nails dance over your spinal column, purring at how submissive you sound beneath him.

"What is it my pretty mate? You're aching? You need Alpha's big cock in you? Want me to split you open so well you don't even remember your own name?" he prods, rutting his cock to your core.

"Yes! I need it!" you preen.

His hands grip onto your hips, massaging the flesh within his large, warm grip.

"Well, if that's what you need," he hums, entering you in one intrusive motion.

Your mouth drops open into a silent scream, your hands fumbling to grip the sheets until your knuckles turn white.

This sex is primal and mind shattering -- and everything you need.

Taehyung can hear your thoughts screaming once more and he's pleased with what he hears this time.

More.

Complete.

Mine.

Ours.

Nuzzling your neck, he lets your cunt accept the intrusion of his large cock. He takes to caressing your three month pregnant bump to distract you.

"That's it, baby. You look so gorgeous stuffed with my cock inside your pregnant pussy." he mumbles against your ear.

You can feel his muscles contorting and hardening against your back.

"I would never love someone like I love you. I would never wish to be buried in someone like this, baby girl. Let them talk all the shit they want, because you're the one that gets this hard cock at night." he growls, rolling his hips for you to feel every inch of his cock within you.

Your mouth waters and a sharp moan emits from you at the feeling.

"No one takes my knot but you. And no one would ever take it so well."

Taehyung lets his prideful thoughts bleed past his lips because he knows you need to hear them. He knows you need the assurance. And he may be Alpha, but he's a slave to your love first and foremost.

When he pulls his length almost all the way out, your body sings with hot pleasure -- it's every thick vein and ribbed muscle along his cock that gets your mind numb.

"Only my beautiful mate," he thrusts back in to prove his point, "gets fucked stupid by my cock."

Your back arches, his name falls from your lips like a prayer and you don't even have the strength to lift your head up and look back at him.

He creates a dazing, relentless pace, fucking you just hard enough to keep you babbling but not hard enough to get your orgasm to approach.

He's proving a point. He's making you his again and again with every thrust.

His canines sharpen longer and they clench down on your mate mark just hard enough for you to feel a sting sing through you.

"Hey, Tae-" the door is thrust open and you can barely focus on who's just intruded but your mate just chuckles against you.

"Come in and sit." he orders, pushing your hair away from your mate mark.

His fingers glide over your distending skin, kissing down your back with soft, open mouth pecks.

"My mate thinks she's not enough for our pack." he announces and fuzzily you can hear murmurs of shock.

"She thinks she's not worthy of my knot and my pups," he growls, fucking into you harder.

"Tae!" you whine, pushing your hips back to meet every thrust.

"But she's a pretty bitch that still bends to my will," he coos, focusing on how much of your arousal has coated his long, thick length, "Yoongi, come."

He pulls you up by your shoulders, pressing you up against his chest with a snarl.

Yoongi sits before you, not knowing where to look but licking his lips hungrily.

"You want him to suckle? You want our pack to need you, bitch? Is that it? You want your scent all over all of them? To show these filthy mutts who live in this city that you're a queen amongst mongrels?" he inquires, kissing the shell of your ear.

You don't know what's driving you, you don't know if it's the insanely arousing thought of being above everyone else or it's the thought of being on top of this pack. But the sharp 'yes' you moan out has Yoongi growling with anticipation.

"Feed," he orders the Beta.

You gasp loudly at the foreign feeling of Yoongi's lips against your puffy nipple. You adore how his eyes screw shut at the taste of you. His hands grip onto your sides and you're lost for words when he ruts his clothed hard cock against your thigh.

"See, my beautiful mate, you're above all here." Taehyung coos, pressing his hand to the apex of your thighs and rubbing smooth circles to your swollen clit.

"Jimin." Taehyung calls and you hear the earnest whimper of your best friend.

"No, I don't think I should… I'm-" Jimin breathes nervously.

"Well fuck, if you won't I will," Jungkook groans, pushing Jimin out of the way.

Your head lolls back to your mate's shoulder and your vision becomes blurry with the attention your body is being given.

Taehyung knows that his wolf is sharing you for the sake of proving a point but he can't help the way his cock twitches within you as he watches Yoongi hump your leg like a dog in heat.

Jeongguk's lips on you are familiar and suddenly you can smell the forest from that fateful day when your fiance shared you with the youngest pack member.

"You gonna cum? Hmm, beautiful? I can feel your pregnant cunt trying to milk my cock," your mate growls in your ear.

The small whimpers of the wolves suckling from your breasts, sends you over the edge and Yoongi is quick to press his hands against your rib cage to keep you from falling.

"That's a good little bitch," Taehyung gasps, fucking you with a fierceness to cum inside you.

"You want it, baby? You want my cum?" he goads, kissing over your mate mark.

"Yes, please," you cry out, carding your fingers through both Yoongi and Jungkook's hair.

Jimin lets out a sharp whine, feeling conflicted on what to do. But, this probably will never happen again in his lifetime and even though you're his best friend… he's not missing this. "Fuck it," he curses, jumping onto the bed.

He eyes you wearily for a second, avoiding your stomach which he knows is solely the Alpha's property and heads straight for your swollen, over-stimulated clit.

Your mate on instinct cups your growing stomach, growling as his best friend makes his dissent.

Your body shivers like a leaf when Jimin's plush lips kiss at your bundle of nerves.

"Oh God!" you cry out, gripping onto the boy's hair harder.

Yoongi curses against your breast, pulling off your nipple to catch his breath as his shorts become sticky and slack against his golden skin.

"Fuck, baby girl. I'm cumming," Taehyung murmurs breathlessly.

The swiftness of Jimin's tongue knocks the wind out of you and you spiral into another orgasm with ears filled with white noise and eyes seeing stars.

"Shit! Y/N!" your mate growls, pulling you back roughly to his cock until you’re squirting your arousal onto his thighs.

Jungkook whimpers needily, guiding your hand to his swollen cock.

"Pup," Taehyung warns him, stilling your hips as his thrusts become erratic.

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth, cursing loudly when he begins to cum inside you.

His lips tremble against your mate mark when his knot begins to inflate and you can only whimper at the stretch.

"Good girl taking my cock so well," your fiance coos, pressing his index finger beneath your chin and turning your head to kiss him.

"Noona, please. God!" Jungkook whines, nuzzling his face to your breast.

Taehyung can only give a breathy laugh against your lips. "See how needed you are? Guk is going to explode if you don't help him."

Jimin pulls away from your core with innocent eyes and he kisses your forehead gently.

"I'm gonna go check on Baek and Chan." he murmurs, hopping off the bed.

Your mate's eyes follow him as he leaves the room and he doesn't appreciate the bloom of pheromones that bleed from the Omega. Almost as if he's caught feelings for you.

You haven't noticed with your attention on the youngest.

He suckles eagerly from your breast, whimpering and whining as he fucks up into your hand.

"Gonna cum, noona. Oh shit," he whines, burying his face into the valley of your breasts.

You hum sweetly, combing your fingers through his long black locks.

The warmth that explodes onto your hand is a knowing sign of the youngest's release and he cries out softly against your skin.

"Clean her up," Tae warns him and he's quick to do the Alpha's command.

You can feel your tiredness beginning to exhaust you and your mate knows it right away. "She's sleepy, let me lay her down," he whispers, laying on his side with you.

The tug of his knot has you wincing slightly but he makes up for it with his sweet kisses to the back of your neck.

"One time thing," he tells them.

Yoongi pulls at his cum covered shorts with a grimace. "Good enough for me."

Taehyung's large hand caresses over your head and he can't help but think of the scent that was drifting off Jimin in waves.

"I love you," you mumble, closing your eyes.

"I love you too baby girl. You and our pups," he replies, drifting his hand over your belly.

He knows your asleep when his breathing gets shallow and his knot finally deflates after a while.

Taehyung turns onto his back, perching his hands beneath his head as he closes his eyes. His ears perk up and he takes a sharp breath through his nose when he hears Jimin mumble across the mansion.

"I-I don't know. I just felt so-"

"Don't let Taehyung catch you talking like this! She isn't ours," Yoongi hisses to the younger Omega.

"I almost had her before Taehyung y'know, is it so wrong of me to still want her?! You all wanted her at that moment!" Jimin scoffs.

"Jimin, what we did was to help a member of our pack feel safe. You are becoming obsessed with her." Jungkook accuses.

Taehyung's eyes spring open, a deep low growl emitting through his chest. He can feel his canines and nails sharpening themselves. Gripping his shorts, he jumps out of bed with one thing on his mind -- vicious anger.

He can hear the maids and servants whispering nervously as he stalks through the wolframite hallways.

Your mate isn't in the headspace to calm anyone down at the moment, he can't possibly think of others when his wolf is yearning to tear out his best friend's jugular.

Slamming the doors to the dining room open, his eyes scan his pack before finding him.

"Oh shit," Jin mumbles, cupping his mouth.

"GET OUTSIDE!" Taehyung barks to the Omega.

The whole pack avoids eye contact even Jimin.

Taehyung is fast -- so fast that Seokjin's hair blows in the breeze he creates.

The pack Alpha grips the Omega by the neck, hurdling him over the wooden bench he's currently sitting on and dragging him towards the large glass doors that lead out to the backyard.

"Taehyung!" Jimin whines but he's quick to shut up at the feral snap of Taehyung's teeth.

"Someone go wake up Y/N! This is so bad!" Jin yelps, rushing after both of the wolves.

SandB Taglist- @jvcqneliue, @gooplibrary, @imaforeigner, @wickizer, @mychemical-friendship, @justmewondering-recs, @stories1907, @stressedinmedschool247, @taeslittletiger, @claireelise19, @neobanguniverse, @kb-bangtanenthusiast, @almosthappysublime, @thedarkwinterrose

#silver and blue series #sandb #werewolf!au #werewolf!taehyung #alpha werewolf!Taehyung #werewolf!bts #taehyung series #taehyung smut

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neonacity · 3 years

Text

Black Daisies Chapter 5| Canzona

Preview:

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

An NCT mafia AU with OT23.

Summary: Working for the mafia comes with many layers. There’s excitement, violence, loss, and betrayals. Yet there’s also friendship, family, loyalty, and code. The last thing it needs? Love and all the complexities it brings.

TW: violence, death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities. If you’re uncomfortable with any of these, feel free to skip. Author’s note: This is purely a work of fiction. In no way am I supporting all the illegal activities and behaviors that might be mentioned in the story nor am I implying that any member of NCT acts whichever way I may write them here--they’re all sweetiepies that need to be protected.

Chapter: 1/ First Stage

Chapter: 2/Overture

Chapter: 3/The Conductor

Chapter: 4/Crescendo

The fog of smoke from the lighted cigarette mixed with the cold breath coming from blood red lips. A woman stood in a small overhead overlooking the city, watching the shadows move across Seoul like a dark cloud bidding disaster.

The sound of gravel crunching under boots sounded from behind her. She didn’t acknowledge it at first, however, instead dropping the nearly finished stick of nicotine between her fingers to the ground. A gust of air blew the stray stub away, its embers flaring up slightly before dying out.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

For a moment, it was only silence that answered her. Her dress danced in the wind, its red color looking like dried blood in the darkness.

“You were waiting...for me.”

She finally turned around to look at the guest. Her eyes, though naturally sharp, flickered with familiarity as she took in the form of the boy in front of her.

“I know you’re about to do something silly. I’m only here to tell you to stop whatever idea you’re having right now.”

The figure didn’t move in front of her, but the way he stared at her made the distance between them almost crackle with electricity. The man’s jaw tightened, before it finally relaxed just a little bit.

“None of NCT is planning to participate in his game.”

The woman merely raised a perfectly shaped brow, knowing that there’s more to what he is saying.

“But I—”

“Jaehyun. Don’t be stupid.”

“Being the Don means I can do anything I want, right? So you and I can—”

“There is no you and I,” her voice, though it sounded clipped and cold in the meeting hall earlier, had a tinge of emotion this time. Is it desperation? Frustration? Helplessness?

Jaehyun took a few steps towards the smaller figure in front of him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep him from reaching out to her.

“You will be free. From him. From all of this.”

“If you win.”

“And I will.”

“Not after you’ve betrayed your brothers. You know what things this kind of game brings. Don’t do something you’ll regret later.”

He locked his jaw again, his expression intense even under the shadows that wrapped the two of them. Jaehyun finally pulled one hand from his pocket and moved it to touch her arm. The woman took a step back, evading his touch carefully.

“I don’t need to betray anyone. We all agreed on it. Everything will carry out as usual,” he said in a tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. As she looked up at him, she saw the same desperation in his eyes—the same eyes that used to be so innocent before they were hardened by his life in the mafia.

“And you believe them? Look at where you are now, in front of me, telling me you’ll be doing this. You think you are the only one who has a reason to go after the position among all of you?”

“I…” he trailed off, a frown settling on his forehead. “I trust them.”

“With the way you are acting, I don’t think you are worthy of their trust at all.”

Something finally snapped inside of him and he finally closed the distance between them in quick strides. He didn’t touch her, but they were close enough to each other that the cold fogs of their breath mingled in the darkness.

“This is the only chance I have—you have—to finally leave.”

For a moment she simply looked at him, gaze unfaltering. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to his face and cradle it, tell him everything is going to be fine, but even as a flicker of emotion slipped on her gaze, she quickly let her cold mask replace it as fast as it came.

“I don’t need you to save me. Don’t do this.”

Before he could say, or do anything else, she finally took a step back again before turning on her heels to walk away. Jaehyun followed her with his gaze until the darkness swallowed her retreating form.

“Yo, you okay?”

I looked up from squinting at my computer and turned towards the boy grinning in front of me. I probably looked funny, my face all scrunched up from staring at my screen, because he broke into a laugh before dropping himself into the seat next to me.

“Ya… I know Taeyong said you’ll be our first line of defense, but you haven’t peeled your butt from your seat since last night. Relax. I don’t think Cypher is going to do anything—at least not for now.”

My squint turned into a frown and I opened my mouth to shoot back a reply. Before I could say anything though, a painful throb on my left temple made me stop. I barely slept a wink last night. I leaned back on my chair with a defeated sigh.

“You don’t know that, Yuta. Those guys… they’re nasty. If they got the same message that we all got last night, I’m 99 percent sure they’re thinking of something to sabotage us now.”

“Mm… were you able to hack into their system though?”

“Yeah. Their firewall sucks as usual. Nothing seems out of place for now…” I trailed off as my gaze moved across the room. From upstairs, I saw Taeyong slip out of his room in his sweats, hair messy from sleep. He ducked into the fridge on the second floor, rummaging for something there.

After the announcement from the Don, all the members decided to stay in the headquarters temporarily instead of going to their separate dorms to ‘watch each other’s backs.’ It was a good move in my opinion, but another side of me is also a little bit nervous of having everyone around all the time. Not that I don’t like having the guys as company… but I have my personal reasons to be anxious about the recent change in living arrangements.

From upstairs, Taeyong finally managed to fish out one of the tetra boxes of banana milk from the back of the fridge. I didn’t realize I was still staring at him until his eyes finally met mine and he gave me a sleepy smile.

I quickly turned my eyes back to Yuta only to find him giving me a Cheshire grin.

“What?”

“I asked you if you also tried checking temporary databases Cypher might be using but you were too busy eating up breakfast with your eyes,” he snickered before throwing up his hands as if in surrender. “I get it, I get it. All of us are handsome but you only have eyes for—”

I quickly gave him a punch on his left shoulder as I felt blood rush to my cheeks. “I—wasn’t staring!”

“Sure, you were just drooling—”

“Hey, anyone up for some drinks tonight?”

Our childish banter temporarily stopped as Yuta and I looked up to see a very sweaty Johnny stride through the door. He was slightly panting as he approached us, the slight flush of his cheeks a sign that he just finished his morning run.

“Why? You going to Anarchy?” Yuta asked in curiosity as he dug his hands in the front pocket of his sweater.

“Yeah, I have to make sure the dealers are selling the new goods well. I could go alone as usual but our Mom there,” he moved his lips to point towards a still sleepy-looking Taeyong upstairs, “said it is best to go in groups for now. You know, just to be sure.”

Yuta shrugged. “I can go with you. I’ll also ask the other guys too. I sure need a bottle or two.”

Johnny turned to look at me. For the first time since last evening, I felt extremely conscious of how I look. I was wearing an oversized hoodie, my hair up in a sorry excuse of a bun. My glasses didn’t do me any favors, barely concealing the dark circles under my eyes.

“You want to come with us?” he asked, smiling at me.

“Uh… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I have to—”

“She has to watch over the rats, is what she’ll say,” Yuta interjected from his seat. He turned to look at me then with a frown. “Seriously, if you’re going to act like this, you’ll never see sunlight in the next two months.”

I opened my mouth to speak but Johnny was too quick to answer for me.

“Great. You’ll come with us then.”

“But—”

“You can work in the club. I’ll have Jungwoo bring those mini computers you both love tinkering with. You can use them to do your magic codes and spying voodoo, right?”

I stared at him, at a loss for words.

“Good talk. We leave at 9PM,” he flashed me another grin and turned to walk away. I was about to give another rebuttal when my eyes landed on the way his shirt stuck to the muscles of his back. I closed my mouth and sank back to my seat.

Beside me, Yuta was grinning from ear to ear again.

“Don’t you just love it that we’re all staying here now?”

I turned and gave him another punch on the shoulder.

Two hundred miles away from Seoul, a man sat back on his seat as the screen in front of him turned black. The lone light of the overhead lamp in the room made eerie shadows dance across his face as he mulled over the closing words of the Don.

“You are free to do anything you like.”

His impassive face slowly broke into a smile so sinister it almost made his angelic features unrecognizable. He has no fucking idea why the idiotic man decided to start this little game of his, but he likes it nonetheless. A chance to take over the whole mafia sounded so enticing to him that it almost made him laugh, but there’s another reason that ultimately made his blood boil in excitement.

NCT.

“Jihoon.”

He only slightly moved his head to look at the female who cracked the door open to his room. She had the same eyes as him, though hers didn’t look tainted with madness. In fact, it look slightly worried right now as they took in his expression.

“You called for me?”

“Ah, yes,” he finally turned his swivel chair towards her so he could give her his full attention. He intertwined his long slender fingers on his lap and gave her a sweet smile.

“I need you to make preparations. We’ll be going on a little field trip.”

Her questioning gaze almost made him snicker.

“Where are we going? We have a deal to close tomorrow and we can’t—”

“Oh dear, I can’t care less about that now. It can wait.”

The girl pursed her lips. “Fine. Where are we headed to so I can make arrangements?”

The boy leaned back on his seat, head pressed against the headrest. He grinned at her, the emotion playing in his eyes making her blood run cold.

“Seoul. We’re going to visit some friends.”

---

A/N: Hi everyone! Decided to post this today even though it is super short. So I’ve decided to introduce Jihoon... and I would love it if I can have a face claim that I can use for him as a reference. To those who have been following the story, I’d love to know your suggestions! This will make it easier for me to develop him because then I’ll have an idea of how he looks like. <3

Chapter 6: Rapture

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goodlucktai · 4 years

Text

the ship sways but the heart is steady

chapter one: the ship sways

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, lan zhan/wei ying word count: 2549 summary: Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying puts his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. To absolutely no one’s surprise except Wei Ying’s, his family goes with him. read on ao3

During family dinner, Wei Ying’s phone rings, cutting mother off mid-sentence.

Jiang Cheng cringes inwardly and his brother’s face goes two shades paler. They have guests over, so mother doesn’t do more than glare hatefully in Wei Ying’s direction.

She won’t make a scene in front of Yanli’s husband, or even Wei Ying’s fiancé—Jin Zixuan is everything Yu Ziyuan wants in a match for her daughter, and Lan Zhan’s family is one of the richest on the East Coast.

Lan Zhan is also willing to give as good as he gets. His eyes are already narrowing in mother’s direction, the tentative ceasefire of family dinner wobbling precariously beneath their feet as he perceives the great and unforgivable offense of insult to Wei Ying. A-Li resolutely tries to pick the conversation back up from where it lulled, with all the steely resolve of someone throwing herself into the path of a rampaging bull. Jin Zixuan has graduated from grimacing into his wineglass to gazing hopefully at the clock every three minutes.

Always willing to fall on the grenade, Wei Ying ducks his head meekly.

“Sorry, I thought I silenced it,” he says, the shape of a laugh in his voice even if he can’t manage to drag it all the way out. He’s rummaging his cellphone out of his pocket, presumably to turn it off as a gesture of good faith. “I’ll just…”

But his eyes catch on the screen, and something happens to his expression that Jiang Cheng has never seen before.

Wei Ying stands up, so abruptly his chair sails back with an awful screech, and excuses himself. Lan Zhan follows him out of the dining room without a single word or a backwards glance. That’s all it takes for mother to pick up a scathing tirade against Jiang Cheng’s good-for-nothing, ungrateful, waste-of-space brother.

He joins Jin Zixuan in watching the clock. Worry swims in the back of his mind like a school of startled fish.

Wei Ying’s apartment is really actually Lan Zhan’s apartment, but the two of them have been inseparable since they were fourteen, and it naturally followed that where one of them would live, so would the other. The place is ridiculous, modern and minimalist, and it would look like something out of a magazine if not for Wei Ying’s inevitable clutter. But even the stacks of books and magazines, and haphazard easels, and little jars of paints and loose brushes everywhere manage to make the place seem charming and lived-in instead of the horrible disaster tornado it rightly should be.

Jiang Cheng asked him once what the monthly rent was but Wei Ying looked so haunted by the question that Jiang Cheng decided he didn’t actually want to know.

They’re all crammed into the conversation pit, recovering from family dinner in the usual fashion. Jin Zixuan is much more likable when his tie is loose and he’s nursing a lukewarm beer.

A-Li is clinging to Jiang Cheng’s hand so hard he’s beginning to lose circulation but he’d sooner agree to amputate than he would shake her off.

“You’re on speaker, A-Qing,” Wei Ying says with mock-severity. “Keep it PG for the children in the room, please.”

“So Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are there?” Wen Qing asks rhetorically.

Jin Zixuan sighs but doesn’t rise to it. Jiang Cheng snaps, “Listen, assholes,” partly out of half-hearted irritation, and partly to hear Wen Qing sigh the way she does when she doesn’t want to reward someone with a real laugh.

“Yanli and Lan Zhan are here, too,” Wei Ying says cheerfully. His tone doesn’t match how worried his eyes are. “This is a family-only meeting. So tell us what those texts were about.”

Jiang Cheng realizes right away why Wei Ying bailed on dinner.

There was an apartment fire. The Wens lost everything. Wen Ning is in the hospital with smoke inhalation and second-degree burns because he ran in to make sure their neighbors got out safely. All of their savings are wrapped up in putting Wen Qing through medical school. She’s adrift now in a way that Jiang Cheng has never been.

“There’s... we have an old house, somewhere out in the country. It was sold to my grandparents cheap, but they never got around to renovating it. It’s not even livable, just bare bones.”

A-Li starts crying the second Wen Qing does.

“It’s too much,” Wen Qing forces out. “I can’t do this on my own.”

Wei Ying, to his credit, actually does hesitate. A whole five seconds. And then he says, “I thought you were supposed to be my smart friend. Who said you were doing this on your own?”

He says it as easily as if it was an absolute given that he would turn his whole life around and upside down for her. All she had to do was call.

There is a minor disagreement between Jiang Cheng’s siblings.

“A-Li,” Wei Ying says, holding both of her hands in both of his own and looking deeply, imploringly, into her eyes. “You’re way too pregnant to fly.”

Her face crinkles alarmingly, eyes already red and puffy from recent tears. Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan and Lan Zhan tense in exactly the same way, at the same time.

“I won’t have you going all the way to California by yourself,” Yanli says in her most eldest-sibling tone of voice. “I won’t have it, A-Ying.”

“I am a grown-up,” Wei Ying points out gently, with all the wisdom of his twenty-four years. “I pay bills and have a job I hate and everything. And I won’t be by myself, I’ll have A-Qing and A-Ning.”

“And me, obviously,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. Wei Ying whips around to stare at him.

“Oh,” Yanli says, a blanket of relief rolling across her face. “Oh, of course.”

“You can’t,” Wei Ying hisses at him, looking more panicked now than he has all night. “Your mother—”

“Okay, first of all, don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” Jiang Cheng bites back, prickly with worry for the Wens and worry for his idiot brother. “Secondly, you, going by yourself, is not an option. It’s off the table. It was never on the table. Stupid,” he adds, on principle.

Lan Zhan doesn’t contribute much to the conversation at this point but Jiang Cheng learned a long time ago that that doesn’t mean shit. Lan Zhan has more opinions than any three people combined, whether or not he chooses to voice them. There is no fucking way he doesn’t have thoughts about his fiance picking up and moving nearly three thousand miles away.

Maybe there’s some strange alternate timeline out there where he would be content to stay behind and let Wei Ying go off without him, but Jiang Cheng would bet his entire trust fund that that’s simply not happening here.

If ever there was a world where Wei Ying would be backed into a corner and forced to help the Wens alone, this world isn’t it.

There’s a minor disagreement between his siblings, and there’s a whole fucking nuclear fallout at home.

“I forbid it,” mother snaps. She’s livid, but she’s livid so much of the time that it started losing its edge a few years ago. “Absolutely not. I refuse to allow this family to lose face because you want to gallivant across the country for some charity case.”

Jiang Cheng sees it when Wei Ying’s posture changes. The dreamy raincloud gray of Wei Ying’s eyes hardens into heavy steel, and his spine stiffens, and his shoulders go back; the absolute opposite of his downcast self at dinner earlier. He’s willing to fight any impossible battle as long as it’s for someone else.

Jiang Cheng grew up looking up to him. He spent all of his formative years as Wei Ying’s little brother. That’s why he’s willing, too.

“The Wens aren’t a charity case,” he says. Not very loud, but he says it. It’s a lot more than he could have done when he was a kid.

“You don’t even know them! They’re just some random people on the Internet. They’re probably scamming you, and you’re both idiot enough to fall for it!”

That’s so untrue and unfair that Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how to argue for a moment. They’ve never met the Wens in person, but Wei Ying has been friends with them since he was ten. They mail each other presents for Christmas and birthdays. Jiang Cheng distinctly remembers calling Wen Qing for help with biochem homework, multiple times. Wen Ning always Skyped with Yanli when he was stuck on a recipe, the two of them cooking together from three time zones apart. They’re all tangled up in each other’s lives, comfortably, irrevocably.

Of course we know them, Jiang Cheng thinks, bewildered.

Out loud, he says, “They’re not scamming us. And we already told them we’re coming.”

Mother screeches and storms around the house and throws things, but she hasn’t actually hit either of them since they grew taller than her. She hasn’t been a source of real fear since Jiang Cheng started looking down at her instead of looking up. It’s mostly just miserable to be around her now.

He remembers that fear, though. It sticks to his body like a half-healed scar. It reminds him to flinch.

It’s early enough in the morning that it might as well still be nighttime when Jiang Cheng and his suitcases finally show up at Wei Ying’s building. He leaves his luggage in the lobby under the watchful gaze of the concierge and takes the private elevator up, keying in the code to his brother’s apartment.

The doors roll open to the living room. Lan Zhan is holding a tiny animal carrier in his hands, gazing at Wei Ying in an extremely gross and smitten way while Wei Ying discusses the upcoming trip with their pets. Pidan and Bao are not being particularly attentive, snuffling at his chin and chewing on a piece of his hair respectively.

“Diedie has decided to be stubborn and not listen to good sense,” Wei Ying is telling the rabbits seriously, “so you’re coming with me and ruining your life instead of being safe and comfortable here at home.”

“Baba is being dramatic,” Lan Zhan informs them in turn. “And also foolish, if he doesn’t realize that our home is wherever he goes.”

“This is the weirdest domestic scene I’ve ever walked into,” Jiang Cheng says loudly, since apparently the telltale ding of the elevator wasn’t enough to announce his presence. He has to interrupt before they do something horrible, like make out in front of him. It’s a constant fucking risk with these two. “Are we leaving or what?”

So the rabbits go into their crate with a frankly absurd amount of fanfare and Jiang Cheng helps wrestle the luggage downstairs. By then, the shuttle that Lan Zhan ordered is waiting for them at the curb.

He knows it isn’t going to be a vacation. Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying has essentially put his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. It’s going to be hard work. It’s probably going to be painful, and a little bit scary.

Jiang Cheng is only involved because he chose to be, but it never occurs to him to choose anything else.

If this is where his brother is going, it’s probably the right place to go. And if it’s not, if the whole thing turns out to be a horrible mistake and he regrets all of it, then at least he’ll be in good company.

Wen Ning is out of the hospital by the time their plane lands, and he’s waiting with Wen Qing at the airport. Wei Ying, who by all accounts should feel as foggy and queasy as Jiang Cheng definitely does, drops his bags and sprints across the terminal towards them.

Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan follow at a more reasonable human pace, possibly in part to give the friends a few moments together. The busy airport traffic moves around them like a river flowing around a rock.

Wen Ning is sobbing, almost a full head taller than Wei Ying but buried against him like the little brother he is. Wen Qing is leaning quietly against the two of them with her eyes closed, as if filling her reserves and shoring up her strength.

She’s the type of person who would be able to cow his mother with a single glance, Jiang Cheng thinks admiringly, and more efficiently than Lan Zhan ever could. She must have a spine built out of steel to be able to stand there without crumbling under the weight of what she’s lost.

And Wei Ying stands there holding them up, tireless and steady. He’s talking too quietly for Jiang Cheng to hear, saying something that makes Wen Ning nod against his shoulder. He’ll hold them up until the ground falls out from under his feet if he has to. Thankfully it’s more like three minutes.

Introductions aren’t necessary. They all just trade exhausted looks and move as a cohesive unit towards the doors.

Wen Ning starts to help with the bags, bandaged hands and all. Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng both snap at him before he can so much as touch a suitcase, and then he just waffles in place anxiously, like he doesn’t know how to person if he isn’t actively being helpful.

“Hold the kids,” Wei Ying says in the spirit of compromise, taking the pet crate from Lan Zhan and holding it out to Wen Ning instead.

Somehow, they shuffle everything out of the airport and into a rental car. Lan Zhan’s phone starts to blow up as soon as he turns airplane mode off, so he turns airplane mode back on and returns the phone to his pocket.

“My uncle has checked the credit card statement,” Lan Zhan says calmly. “My brother is handling it.”

“Poor Lan Huan,” Wei Ying murmurs.

“We have to call A-Li,” Jiang Cheng remembers with a jolt. He digs his own phone out. “She wanted us to call as soon as we landed.”

Everyone clusters in close for the FaceTime call with Yanli, who is tearful and hormonal and indignant about being left behind. Jiang Cheng begs her not to get into a fight with their mother over this. Yanli raises her chin and says, “We’ll see.”

It’s a very long drive to the estate. Wei Ying’s head sinks against Lan Zhan’s shoulder in an inevitable, unstoppable act of gravity. He falls asleep within minutes.

“You have to help me thank him,” Wen Qing says quietly, tapping anxious fingers against the steering wheel. “Help me figure out how to thank him.”

Jiang Cheng snorts, not unkindly. “What makes you think I know how?”

An entire childhood spent raising each other, protecting each other, annoying the shit out of each other, and there are still some things Jiang Cheng has no idea how to say to his brother in a way that he’ll understand. Like I’m sorry, and thank you.

Lan Zhan turns his head to the side, so that his cheek is pillowed against Wei Ying’s hair. Outside, the sprawling California countryside sprints past the windows, wild and golden under a relentless summer sun.

#mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mdzs #wangxian #yunmeng shuangjie #jiang cheng #wei ying #lan zhan #wen ning #wen qing #jiang yanli #my writing #mdzs fic #it was only a matter of time fellas #the ship sways

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years

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Chapter 23

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Lan QiRen’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

The Peach Blossom Pavilion is heavily guarded.

However, the guards are clearly focused on the outside threats trying to find their way in, not the Emperor attempting to sneak out. Wei WuXian’s hand is warm in WangJi’s, squeezing lightly to signal when they must be still, pulling him along when it is time to move. In the darkness, every stretch of cobblestones looks identical to the next. They cross two courtyards, both pitch black, nothing to distinguish them from one another except the faint scent of chrysanthemums. It is not long before no guards can been seen or heard, but Wei WuXian’s hand is still wrapped around his own, his thumb a hot brand on WangJi’s knuckles.

WangJi remembers that same hand coated in blood. Pressing against the arrow wound. Gracefully extended, so someone else’s fingers may rest lightly on its wrist.

Somewhere in the Immortal Mountain City, there is boy lying wounded, because he had been willing to give his life up for the Emperor. And for a few moments, WangJi had forgotten that he even exists.

“Nie HuaiSang,” he says softly.

“Recovering. He lost a great deal of blood, but there will be no lasting damage. The assassin has not been caught yet,” Wei WuXian’s voice hardens, “but he will be.”

WangJi is relieved to hear it, but this is not the only reason he had said the Royal Companion’s name. Sneaking past the guards, depending on the pressure of Wei WuXian’s fingers to lead him, he could pretend that such contact was necessary. Now, he feels an imposter, holding on to something that does not belong to him.

Gently, WangJi attempts to disentangle their fingers. Wei WuXian’s grip tightens.

“A-Sang is my brother,” Wei WuXian says, “The rumors you hear, they have their advantage. But there has never been any truth to them.”

“Gossip is forbidden,” WangJi says, his face heating.

He can feel his heart beating in his chest, and his steps suddenly feel lighter, as if some pressing weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Wei WuXian laughs softly,

“If I were to forbid gossip, the next person to try and assassinate me probably would be A-Sang.”

WangJi is not sure how to respond to such a statement, and Wei WuXian does not give him a chance to try.

He tugs WangJi to a small door, its shape almost indistinguishable from the wall in which it is set. The door appears to be very old, but its hinges do not creak, soundlessly allowing them over a small stone threshold and into a courtyard. Although the plaque above the door had faded with age, it is still legible.

The outside of the Six Fans Pavilion looks forlorn.

The window holes are covered, the courtyard swept clean but depressingly bare. A long time ago, someone had tended its gardens with care. WangJi thinks that the wide planters out front must have once overflown with flowers in full bloom. Now, star jasmine has grown wild and sprawling, smothering every other sign of life.

He expects that the inside of the pavilion has not fared much better. Everything about the peeling paint and fading colors tells a tale of a place that is dusty and forgotten. Instead, the entry is bleak, but clean. The floors seem recently swept. There are no curtains or rugs, no decorations on the walls, no cushions on the seats. Each room looks stripped to its bones, the elaborately carved shelves gaping empty, tables bare, beds nothing but stark skeleton frames.

Wei WuXian leads him through, looking neither left nor right, until they reach a room that shows some signs of use. A few books are piled in the small cubbies behind an old desk. The desk surface is polished but rough, as if it had served more than one owner. The seats have cushions, although they seem old and threadbare. An old bronze brazier sits in center of the small space. Wei WuXian lights a fire with quickness that would suggest he has done this often.

“The Iron Palm Palace can be suffocating sometimes,” he says, and does not elaborate.

He does not need to; WangJi thinks he understands. It is a refuge, this place. WangJi has his own, at Cloud Recesses. He can appreciate the need for a space where one can just breathe in solitude and silence.

“How much do you know about Lan ZhongYi?” Wei WuXian asks, settling on the floor next to the brazier.

WangJi has always had a reflexive reaction to that name. Anger, distaste, guilt, shame.

He lowers himself not too far away, wishing he was properly dressed. Somehow, speaking of Lan ZhongYi would be easier, if he could hide behind the traditional trappings of Sect and clan.

“Lan ZhongYi was a Lan Sect member. Son of my father’s uncle. He was banished from the Sect for improper conduct. Less than a year after his banishment, he assassinated the Empress and the Emperor Consort.”

The words come out stiff and unnatural, a recitation of something memorized long ago.

“I know this is all that the Lan Sect teaches about him,” Wei WuXian says, “but have you never searched for more? Have you never wondered what this improper conduct was? Why he did what he did?”

“No,” WangJi says.

He cannot see what difference it would make.

“Did you know he had married at seventeen?” Wei WuXian says.

The question lands heavily between them.

WangJi did not know. He does not want to know. Why does it matter?

But Wei WuXian goes on unprompted,

“He married a rogue cultivator from the ShangWu Temple. Her name was Xu XiaoYun. This was some years before my mother took the throne, and the Empire had already begun descending into chaos. Most of the great temples were destroyed in the years that followed, never to be rebuilt. The ShangWu Temple was one of them. Xu XiaoYun’s brothers, sisters, teachers, not one of them survived. For years, I have searched for some information about her, hoping for anything, even a word of mouth. But I think her entire life burned in that temple, and there was only Lan ZhongYi left.”

The firelight is playing across Wei WuXian’s face, shifting his expressions from moment to moment. WangJi cannot guess what he is thinking. He cannot guess why this is the story that Wei WuXian thinks WangJi should need to know.

“She was pregnant when YanLing DaoRen killed her,” Wei WuXian says calmly, “on a day he had not even set out to kill anyone at all. It appears to have been a spur of the moment slaughter. There are no records showing what might have set him off in the middle of a peaceful trip through one of the MoLing’s marketplaces. But Xu XiaoYun had been nighthunting in the area.”

Silence falls between them, thick and unyielding. WangJi feels as if he had been given something he did not want, and cannot give back.

He thinks he knows why Wei WuXian has told him this story. Perhaps to the young Emperor who had lost his parents, it is important that Lan ZhongYi be a human being, with purpose, and feelings, and grievances. But WangJi has never wanted to feel pity for this man, whose actions had doomed all the generations of Lan to come.

Lan ZhongYi’s motivations do not excuse his crime.

“The Empress did not kill her,” he says finally.

“And you did not kill the Empress,” Wei WuXian counters, his voice gentle.

He is right, but he is also wrong. WangJi is too agitated to address how both can be true at the same time.

“The Wen are not hostages here,” Wei WuXian says, slicing the agitation neatly in half.

Before WangJi can adjust to the fact that the previous subject is being abandoned, Wei WuXian is already explaining in a rush, as if afraid that WangJi will refuse to listen.

“After the rebellion, the Sects demanded that Wen RuoHan pay for the lives that were lost. They wanted this payment in blood. Wen RuoHan was to deliver one of his sons for execution, or the Sects were going to burn the Nightless City down, and slaughter every Wen in the Empire. Looking back, compared to the damage YanLing DaoRen had done, and the lives he had destroyed, the Wen rebellion was fairly insignificant. I have often wondered where this viciousness had come from. The Sects will say that their grief over my mother’s death gave it birth, but they seemed to hold little interest in offering support to her son. Perhaps this viciousness was left over from YanLing DaoRen’s reign, just waiting for a more vulnerable target.”

Wei WuXian waves his hand, his eyes locked on the flickering flames,

“It does not matter. Wen RuoHan did not deliver his son. Instead, he delivered fifty-six members of a small subdivision of the Qishan Wen Sect. An entire clan, led by his own thirteen-year old niece, to be slaughtered in exchange.”

WangJi’s stomach turns, propelling bile to his throat.

“My uncle,” Wei WuXian grins humorlessly, “had made a reputation for himself as a holder of no strong opinions, a man who may sway slightly whichever way the wind blew. This reputation helped delay the decision. In the meantime, I placed the Wen in the dungeons, to await their fate.”

“You-- you were going to--“

No other words will come. WangJi cannot ask the question.

He thinks a wrong answer might shatter something he had not yet given name to, something he still does not fully understand, but desperately wants to keep.

“No,” Wei WuXian says, “I was young, and angry, and more than a little stupid, but I was not going to execute fifty-six people because the Sects demanded it. But I did put them out of my mind. I was twelve years old, sitting on a precarious throne, all of my power just a pretty illusion. There was a list of issues that had to be addressed, and somehow, the Wen would always move to the bottom of that list. This was another one of my uncle’s tactics, although I did not know it for such back then. Delay, delay, delay, and hope they forget. I almost did forget. Many times.”

Wei WuXian flashes him a bitter smile, and WangJi feels his chest tighten. Not so long ago, WangJi had thought his own burden too heavy to carry. He cannot imagine how Wei WeXian must have felt. He cannot imagine how heavy the weight of the Empire must feel to a twelve year old boy.

“They were willing to let me forget,” Wei WuXian says, the bitterness from his smile coloring his voice, “My uncle, the Council, my advisors, not one of them ever bothered to mention that an entire clan cannot forever live in the dungeons, that some decision must be made. If it were not for shijie, they might have lived and died below the palace floors, forgotten by all. She took me to the dungeons. She went among them as if they were family, passing out medicine and food, speaking to Wen Qing as if they had been sisters their entire lives. And then she put A-Yuan in my arms.”

Wei WuXian’s voice falters for the first time.

He shifts slightly, and clears his throat.

“His mother had been among the fifty-six. She had died in childbirth. In the dungeon. While the Emperor sat on his gilded throne, nodding at everything the Council said. I had been the Divine Ruler for a single season, and I had already created an orphan.”

WangJi’s chest squeezes tighter. He wants to reach out, but he had never learned how to offer comfort. Everything he can think to say is woefully inadequate. Every gesture he wishes to offer seems clumsy and awkward.

“And so they became hostages,” Wei WuXian says, fingers now nervously tapping against his knees, “the Sects were told that the fifty-six Wen who can be slaughtered at the slightest provocation were infinitely more valuable than one dead descendent of Wen RuoHan. They were not happy. For some months after, I was certain that another rebellion would take place, and that this one would end the Dynasty for good. Once it became clear that the Sects would do nothing worse than send assassins through my windows and stuff scorpions into my bed, I started to work on their resentment. I did not want the Wen to always carry the stain of that rebellion. I had already grown attached to Wen Qing and her brother, to Granny, to Uncle Four and A-Yuan. I wanted to protect them.”

He moves to face WangJi, his hands now curled tightly in his lap, something in his eyes hinting at desperation.

“I thought I knew resentment. Mine had always been a fleeting thing, so I believed everyone else to be the same. No one had bothered to tell me that removing one target would only exaggerate the other. I spent years trying to shift their perception of the Wen, but never understood the simple fact that your uncle had grasped in a single season of drought. The river must flow somewhere. And all the resentment, no longer flowing to the Wen, had simply shifted to the Lan Sect instead.”

If not for Wei WuXian’s pained expressions, WangJi would have immediately declared his words to be utter nonsense. WangJi’s burden does not exist because Wei WuXian had placed it on his shoulders. The Lan Sect would have never relinquished its responsibility for the wrongs one of their own had committed, regardless of whether the Emperor had shown them favor or neglect. Even if everyone else in the world were to forget the sin he carries, WangJi would have never been allowed to do the same.

A part of him does wonder if the Emperor’s favor had gone to the Lan Sect instead of the Wen, how many of their circumstances might have been changed for the better? Would it have created a world in which his uncle is still allowed to teach? A world in which the Lan Sect disciples are allowed into the Immortal Mountain City, to mix among the others? A world in which his brother smiled more often?

But even if this was the case, if he were to take Wei WuXian’s words as absolute truth, and the river of resentment truly must flow somewhere, then better circumstances for the Lan Sect would have meant worse circumstances for the Wen. WangJi would never demand his burden be made less; not even if the cost was a single life of an absolute stranger, not to mention an entire clan of people who had done nothing wrong.

“By the time I realized why the rancor toward the Lan Sect kept growing, even as the resentment against the Wen dwindled, it was too late to turn the tide,” Wei WuXian says miserably, “Trying to stem the flow only seemed to make things worse. Your uncle-- each time I tried to extend a hand, he would slap it out of the way. He does not want my help or favor. He does not trust me to do right by the Lan Sect. And considering that someone has already tried to kill you, and frame the Lan Sect for another assassination, I would not be surprised if he blames me for all of it.”

WangJi struggles for a few moments, trying to find the right words. It does not help that Wei WuXian is much closer now, his face flushed from the brazier, their knees nearly brushing.

“The Lan Sect would not wish to relinquish its burden of responsibility at the cost of others,” WangJi finally says, “and uncle would not blame you for the assassination attempts. He would consider it just another burden that the Lan Sect must carry, one that must be borne with courage and dignity. Uncle is-- proud, and stubborn. He perceives your favor as charity, and each time you imply that he may need this charity, he will only resent you more. There is no need to keep trying.”

“You are saying that there is nothing I can do,” Wei WuXian says, frustration coloring each word.

“You can do whatever you wish,” WangJi says, “You are the Emperor.”

“But he is going to hate me no matter what I do.”

“You are the Emperor,” WangJi says again, “I am sure my uncle is not the only one who hates you.”

Wei WuXian gapes at him, then seems to choke on nothing but air. He bends over, coughing heavily, and struggles for so long that WangJi wonders if he should perhaps try and find him something to drink. Only when he looks back up does WangJi realize that the cough was actually stifled laughter.

“You are something else, Lan Zhan,” he says, “I really like spending time with you.”

WangJi’s heart trips twice, painfully, as if Wei WuXian had reached through his chest and pushed it off course.

He does not make a conscious decision to stand up, but suddenly, he is on his feet, trembling with a thousand emotions he does not want to acknowledge. Wei WuXian scrambles up as well, his expression startled.

“I must go back,” WangJi says, cursing his voice for wavering.

“Oh,” Wei WuXian says, “Of course. Let me put out the fire, and I will take you back.”

“No need,” WangJi says quickly.

He needs to be alone. He needs to think. Wei WuXian had given him a great deal of information that requires careful examination.

I really like spending time with you, his mind offers unhelpfully. WangJi feels as if he had pressed his entire face directly to the brazier.

Wei WuXian’s expression seems hesitant now. WangJi desperately wants to see him smile one more time before he leaves.

“Use the door tomorrow,” he says.

“I-- what?”

“Tomorrow,” WangJi says firmly, his heart now beating in his throat, “Do not lounge on the rooftop, or hide in the dark. Come to the door.”

The slow smile that spreads across Wei WuXian’s face is devastating.

WangJi says nothing else.

He runs.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #wangxian #ficlet #m #wwx emperor au #hey you know how i cut chapter 22 in half bc it was too long?#yeah #this one is even longer #and it just didn't wanna be cut #this chapter is LONG #this chapter is awkward #this chapter was rewritten so many times #that if i have to look at it again i am going to scream #i apologize in advance for this chapter #it is still day 4 my chickens #and i love you all #god help me we are moving along

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fellandfaironline · 4 years

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“Here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron; here is a book that will break your heart... know that this is good news, good beyond hope.” C.S. Lewis on The Lord of the Rings — Why is it good news that, in Lewis’ opinion, “this book will break your heart”? Why good news beyond hope? I’ve been contemplating this a lot recently. Honestly this last year has hardened my emotions. I used to laugh a lot more, I used to cry a lot more. But in fortifying myself to run a small business, create art, and sometimes simply survive over the last nine months, I lost something. I lost the joy of weeping. I lost the feeling I had when I read a passage of my favorite book or saw a scene from a favorite movie. I hold my emotions in check to survive. Because, given the roller coaster ride the world is right now, I’d be all over the place if I did not. But there is something broken in that. We are not robots. We are not made to be heartless survival machines. Emotions are part of the package as a human. Sometimes you need your heart lifted to heaven and then dashed again to earth. Sometimes you need to experience the joy of remembering what once was, only to realize it is gone forever. There is a time for stern resolve, but I have come to realize you cannot live there. Survival is not necessarily living. It’s taken me probably a month to realize all of this. So now I’m working to let my guard down. To open my heart to be touched by joy, but also by sorrow. I’m ready to weep again. So... “Chapter 1. A Long-expected Party...” — #tolkien #lotr #lordoftherings #cslewis #king #viking #vikings #norse #rohan #chainmail #armor #armour #cloak #cape #costume #literature #sword #medieval #knight #banner #flag #joy #weep (at Edoras) https://www.instagram.com/p/CHqVWb-Hin4/?igshid=1am911rupn709

#tolkien #lotr #lordoftherings #cslewis #king #viking #vikings #norse #rohan #chainmail #armor #armour #cloak #cape #costume #literature #sword #medieval #knight #banner #flag #joy #weep

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kirschkid · 4 years

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Misha Collins - StageIt 22.11.20

First of all, let me tell you that for me Misha is the sweetest and greatest person on earth. I'm really happy I was there, watching him talk about Spn and Castiel. So I want to give you some of that joy, I hope I get everything right. Here it is:

Misha at the beginning of the panel: "So strange not to be able to see your smiling faces." His last shooting on the show was a while ago, so Misha thought he had mourn but "... watching that last episode was quite an emotional experience for me! Kinda took me out for a good couple of days. Just because it... for me personal it represents the end of a chapter of my life. And yet I do have that feeling that this supernatural fandom isn't going anywhere. That somehow we are going to be able to stick together... "

I saw some of the other online panels and everybody had selected questions to answer. When the chat is just rushing through, this totally makes sense. But still, Misha trying to read the chat so he could answer was the sweetest!

Question: "We know Jack brought Cas back but we didn't get to see how that played out. What do you think happened and what is he up to?"

Misha: "There was a different ending originally to supernatural that covid restrictions made impossible to shoot. I think we are not supposed to talk about what that ending was going to be. But it was very cool but it involved bringing back lots of lots of cast members from over the years and big crowd scenes..." "... so in the original ideation of the ending Cas hadn't gone to rebuild heaven. There was a different conclusion for him. So I actually did not read the last two episodes before they aired. Because I just wanted to go on a journey as an audience member and watch the episodes not knowing how the story would unfold exactly. I knew a little bit of what Cas's and Jack's fate were... in the abstract just from conversations, but because I wasn't in it I don't know what the answer is." Misha goes on a bit about the way Jack is but it's not really going anywhere. So sorry I cut it here.

Question: "What qualities does Castiel has that are qualities of Misha?"

Misha: "I think there are a lot of them. And I think that that's because over time the character melded with me. And I with him to an extend." (He had a little but a very cute smile on his face, saying that!) "When the show started Castiel was just this like... he was a soldier, he was a warrior and he was just bound in determined to serve the interests of heaven. And over time we got to see him unfurl as a bit of a fish out of water who didn't quite feel like he fit in with either angels or humanity. Felt like a little bit of an outsider and I think that that is something that I have felt for much of my life." (Can somebody tell me how it can be, that a person like Misha Collins ever has to feel that way?! Sorry... just had to say that.) "He became frankly like softer, more sensitive and he tried to do the right thing. Tried to be a good person. These are qualities that I have. But you know I don't think of myself like a hardened warrior. And I think that that's how Cas was written at the very beginning." Misha goes on about the fact, that not only him but also Jared and Jensen over the years formed the characters they played with their own personality.

Question: "What is the one thing you will take with you from Castiel?"

Misha told us that he discussed this with Jared and Jensen recently, that "the characters really became kind of a part of us." when you play a character for so long. Misha: "When I was watching Dean's death scene I cried. But I was really crying because it was like that's Cas's friend Dean dying. It's a weird thing on an emotional level to have a blurring of the lines between yourself and your character. And I think that that happened to all of us. And it is just because we inhabited them for so long. The characters became facets of ourselves. I literally feel like I will take the character away. You know what I mean?! He is always going to be with me. He is going to be an aspect of my being, forever. Which is strange... yeah... I don't know." Again he goes one a little bit.

Again the topic of how the show was meant to end came up. Misha was considering the idea of telling us, even if he wasn't supposed to. (Not sure if he was kidding or truly trying to figure that out. You know, it's Misha!) Misha: "I tell you... we saw a version of Sam and Deans heaven that was populated with all these people from their past. All of the characters from the show that we have come to love, that Sam and Dean have come to love over the years. They were there in this version of heaven."

Misha talked about Castiels outfit for quite a while. Telling us that they changed it from time to time without really mentioning it. It felt like he had thought about this for a while. And let me tell you,- he has some of the trenchcoats in his wardrobe at home.

Question: "How did you prepare for emotional scenes?"

Misha: He told us how he needs to stay away from people to get in the right mindset. And for the love confession and death scene, he sat down in a corner, and one of the crewmembers, without Misha asking, shield him from people.

Question: "How did you feel when you read the script on how Castiel dies?"

Misha: "I knew that this ending was coming for a long time because I was talking to Bob Berens, the writer, about it. And I was really happy with it, you know. That was sort of the ending that I wanted for Cas and so when I read the script I was really happy that it had made it to be page. It felt like it was a little risky and a little brave for the show to do. And I was happy to be a part of that! And happy to be able to have that character express love like that. So I was happy with it." He took a moment before he continued " I have seen some people complaining about this is playing into the bury the gays trope." He was really careful talking about this, telling us that he didn't think that that's what was happened with Castiels 'ending'. And that so much good came out of this declaration. "This declaration ended up literally saving the world."

Question: "What was your favorite moment of the finale?"

Misha: "My favorite moment of the finale was Dean's death scene. I just thought it was really masterfully executed. Excellent performance from both Jared and Jensen in that scene. It made me cry so that's pretty good."

Question: "Do you think Cas and the other angels got their wings back?"

Misha: "Great question! Yeah, probably. I mean if we were rebuilding heaven we have Jack on our side who is now the new god why can't we finally have our wings back?! What a long and miserable experience that was of not having wings. Cas was so powerful when he started. He could like snap his fingers and teleport anywhere in the world and time travel!"

Question: "What job, non-hunter, would Cas be good at?"

Misha: "Cas would be a great security guard because he never sleeps. So he could just stand there and he doesn't seem to get bored" Misha thinks Cas wouldn't be a great teacher, architect, or artist. But he could see him as a cook.

Question: "In your opinion what color are Castiels wings?"

Misha: "I... shit! I don't know... I always thought they were black but now that you say that we only saw the shadows of them. Ah! They are rainbow-colored!"

Question: "What was your favorite version of Castiel to play?"

Misha: "I had the most fun playing Lucifer..." "I really loved playing the human version of Cas..." "Overall just regular Cas was my favorite." "I'm gonna say Cas-Cas was my favorite."

At the end Misha told us something very important: "I hope you all stay safe and take care of each other. Stay sane it's a hard time right now." "One of the nice things about this supernatural community is that we have all done a good job over the years of taking care of each other so I hope you know that there are people here you can reach out to and there is a community of support. And I appreciate you all!"

-----

So, that's it. It isn't every single word but I hope you enjoy it!

#Misha Collins #Castiel #Supernatural #StageIt #Panel #SPN #SPNFamily #Season 15 #Episode 20 #Carry On #The End

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

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For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california @jayjaydawn

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 11: The Girl Who Held My Heart

Sehun’s POV

Apparently, Manager Kim hosted an annual Christmas party attended only by Super Junior and whatever group she managed through debut or comeback. I only learned about it when EXO was invited.

It had been over a year since Lei’s birthday party, where I learned that I had somehow fallen face-first in love with her. In that time, I figured that there was no escaping her— not when we worked at the same places, not when she was scattered through many of my memories, not when I had developed the habit of holding my breath until the next moment I saw her. In that time, I busied myself with the almost impossible task of telling her about the feelings that I couldn’t understand. In that time, I decided that maybe feelings aren’t meant to be analyzed and forced to abide by strict logic.

So I walked into her house a year and a half after running from the fire in her touch with her gift in the pocket of my black blazer and three heartfelt words on the tip of my tongue. Those words had been dancing precariously on the edge, threatening to dive whenever I saw her backstage at Music Bank, whenever I saw her at company parties, whenever I saw her picture on social media, whenever I scrolled past our most recent text conversation.

From the moment that I walked through the door and saw her— heard her singing some song with Yesung in the middle of the living room— I knew that I wouldn’t be able to bite them back again. Luckily, I arrived prepared to tell her anyway.

I guess you could say that I had a one-track mind focused solely on speaking to Lei. Being new to the world of complex intimate emotions, I was hesitant to discuss them where anyone else could overhear.

Finding a moment alone with Lei at that Christmas party proved even more challenging than securing her attention at the pool party. In the uncommon event that she wasn’t goofing around with Yesung, who must have been her favorite member of Super Junior, she was whispering something to Lucas, who was invited to the party even though he wasn’t a member of Super Junior or EXO. If she wasn’t with Lucas, then she was engrossed in conversation with Donghae, or she was drinking tea in the corner with Ryeowook, or she was helping Leeteuk and Shindong with their gingerbread village.

An opportunity to speak with her privately presented itself when she walked into the kitchen, at Leeteuk’s request, to retrieve more gingerbread cookies from the oven. Forgetting to appear cool or somehow indifferent, I left Junmyeon, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol by the punch bowl in the dining room to follow after her.

I filled the doorway, gasping when she hissed as she gripped the tray. I watched her jump away as the tray clattered to the ground with a metallic clank. Disappointment flickered through her eyes as they lowered to count the ruined cookies sprawled across the dark tiled floor.

While she threatened to spill tears over a batch of cookies, I could only think about the burn to her fingers. As if it were a life-and-death matter, I ran to her, kicked the tray aside because it stood in my way, and took her hand into mine.

“What are you doing?” Lei eyed me curiously as I tossed her red oven mitt onto the counter to assess the faint, almost non-existent blisters on her fingertips.

Knowing that the glove had absorbed most of the oven’s heat, I still turned the sink’s faucet and guided her hand under the stream of cold water. “It’s called first aid, Lei.” I avoided looking at her because everything in me screamed that this wasn’t the time to confess, and meeting her eyes would force the words out involuntarily. “You’re hurt, and I’m trying to make you feel better.”

“It doesn’t really hurt, though,” she said. “It only burned for, like, half a second, but I guess that’s all it took for me to ruin Leeteuk’s and Shindong’s cookies.” I could hear her frown even when I couldn’t see it.

Despite her insistence that she didn’t need my help, Lei didn’t pull her hand out of my grasp under the water when it would have been all too easy. I held her gently, afraid to prod the injury. She didn’t flinch away from my touch even when I brought her fingertips to my lips. Her breathing hitched, but I didn’t recognize that sound as an expression of pain (maybe) because I was inclined to believe that she felt as I did— that she came to life when we touched.

I hated to let her go, to feel that distance between us again, but there was no excuse to cling to her once she pulled her hand away from mine. I glanced at her for the briefest second, hoping for some sign that she wasn’t rejecting my affection, and I was disappointed to find that her gaze was already fixed on the floor.

She dropped to her knees in her white dress, apparently unafraid of soiling it. She used her hands to sweep the gingerbread men back onto the tray, I assumed, to later drop them into the bin in the corner of the room. I lowered to help, and— unable to shake the thought that she looked like an angel in her white dress and golden halo headband— I blurted into the deafening silence, “You look beautiful.”

Tray in hand, Lei rose to her feet first. In the moments before I towered over her again, she stared down at me in utter astonishment. I guess I can’t blame her. That was the first time I had ever been so direct in complimenting her, and I had done so without warning. I hadn’t even meant to say anything; it was just too true to leave unsaid.

In a small voice, she asked, “Why are you saying that?” I wondered if she was blushing under her makeup. I wondered if she fought to press her ruby red lips into a frown.

I hadn’t expected her to swoon at my every word or anything, but—

No. Maybe I had come to expect that sort of reaction. I expected her to brighten at my compliments not because they defined her or because I thought so highly of my own opinion, but because— because that’s what she had always done. The frown that stared down at me was so far from what I anticipated or dared to dream about that I know my face burned a humiliated shade of crimson.

Lei hadn’t rejected me— at least not outright— yet I hesitated to find my footing. Like a fool, I couldn’t look away from her long enough to make my way to the garbage can, so I dropped my handful of cookies onto the marble countertop.

When Lei raised her eyebrows, and I realized that she expected me to answer her question, I stuttered, “I— because—” I couldn’t tell her that I loved her when she was looking at me like that. I bit down on my tongue.

I don’t know what I would have said if Chanyeol hadn’t sauntered over to us, nearly tripping over his own two feet.

“Isn’t this just adorable?” His words slurred together. Because he spent the entire night drinking from the punch bowl that Baekhyun spiked, Chanyeol reeked of alcohol. “Why don’t you two just kiss already?”

From his place between us, Chanyeol slung one giant arm around me and the other around Lei, and he tried to force us together. I don’t think I have to tell you that I didn’t want Chanyeol to be the catalyst or witness of our first kiss even if he was too drunk to remember the details. Still, I didn’t resist his efforts with half as much frantic energy as Lei did. She writhed and frowned as she swatted Chanyeol away.

Breathless from her aversion to kissing me, I fixed my gaze on the fragmented cookies on the counter. “Cut it out, Chanyeol.” I didn’t know that my voice could get so quiet.

“No!” Chanyeol shook his head wildly. He must have made himself dizzy; when I glanced at him, his eyes were crossed. Leaning against Lei and nearly knocking her over, he rambled, “I don’t think he’s ever gonna tell you, so lemme just do it. Ya know, he’s been keeping us all up at the dorm, rehearsing his speech about love and rain and cotton candy—”

Suffice it to say that I hadn’t expected anyone to have overheard the confession I spent months preparing. Considering how much time, effort, and genuine emotion I had poured into putting my thoughts into words, it was insulting to hear Chanyeol summarize them in his drunken state. To tell you the truth, I would have been humiliated had Chanyeol— or anyone, for that matter— spoken about my feelings in a sober well-intentioned state. They were my feelings, and I had gone to great lengths to embrace them, and for somebody else to try to speak about them with authority and ease—

I dug my elbow into his ribs, and Chanyeol burped. “And I just knew that he was talking about you because he’s always had a thing for you even though I don’t know what he sees in you—”

As annoyed or upset or furious as I was that Chanyeol had once again diminished my love for Lei to the phrase ‘a thing,’ my concern deepened when he acted on his habit of insulting her. Although Lei didn’t so much as blat an eyelash or show any sign that she was affected by Chanyeol’s monologue— her frown had leveled into an apathetic line— I pried him off of her.

Chanyeol laughed, I assumed, at having pushed my buttons. “That’s not true.” He smiled at Lei for the first time. That’s when her stone exterior started to crumble. Brow furrowing as a dimple formed in her chin, she took a step away from him. That meant she also took a step away from me as Chanyeol claimed, “I never really hated you.”

Lei didn’t believe him. I could tell from the way she blinked and swallowed some lump in her throat before training a hardened glare on him. She looked so angry at a glance that I almost expected her to yell at him or at least say something. Upon closer inspection, however, I realized that she was chewing on the inside of her cheek and tears were welling in her eyes.

I caught the briefest glimpse of her tears before she piled all of the cookies onto the tray and carried them over to the garbage can. While her back was turned, I took the opportunity to haul Chanyeol out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and through a door marked with an Avengers poster— Lucas’s room.

Despite his claims that he wasn’t that drunk, Chanyeol collapsed onto the bed. As if he was without a care in the world, he folded his hands behind his head atop Lucas’s pillow. Something about that sight sickened my stomach.

“I don’t really care if you’re drunk,” I seethed, knowing well that he was at least tipsy. I closed the door in the hope that none of our conversation would flood into the party below. “You couldn’t have picked a worse time to fill Lei’s head with a bunch of crap.”

Waving a dismissive hand, Chanyeol argued, “Everything I said was true.”

“That’s not the point!” Chanyeol flinched at my roar not because he felt any degree of guilt, but because he probably had the beginning stages of an alcohol-induced headache. Pinching the bridge of my nose as I pressed my back against the wall, I stuttered, “I— just— is everything a joke to you or something? I get it. You hate her—”

Again, Chanyeol said, “I never hated her.”

“Right, whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “If you’ve known all along how much I love her— if you knew that I was planning to confess, then why would you step in and ruin everything? Why did you have to make everything so— so—” I didn’t know the right word to say, so I decided to ask, “Why did you make everything so awkward?”

Chanyeol said, “You should be thanking me! It was already awkward! I was just trying to take some of the heat for you!”

I couldn’t even argue because Chanyeol was right about at least one thing: the conversation leading into the confession was not going well before he inserted himself. I had no idea what I was doing. Maybe, by some bizarre logic, I should have been grateful or somehow relieved that somebody else had addressed my feelings first, but I wasn’t.

I don’t usually consider myself a perfectionist, but it was clear to me that all hopes of having an ideal romantic moment with Lei were lost. Maybe they were lost before Chanyeol meddled, but it was easier to blame him than to acknowledge that maybe— tragically— Lei and I were out of step again. It was easier to glare at Chanyeol than to imagine that maybe Lei had finally outgrown me now that I was so desperate for her.

My hand closed around the doorknob, prepared to slam the door closed behind me, when Chanyeol spoke up. “Wait a minute. I want to give you something.” Because I didn’t turn around to accept it, he threw the poorly wrapped box at my head.

“Ow.” I rubbed at the injury as I picked the box up from the floor. Now sitting up, Chanyeol dodged the wad of wrapping paper that I launched at him. I rolled my eyes at the box’s contents. “Really, Chanyeol? Mistletoe?”

“Yeah,” he smirked, “to help you with your confession!”

As I shook my head, I think that my frown deepened, but my growing sense of annoyance didn’t stop me from carefully tucking the mistletoe into the pocket that also housed Lei’s cotton candy charm.

“Hey!” Chanyeol shrieked when I launched the mistletoe’s box at his head. “You’re so ungrateful!” My hand closed around the doorknob again, and Chanyeol jested, “Think of me when you’re kissing your little girlfriend, punk!”

Gagging, knowing well that Chanyeol would be the last thing on my mind if ever I got around to kissing Lei, I closed the door and left him to fall asleep in Lucas’s bed. Kissing Lei was not a part of my confession plan when I arrived at the party, and it seemed like less of a viable option when she hadn’t even reacted well to a compliment. Still, I had to smile when my fingers brushed against the mistletoe in my pocket. I had to smile at the daydream even if I didn’t know how to make it a reality.

Downstairs, the party thrived as if I had never been humiliated by Chanyeol’s loose tongue. By the punchbowl, Baekhyun convinced Lucas to down one glass after another, and (apparently) Jongdae considered it some kind of competition that Jongin moderated in mild disgust. Yesung and Ryeowook were the centers of attention as they claimed the karaoke machine for a duet. Siwon was helping Leeteuk and Shindong with the finishing details of their gingerbread village before Kyuhyun snuck up to pluck mints and gumdrops from the buildings undetected. In a corner of the room, concealed by the bright blinking Christmas tree, Donghae watched as Manager Kim and Heechul threw their heads back in laughter before sipping from their matching red mugs of hot chocolate.

I think I would have approached Donghae a.) had I known what to say to distract him from his jealousy or pain or whatever emotion etched those lines in his forehead, and b.) had I not remained devoted to speaking to Lei, who was not in the kitchen, living room, or dining room.

The way I found her can only be described as a happy accident. Under the excited chatter played an unfamiliar piano melody that beckoned me into a den whose entrance was mostly obscured by the Christmas tree. Frowning and alone, looking quite small in comparison to such a large instrument, Lei sat at the grand piano. Even when I eased into the space next to her on the bench, she remained focused on the keys.

I was almost hesitant to break the silence to say, “I didn’t know you played the piano,” as I watched her slender fingers create music without hesitation. Whatever she was playing— she knew it by heart.

“I’ve played since I was a child.” She sounded very much like all adults do when they place distance between their present and past selves. “Donghae taught me to play the piano and the guitar.”

“I didn’t know,” I repeated, frowning. I guess I was bitter at being clueless about a fact that was likely common trivia for fans— people who hadn’t even met her. I guess I was uncomfortable with the thought that there was more to Lei than what I had always known.

Lei shrugged. “It’s not really common knowledge or anything. I’ve never produced my own ballad or played the piano live, so I guess this is a hidden talent.”

“Why?” Noticing the frown weighing on her lips, I frowned too. “Why would you want to keep this—” I nodded to the piano— “hidden?”

Even when she broke her concentration to glance up at me through her eyelashes, Lei didn’t hit a sour note. I don’t think she was capable of doing that. “I don’t,” she argued shortly. “The agency thinks that upbeat dance songs suit my image. My job is to perform what they write for me.”

Suddenly, I understood why her melody was so unique. “You write songs,” I said not as a question but as a general statement.

I don’t know why my mouth fell open in surprise. Lei was poetic— artistic— and it only made sense that she would pour her soul into something as beautiful as music.

She muttered,” I wouldn’t want to perform them anyway.” Her gaze fell back onto the piano keys, but her hands stilled. Although I hadn’t expressed any confusion or disbelief, she explained, “It’s one thing for people to hate me for music that I’m not emotionally attached to, but what am I supposed to do if people misunderstand the things that truly reflect me?”

In some ways, Lei and I were very different people, and in moments like that, our differences were obvious. Don’t misunderstand— I loved performing, but it wasn’t an emotional outlet for me. I didn’t have as much to say as she did, I guess, so I didn’t feel like I sacrificed much to be who the agency wanted. There was probably no shortage of criticisms of me to be found on the internet, but I had never been the kind to seek them out. I guess I was lucky enough to have never cared who liked me.

Because I couldn’t force my mind to work the way Lei’s did, I didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. I squirmed under the weight of her sadness. “Well, what if somebody loves the things that truly reflect you?”

She removed her hands from the cold keys, pressed them flat in her lap, and stared down at them. “I don’t know, Sehun. To tell you the truth, I can’t really imagine that.”

I opened my mouth to tell her that she didn’t have to imagine being loved, but I didn’t get the chance to say anything. Brow furrowing, she studied me through narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry— are we just going to act like that— that stuff— that happened in the kitchen didn’t happen?”

“Could we?” I laughed at the tingling embarrassment swelling in my gut. Lei didn’t so much as crack the tiniest forced grin, so I tried to adopt a more serious expression. “Look, Chanyeol says stupid shit even when he’s sober, so—”

“Yeah.” Lei agreed instantly with the nod of her head. “Yeah, I would have to be stupid or delusional to believe that you could ever like—” She choked on her words and blinked, wincing as if I had struck her. “Well, I’d have to be the biggest fool to ever take Chanyeol or any other boy to heart, huh?” Her lips trembled as she forced them into a smile.

I knew that Lei was on the verge of tears, so why didn’t I explain that Chanyeol hadn’t been lying or even exaggerating to laugh at our expense when he said that I liked her? I don’t know.

Probably because I didn’t know what to say, because I didn’t trust my voice to improve the situation, because I wanted to skip ahead to her next sincere smile, I pulled her gift out of my pocket. It wasn’t wrapped as neatly as her birthday gift because I hadn’t sought Junmyeon’s help. Still, the glittering snowflake pattern on the white paper was pretty.

Lei accepted it, and her thumbs traced over the snowflakes. They must have been pretty to her too. Her eyes, which were already glossy with tears, widened as she lifted the small cotton candy charm out of the box.

“I promised I would get you another one,” I reminded her, suddenly unable to stand the silence even if it was safer than conversation. “Remember when you almost cried at Puroland because your cotton candy melted in the rain, and I had to throw it away?” She said nothing until I nudged her. “Remember?”

“Yes.” She smiled this sad sort of smile that made me wish I hadn’t said anything at all. “I remember. I told you, I remember everything you’ve ever said to me.”

I hoped that the things I said— the things that she remembered in vivid detail— were worthwhile. I hoped that I was more than a memory, but more than that, I hoped that the me of the past was as good in hindsight as I planned to be in the present and future. Because I didn’t know how to express those hopes with words, I reached for her hand and fastened the new charm to her bracelet.

Determined to create a moment worth remembering, I forced my voice into a light whisper. It wasn’t as hard as I imagined it would be. “You know, this one will never melt. You can keep it forever. Now, that day can be a happy memory.”

Lei pulled her hand out of my grasp to wipe at her eyes. “Thank you, Sehun. This is so thoughtful. I wish I had something to give you.”

Lei was never really content to just receive a gift. She had this idea that every favor had to be repaid and every kindness had to be reciprocated. Somebody needed to tell her that love is giving without expecting anything in return, but I didn’t know that well enough to say it back then.

I don’t know why she stood from the piano bench, but I followed, likely stirred by the fear that she would run to someplace that I couldn’t follow or hide in someplace that I couldn't find or couldn’t quite reach.

“I don’t need anything,” I told her as I reached for her hand again, desperate for some kind of contact— for some guarantee that she wouldn’t leave even if it was just temporary. “But I know something that I want.”

Lei tilted her head to look up at me, lips puckered as if she read my mind, knew my every wish, and decided to grant them. “What is it?”

The idea flooded my mind so quickly that I didn’t have time to consider whether it was good. I fished Chanyeol’s mistletoe out of my pocket and dangled it over our heads.

Lei admired it with round eyes, and her jaw dropped, and she gasped, “Is this real?”

She was adorable. All apprehension melted from her eyes, and she looked at me like she used to: like I hung the moon she loved so much. It didn’t matter that I knew I never once stood among the stars because she made me believe with one glance that I had. For maybe a fraction of a second that might as well have lasted forever, the fear of being a source of heartbreak or disappointment faded next to the blinding desire to be everything she ever dreamed of. I know desires like that don’t last forever and that no plan to completely restructure oneself for another is ever successful, but I felt it, and maybe that counts for something.

While counting the stars in her eyes, melting at the wild imagination that I put them there, I wondered which of our many moments she remembered most clearly then. Was it the first— when she called me handsome without hesitation as only a child can? Was it the rain at Puroland since I had just revived that memory with a gift? Was it the time I told her to stop following me? I hoped not. Was it the heart I had imprinted on her hand?

I never asked, so I don’t know.

As for me: every moment blurred together to paint the portrait of this person who was the most precious to me as I took the first step in filling the distance between us.

Should I be embarrassed to admit that she was my first kiss? I’m not. As I told you, I was wary of everything romantic, and— although she made my heart jump and ache— Lei was the first girl I ever trusted to affect me. To move me. Maybe she will be the only one. Of course, you can never be certain about these things, but I cannot imagine that anyone else will ever hold the heart that she cradled in her hands for those moments that our lips touched— the heart that followed her even if it could only do so in the quietest shadows.

I’m lucky that nobody in Super Junior caught us because I swear I kissed her for an eternity, forgetting as my heart hammered in my chest that we were never really alone. A miracle happened. I forgot that somebody is always watching, and I never quite remembered again. Or maybe I didn’t care who saw my admiration. Maybe it wouldn't have been the worst thing for somebody to see who truly mattered to me.

When the moment ended, I didn’t want to let it go. That’s foolish, I know, but that’s a mistake everyone seems to make at least once: clinging to time whose only instinct is to flee. Ever evasive time. Ever fleeting time. Why do we try to cling to things that were never ours? It’s foolish, selfish, futile, but I understand why. It’s one of those things that you can’t explain; it’s the kind of knowledge that you only have after experience. I hope you never understand why.

I opened my eyes first. I couldn’t bite back joyous laughter at the sight of her. She wasn’t even doing anything. She was just standing there, hands balled into fists at her sides, eyes closed.

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of my laughter. I was too embarrassed by my outburst to meet her gaze. The silence was deafening and deepening my burning blush, so, dropping the mistletoe back into my pocket, I tried to make conversation.

“So, was that your first kiss?”

She didn’t respond, but the answer was all too obvious.

“It was, wasn’t it?” My cheeks hurt from smiling.

She still didn’t respond, and I still couldn’t look at her.

“Don’t be shy.” Like I was some expert in romance and affection, I told her, “You were good at it.”

By then, her silence was making my stomach tighten in knots, but I wouldn’t ruin the moment by expressing anything other than happiness. I tried to joke or flirt or say anything to fill the silence. “You should be proud of yourself.”

I finally looked at her. I think I winked. Then, I really couldn’t face her. “You just kissed the handsomest person you’ve ever seen.”

At that, Lei didn’t even giggle. When I glanced down at her, she didn’t spare the tiniest smile. She must have been in shock.

“I bet you wanna forget all about your dating ban, huh?” I asked, entirely too hopeful that she would break her silence to say ‘yes.’ “Just for me?”

I never got to hear Lei’s response— if she even held one behind her blank facial expression— because Minseok beckoned me to his side in the doorway. He said, “We have to leave.”

“What?” I frowned. Having no intentions to leave when the night was young just because Minseok said so, I asked, “Why?”

Flatly, Minseok answered, “Because Junmyeon said so.” He likely assumed that I would say nothing to challenge our leader.

“Junmyeon?” My frown twitched. “I saw him earlier, and it looked like he was having a pretty good—”

“Stop arguing, Sehun!” Minseok rarely lost his temper, but his outbursts were always terrifying.

I glanced back at the piano to see if Lei was watching him berate me as if I were a child, but she was nowhere to be found. Within seconds, she vanished. My heart sank. I had taken for granted that she would wait for me as she always had. Reasoning that the kiss was perfect, I never seriously considered the possibility that I had done anything wrong.

Remembering that I spent much of my life running from my feelings, I figured that Lei was similarly afraid. Then, because I didn’t want to scare her or push her too far, I left with Minseok after dragging Chanyeol out of Lucas’s bed. For some reason, I clung to the belief that everything would work out in time even after Minseok tried to correct me.

On the drive back to our dorm, he said, “The kiss was cute,” and I was still too ecstatic to be embarrassed that there had been a witness to such an intimate moment.

I was still too numb with joy to care when Chanyeol, who had been laying on his back in the backseat, sat up to yell, “You kissed her?” I wasn’t even annoyed by the smirk that he must have donned when asking, “You used my mistletoe, didn’t you?”

I was still smiling like an idiot, tracing my fingers over my lips, when Minseok continued, “But everything you said afterward—”

As I finally caught on to his harsh tone, my smile started to falter. It started to crumble around the edges. I looked at Minseok and shrank under his piercing glare when he broke his gaze from the darkened road before us. I think it must have been raining. I remember turning away to watch raindrops race down the window.

Minseok tried to speak softly, but his anger/disappointment was still all-too-audible. “I get that you’re new to romance and all, but you can’t just make fun of Lei whenever you get embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” My eyes narrowed in confusion. “I wasn’t embarrassed! Well, maybe I was a little embarrassed when I laughed—”

“You laughed?” I could hear Chanyeol’s frown. Looking back, I think that’s when I should have considered Minseok’s point more carefully.

Instead, I jumped to my defense. “It wasn’t like that! I was just happy, and—”

“Ah, I got it!” Chanyeol clapped his hands on the back of Minseok’s chair. “You were just being a big dweeb again! Relax, Minseok. Sehun just turns into a big giggling dork whenever he’s around his little girlfriend.”

Shrilly, reaching a pitch that made me and Chanyeol cringe, Minseok argued, “I will not relax!” Minseok cleared his throat with a sigh. “Whatever your intentions were, Sehun, you really hurt Lei’s feelings. I watched her eyes get watery, and—”

Because I didn’t want to believe him, I wouldn’t even let Minseok finish the sentence. “I was just kidding around.”

Minseok nodded. “Right. Well, I’m telling you that Lei doesn’t know that. I called you away from the piano because I knew that she was about to cry, and—”

“What?” My eyes cut away from the window to dig into Minseok. “You said that Junmyeon wanted us to go home. You lied to me?”

Minseok’s face turned pink in the moonlight. He repeated, “Lei was about to cry!”

Chanyeol gasped, “You came between Sehun and his girlfriend?”

Minseok tried to explain to my furious blush and scorching glare, “I didn’t want to discuss this where anyone at the party could hear! I’ll take you back to the party, Sehun, if you promise to apologize, and—”

“Apologize?” I gaped at Minseok, almost laughing although nothing was funny. “Why should I apologize? I’m not sorry for kissing Lei, and I’m not sorry for flirting afterward, and—”

“You’re not sorry?” Minseok’s brow furrowed. Something about the way he looked at me took my breath and voice away. “Even though you hurt Lei?”

Speechless, I shook my head, determined to believe that I hadn’t hurt Lei— that I hadn’t ruined what should have been a happy memory. The problem is: in hindsight, I can admit that Minseok understood Lei’s feelings better than I ever did.

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pandawritesmanythings · 4 years

Text

Loki x Reader (Medieval AU)

Chapter Summary: And so the dilemma begins...

Warnings: None, I believe

Word Count: 2,105k

A/N: Sorry about the couple of weeks of inactivity, it been busy on my side, but I love this sotry and I’ll keep updating! Don’t worry about it!

Masterlist

"What do you mean by that?" Loki asked, glaring daggers at his father.

"I mean you can't tell her."

"Why?" He cocked his head in defiance. "Are you scared you won't be able to control her?"

"Despite being an heiress, she is still a princess, and princesses tend to... Chew more than they can bite." Odin said simply as if bored by the conversation.

"So you just hide information from her? You know she will become your daughter in law, right?"

"Does that mean you have accepted your role in the alliance?"

"I always have, ever since you forced my hand. But don't try to make this about me. You know what she would do if she had that information, don't you?"

"We can't have her leaving. Until you two are wed, none of you will take a step out of this palace, and if I find that either of you did, I'm dissolving this marriage right now. I do not care if Midgard falls. After all, they say to keep your enemies closer."

...

"So?" You raised an eyebrow as his eyes searched your face, his own devoid of expression.

Loki's gears were turning. What could he say? He needed your trust to keep his side of the deal, but he also knew the consequences of going against his father's wishes. He wouldn't be here if he didn't recognize the power he held.

"We're still waiting on confirmation. But I'll let you know as soon as we have conclusive intel." He said.

True. It wasn't a conclusive answer, but it was an answer nonetheless. He wasn't lying, really, he just needed clearance to reveal the facts.

He noticed your expression hardening. It was strange, you had acted serious, but right now you looked borderline angry.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. As soon as this is confirmed, I promise I will personally come and tell you."

You relaxed just a little at that. "I'll hold you to that."

With a soft huff, you hit the pillows behind you and relaxed in the window seat. Looking out the glass you saw the unwavering sea. You had never been so close to it, at least not until the night when you came to Asgard. It hadn't been that long ago, but you wondered if you could go there again.

Loki saw your expression. He pretended not to notice it though. His mind was still slightly panicky from almost failing to secure your trust. At least in his head. His expression, or lack thereof, made you none the wiser.

"Have you ever seen the sea up close, princess?" He asked without even looking at you, his eyes also fixated on the sea.

"Only once..."

He risked a glance at you to find you still fixated on the shoreline below. "What about a walk down the sea tomorrow?"

You perked up at that, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Really?"

"If you wish." He smirked.

A shadow crossed your face. "I don't think that would be a good idea..."

"Why is that?"

"My brother. He will be arriving soon, and I'd rather be here for him when he arrives."

Loki nodded. "That's understandable." He adjusted on his seat. "Then let me make a proposition. Once your brother has arrived, I shall take you both on a stroll. After all, I would like to speak to the boy myself."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "As long as you don't place a dagger by his neck everything will be fine."

"If he is anything like you, I would be willing to bet that he has his own." He smirked teasingly.

"Oh, and even if he doesn't, you can bet that I do." You teased back.

"I would not expect less from you, princess." He smirked, the title sounding more like a nickname coming from his mouth.

"We'll reunite then. If that's okay with you."

"Of course," He replied, and then took your hand to plant a kiss on top of your hand. "It will be an honor to get to know your brother, and formally present you to our beautiful shoreline."

You smiled in agreement. "I will wait expectantly." You stood to leave but turned before heading to the door. "When should we reconvene to discuss the book?"

"Next week will probably be busy for both of us. Let's set a date once things have winded down..."

"Perfect. But I hope you know I'll finish it anyway." You teased him.

"In that case, I will look forward to hearing your input."

"And I look forward to hearing your opinions."

You finally departed, it was almost time for lunch. Time flew by, and you didn't exactly notice, did you?

With a quick final goodbye, you left the library and began heading towards your room to freshen up before lunch with the royal family. Steve hot in your trail.

"Your majesty," He called you when you were about to enter your room. "Can we talk?"

"Is there an issue?"

Don't say nothing about yesterday. Don't say nothing about yesterday. Don't say nothing about yesterday. Don't say nothing about yesterday. Don't-

"I was worried about you yesterday. I couldn't find you anywhere. No-one knew where you were."

...

"Thank you for worrying, but I was fine. I just got lost in the gardens yesterday. Nothing to worry about."

"Still," His tone was filled with worry. "At least give me heads up beforehand, or let me accompany you. I'm charge of your safety, after all. Your father would have my head if something happened to you." He said that last part with a smile on his lips and warmness in his tone.

He really cared, didn't he?

"He would. I know." You smiled, but you tried to convey with your eyes the conflict in you, "However, I want you to trust me that I can take care of myself."

"I never said you couldn't, but we're still in unknown territory. Some people may even be hostile. I can't risk you getting hurt."

"Steve, you trained me. You know the roughness of my hands, the battles we've had to fight together, you know that if it came down to it I can fight."

"That's the thing. I don't want it to come down to it. People out there can be dangerous, but sometimes I worry even more when you are by yourself inside the palace walls."

Was he hiding something? It looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't. Did he know something you didn't?

"Then help me understand." You softly placed a hand over his arm, encouraging him to speak.

"I-I can't." He turned away from you. "Sorry. Everything I do is because I want to keep you safe."

You wanted to believe, you really did, that it was more than just him having to uphold his duties. That maybe you had a place in his heart, but...

"So you're not going to tell me anything?"

You sounded way more stern than you meant, but it did the job because he met your eyes again.

"I can't."

"So you'd left me unprepared. Ignorant that there is anything that may cause me harm. I am only defenseless without knowledge, but I understand how hard it must be to not be able to keep me on a tight leash."

Your words were sarcastic. It hurt you in your heart to say them out loud, especially to someone who had been with you ever since you both were little. They tasted bitter, but they were necessary. What other way was there to keep yourself informed? You knew Steve, he was stubborn, like you. He was never going to slip you information if he thought it would protect you. But if his defenses were down, then maybe...

You turned to head inside your room.

"A chroí..." He called suddenly.

His nickname for you.

You turned to find him gazing worriedly at you. He had recently grown a beard, and you had to admit that it looked really nice on him. With his partially open lips, you wondered how it would feel to touch it.

"Please, don't misunderstand me. I know you're strong. I know you don't need me to care for yourself. I know. I trained you, I know that better than anyone. Even your father." He began getting closer, just a few steps away, and the distance kept reducing slowly.

"But I want to care for you. Not because you are weak, or incapable of doing it yourself but because-"

He stopped himself. Like he couldn't get those words through his lips.

"Because?" You encouraged him, closing the distance some more and squeezing his arm encouragingly.

He looked into your eyes. His blue eyes... They looked at you with such warmness. No one had ever looked at you like that but Steve. It was different from the warmness that your father showed you, or Pepper, or even Peter. This made you feel safe in an entirely different way and made you feel warm, starting with your cheeks all the way down to your toes.

It seemed like an eternity had passed with how you both stared at each other, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds when-

Steve pecked your lips.

It was quick. Fleeting. He might as well not have done it, because it was so fast that it took you a second to process it.

Without looking back you pushed the door to your room open. Wanda was already out getting lunch with Vis, and Sigyn was busy with lunch around this hour.

You both entered the room in synchronization and Steve closed it without breaking eye contact. Not that you really wanted him to.

As soon as the door was closed, you cautiously approached him again. There was nothing in the world but you and him at that moment. You took a moment to closely examine his face, feel the softness of his beard. Play with the falling locks on his forehead. He placed his hand delicately on your hips.

Once again you both closed the distance and ended up on a kiss. However, this one was not a peck. It was a full-on kiss.

You were both inexperienced in this. That much was obvious. You knew for a fact that Steve had never kissed anyone, ever. And you hadn't either. So you began with simply pecking each other's lips and from time to time staying locked on the kiss for longer. Until you decided to do something a little bolder a begin kissing his bearded jawline and began kissing his neck.

He let out a soft sigh, and guiding you face with your hand he made you look at him.

"Sorry, I know that I should be more experienced. Give you a proper first kiss but..."

"No Steve. It's alright. This is perfect." You smiled softly.

A knock suddenly woke you both up from your daze.

You shot him a panicked glance and mouthed: Stand here.

Quickly, you fixed your hair to make sure everything looked good.

"Your majesty?" A voice came from outside. "May I come in?"

You sat at your vanity, which was far from Steve and the door.

"Yes. You may."

The door opened to reveal a young girl, no more than 16.

"The Queen has requested that you attend lunch with her. I am to take you to her."

"That's alright, I was just speaking with Captain Roger's about some security matters. I will be with you in just a moment." You quickly lied.

"Alright, I will wait outside." The girl said, and then she closed the door.

You both let out a quiet sigh.

Distance. Yes. That was best.

After all, what oN EARTH WERE YOU THINKING! You were engaged! It is true that you would rather be with the man in front of you, but you had agreed on this! Both you and Loki were losing a lot! You couldn't betray his trust like that! You both said that you had to leave the ones with the key to your hearts behind. It had been a mutual understanding.

Your mind kept plaguing you. It kept condemning about what had happened, and what could have happened if the Queen hadn't called for you.

Steve cleared his throat. "I shall go, Princess."

"Yes. We will... Discuss this matter some other time."

And then he left. Leaving you confused and broken-hearted.

Now not only you had to worry about your engagement. But you also knew that Steve reciprocated your affections.

And for that single reason, he couldn't stay here much longer.

TAG LIST:

@chxrryycola - @midnightmystic - @deathkat657 - @thatonefangirl111 - @smolbitch2006 - @roguewraith

#loki fanfic #loki x reader #steve x reader #loki #loki x sigyn #medievalau #medieval!au #loki odinson #odin

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tintinxtintin · 4 years

Text

professor barba

cute little fluff imagine for our favorite ada ❤️

warnings: none really, possible trigger of an attempted harassment incident, but mostly fluff

words: 2.1k

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rafael never thought this would happen. he's a respected and very reputable lawyer turned professor. he doesn't meddle in the lives of his students. he doesn't listen to what they say when they discuss the latest relationship drama. he doesn't get involved in their personal lives. until you, that is.

you changed everything. after you, rafael began to listen in on whispered conversations between you and your friends. he learned that you recently went through a break up, and that while you were sad about it, you had your eye on someone else. after you, rafael got involved in the personal lives of his students. he chatted with them more, in the hopes of hearing something about you.

since you, no one else had been on his mind. seeing you in that intro to legal analysis class every monday and wednesday is the highlight of his week. what rafael didn't know though, is that you felt the same way about him.

you were never the one to be into older guys. they didn't really attract you. in fact, normally you weren't ever into guys at all. or anyone for that matter. you'd just gotten out of a six month long relationship, and if you were being honest, you weren't that invested in it to begin with.

but ever since the start of the semester, something about your legal analysis professor had you thinking about him in ways you know you shouldn't. you were drawn to the gruffness of his voice when he spoke, like he couldn't be bothered to speak up. you loved the way he sometimes loosened his tie if he got too hot while going on a tangent about the IRAC method. it especially made you smile, though, when the class would be writing something down, all quiet, and you'd peek up, and swear you'd see him already staring at you.

you never thought that these little things would grow into a crush. but they did, and surprisingly, you were okay with that. so what if you had an innocent little crush on your professor? you wouldn't be the first person ever to experience that. he would probably never even notice you in a lecture hall of a hundred students. so, you decided that your silly little affection for the cuban man could live on, so long as it didn't effect your grade in his class.

~~~

there was a day when rafael actually thought he would lose it. he'd gotten a call earlier in the morning from olivia, his friend and former coworker, about a case that she wanted his professional opinion on. it was a tough one, and the thought of the scumbag suspect involved really put him in a pissy mood for the rest of the day.

then, upon arriving to his office to settle in before his first class, he noticed you. his attitude seemed to melt away just looking at you. you looked beautiful in a casual outfit: black leggings paired with an NYU sweatshirt. you'd tossed a jean jacket over the sweatshirt; it made you look more put together.

you were sitting outside his office, waiting for him to get there. you wanted some extra study material for the next exam. he noticed your smile when you saw him walking towards you, and he took note of the way your eyes looked him up and down once he was close enough.

"hi professor," you squeaked out. you were shy, but your voice came out soft.

"i was wondering if you had any extra material on the IRAC method? i want to be as prepared as possible for the exam next week." you didn't fully look into his eyes when you spoke, instead you'd look above him or behind him. eye contact was not your strong suit; you disliked the intimacy it held.

rafael could see that you were shy, and he loved it. it added to the reasons he found you adorable.

"well, y/n, i'm not 100% sure what i've got in my office, but you're welcome to come in and sit down while i look." he appreciated that you came to him on your own for extra material. most professors just gave you what they gave you and that was it. rafael didn't roll like that. he cared about all of his students, even if he didn't make the effort to get to know them all. as outlined in his course syllabus, extra material on any given subject was available, but must be asked for by the students. he wouldn't just hand it out.

in doing this, rafael could see which students would take the initiative to seek extra help when needed. not a lot of students had done so this semester, so he was incredibly pleased to see you at his office.

you agreed to come in and wait, and he lead you into his little office. it wasn't much. just a sizeable desk and some chairs to match. the walls were built in shelves, which had stacks and rows of books upon books. being quite a bookworm yourself, you respected the collection, though you suspected they were mostly compromised of law books and such.

"just have a seat, y/n. let me set my things down and then i'll look for anything i have on the IRAC method," he said.

you did as told and sat down, watching him as he went over to his chair opposite yours, pulled out his laptop and booted it up, before turning around to look into his collection of books. he swiveled in the chair and turned to his left. getting on his feet, he reached up to pull a thick textbook down. you marveled at the size. you'd just wanted a few papers of notes not a whole bible. surely he didn't expect you to actually take and read the entire thing.

"this book's a few years old, but it's got some really good information in it and some of the chapters go into more detail than i was able to do in class. i will flag the important chapters for you and then you can go and photocopy them so that you can keep them. is that okay?"

"yes. thank you, professor," you smiled. god, your smile. did you not see what you were doing to him? was it not obvious that he was into you?

"alright, i'll flag them right now and then i'll give you the book in class." you nodded and thanked him again before heading out.

you weren't far away at all from rafael's office when you heard someone calling your name. you glanced up and saw todd, a friend of yours. he came up to you and gave you a quick hug before engaging in conversation with you. rafael watched at first, mostly to determine what the relationship between you two might be. he quickly assumed that you were just friends, as you didn't make it seem like there was anything else going on. in fact, rafael had pretty much started to tune you out until he heard something that intrigued him.

"hey, so mandy said that you and jack broke up last week, and i was wondering if you and i could finally go out." todd asked, looking increasingly hopeful.

you liked todd, but not enough to go out with him. you didn't see anything more than friendship happening with him. especially not when your crush on rafael was so fresh.

"oh, um. well, todd, i'm not really looking for anything right now. the break up is still recent so i'm just focusing on other things right now."

okay, so maybe you lied to him a little. but you didn't want hurt his feelings. he'd been a friend to you so you didn't want to just outright reject him. looking back, maybe you should've.

"oh come on. i know you and i have something here. jack wasn't right for you. but i know i am. let me show you."

something in todd's tone shifted, and you weren't the only one who noticed. he made a move towards you, causing you to instinctively take a step back. your heart rate picked up a bit and your skin started to feel hot. you had a bad feeling about what was about to happen, but you couldn't do anything about it. it was like being outside of your body.

todd was just about to reach for your waist when rafael came out of his office.

"hey, y/n? i was just about to head down to the printing room to photocopy these. why don't you come with me so i don't have to flag you down later."

rafael was heated, and it was evident in his voice. he had his fists clenched, but neither you or todd noticed. todd immediately backed away from you, stammering an awkward goodbye before turning and going back the way he came. you let out a breath of relief.

you glanced at rafael, who's hardened exterior had softened upon seeing your scared expression.

"thank you, professor. you didn't have to do that."

"on the contrary, y/n. i did. couldn't call myself a good man if i didn't. why don't you actually walk with me? i'd feel better about leaving you if i knew you got where you needed to go safely."

you nodded and lead him down the hallway and out of the building. you chatted along the way to your class. you learned that he could actually be quite sassy, and you found it funny. the two of you walked in sync. you were desperate to reach out and grab his hand, but you knew that would be inappropriate. if only you realized he was thinking the same.

when you finally approached the building your class was in, you turned to rafael and thanked him again for walking you to class.

"of course. i'm glad i was able to make sure you were safe."

'you make me feel safe.' you thought.

rafael felt his cheeks heat up. actually, his whole body temperature rose at the compliment from you. he wasn't sure he even heard you right.

"i'm glad i do."

you hadn't realized it, but you'd said that out loud. you felt yourself begin to blush. how embarrassing. now he would think you were a silly girl with a silly crush.

"sorry, that wasn't meant for you to hear." you quickly put your head down, not wanting to see the look of disapproval on his face.

but, unbeknownst to you, his face contorted into a smile. he liked knowing that you felt safe with him. he wanted to do everything he could to make sure you were never hurt. his heart leaped at the realization that maybe, just maybe, you might like him a little more than a student should like their professor.

but how to find out? surely he couldn't just come right out with it and ask you? what if you said no? and then went and told all your friends? what if it somehow got back to the dean? or the president of the college? no. it was better to just let it go. play it safe.

"no, that's quite okay. you'll always be safe with me, y/n."

fuck. had he really just said that? now you were going to think he was a bona fide creep. he blew it.

hearing him say this gave you a burst of confidence. he clearly cared enough about you to not only save you from a potentially dangerous incident, but to also make sure you get to your next destination safely. not many other people would've done that. knowing this made you feel better about your crush on him. so, with everybit of self-assurance you had, you went for it.

"um, professor?" you asked, looking up into his eyes.

"yes?"

"would it- would you like to get a coffee sometime?"

rafael almost wasn't sure he heard you right. had you asked to coffee? you? asked him? no. he clearly was dreaming. this couldn't be real.

his lack of an answer began to scare you, and all that confidence was gone now. you felt small, the rejection beginning to loom over you lile a dark cloud.

"i'm sorry, that was wrong of me. you don't have to-"

"no, no. i would love to get a coffee with you. i was just taken aback by you asking."

you smiled at the cuban, him doing the same. you couldn't believe he'd said yes.

"okay good. i have to get to class now but how about i stay after your class so we can figure out a time?"

"that sounds good. i'll see you later."

with that, he gave you another smile and headed off back the way you guys had walked. he couldn't contain his joy as he walked the path back to the building.

you walked into your class with a stupid grin plastered on your face, eager to see him again later.

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#rafael barba #l&o: svu #y/n

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lemontrash · 4 years

Text

Epithets; the Pros and Pitfalls

Ok gang, so recently the topic of epithets in fanfic has come up and this is a topic I have been thinking about a LOT for A LONG TIME so I figured maybe now is the time to share my thoughts on phrases like ‘the braided baka’ and ‘the ebony-eyed Chinese pilot’ and what some of the pitfalls are in using epithets to enrich your writing.

NOTE: I am not slamming the use of epithets! I am not coming into your fic from 25 years ago saying ‘shame!’. I am only maintaining that these are tricky to get right, and to raise awareness of how epithets can be a really useful, powerful tool of description but also a double-edged blade.

What is an Epithet Anyway?

An epithet is a word or phrase applied to a person or thing to describe an actual or attributed quality, in addition to or instead of their name, and which are used to identify.

On one side of tradition, they are poetic. Homer, writer of the Odyssey, was a big fan of these. ‘The wine dark sea’, ‘rosy fingered Dawn’, and ‘Nausicaa of the long white arms’ are some of his most famous, never mind ‘Apollo, destroyer of mice!’. In his works they were generally descriptive, or talked directly to the schemata (the perceptions and understanding) of his audience.

Everyone knows Achaeans are super hairy, right? You know that.

On another side of tradition, they are identifiers. If you have a populace named virtually nothing but John, Richard and Henry and you’re not used to using family names, then calling this John ‘Long John’ and that John ‘Little John’ helps direct attention to the right person. Or to acknowledge their good or bad deeds/attributes (Peter the Brave vs Stinky Pete, for example) or their lineage (Aragorn son of Arathorn/ John of Gaunt). They can be used for comedic purposes as a device to make purposefully similar characters more amusing (Wee Jock, Big Jock and Smaller-than-Big-Jock-but-Bigger-than-Wee-Jock Jock all agreed to steal the sheep. The Pirate with the Peg Leg and the Pirate with the Clothes Peg boarded the ship.)

But notice that many of these epithets still use people’s names or are direct substitutions for when a name isn’t known. And they are largely subjective - epithets carry not only description but opinion - the opinion of society at large or the opinion of the individual speaker - and pinpoint value - what it IS about this person we should pay attention to.

And that means epithets can be used to praise, (Richard the Lionheart), to criticise (Bad King John), and to stereotype (those hairy Achaeans).

Oh and these are just epithets used for people. Epithets come in other forms, for example:

“The earth is crying-sweet, And scattering-bright the air, Eddying, dizzying, closing round, With soft and drunken laughter…”

The highlighted parts of Beauty and Beauty by Rupert Brooke are also epithets. But i’m going to focus on those used to describe people in this discussion.

In short, epithets always carry meaning in two ways - they focus on what the user feels is perceptively important about the subject of the epithet, and as a result, when we look through the lens of an epithet, our view of a character narrows.

Why are they Great?

Because they’re poetic by nature; they add interest and often eloquence. And because they tell us so much about the point of view of the user. They can add new facets to characters and give writers a secondary means of identifying characters to reduce name fatigue, or differentiate between otherwise similar characters. They can be comedic or evocative. They can show the changeability of characters as they develop or when circumstances change. Clever Odysseus, Lord of Men can become Pitiable Odysseus, hated by the sea.

But because they are poetic, because they carry opinion and because they are inherently narrow in their focus, there’s a whole bunch of pitfalls to be aware of when using epithets. Getting this wrong, well, maybe you just make your story harder to follow. Get it very wrong, and at worst you could genuinely offend someone.

What’s the Problem with Poetry?

The first basic issue you may encounter is that your epithets are too vague or are being overused.

‘My better half’ is an epithet. But if he (she? they?) has not been introduced in any capacity and you also alternate referring to him (her? them?) as ‘the hardened police officer’ and ‘the sloe-eyed beauty’ I might be forgiven for losing track of how many people are in the scene, how they’re related and how I should be thinking of them. Especially early in a story where i’m still getting up to speed with the setting. Here your epithets are muddying the story and it’s a situation where you should be using names. Even for fanfic where we’re assuming that the characters are familiar to everyone, you should be clearly introducing your version of the characters, because generally readers like to know they’re on the same page from the start rather than get thrown for a loop later on. And also you can’t be sure what your reader is thinking, so tell them.

Don’t forget that a NAME captures the whole of a person. Epithets only capture a slice.

You may also make your epithets too purple. ‘The azure-orbed golden-haired CEO’ is a mouthful, and may be adding detail that is irrelevant to the scene; imaging encountering that in a scene where Quatre is busy slashing through Leos in a desert battle. Who is stopping to think about that? Why does it deserve a spotlight right here, right now?

The other type of overuse is to pick one epithet that is your favourite and use it for every other mention of that character. Because epithets carry more meaning than names this is a little like shouting that character’s name through a bullhorn. It’s great the first couple of times - Wow! Exciting! Memorable! - but it fatigues faster than using their name would have. The epithet can then become annoying (’I know he’s got long hair, stop saying it!’) or at very very worst it can become othering. You will alienate your reader from the character, and at the absolute worst, this may mean your reader either comes out with expressions of an attitude to that character that you had no intention of courting or encouraging, or they think YOU have those attitudes and go away from your story thinking ‘wow, that was a well-written story but OOF. that guy’s got some uncomfortable feelings about stuff’.

Whose Line is it Anyway?

Epithets can be factual. They can be based on things you know, I know, and (most importantly) everyone in the story knows. For example, ‘The Wing Gundam Pilot’ is a factual epithet for Heero and is based on knowledge accessible and agreed by 99% of people.

It would still not work if the narrative POV is a character who doesn’t know Heero or doesn’t recognise him as a Gundam Pilot at all. E.G. He’s in disguise and questioning Abdul, who has never met him before.

And this is because epithets are still directional. They convey an understanding or a focus from the user to the reader, regardless of if the user is a character within the story, or the voice of the author themselves. And that’s where it can get weird.

Let’s say I’m writing a story from Rashid’s POV. As a person, he is unlikely to be fussed about the colour of Heero’s eyes, or the fact that Trowa is tall because Rashid is too pragmatic to give a hoot if your eyes are blue or not, and literally everyone is a shrimp compared to Rashid. So in that story, epithets like ‘The azure-eyed pilot’ or ‘the tall pilot’ would be strange if not meaningless coming from that character, and in fact would break the 4th wall by forcing the author’s voice into the foreground.

Effective epithets are either universal and readily accepted (and therefore often neutral/factual, even if they are poetic - rosey-fingered Dawn) or they are naturally biased towards the perspective of the user. Which means characterisation of an epithet used by a person in a story to describe another person in the story goes both ways: When a story in Heero’s POV describes Duo as a ‘violet-eyed beauty’ I may think ‘Duo, purple eyes, pretty boy, yes. check!’ but I will probably also think, ‘wow, Heero’s a massive closet romantic and he has some serious pants-feels for Duo’.

Or if that doesn’t match my view of Heero as a character, I may well think that this author has missed the point of Heero Yuy: Perfect Soldier and it’s THEM who has the serious pants-feels for Duo. If it’s the middle of a gritty battle scene, I may also think ‘Wow, is this really the time, author? Put it back in your pants’.

Or maybe in the above example, it’s a 1x2 but this is jumping the gun. Heero isn’t aware of his own feelings yet so this kind of epithet is premature in Chapter 1. Bring it in down the line when Heero’s acknowledging to himself that Duo makes him go all weird and sweaty.

So use epithets knowing that they will describe the target but also the user, and if those things don’t accord, can jar your reader quickly out of the headspace you were trying to achieve or shout your own voice over that of your characters.

Distilling or Reducing?

If I take a mint plant and distill it, I will end up with a bottle of menthol oil which I could shove under your nose and declare ‘this is perfume!’ and you, eyes streaming, would have to stand there and generally agree.

But if i take a mint plant, rip off a leaf and push it in your face and declare ‘this is perfume!’ you’re less likely to agree with me. Because in this case, I am not distilling, i am reducing.

Epithets can work the same way. At their best, they take everything you want to convey about a character and their situation/personality and condense it into one potent phrase that socks your reader in the face.

But all too often, they are used reductively and then you actually lose a great deal of what’s important about a character for the sake of showmanship and/or lazy writer’s short-hand.

Let’s go back to the Odyssey. Odysseus has just washed up after being shipwrecked; he’s naked, salt encrusted, beardy and beasty and savage. Whilst stumbling around on the shore he is met by a princess, Nausicaa. Nausicaa of the long, white arms. That’s her epithet. From a modern feminist perspective, it seems a little reductive, but in the context of the story, it’s a distillation. She plays an opposite to Odysseus in this scene as he struggles to come back to civilisation after his hardships. She is washing rich clothes; he’s dressed in rags. She’s feminine and cultured and graceful; he’s acting like a wild lion. She represents civilisation and ideals with her fragility and her skin that’s been protected from the sun. He’s burnt and has forgotten how to act like a man.

So whilst the epithet is focussed it tells me a lot of what i need to know and expect of Nausicaa in terms of her role in the story, and the fact that she will compel Odysseus to come back to himself as King of Ithaca.

However, epithets are commonly based on appearance, status or origin, and can very easily fall into stereotype and tropes. Remember Homer’s hairy Achaeans? Was that a flattering description? Would Achaeans bang their chest and cheer proudly to be described as hairy, or would they be put out? If Achaeans are hairy, then what are Trojans?

Let’s bring this to a modern context. If I use ‘the American pilot’ as short hand to convey that Duo is brash and loud and reckless...can I guarantee that my reader will agree with that assumption? Personally I know a lot of Americans, many of whom are not brash or loud or reckless. And if Americans in my fic are de facto brash and loud and reckless... what are Chinese people like? Humourless and ill-tempered? Or is that just Wufei? As a British person, I can find it more than tiresome to see myself represented as old-fashioned and endlessly polite; particularly when it gets obvious that the writer hasn’t the first clue about the UK or British culture. I can only imagine what it’s like for minority groups.

If you start short-handing in this way, it’s the top of a potentially slippery slope into unintentional racial or cultural profiling. This is where epithets can start to raise eyebrows or make readers reach for the back-button. You need to ask yourself - is this lazy description or is this meaningful? Is this from a ‘generic’ POV (IE, mine as the author) or is it quantified by the POV of a character in the story who may carry those biases? Should those biases be acknowledged or explored by the story? Should those biases be carried in character speech only, then, or is it ok to put them into the prose?

Is there a way I can characterise that without short-handing with a basic epithet? If I’m already saying that Duo flipped the table and threw his hands up in impatience, does tagging on this epithet strengthen the meaning of those actions, or are his actions defining the epithet?

Did you know that the alternative meaning of ‘epithet’ is ‘a disparaging or abusive word or phrase’? This is loaded description.

And finally, sometimes the epithet is just plain boring. If the epithet is a universal fact, then it is also a static snapshot of the character we’ve seen before; and it’s often not even individual. Heero has blue eyes... but so does Quatre, and so do Relena, Zechs, Mariemaia, Treize, Sally Po, Sylvia Noventa and that guy over there. It tells me nothing about Heero as a person and even if we argue ‘but it’s a specific shade of blue!’ Well...sure. It’s still not that unique and you shouldn’t have to dig that deep into the epithet to make the trait stand out. It’s the literary version of a newspaper headline yelling ‘WOMAN WEARS CLOTHES’.

For example, compare:

‘The blue-eyed Vice Foreign Minister entered the meeting room’

Cool beans. So what? Relena’s arrived but my attention is already distracted away from her looking for something more plot-related. Especially if this is chapter 3 and her appearance has already been described to me 6 or 7 times.

‘The false queen, Relena Peacecraft entered the meeting room’.

J u i c y! Sounds like tea is going to be spilled. Who’s still holding this grudge against her? Is she the villain here? I’m gonna keep reading.

TL;DR

In summary, epithets carry a lot of personal perspective and can be powerful devices in writing. Used well, they will lift up your writing and make it memorable, vivid and engaging. Used thoughtlessly, you can stumble into a number of pitfalls, some which will make your writing harder to read or unintentionally comedic, and others that could make you look like an asshole.

#fanfic writing #writing advice #epithets #YMMV

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candideangel · 4 years

Note

5. Watching the fireflies

Long had he wondered if he would ever see the similar sights again, the sights of Gridania and the city under several tree boughs, a place of beginnings for budding archers, lancers, artisans in animal skin, and much more. It was Angelique’s homeland, and no matter how far it appeared she had gone, she had never forgotten her home, unlike himself and how he sometimes often wished to forget certain parts of his Sharlayan times. His ruby gaze raised to the darkening sky, the soft shades of pinks and purples were giving way to the diamond studded navy sky. It felt so different...so new to him now...foreign even to step into a place he had often visited in previous trips during his studies.

“G’raha?” her voice called out to him, ears suddenly perked forward and attentive. That was when he met those eyes that had entranced him for years and more, the once hardened uncut stones that from time had given them the most sparkling shade of jade. Pure, full of life. The bard’s soft pink lips quirked into a small smile and she shook her head walking over, reaching over and taking hold of his hand. “You were in another world there for a moment. Thought I would accidentally leave you behind.”

The warmth that radiated from her bare palm made his heart practically rise to his throat. G’raha had only felt and known that particular one covered in crystal for decades, it startled him to feel the softest brush from her touch, fingertips slightly calloused from the times with a bowstring but still soft, and gentle, typically gloved except when they were alone together. “My apologies, I suppose I am still overwhelmed with...experiencing an open world with no strings.”

“Oh?” Angelique would reply so simply and a small tilt of her head did give him pause to feel a smile on his own lips, fingers slowly clasping and weaving their joined hands together.

“Yes, but let’s not worry about that. After all, what good would it do if we are to tarry when you had something to show me?”

His nod was given a chuckle in response, soft and in his opinion a little bit cute. With their entwined fingers Angelique would go back to taking the lead through Gridania as he followed in her wake, left to his own thoughts for the moment even as he took in the sights. How much time had changed a once seemingly mammet-like bard who simply walked where she was told, took down what she must, but here she was now standing taller than she had once done, surrounded by loved ones, by friends who had cared about her when he was unable. At times he oft wondered in his dreams and moments of musings if the Crystal Tower had brought their destinies together, pulling them apart and reuniting lost pieces, this time for good. Perhaps it had, but perhaps it had just been their lots in life, but he wouldn’t change it for the entire Star.

Passing through the tunnels, the smell of damp earth reaching his nose, a previous rain must have come through and dampened the soil, but had done little to cool the temperate forest of Gridania. The air around them even at night was still carrying a humidity that made his clothes faintly start clinging to his skin, or at least feel as if he was perspiring. However, gone were the sounds of the Inn being full of evening goers for a meal and excited children probably sent on their way to homes, and now they were surrounded by the soft quiet with only the sounds of nature as their company. There was the rushing water, the creaking of wood as a mill turned, but still Angelique was taking him somewhere through a narrow pass made from the natural rocky cliffs of the city. He would wish to ask her where they were going, but there was something about the natural noise and following her pace that at the time didn’t wish to disturb.

That was when he would hear it, the sound of rushing water of a shallow waterfall hitting the surface of a still pond, churning the waters to keep from becoming stagnant. Turning a corner Angelique would soon stop under a lone lantern in the small clearing and as G’raha saw it he smiled, it was a clearing with a few benches on the side, and indeed a small stretch of waterfall pouring into a small pond below. Though he was curious as to what brought them here.

“Apakallu Falls if I remember the name precisely, why did we come here?” He finally broke the silence, only to stop when he realized his words, “Not that it isn’t a beautiful space, but...um…” he stammered hoping to recover from a possible blunder, but was silenced when a finger pressed to his lips, halting what was bound to be a stream of words he wouldn’t stop.

“Raha,” she spoke his true name that sent an electric shock down his spine, so intimately spoken that for a moment he feared he’d faint, “I figured since we haven’t really had much time to reconnect...this would be a nice place to do so. Now that the crowds are gone and any young loves may not steal away into the night for a few more bells.”

“Perhaps we are ones to talk.” he quipped, reaching up and taking the hand that had been used to silence him and slowly pressed his lips against Angelique’s knuckles. “...Are we not still young loves using this place to hide away?” He had that amused feeling seeing the flushing cheeks on the blonde knowing he had shot in the weak point. For a moment he idly worried if she would throw him unceremoniously into the pond in front of him.

That was not to be however as they sat together on the edge, side by side, speaking away of memories that had happened, how recently friends reunited with their own loves. There was a pause as Angelique glanced up at the starlit sky now, resting an arm against her propped up knee. “For a moment...I was afraid that...what we had would not end up being the same. Maybe even would have been left to be alone for much longer.” She confessed looking over to G’raha a little, “It would have been painful to watch, seeing all their smiling faces, wrapped in the arms of people that loved them when mine...well...you know.” It startled him that she would speak of the insecurities that must have been bubbling under the surface, but he would look to her shoulders as they came to rest after a deep breath.

“In the end though it ended up becoming all well. Your friends are all back, their loves are happy, you most of all are happy...as well as myself.” G’raha spoke as he looked down at an outstretched finger and watched as a firefly that had started to gather around the falls, landed and was glowing slowly and brilliantly. “You know, even if...even if something had gone wrong, part of me would still find you. I know it would.” he told her as confidence bubbled up in his chest.

“How so?” Angelique asked curiously glancing over at him while he was a bit concentrated on the firefly at his fingertip that didn’t seem all that eager to take back off but flicker lazily.

“Well...allow me to use this as an analogy. Fireflies are able to light themselves upon command. However, a variety of them mean different things, warnings to predators, identification of species, even members of the opposite sex. In some cases even identifying mates.” He stood up carefully, nudging off his boots with his toes until he was barefoot in the grass. “Now, imagine for a moment that we were destined to truly be.” he spoke as he would step into the water that was cooling and brushed against his calves, “Even if our physical bodies were gone or simply just apart, a soul could always resonate in another life. A soul could always act like a beacon, calling out for another much like a firefly’s flicker.” He would outstretch his hand and waited for a moment, the flicker of the firefly would start to become more frequent now, and in response one particular light was seeming to blink a different pattern and the one on G’raha’s fingers soon flitted off, glowing in a similar pattern set and he smiled a little to himself. “...Put simply, I would recognize the color and pattern of your soul anywhere. But...perhaps that is just an overblown reason for saying soulmate.” he chuckled softly and glanced back when he heard the soft shuffle of grass behind him. For a moment he was unsure if he had said something wrong.

“Angelique…” he spoke but again was stopped as the bard raised a hand a little in a gesture of him to halt.

“I would go to the ends of Eorzea to find you too. And Novrandt again for that matter.” Reaching back behind her head she closed her eyes, “Your rich, vibrant hue is like a calling to me.” Words spoken in both seriousness and a jest as fingers would slowly start to pluck out pins that kept her hair into that neat and tidy bun she was often always seen with. “However, enough of those words. This is a new chapter to our story, OUR journey.” For a moment her hair tumbled down like a sheet of pale gold silk before she silently gathered it up to pull it into a ponytail where the tip just idly brushed against the nape of her neck. “I’ve been contemplating changing my look for a while though it isn’t off by much.” she looked at G’raha and smiled, walking over and a fist full of hair pins that she would pocket.

“Heh, well then…” he would stretch out his arms to her, smiling warmly, “...It’s a good start to a new beginning…” That was when G’raha felt the impact just as a series of splashes disturbed the surface of the water and he felt her strong arms wrap around his torso. Despite the stagger back he would wrap his arms around her waist and bring her as close to his body as possible, closing his eyes as fingers would slide up and brush into her still soft hair, he rest his head down to her crown and nuzzled his nose softly into the roots. A faint scent of lotus and orange blossom filled him as if he was taking in a sweet nectar, and for a moment his vision clouded a little as reality started to settle in again, hot tears threatening to fall from the corners. It reminded him when he woke in the tower, aching, sore but greeted with Angelique’s visage that looked both happy and sad, when all he could manage was that soft “good morning” in a voice that ached for a drink to relieve the dryness. How real it all was now.

Fighting back the urge to release his weakness G’raha pulled back and smiled a little, reaching down and brushed his thumb against Angelique’s cheek, using his index finger to lift her chin up before sealing their new beginning with a kiss while they stood in the water and the fireflies continuing to illuminate their lights all around them and blanketed by the late summer air. This time, there were no doors to break them apart again.

#summer prompts #5.3 spoilers!#do not read if not done #I apologize it went firefly simplicity story then this happened)#I'll rebobble this overtime #ffxiv writing

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buckyownsmyheart · 5 years

Text

Duty [1/12]

CHAPTER 1: Reaching an Understanding

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: None! Maybe baby swear words

Series Summary: Ex-army doctor, and now on-mission-for-the-Avengers doctor, Major (Y/n) (Y/l/n), had prepared herself for anything. That was, of course, until she met a devastatingly charming Sergeant from Brooklyn with a quick wit and a kind smile. I wonder what will happen.

Series Masterlist

Prologue

The next day, things in the briefing room were a little tense. A feeling of unease spread through you as you walked into the room, trying to ignore the subdued murmurs and eyes tracking your movements from agents, healthcare professionals and Avengers alike. You steeled yourself against their gazes, daring anyone to question your integrity before Nick Fury quietened the chatter from beside you.

“Some of you have already met your new on-mission doctor, Major (Y/n) (Y/l/n), and those who haven’t will have heard about her. She will be helping us keep healthy from now on. There will still be the same team here in the medical bay, but she’s the needed add-on. Any questions?”

Before anyone had the chance to form a thought that might lead to a question, he continued. “Alright, dismissed. Avengers I need you to remain behind for further briefing and report clarification.” There is a jostling and scraping of chairs as the agents leave the room. 17 gives you a wink on their way out before the room becomes quiet once more.

Fury eyed the room. “Your recent infiltration into the HYDRA camp was successful in giving us insight into their new project, but that’s as far as the success goes. I don’t want a fuck up like this again.” He distributed updated files around the table, and you took the closest seat, next to Black Widow. Looking down at the classified file, you weren’t sure you were meant to be reading this but opened it anyway, your curiosity beating your wish to abide by any rules. And you read.

********

S.H.I.E.L.D CLASSIFIED

PROJECT: MOONSHINE, (accessory to HYDRA), 05 SEPT 2019

Named after the technically legal, but often lethal, home-brewed alcohol, HYDRA have created a facility now known to be located within the EUREKA RESEARCH FACILITY in ELLESMERE ISLAND, 79°59′20″N 085°56′27″W. The base, previously owned by the Canadians before HYDRA took over, is secluded and only reachable by jet, with food, fuel and other supplies brought every 6 months.

Recent information has shown their proceedings, including images [see page 3 through 5] of their testing on human subjects, in an attempt to produce the same effect as the serum, successfully trialled on Steven G. Rogers, but by forms of mutilation and pain endurance, as recreating the serum, as shown on James B. Barnes, was deemed unsuccessful in producing the desired effect.

The methods include electrotherapy, fire exposure, exhaustion and debilitation techniques. These hope to push the cells within the body to mutate themselves to survive the conditions.

TOP SECRET SPECIAL HANDLING ONLY

********

You looked up to Fury, reeling a little from the information. You shifted in your seat as it felt too hard and your feet placed uncomfortably on the floor. You hadn’t reached the pictures yet but had a good enough guess as to what they contained.

“We’re working with the Secret Intelligence Service, or MI-6, on this.” Fury reported and looked to you as he said it, “They’re working with our team to find out more. Until then we can only wait. Major, you’re dismissed.”

You stood up, maybe a little too quickly, and walked out the door before you were given any more files. You walked to your quarters and flopped onto the bed. Rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes to try to try and rid them of tiredness, and make your brain deal with the new information. There had always been people capable of causing such pain, but the thought of people intentionally inflicting that sort of torture on many people was enough to make your stomach turn, and you considered yourself to have a pretty strong stomach. In an attempt to distract yourself, you decided to head down to the medical bay, trying to familiarise yourself with your new surroundings and try and lessen the stares people had given you being the new girl. You rolled out of bed, not daring to look in the mirror and walked back out of your room.

Two flights of stairs and several corridors filled with loud colourful art later, you found the bay. The set up was much like a normal hospital ER, with a bleak looking desk at the front. Someone was scribbling frantically behind it, the bags under her eyes indicating their understaffing and overworking, a permanent feature of any healthcare professional, apparently even if they worked for billionaires. She looked up as you approached and gently returned the smile you gave her.

“Hi Major, what can I help you with?” Her voice carried a slight roughness to it, but not in an unpleasant way. It was an oddly comforting husk that made you feel like she would have perfect control of any situation that arose.

“Hi Angie,” you smiled, reading her name badge. “I wanted to get acquainted with everything, see what’s what and how you guys run things. I’d love to help out as much as possible.”

“Would you meet the people who run the show?” she drummed her fingers on top of the now closed folder, “Dr Cho is currently with someone, but I can find some of the team?"

Before you could answer, her eyes flickered to something behind you, causing you to turn and see what she was looking at. Your eyes met with piercing blue ones and you couldn’t help but give a sigh.

“Hey Doc,” Bucky Barnes grinned sheepishly, “Been given orders to have my arm re-looked at, would you be able to help?”

Narrowing your eyes at him you turned back to Angie to ask for her opinion, but she was already holding out a file that had a printed ‘James B. Barnes’ on the top.

“Room 4 is empty,” Angie gesturing to a room with the same unbothered air as she busied herself with other tasks, but you thought you could see the trace of a smile. You realised you weren’t going to get any more help on this one, and so opened his file, pretending it had something to do with his current injury. In reality it was a record of his previous injuries, and had zero relevance at the moment, but it kept your hands busy and felt it made you look important and not like you would rather be anywhere else but stuck in a room with him. You made the short walk into room 4, not looking to see if he had followed you, and sat in the chair in front of the computer. When you had fortified your composure, you turned to him. He was sitting on the bed, idly playing with sheet covering it, and now seeing his open face and off-guard composure, there was no ignoring how good-looking he was. He had changed from his tactical gear into a plain red Henley that stretched over his chest, and you could see the strain of the trousers he wore, their blue bringing out his eyes in a way that should be illegal. You averted your eyes and coughed a little, trying to rid the frog that had managed to wind its way into your throat.

He interrupted your train of thoughts, “I’m sorry for yesterday.” You looked back at him with surprise, not expecting an apology. “I was rude to you and I didn’t give you a chance before immediately dismissing you.” He didn’t break eye contact, and in an attempt to distract yourself from the unusual things your stomach was doing, you tried to drop your rigid glare into something you hoped was more comforting and busied yourself washing your hands.

“It’s alright. I’ve been underestimated my whole life; I’ve now learnt not to take it personally.” You looked up and met his gaze. “C’mon Sergeant, let me see how much I hashed up that arm,” you saw his shoulders drop a few inches. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, you knew you had a tendency to be a little defensive at times. After peeling the bandage back, you couldn’t help but murmur a few exclamations as all you saw was faint pink section of skin. A small yellowing scab and peeling of the skin around the edges were the only indicators of any injury.

“Perhaps you’re a better doctor than you think,” Bucky said, giving a small laugh. A small smile wormed its way onto your face.

“Mind if I poke around it a bit?” You glanced up at Bucky, “Why did they even send you down here? It’s healed perfectly.”

“Not at all, all yours.”

You worked your fingers around the edges of the wound, massaging the skin and seeing it whiten and then pink, showing signs of healthy tissue and vessels. You felt Bucky’s eyes on you, but had to resist the temptation to look up, otherwise you might fall right into them.

“It’s amazing,” you confessed to him, “I can still feel the dissolvable stitches I put in there but everything else has healed completely. You would expect this sort of recovery within 12 weeks, not 14 hours.”

“I’ve never seen it heal as fast as this," He motioned to his arm. "Steve and I would have been a little less uptight at the whole situation if we knew.”

He nodded to the desk, where you had placed his file.

“All the information on my healing and other enhancements,” he said, his tone had hardened slightly, “Are all in there,”

“Oh, the doctors here have already tested you for this sort of thing?”

“Not the doctors here.”

You looked up at him and your face fell with realisation, of course HYDRA had kept records on him. Sympathy and pity gripped your heart, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

He snapped at you suddenly, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not broken, and I don’t need your pity.” You knew he wasn’t pissed off at you, he was pissed at the situation, but doesn’t mean his words didn’t sting you a little bit. Bucky yanked down his sleeve and stood up quickly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” You reached over and gathered the bandage from the bed next to where he had been sitting, “I don’t think you’re broken. You’re healing, there’s a difference.” You looked into his eyes, trying to convey the sincerity you felt with those words. When he didn’t move, you offered a truce, “Let me take out a few of those stitches on top. It might be a bit more comfortable for you.” He nodded and silently took one of the spare chairs. He did have the grace to look a little ashamed at his outburst, but you figured asking for a second apology in 10 minutes would be a bit too much.

You were quiet as you cut the offending sutures, and when you were done, Bucky pulled down his sleeve and spoke, his voice soft, “Umm, you uh-, you figured out how to use Stark’s coffee machines yet?”

“Not yet,” you laughed, “Haven’t been brave enough if I’m honest. Never seen so many damn buttons on a machine in my life!”

He gave you a small chuckle, “How about I show you? To make up for being an ass. Today and yesterday. I know all doctors and soldiers have a sweet spot for coffee.”

You smiled, he was trying to make amends and you appreciated that. “Lead the way, Sarge.”

“You press this button, and then the water should come through this part, and you get your regular filter coffee. Tastes exactly like it did in the 40s, better even,” Bucky said as he pressed the button. Steaming hot air jetted out of one of the pipes on the side, singeing a hole in Bucky’s shirt and exposing the glint of his metal arm as he swore profusely at the machine, and then at his shirt for good measure. It had become apparent in the past 30 minutes that as much as Bucky claimed to be able to work the coffee machine, he actually had as much of an idea as you, potentially even less.

“Looks like it’s going really well for you Terminator,” Sam Wilson entered the kitchen, and as he caught sight of you, he smiled and extended out a hand. “Hi, we sort of met in the quinjet, but I’m Sam.”

You took it, “(Y/n), nice to meet you. You don’t by any chance know how to work this machine? Half-robot over here is about to blow something up.”

Sam laughed and wandered over to where you were stood, pressed a few buttons on the side, and coffee started dripping into the jug. He turned to you and quipped, “You’re really trusting old-man over here with showing you something technological? For someone quite intelligent, you don’t seem very smart.”

You leaned back and laughed at his comment, Bucky however, looked put-out.

He glared over at him, “What do you want, Wilson?”

“Steve is looking for you down in the boxing ring, says he’s ready to kick your ass again.”

You looked at Bucky, “Steve beats you in a fight?” Then grinned over at Sam as annoyance crossed Bucky’s face.

“Not today he won’t,” Bucky grumbled as he trudged away from the coffee machine, muttering incoherently except for a few words that I’m not sure Steve would appreciate hearing.

As you enjoyed the bitter and warm smell of fresh coffee, Dr Bruce Banner walked into the kitchen and gave you a warming smile. He too pressed a few buttons on the machine, and a green froth fell into his mug.

“It’s so good to have an actual medical doctor on the team, they all kept coming to me on the battlefield,” he gestured around him, as if the Avengers were all there, “With life-threatening injuries! Expecting me to patch them up and send them on their way! I only dealt with tropical diseases in India! It was an entirely different thing!”

Sam turned to him, “You’re meant to be a genius Banner, what’s the use of your 7 PhDs if you can’t do anything useful with them?”

You laughed at the interaction, “It’s a pleasure to be on the team, happy to help in any way I can.” You paused, contemplating your next words carefully. “This might be a bit invasive, but what’s the deal with Sergeant Barnes? Is he normally this grumpy?”

Sam looked up at you, but it was Bruce who answered. “He’s still getting used to being able to be the good guy. I think he feels he doesn’t deserve it and so lashes out before anyone else can push him away first. He doesn’t like letting people in. Took Sam a bit of time to figure that out too.”

Sam laughed softly, “He’s the biggest damn grump I’ve ever met, but underneath he’s also a softie and an idiot. Give him time, he’ll be more bearable.”

You just nodded, pondering what they had both said. It made sense, he was still decompressing and figuring things out, maybe you could let him off the hook for being such an ass. You stayed in the kitchen for an hour or so with Sam and Bruce, getting the inside knowledge on the Avengers, the ins-and-outs of the compound and where to find the best bagels nearby. If you were wondering, it’s the deli on the right as you exit the compound.

“Right,” You turned to the two men, “I've been avoiding my unpacking, so I should probably get going, but it was lovely meeting you both properly, and thanks for all the information, I reckon I’ve got enough to blackmail the whole team now.” You said with a wink before walking out the door, waving over your shoulder.

In your room, your bags stared at you, lying on the floor, daring you to open them. You stared right back at them. You had been caught in this gridlock for the past 10 minutes and couldn’t quite find it in yourself to begin the task. You reprimanded your lack of motivation, and you had just managed to open your bag and sat on the floor, trying to organise some of your junk. You looked at the photos you had brought along, and they made your insides smile. There were some of you and your brother, the rest of your family, and some of your old army section and other friends. You felt a twist of guilt as you realised you hadn’t rung them yet to let them know you had arrived. Your brother, being a hacker, probably could find out that information if he was really concerned, but you felt bad if it got to that.

After a quick text letting them know you were safe and happy and that you would ring them later, you found yourself being drawn to your gym clothes. Maybe you should be checking out all the facilities that the compound had to offer. It would seem rude not to. Not because a certain someone who had captured your attention was probably still down there, sweating a little and most likely looking quite good. Not at all. You would never. Trying to move your thoughts away before they became slightly perverted, you pulled on some kit, letting your dog tags hang out in the open, clattering on your chest as you made your way down.

The gym was pretty standard, with weights and machines in one corner, cardio down the far wall, and free space with various mats and equipment dotted around. What drew you was the small boxing ring and punching bags dangling from the ceiling in the opposite corner. Unfortunately, no sign of Bucky. Not that he was the sole reason you were down here. You began to wrap your hands and after a quick warm-up you started jabbing at the bag, getting a feel for it again, before tightening your muscles and pushing yourself a bit harder.

“Not sure the bag is good enough for you Major,” Bucky spoke from behind you, appearing out of nowhere and making you jump, “think you might need a more challenging opponent.”

You let up on the bag, steadying it with one hand, “You offering yourself up, Sergeant? Is Steve that much better than you that you’re going to sink to my level?”

“Not sure the bag would agree with that statement, you were giving it a harder time than Steve and I put together,” He provoked, patting the bag with a pretend sympathetic gesture. “I would like to think I could put up a better fight than the bag though.”

Steve rounded the corner, from what you assumed was the changing rooms, and addressed Bucky. “I’ve seen her file Buck, let’s just say she would have had you nose-deep in mud in the 40s. And I’m not going to be putting my money on you today.” You grinned at Steve.

“Alright, it’s on.” You paused, straightening up and chucking him a pair of gloves from a nearby bench, “Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you just because you’ve got a pretty face.” And with that, you parted the ropes and jumped into the ring.

Chapter 2

tags:

@broco8 @nerd-without-a-cause @sebbbystaaan @mcubuckyandsteve @cutepiemimi13 @velvetwonderbucky

(strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you!)

#duty #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #b.b fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic

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