#(yes i forgot the word for the refuge thing they set up in the school and google is not helping!) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hiddlestonsbabygirl · 4 years

Text

Care For Me (Steve Rogers au) SugarDaddy!Steve

•prologue•

An alternative universe where Steve isn’t an Avenger, but rather a CEO of one of the biggest companies in the US. His best friend and business partner Bucky secretly made him an account in an online dating site for sugar daddies and sugar babies, setting Steve up on a date with the only suitable sugar baby he thought was best for his best friend among the million others in his inbox.

It’s you. You’re the sugar baby.

Or,

Where reader is a med student who is badly in need of financial support and resorted to desperate measures by signing up to an online dating site with a little help from reader’s best friend, Nat.

•••

You ran up the staircase, not bothering to apologize as you bumped into strangers along the way. Your heart hammered against your chest as sweat outlined your forehead, thoughts running through your mind as you wondered what could have happened to your apartment. You just got a call from your good neighbor Mrs. Sally that the landlord stormed into your hallway followed by two men in white muttering angry words as he unlocked your door with his duplicate key. You knew instantly why he was there. You were getting kicked out of your own apartment since you weren’t able to pay for your rent in six months. The landlord had warned you beforehand to pay sooner, but it was getting harder and harder each day. You were already broke, all your savings spent on your medical school. You didn’t want to stop your studies—you were already on your third year and ever since you graduated college your goal was straight; finish med school, pass the licensure exams and become a doctor. You couldn’t even last a week on your countless part-time jobs because of your coming in late due to knee-deep work you have to face every single day in school.

Your financial status was making it hard for you to finish your goal. Very hard.

You reached your floor, and, as expected, all your things were outside your door in boxes. Your heart sank as you stared at the mess, your clothes and books thrown aggressively into the containers as if they meant nothing but pieces of trash.

You rushed inside and your landlord was standing by your small kitchen, barking orders at his two men, without even noticing that you entered.

“Please, sir,” you cried as you neared him. “Please give me one more chance. I’ll pay by the end of the month, I promise!”

He scowled at you. “I’ve given you too many chances, (Y/N). You’re too much.”

He turned his back at you and proceeded to march into your bedroom, calling out one of his men to follow him inside.

“No!” You yelled angrily this time. You couldn’t believe him. You may haven’t paid your debt owed to this man but that didn’t give him the right to intrude into your privacy.

You ran past them and stood in front of them before they could get any closer to the door, your cheeks flushed and eyes filled with angry tears.

“You can’t just walk into someone’s bedroom and take everything away!” You cried. “I can pack up myself! I don’t need your filthy hands on my belongings!”

Your landlord looked furious. “Then throw your damn things out of my apartment in the next hour or I’ll fucking rip this room apart by myself!”

You flinched at the loudness and anger of his voice before he turned around and left without another word, his men following close behind. Once you heard the main door slam shut you bawled your eyes out, sinking to the floor as you struggled to think of places where you could find refuge without having to pay. All you had in your wallet was a 20-dollar bill, and you didn’t have any extra cash in your bank account. You considered searching for very cheap rooms in the vicinity without having to ride because riding meant paying. But you couldn’t walk on the streets while struggling to hold boxes of your things. They were even too many for only two small hands.

You sobbed. At this point you felt so hopeless already. You almost convinced yourself that you were going to throw your unnecessary things away and sleep on the streets, while asking for spare change. You’d have to give up your med school since you couldn’t shoulder all the expenses anymore and just look for a job where it pays just enough for food and shelter. You didn’t have a family anymore to back you up. Your addictive mother left you for a stranger, and your father’s been gone even before you were born. You didn’t have any siblings, nor uncles or aunts or extended family members where you could go to for help. You had no one. It was only you.

You wiped away your tears, swallowing your pride as you took out your old, worn-out phone from your pocket and dialed your best friend’s number.

Natasha.

She’s been your best friend since high school, and you both shared the same passion in life. You both wanted to become a doctor. You both have so much in common, and you both agree to almost everything. You’ve been there for each other through the ups and downs, and Natasha has helped you through your own struggles financially. But asking for this big favor from her was just too much for you. You didn’t want to add a burden to your best friend—med school is already hard enough as it is.

But you were already desperate. You didn’t have any more options. This was the only one.

“Hello?”

You felt a sudden wave of relief hearing a voice so soothing in the midst of the chaos. “Nat, hi.”

“(Y/N), have you been crying? What happened??”

You hiccuped. “I-I’m fine, Nat. C-Could you come over? I k-kind of need your help.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

As promised, a knock came from your door and you stood up to open it, revealing a worried Natasha standing over your disarrayed valuables.

You couldn’t help yourself. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes as she pulled you in for a tight hug and you sobbed into her shoulder.

“We’ll pack up your things and go to my house. You’re staying there for as long as you like. My home is always open for you, (Y/N). And you know that.”

...

“So? How did it go with Katherine?” Bucky spoke up as he stabbed his medium-rare meat with his fork, clearly playing with his food rather than eating it. It was lunch break and Bucky and Steve were in their usual go-to for lunch, Redbird.

“Despite the fact that we called it a night early? It was okay.” Steve replied with a scoff, bringing a spoonful of rice to his mouth and watched as Bucky gave his best friend a deadpanned look.

“And you were the one who ended things early, not her, right?”

Steve nodded. He was slowly getting tired of Bucky setting him up with several women, whom he doesn’t even take interest in. He always has the need to pair Steve with someone because “you always look so bleak and somber,” as Bucky would put it.

“Buck, I really appreciate you doing these stuff for me, being my wingman and all, but I really don’t feel like dating right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” He retorted. “Then why do you always look so depressed? You can’t fucking tell me your wealth and fame is making you distressed. That’s some absurd bullshit right there.”

“Language.” Steve glared at him. He always hated when people cussed. For him it was indecent and dirty.

Except, of course, cussing in bed. He can only tolerate profanity under the sheets. But not often, though. That would be too much to listen to.

“Seriously??”

“And yes, James. Wealth and fame does not automatically make you happy and unproblematic. Do you know how many rich and famous people died because they took their own life? Because they hide their problems. The only image the public sees is the happy and successful façade they show.”

Silence. Steve was almost convinced he had won over their little argument.

“That shit deep, man.” Bucky only chuckled to which his best friend exhaled an exasperated sigh. Steve couldn’t even bother to point out that Bucky said a bad language word again.

“But you’ve got friends. Your family loves and supports you, you make time for sports and leisure...what could possibly make you so sad??”

Steve breathed out. “I told you, I’m not depressed, I’m not sad. I just don’t feel like dating as of the moment.”

“Will you feel like dating again tomorrow?”

“Haha, very funny.”

Bucky only stared at his best friend as he took a sip of his drink, studying him with confusion and amusement. Very formal man, always has a steely look on his face, very dominant demeanor, couldn’t even stand hearing curse words! What could his best friend possibly like in a woman?? Were his calculations wrong? Did he expect differently? Was he looking at it in a wrong angle?

Is Steve gay??

“Barnes, quit staring at me like that. You’re making me uncomfortable.” Steve brought him back to his senses.

And then it hit him.

“Hey, Steve, I think I need to go.” Bucky announced as he stood up and gathered his phone and wallet lying around on the table.

“Oh? Why the sudden hurry?” The blond-haired man asked as his eyes watched his best friend suddenly look distracted.

“It’s nothing. I just forgot to feed my pet dragon.” He then proceeded to pace towards the exit, leaving Steve confused and asked himself how he was acquainted with a weird and funny man like James Buchanan Barnes.

Little did Steve know that his best friend was up to a very stupid but brilliant idea. He knew he was going to get in trouble if Steve found out about it, but it was worth a shot. And his plan involved an online dating site and younger girls.

........................... ........................... ...........................

A/N: New series! Yay!!! Tags are also open, just hit me up! Next part coming soon ❤️

742 notes · View notes

emotionalcello-makefanfics · 5 years

Text

Your Tears in My Dreams (DamiJon) Part : 1/2

Rating : General Audiences

Summary :

His best friend always has that smile. Bright and refreshing like a can of cold soda on a hot and humid summer. But one day, when they were walking down the halls to class. Jon stopped, and for once in Damian life, he saw Jon cried. ---- Dick cleared his throat, his darting eyes finally landed on his jade eyes, “Why do you want to know now?” “Curiosity,” Damian shrugged, “I’ve never seen him cried before, that was the only time he did and I forgot why he did.” “You think it’s your fault?” “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Inspired by this beautiful art of Jon crying and Damian not knowing what to do by @glitter-dc

Read on AO3

Click Keep Reading to read on Tumblr.

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Jon was his best friend and the only friend that ever counted, but their relationship didn’t start smoothly. As a privileged nine-year-old boy that only knew about the expectation he’s meant to fulfill in a world of adults, Jon’s sincere friendly approach was extraterrestrial.

Yet, no matter how much Damian pushed, Jon insists. To Damian, Jon is nothing more than his father’s journalist best friend’s son. Damian had understood the political need to befriend each other, but Jon never sees it that way.

Jon who’s always as bright as the sun when he smiles. All his frontal teeth would show, and the one teeth on the top right that bent inwards sticks out more than the rest. The apple of his cheeks became prominent whenever he’s too excited, and blush just like roses in full bloom whenever they were running, or if it was a hot day. His eyes would shine like clear lakes under the high noon. Strands of his raven-black soft curls bounce cheerfully and swept through the wind like feathers whenever he moves.

Always, Jon would smile through the rain, through the bad scores he gets, and through the wounds that he gets whenever they’re playing too rough.

His best friend always has that smile. Bright and refreshing like a can of cold soda on a hot and humid summer.

But one day, when they were walking down the halls to class. Jon stopped, and for once in Damian life, he saw Jon cried.

It was the first and the last time Damian saw him that way.

The memory comes in as a dream, played like a slow-motion clip that lasted forever. Long enough that at one point, Damian asked why Jon cried, which of course, Jon in his dream didn’t make a sound any other sound than sobbing. But when Damian woke up, it felt like it lasted a second. Like every dream, Damian thought he’ll forget it after a few seconds being awake. But this time, the way Jon looks at him with his sorrowful eyes and downturned lips, stays the whole day, and the day after that, and so on.

Damian can still feel chills down his spine at how deeply Jon’s eyes pierce through his soul. The details of how strands of his black loose curls tossed around because he just took a nap at break time. The way his tears sticks to his lush lashes and glisten like morning dews on blades of grass under the light of dawn. His tightened jaw as if to hold his voice. Bawling with a heavy stream of tears rolling down his red apple cheeks.

Every detail of that moment would never be forgotten, but only that one frame, in that perspective that felt prolonged forever. Damian can’t remember anything more after or before that.

To be expected of course. After all, that happened ten years ago.

++++++

“Ah, Master Damian, I didn’t expect you for another day,” the family butler, Alfred, called from the library where he’s been cleaning. He takes off his usual suit and only wears his white button-up with sleeves rolled.

“Sorry for the unexpected arrival, I’ll clean the room myself.”

“Was there something urgent sir?” Alfred is as sharp as ever, Damian missed that about him.

“Yes, I’ll ask you about it later.”

Then Damian continues to walk down the halls and into his room. The room is still fairly clean, he’s touched that Alfred cleans his room even though he never stays the night in the manor for years. Whenever he has business trips in Gotham, he always stays in a nearby hotel, and only came for a quick dinner together, only if that family was in town.

It’s been forever since he last enters this room, just by the whiff of scent already felt like a blast from the past.

Back when the politics of his country were heated and dangerous, Damian was sent here to seek refuge. His family’s company, the League of Al-Ghuls, were caught between the heat. Though now that he’s older, he knew that his family participates in that political war. That’s why Damian’s life was in danger.

So, he was sent to a place owned by a father he never knew he had at nine years old. It was not expected that he had grown fond of the place and elongated his stay until his mother demanded him to come back to have proper education for her standards.

Ever since he was a child, he’s meant to continue the family business. Now he’s considered perfectly weaned and being trusted to have good judgment for the benefit of their empire. It is how their family is. It is what Damian had excepted with consent. Then life just swept Damian away.

The last time he was in this room, he was 15. There’s a picture of him and Jon by his desk. A thin layer of dust accumulated at the top of the frame. It’s a picture of them on a school trip to Ocean City. Jon had many friends beside Damian, but he wanted to take a picture together first.

Damian cracked a smile, seeing little Jon wearing his dad’s bright blue bucket hat on top of his awry hair, and a smile bright like the sea on their background.

He looked for his old stuff. Pictures, diaries, books, anything that can give him a clue. When he’s checking one of his bookcases, there’s a row dedicated to journals, textbooks, and sketchbooks. He recognizes some of the journals’ spine. When he takes it out, his heart raced.

It’s his diaries, not just any diaries too. He used to exchange them with Jon. They’ll write about their day and give them to each other once a week, or sometimes once a month. It was Jon’s idea from an old Japanese comic he bought from a discount box. It was ridiculous and Damian had thought it was intrusive.

Damian doesn’t know how Jon can talk him into sharing his personal thoughts with someone. Saying his feelings out has not been his strong suit, but writing it is another story. It’s easier to tell his secrets to inanimate objects that’ll never judge him. But what really made Damian went along with it, was because Jon’s diary is entertaining and fun to read. Usually filled with dad jokes his father told him and things he gets in trouble at. The way Jon writes it is just like how he talked with all his quirks and slang.

The tradition doesn’t last their whole friendship though. Some time into their teens, they stopped exchanging their diaries.

Though Jon never asked for his diary again, Damian kept writing out of habit. His brown covered journal, the last one, is a diary he never gave to Jon.

Flipping through the pages, he noticed that he didn’t write them on a regular basis. Some are days apart, some weeks, even months. Most of them are from 2009 to 2010, and the only content in there is frustration, anger, and self-pity that he’s too proud to tell anyone else.

Right at the last entry that stops in the middle of his journal, he finds the one he’s been looking for.

‘17 November 2010

Something absolutely bizarre happened today. Jon cried. I was lost for words at seeing him cry for the first time since I have ever known him. Jon is not one who cries easily, or ever. He’s strong and he had pulled through a lot of misfortune that happens to him with only a frown or anger. He had a very deep wound on his forearm from scrapping it upon a loose nail on a plank, he bled a lot but he just hissed and screamed in pain, in that process, he shed a tear, but it was not ‘crying’. Even when his father scolds him badly after we went to town till 4 AM, all he did was frown.

We were just talking as we head to our class. I didn’t ask why at first. He was terribly sad and I’m afraid of saying the wrong words. So, I just pat his back and took him somewhere people won't see. I don’t want him to feel embarrassed if someone sees him like that when he clearly needed to cry. Maybe he’s been holding back something that he didn’t tell me.

It was also the first time I ever missed class. Of course, my mother will be more upset about this more than father, but I did not feel regretful. Jon needed me for once, and the consequences are light compared to the situation. Though I will not enjoy the incoming international call.’

And that’s it.

Damian sighed in defeat and disappointment with his fifteen-year-old self. He admits, he was not the most emotionally intelligent child back then. Even so, this means Damian is worried over Jon’s well being more than what caused it. Jon was precious to him at a point, even more than his duty as an Al-Ghul.

Since his own diary doesn’t reveal what he’s been looking for, he would need to ask from someone else.

++++

‘I’ll be staying in the manor for approximately a week, I hope it’s okay.’

‘Of course, you’re more than welcome. I’ll be home for dinner.’

‘Alright, I’ll tell Alfred to anticipate you.’

“Who’re you texting with?” his older brother, Dick came to the living room with a big jug of tea. His hair is a mess as always whenever he’s back home, and a wardrobe just as hideous. It’s six months too early to be wearing an ugly Christmas sweater, and Dick paired it with a skimpy boxer.

Damian had come to terms with it, only because Dick is his favorite brother.

“Is it a speeecial someone? Maybe someone... who is not your wife?” Dick raised his eyebrows scandalously and takes a loud slurp of his tea.

Damian scoffed up a chuckle, “You know my relationship with my wife is strictly business, she has her own set of lovers.”

“I still can’t understand what’s the point in marrying, if all it was is for business.”

“Politics in an Al-Ghul family is different from a typical American one. It’s why my mother became a Wayne for a short yet beneficial time before their scheduled divorce, and conceived me, just as she planned.”

“I... still can’t get my head around that. Family isn’t politics.”

“I’ve come to know that thanks to you, and this family.”

Damian gave him a thankful smile while Dick melts with eyebrows downturned. Really, they’ve come a long way. The one that really thought him the meaning of love and family is the Waynes.

“Then where are your own set of ‘lovers’” Dick looks ups and close his eyes dreamily.

“And why would I told you about my affairs?” Dick gasped, putting a hand on his chest, again, this particular sibling always able to make him crack a smile, “I was texting father, in case you’re still wondering, he’ll be home for dinner.”

“Good to know you’re on good terms! When did that happen?”

“Ironically, by being his business partner I get to see him and talk to him more than I was just his son.”

Dick burst a fit of a laugh, almost spilling his hot tea to his bare thigh.

“So, I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yes, I hope I’m not taking your time from work.”

“No! Tomorrow’s Sunday, and I do visit on weekends when I can.”

“And the others?”

“Well, you know our siblings, they came when they can, but they’re all busy doing their own thing. Jason’s on tour. Tim won't be back for a year, a project in France. Duke’s with Doctors Without Borders. Steph...” Dick trails and made a face.

Damian’s jaw hits the floor, “Don’t tell me, she married him?”

Dick chuckled, “Yup, now she’s in the middle of a jungle in Indonesia, teaching anyone that needs it.”

Damian shook his head with a defeated smile, “Last time I was here, even the mansion feels crowded with... was it six of us? Now it feels a bit empty.”

“Well, little hatchlings ought to left the nest sooner or later,” Dick rubs his head. “So, you wanted to talk to me, but it’s not about reminiscing the past, isn’t it?”

Damian smirked, ever the detective.

“On the contrary, it does have something to do with that, but not about our family,” Damian takes a deep breath as quietly as he can, “You’re the one I talked to the most when I was a child.”

Dick squints his eyes, “Yeeees?”

“I was wondering if I ever said anything about Jon in particular.”

“Jon? As in Jonathan Kent? Your bestie?”

“Yes, Dick, Jonathan Kent. Is there something wrong?”

“No no! Just... it’s been so long since you talk about him.”

Damian just shrugs.

Dick put his cup of tea down on the table and narrowed his eyebrows, “Alright? What do you need?”

“I believe I had a fight with Jon, or maybe I made him so upset that he cried. Did I ever talk about these things with you?”

Dick sighed and tips his jaw to the side and raise his eyebrows, already at loss, “You were totally mega best friends with Jon. Honestly, I can’t choose, you were complaining about him a lot.”

“Only at first,” Damian chuckled, remembering again, “He was not the friend I asked for, but among all the wrong button he pushed, once when he pushed the right one.”

“And that is?”

“He treats me like a child, but as an equal, and expect nothing of me. Most of all, he’s incredibly patient.”

Dick is making a face, biting his lips from smiling too widely. Damian rolled his eyes and his older brother keeps him to himself.

“Ahem, did you know when you made him cry?”

“My diary said it was November 17th of 2010.”

“I think I was in Barbados with Barbara then, for the honeymoon?”

“That’s right, I wouldn’t have called you then.”

Dick cleared his throat, his darting eyes finally landed on his jade eyes, “Damian, why do you want to know now?”

“Curiosity,” Damian shrugged, “I’ve never seen him cried before, that was the only time he did and I forgot why he did.”

“You think it’s your fault?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

++++++

“As in Jonathan Kent?”

“Yes, Alfred. I don’t think I befriend any other Jon. Or any other person,” Damian chuckled lightly.

“I have not heard you talk about sir Jonathan in a very long time.” Alfred grabs the plates, and Damian grabs the utensils.

“Dick said that too. It’s just something I’m curious about.” Damian puts the spoons and forks on the sides of the plates on the dining table.

“When did it happen?” Alfred asked as he gets a bowl of salad with beans while Damian grabs a bowl of baked creamy mushroom penne.

“We were 15.”

“That’s ten years ago, Master Damian, why does it matter now?”

The question stabs through his chest like a dull knife, “No, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not late to dinner, am I?” walked in a man with a suit in his hand, loose tie around his neck and an opened button at the collar. The middle-aged man smiles when he sees Damian there.

“I’m impressed you’re not,” Damian put his hand on his hip.

“I’ve missed eating dinner with you a lot. I’m not gonna miss you again when you finally decide to visit your old man.”

“I’ve seen you a lot, father.”

“As Bruce Wayne, a business associate, not as your dad.” Bruce put a hand on Damian’s had and rubs it. As annoying as it is that his father ruined his coiffed hair, it always feels comforting to be patted on the head. The sensation will remain a mystery.

“I’ll put my things away and get Dick,” Bruce announced and walks out of the kitchen.

There’s a pulsing throb in his chest. His eyes are on the door his father walks out from but his feet stay rooted in their place. Damian has gone this far, it’ll be a waste not to try. So, he chased his father out and meets him in the hallway.

“Father,” he called, and Bruce turns around, “There’s a reason I’m visiting.”

“I figured. You don’t usually stay in the Manor if it’s not for the holidays, and our conference will only take two meetings.”

“I took a few days off after we’re done with the trade.”

His father knits his thick eyebrows together, looking concerned, “Why are you taking days off? That’s unlike you.”

Now Damian felt foolish. The matter feels even more trivial now, Damian finally sees that. He flew over for a conference that could’ve been done by his close peers just so he can ask his family about his ‘dream’. His father is right, this is unlike him. How did he even get here? Damian had hesitated before. Brushing off ever coming back to Gotham unless it’s for business purposes. Even at holidays, he’ll never force himself to spare the time to come, and if he does, it’s never longer than two days.

But this time, before he gets to hesitate, he was already on the way here.

“It’s alright, Damian, you can ask anything,” His father comforted, already treating it seriously.

With a heavy heart, Damian raises his shoulders, “It’s just.... something that incites my curiosity, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Let me judge that after you tell me.”

Damina bites his lips, crossing his arms and hold onto his elbows tightly. Eyes darting around, before he finally just let it out.

“It’s about Jon.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows, lips parted open and eyes widen, “Jon,” the man breathes. “As in that Jonath-”

“Yes, Jonathan Kent, son of your best friend Clark Kent,” Damian cleared with a firm and irritated voice. Sighing, he cleared his throat, “Something happened when we were kids. I know Jon. He’s always bright and happy, but I remembered that he cried in front of me once, and he looked devastated. I don’t remember if I ever asked him why. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

His father’s sharp eyes soften as he noticeably holds his breath, “Damian...” he called gently, “You know what happened when you were kids.”

Damian paused, breathing mindfully as if to stay calm, and he managed to squeeze out: “This is before that... in 2010”

“That’s ten years a-”

“I know,” Damian raises his voice, frustrated. He knows it’s silly of him to ask around an uncertain memory from ten years ago, but... “I just wanted to ask if I ever told you about Jon crying. Please just tell me if you remember or not.”

Though Damian already knows his father wouldn’t have known anything. Bruce was a distant father when he’s a child. His friends were only Dick, and Jon who he thought was a beneficial ‘friend’.

It doesn’t hurt to try to ask, Damian thought. Somewhere in his childhood, he forgot when, he and his father tried to mend their rocky relationship. Even though they don’t share the same last name, they’ve been family.

“You did mention it to me,” Bruce said, and Damian’s heart jumps.

“Do you remember what I said?”

“Yes,” Bruce chuckled, “You were in a sour mood. I thought it was because of something I’ve done again.”

Damian huffed with the corner of his quirking up, “We weren’t always rainbows and roses, but this one is not because of that, right?”

“No, you told me about Jon. You’re upset with him, not angry or irritated. You always know what to do, but that time, you don’t.”

“Me? Upset with Jon?”

“Not as in at Jon. You told me that Jon is keeping secrets from you, and you’re upset because of that.”

“Now can you tell me why you cried?”

Jon finally stops crying, and his deep frown turns around, but this smile is not the same. His red-rimmed eyes look at Damian with his clear blue irises pooled in tears like overflowed ponds.

It feels like the world stopped in that quiet gymnasium they snuck into.

“I don’t think I can ever tell you why,” Jon’s voice croaks weakly.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“No, Dami...I’m just afraid.”

“Of what? What could’ve scared you enough to not let me know?”

“I can’t tell you! Just, drop it! Okay?” Jon burst, and immediately looks guilty. He folds his arms and leans away from Damian who’s left puzzled.

Damian is angry, but mostly, disappointed? He thought Jon is close enough to lean on him, but it certainly doesn’t seem so. Even in anger, Damian doesn’t have it in him to leave. After years writing diaries, it doesn’t feel as heavy now to tell at least a snippet of sentimentality to Jon... In vocal form.

“Fine, keep your secrets, what is a man without a few? But know this Jon. You are a person that is dear to me, dare I say even more than my family. You’re the most treasured friend of mine, and I only wish to ease the pain that you’re feeling.”

Jon wails even louder that his voice echoes in the empty gymnasium. He can’t believe Jon’s still able to shed even more tears after the previous wave of pouring rain. Damian hold his breath and leans away, the guilt makes him uncomfortable being this near to Jon. He might just make things worse. Let’s never say his feeling out loud again, he had learned his lesson.

Just as Damian was about to scoot away, Jon loops his arms around Damian and squeeze tight.

“Stay with me for a bit. I know your mom’ll be angry, but can you skip class?”

Damian scoffs, Jon asked as if Damian would say no, which is absurd. Damian put his hand on top of Jon’s while the other is on his back, rubbing them gently to comfort. A wet patch is growing on Damian’s chest where Jon pressed his shut eyes. Warm stuttering breath felt through the shirt and onto Damian’s skin. Closing his eyes, Damian buries his face on Jon’s soft black curls.

Jon smelled like the sun.

“Yes, I can Jon.”

The memories come slowly, it’s not as clear as the dreams, but it’s one puzzle pieces among many, and this one fits where it should be.

“Did I say anything else?” Damian leans closer.

“I asked what would you do about it, but you just shrugged. You’re quiet for a few days and then Jon started to come over again.”

Damian sighed a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding. Now he remembers what happened after, but he still doesn’t know why Jon cried. Jon couldn’t have started crying out of nowhere. Must’ve been something he saw, or something Damian said to him.

“Why does it matter now?” His father asked, rubbing salt on his wounds.

Damian clenches his hand, “I dreamt it, I thought I’ll forget it later, but I didn’t,” he confessed, “I couldn’t sleep... I feel restless remembering that I had done him wrong, that I had made him cry and not knowing why. I wanted to seek the reason and say I’m sorry.”

“Then why don’t visit the Kents?”

Damian’s whole body tensed, “No, I can’t. Something this trivial, I can’t possibly-”

“It certainly isn’t trivial for you if you can’t sleep because of it.”

“It’s my own fault, I shouldn’t bother them for something like this.”

Sighing, Bruce puts his hand on Damian’s shoulder, “They’ve asked about you whenever I met them, they care about you enough to worry. They’ll be delighted to see you.”

Damian bites his lips, still hesitant, “You think so?”

“I know so, I’ll call them to expect you.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it myself. They still live in the same apartment?”

“No, they live in their farmhouse permanently now.”

“Thank you, I’ll call them after our deal is done,” Damian stated.

“They’ll welcome you, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Even so, Damian can’t stop the uneasiness piled up in his chest, “I hope so.”

tbc

#damijon #supersons #supersons fanfic #Damijon fanfic #Jondami #jondami fanfic #super sons #super sons fanfic #jonathan kent #damian wayne #no powers au #they're the same age #maybe angst #who am I kidding of course it's angst #romance #no sex #not dangerous?

31 notes · View notes

cupofteaguk · 5 years

Text

impressions (m)

summary: Park Jimin has recently been a very active part of your life in a certain avenue (a physical avenue, to be more specific), but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything right? Right?

pairing: jimin x fem!reader

genre: halloween au, friends with benefits au, college au | smut

warnings: mutual pining, sex against a bathroom door, unprotected sex

word count: 5k

It is seven thirty in the evening when the phone rings, a pretty normal thing to occur at a pretty normal time and yet it disrupts the entire flow of how you expected the night to go. Running on a solid hour and a half of sleep does terrible things to your mind, makes your limbs sloppy and your brain turn into fuzz at the simplest thought, your shoulders sore and your eyes burning—all the unfortunate aftermath of forcing yourself to cram out six essays within a night after quite literally waiting until the last minute to get anything done.

Although, to be fair, you’ve had a relatively eventful past few weeks that have consisted of new introductions and plenty of distractions that have done more than enough to pull you away from your assignments and even your day-to-day life and the functioning aspects that come with it. You wouldn’t say that it was (entirely) your fault that such a thing had to come into your life at the time that it had, but you had still encouraged it.

You sigh, moaning and groaning and turning over in your bed that adopts a slightly musky and lemongrass scent, unfamiliar and familiar and sinful and wonderful all at the same singular time—as you reach for the phone. Your eyes are barely able to stay open, for the lids feel heavy as does the rest of your body. You miss the nightstand once, twice, before finally grabbing the phone and bringing the device to your ear.

“Hello?” You grumble, the voice that leaves your lips raspy and terrible and exhausted and the person on the other side of the line winces.

“Ouch, sorry princess did I wake you?”

“Yes,” You protest, rubbing at the inner corner of your eyes so you avoid rubbing off your makeup. “And what did I say about calling me princess?”

“Well, you say I can call you whatever I want when I have my dick in you so I just assumed—!”

“Park Jimin!” You interrupt, sitting up slightly, the words shakening your heart but awakening you just enough so that your eyes don’t feel as heavy anymore.

“What’s wrong?” You can just hear the smirk in his voice and you don’t know if you want to give him the satisfaction of a response or just hang up so you can continue your nap.

But rather, you sigh. “I’m exhausted, Park Jimin, so you better have a good reason for disrupting me from my nap.”

“Ah.” Jimin lets out a noise of acknowledgment and you try to picture his current setting—probably leaning against the wall of his apartment, cradling the phone close to his ear. Maybe he has that delicate softness in his eyes that has only seemed to be reserved for you, especially within the recent weeks. You love that look on him. If you were being entirely honest, there’s a lot of things you love about him to the point where you might be in love with everything about him. And if the pair of you weren’t fucking and weren’t lowkey about the fact that you were fucking, then maybe you could actually summon the will to tell him how you feel. “That’s right. I forgot that you kicked me out last night so you could work on those essays.”

You scoff, falling back atop the covers and closing your eyes. “I didn’t kick you out! You volunteered to leave.” You leave out the part that yesterday had been the third time in the week he had slept the night at your apartment, leaving behind a few pieces of his wardrobe behind with the reassurance that he was probably going to be returning in the next few days. He only ever comes by when he’s horny, but perhaps trying to make that distinction paints this picture that his visits are rare when on the contrary, it seemed as if Jimin was always horny about something. Hence, which is why he was always here.

“For someone who was exhausted a few seconds ago, you seem pretty adamant on how I left your apartment last night,” He teases, but he’s smiling and you know he’s not trying to pick a fight with you. “But,” He starts, voice lowering and there is a touch of concern in the tone. “How did the papers go? You seemed stressed about how many you had to finish.”

Eyes still closed, the corner of your lips quirk up. “It was fine. I’m currently running on caffeine and energy drinks that I was inhaling during the night, but I have everything either printed or submitted and that’s the most important.”

Jimin exhales slightly. “That’s good to hear.”

“So,” You start again. “You gonna tell me the real reason you called? I’m sure it wasn’t just to hear an update about my very boring evening.”

“To be fair, every evening when you can’t suck my dick is boring—for both you and me.”

You roll your eyes, feeling that jerky sensation in your heart and something else in the lower pit of your stomach and you cannot help but curse the boy to the moon and back. Park Jimin is too bold, too good, too knowledgeable in what he does and what he does to you to simply exist the way he does. “Jimin…” You start.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” He backpetals. “Somewhat. But, did you forget what today is?”

“Jimin, if you’re really trying to play this game with me, I’m hanging up the phone.”

“Wait!” He interrupts, the smooth facade of his words dropping momentarily at the thought of you disconnecting the line with him. “No, no, okay. It’s Halloween. Remember Namjoon’s party that you promised you’d show up to?”

You whine, rolling over in bed again. “I’m exhausted!”

“Come over!” He protests as if the physical exhaustion of barely being able to open your eyes doesn’t counts as an excuse for not wanting to leave the apartment. “I’ll bring you all the Monster energy drinks you want! And I’ll buy you McDonalds french fries. And I’ll eat you out.”

You quirk slightly at that, your head tilted up and away from the blanket underneath you. You could use some more energy drinks and salty potatoes. And normally you would pass on having someone in between your legs but Jimin makes you see stars in more ways than one, and his previous comments have done enough to keep you awake for just a few hours longer. College life at its finest, you supposed.

“I’m expecting an extra large order in a private room,” You report, forcing yourself to roll one more time so that your feet can make contact with the carpet of your bedroom. You turn the call towards your speakers, pulling off your grummy high school PE t-shirt and sweatpants for your black jeans with the ripes along the legs and a random shirt you find from the floor. You slip it over your head, too tired and too distracted to notice the distinct material and rather focusing your attention on trying to find matching socks.

You can hear Jimin’s grin on the other side of the line. “Anything for you, princess.”

Does that include you and only you all the time?

You don’t speak the words, however, as you hang up with the promise you would try to show up to the house as soon as possible and Jimin accepts that. You leave the call feeling a little more giddy than you had before picking up the phone.

How does one explain the nature of your relationship with Park Jimin?

You can definitely pinpoint the start of it—a get together featuring mutual friends had been where you first met Jimin, and you could have sworn that the sun shined through him given the contagious merit of his blinding smile and lingering touches of his giggly laughs. You had heard pieces of his reputation through the grapevine of his charming ability to get girls into bed with him, but those previous pep talks with yourself about not needing to rely on a Park Jimin character to have a good time definitely failed you as soon as he opened his mouth to have a conversation with you.

The pair of you got along surprisingly well considering that you thought the spectrum of Jimin’s interests would only be limited to soccer, parties, and which sororities had the hottest girls. But no, there had been more depth to Jimin and his personality. He liked to read. He liked to take isolating walks at a time past midnight. You both happened to like the same shows and the same movies and the same authors. He was unassuming in his passions and you, a romantic with a soft spot for boys who like to read, did not stand a chance.

Throughout the evening, you and Jimin had elected to ditch the party after Jungkook and Taehyung started and continued to engage in a very passionate argument about the realms of Legend of Zelda—allowing the two of you to find refuge in his car as he took you on a little trip to show you one of his favorite views in the city.

An isolated area in a lonely car with just Park Jimin and his bright eyes and rosy cheeks—what would be the most obvious route for both of you to take? Yep.

Let’s just say that Jimin definitely had a lot of experience with engaging in car sex. And, naturally, it was the best orgasm you had ever received even if it was in the small and slightly cramped backseat of his vehicle.

It was Jimin, so you had assumed the hook up was a one and only time despite your own feelings and your own desire to not have things end in that way. And you had assumed Jimin felt differently—at least, until he knocked on your apartment door at three in the morning, three days after the initial hook up, and nailed you on the couch.

That had been three months ago, and still not a singular soul knows about the relationship shared between the two of you. And as long as Jimin is okay with that, you would be okay with that too.

The party is, naturally, in full swing by the time you approach the property line of Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon’s house and if the walk hadn’t officially woken you then the overwhelming smell of alcohol definitely does. The cold autumn air nips at you as you approach the walkway, taking in the people passed out on the front lawn or finding a safe haven away from the madness within the walls.

Everyone is dressed up in costumes, as you sudden flashback to one of the statement’s presented forth by Jimin. Today is Halloween, and you had spent the evening pounding in as many essays as your fingers and mind could physically produce in a way that had left you completely oblivious to the current setting. Halloween is a big deal in a sense that it gives people an even bigger excuse to go out, get drunk, become another identity for the night, which probably explains the party in the first place and why everyone’s spirits seem to be much brighter and alive with cheer and excitement.

You walk in through the already opened door, the conversations loud and mismatched and all over the place, ringing through the atmosphere as you duck in an attempt to avoid getting in the way of big groups and discussions that have nothing to do with you. You move about the familiar space, having been in this apartment on several different occasions—party or no party, you shared a philosophy class with Namjoon and seem to have been invited into his life and all the crazy aspects that come along with it since then—so it doesn’t take you too long to make your way into the living room.

You aren’t expecting to find anyone you know right off the bat, at least not without a phone call or a text message with the inquiry, so you are surprised to enter the new space and have your presence immediately recognized.

“You made it!” Jung Hoseok exclaims, approaching you from his position on the couch. “Nice costume—what are you supposed to be?”

“Oh,” You start, about to brush off his comment and maybe explain the severity of your situation until Hoseok furrows his eyebrows together and meets your gaze.

“Are you dressed up as Park Jimin?” Hoseok inquires. He brings the red solo cup of questionable substance to his lips. “You’re wearing his soccer jersey.”

“Huh.” You look down at the shirt you had slipped on from the floor of your bedroom and truth be told, you are wearing his jersey. You don’t need to see the PARK printed along the back of the shirt to know that this is indeed Jimin’s jersey that he had left behind and you had slid it off following one of his recent practice sessions. You know that you and Jimin have a bit of problem cleaning up before, during, and after your escapees, but you definitely hadn’t expected any of that to come bite you back in the ass like this. This whole situation wouldn’t really be a problem if the world wasn’t supposed to know you and Jimin had the kind of relationship that involved leaving clothes behind at the other persons apartment.

If you told Hoseok that you hadn’t been intending to arrive to the party dressed in Jimin’s shirt, then it definitely wouldn’t take long for the boy to put the pieces together. Hoseok isn’t stupid, far from it actually—so you know that it wouldn’t be rocket science mentality to figure out that the only reason you could have possibly dawned Jimin’s jersey unintentionally is if he had left it behind at your place… also unintentionally. Naturally, no one in their right mind would leave important articles of clothing behind unless they had every intention of returning back for it. And no one would have been removed of aforementioned important article of clothing in the first place unless they had taken the shirt off themselves and yeah, you get the idea.

“Yes,” You find yourself admitting, perhaps a little forcefully and mildly unconvincing, but you straighten out the jersey. “Yes, I am. Jimin, uh, agreed to the idea. I didn’t really know what else to do.”

Hoseok makes a (thankfully) convinced noise from the back of his throat, both of his eyebrows raising, nodding slowly as if this reasoning somehow makes sense. In a way, it almost does. Make sense. Because it’s Halloween—and you’ve never been too good about costumes because the placement of the holiday isn’t too good to fit in between your school schedule. So it’s in your nature to come up with these terrible costume ideas that involve very little executional effort. Like that time you dressed in all black, your natural wardrobe, and bought a witch hat at Party City. Or that time you put on red overalls, a black shirt, and a pair of very at-your-disposal Disneyland ears so you could be Mickey Mouse. It’s like those other times, only it’s this time and you’re dressing up as Park Jimin.

“Hm, that makes sense.” Hoseok turns his head just as the man himself waltzes into the living room. “Park Jimin!” He exclaims, making you and your heart jump as you turn your attention towards him. His gaze finds you first, and the small smirk he sends at you seems to set fire to your nerves. “Jimin, did you know?” He points at you with his pinky figure. “Y/N dressed up as you for Halloween.”

Jimin looks momentarily confused at the observation before he looks over and seems to realize the jersey that you have on. His eyes widen, seeming to remember just as you did that he had left that at your apartment a few days ago.

You give him a look.

He reads you surprisingly well, surprisingly quickly. “Yeah,” He manages smoothly, laughing just enough to send out that disarming half-crescent crease of his eyes. “Yeah, she asked me about it the other day.”

“You do know what this means though, right?” Hoseok inquires, looking back at you.

“No, what does it mean?”

“You gotta impersonate him!” Hoseok exclaims as if this answer should be obvious, and it probably should be. Halloween is about dressing up as something else and by extension, taking on the role of that person as well.

You laugh a little at that, seeing the reason as you tip your head back just enough to momentarily prepare yourself before you angle back down to look at Hoseok and Jimin. “Hi guys,” You greet, raising both your hands in a small little wave. “I’m Jimin, nice to meet you.” You then proceed to comb your hands through your hair in a very extravagant Jimin manner that Hoseok simply bursts out into laughter at the gesture.

“That’s pretty good,” He compliments, clapping Jimin on the back before turning back to you. “C’mon, I’ll make you a drink.”

Still slightly in awe that your little improvisation to trick Hoseok had worked entirely in your favor, you follow him, allowing yourself to give Jimin a look of impressiveness at your own self-amazement. Jimin merely laughs quietly at that, winking at you, letting you brush past him as Hoseok leads you to the kitchen. Hoseok is a naturally social person, and that natural charm drags more and more people towards him and therefore puts more attention on you and your Park Jimin jersey. Jimin is pretty well known around the university, mainly because of his placement and positive reputation on the soccer team, so it’s obvious that peers would take one look at the number and PARK on the back of your shirt and put two-and-two together that you were Park Jimin for Halloween.

And everyone takes it in good strides. They smile, they laugh, they congratulate you for coming up with the funny idea of dressing up as the popular jock, then they ask for the impersonations.

You deliver forth with them. Of course you do. You haven’t been sleeping with Park Jimin—and you haven’t been in love with Park Jimin—for three months not to walk away with the smallest fraction of his personality, his quirks, and the tone of his voice. You blame your feelings and your stupid, stupid crush for being so observant on everything he does and everything he ever did in his life. Like the way he whines about no food being around in the kitchen, or runs his hands through his hair, or throws his body into a fitful of giggles while he’s trying to tell a joke. You do the impressions, people laugh, and compliment you later for doing a good job. “A byproduct, isn’t it?” Kim Namjoon inquires, smirk on his face, right before he downs another shot of whiskey. “Of being friends with Jimin. And, I mean, you’re already a pretty naturally observant person. It works out.”

It definitely works out. If only they all knew.

“Hey you,” Jimin greets, cornering you in the kitchen as you’re attempting to mix together your own little brand of rum and coke. “You’re quite the talk of the evening.”

“You think so?” You inquire, whirling around towards him and showering him with a grin. The alcohol already in your bloodstream makes things a little more fluid, not enough to distort your thinking but enough to make your tongue run a little looser as compared to normal and more sober days. “I try my best.”

“I’m actually pretty impressed,” He continues, leaning against you so you feel the warmth of his body and you feel giddy with desire and just having his attention on you. Three months of exclusive fucking and just a glance from him is still enough to quench your hunger for him. “You’re pretty spot on. It seems like you’ve been keeping your eye on me.”

“I’m just observant,” You retort. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. But still, the attention to detail…”

“So?”

“You sure you’re not in love with me or something?”

The question comes quickly but your reflexes are quick too and it’s why you feel the sudden weight of fear and anxiety dig itself right into your chest -- concealed with a casual, wide-eyed look in his direction. “What makes you say that?” You ask.

Jimin shrugs, pressing the palm of his hand into the counter, partially trapping you. “Because I know what you’re like when you’re just observant,” He murmurs, voice low but still keeping enough distance between the two of you so it looks like you’re having a normal conversation—more than enough to remain lowkey about the depth of your intimacy and your relationship. “You’re observant with Hoseok and Namjoon and Jungkook and Karly—but you aren’t that thorough with them.”

“Well, I’ve never had to pretend to be them for Halloween,” You brush off, attempting to level your gaze with Jimin but it’s hard because you’ve never been too successful of a liar around him and he knows it. You try to take a step back, but his fingers curling around your wrist stop you.

“You haven’t fucked any of them before either,” He presses, matching your step back with his own step forward.

You level him with your own attempt of a glare, but it’s casual and not meant to be taken too seriously. Even though your heart is beating just a little quicker at how quickly the conversation has taken a complete, unexpected 180. Your mind is reeling under the turn of events. You hadn’t prepared things to take this direction, so you say the first thing that comes to your mind: “You sure seem insistent on finding out just how in love with you I am.”

How in love with you I am.

How… in love… with Jimin…

You’re in love with Jimin.

And you’ve just said it outloud.

Oh. Fucking. Shit.

You clasp your mouth shut, but it’s too late. The words are out, and even though you haven’t said anything directly, you’ve stated it in such an obvious way that you might as well have just admitted to being in love with Jimin from the beginning. You hadn’t expected yourself to speak, or speak in this way. Your wide eyes and slamming heartbeat are more than enough to go by this.

Judging from Jimin’s own wide eyes, he is equally as taken aback by your confession.

“What did you say?” Jimin suddenly asks, although it’s a stupid question.

You swallow. “N-Nothing…”

“You’re in love with me?”

You try to speak, but like a fish out of water, you can only open and close your mouth a few times to show how truly unprepared you are for this. “Uh… I mean, I just…” You stammer, trying for a shrug but it only comes out one-shouldered and horrible and you feel like you might be sick.

“Come with me,” Jimin interrupts, not giving you much of an option as he guides you out of the kitchen and into the hallway and into the bathroom. You both might have just drawn a crowd towards you, but that is currently the last thing on your mind as you let yourself get dragged into the empty bathroom.

Jimin locks the door, turns back around to face you.

You flicker your gaze between the door and his figure. “Did you lock the door just to reject me or…?”

He interrupts you by covering the small space of distance and pressing you into a hard kiss. He cradles one hand behind your head, the other at your waist, and you can feel so many words attempting to be crammed into the singular gesture.

“A… a rejection kiss goodbye?” You try to guess again when Jimin hasn’t exactly made his feelings clear.

Jimin breath is fanning against your lips. “God no,” He protests. “I’m not rejecting you, you fucking idiot.”

“Oh,” You breathe out, and Jimin decides right then and there that you are done talking because he kisses you again.

He turns you around, slams you against the door of the bathroom, kissing the air right out of your lungs, kissing you in a way that you have never felt before as his hands are everywhere, all over your body until one settles at the small of your back and the other tugging at the waistband of your jeans.

“I never did tell you how hot it is to see you in my clothes,” He breathes out, unbuttoning your jeans as you fumble with his belt. You know exactly where this is going, not needing the context of a love confession to know the familiar signs. “But it’s really hot.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” You return, unbuckling the belt and the jeans and slipping your hand past his boxers, producing his already hot and heavy cock in your hands.

He groans against your lips, tugging down your jeans and underwear until they bunch at your ankles.

“Hurry up, hurry up,” You whimper as you only manage to get one of your legs out of the leg hole of your jeans and underwear before Jimin is grabbing the leg in order to wrap it around his waist. He kisses you hard once, twice, before sliding home. The lack of usual preparation makes the process burn with white hot pleasure. You throw your head back and Jimin easily finds the spot on your neck that makes your head spin.

He nails you hard and heavy, making the door rattle behind you and if someone saw you enter the space they definitely know what’s going on. But you don’t care, if your breathless wailing that definitely pierces through the thin wooden door is anything to go by.

“You’re so good, you’re so good,” Jimin encourages in your ear, pressing sweet nothings into your skin with the occasional nibble along the curve of your neck to make your legs twitch under his hold.

“Shit, I…” You start. “I’m not gonna last… Jimin please…”

A wet thumb against your clit drives you home, makes the stars in the universe and across the galaxy explode behind your eyes like nothing and everything you’ve experienced before. The high of your high keeps you unaware of your surroundings as Jimin finishes himself and rides out both of your orgasms with slightly gentler thrusts.

Your shared panting is the only noise you can hear, the vague laughter of conversation behind you suddenly a small whisper like a ghost in your ear.

Your heart settles, and Jimin nosing your temple help keep you grounded.

His next words make you smile, send you off on another high that has nothing to do with sex. “I love you too, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

He kisses you once, twice, and if he hadn’t taken your heart and soul before—then he definitely does now as he tucks himself back into his pants and helps you pull on and button your jeans at your waist. It seems as if now, he cannot stop himself from kissing you and cannot help himself from placing his hand on the small of your back in order to lift the shirt and graze the bare skin just because he can. He kisses you once more, wrapping an arm around your waist, moving slightly to unlock and open the door to the bathroom.

Both of you stop short when Jung Hoseok and Kim Namjoon are resting on the opposite wall, joking about something and laughing all the same until they realize who has emerged from the bathroom.

Hoseok gapes. Namjoon drops the cup from his hands, spilling beer all over the floor. “You guys were having sex in there?” Hoseok demands.

You really hadn’t expected a confession and a reveal all in the same day, so you stammer. “Uh,” You start, waving your hand slightly in an attempt to wave off the conversation from its original axis. “N-No, I wasn’t feeling well so, uh, Jimin was holding my hair back…”

“We heard the noises,” Namjoon interjects dryly, raising an eyebrow in judgment to your poor lying skills.

“Then, in case, yeah we were having sex,” Jimin cuts in breezily.

“Jimin!” You cut in, appalled that he would reveal the information so easily without any sort of fight. This is surprising considering how adamant he had been about keeping the aforementioned sex lowkey.

“What?” He inquires, pulling you closer to his body. “I thought we loved each other — shouldn’t we share with the world that we are two amazing people having amazing sex?”

“You guys are in love?” Hoseok inquires, raising his eyebrows, looking surprised at the turn off events. “We didn’t even know you were sleeping together and turns out you were in love this whole time? Jimin, what the fuck I thought we were friends?”

“We just found out today that we’re in love,” Jimin brushes off, turning his attention to you and brushing the hair out of your face. “Well, you know, since we’re in love and all that jazz, that means I don’t have to think twice about doing this.” He leans forward, kissing you in a way that’s more a light graze but like every other kiss before, it sets fire to your nerves and makes everything from the tip of your fingers to the tip of your toes feel alive.

“Aw, c’mon, we don’t need to see that!” Hoseok crows.

“I told you we should have just kept walking when you heard the door banging!” Namjoon protests.

Hoseok’s glare could cut glass. “You were the one who wanted to stay!”

Namjoon ponders this for a second. “Oh yeah, you’re right.”

“We probably should have been lowkey about this for a little while longer,” Jimin grumbles against your lips, the bickering between Namjoon and Hoseok escalating quickly.

You laugh. “It’s endearing.”

#jimin scenario #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #jimin smut #jimin x you #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts smut #bts x reader #traci writes #peek-a-boo series

1K notes · View notes

moonlightoverthehorizon · 5 years

Text

compilation of my favorite otp prompts 7

tag

imagine your otp [x]

Picking strawberries or wild blackberries together during the summer when they’re in season

Relaxing at night on the grass, gazing up at the sky and marveling at, not the stars, but a summer lightning storm

Frolicking in the warm summer rain together after being caught in a storm after realizing playing in it is more fun than fleeing from it

Going to the farmer’s market or flea market together

Attending a local summer carnival and basking in the cliche of the romantic Ferris wheel ride and the cheesy carnival game prizes

Supporting one of their younger siblings by going to one of their little league games and cheering them on

Accidentally (or purposefully) dozing off in a hammock together as the sun sets and the air cools down

Playing with sidewalk chalk like they’re kids again

Imagine Your OTP As Kids [x]

Person A keeps trying to give Person B a pretty flower, but Person B doesn’t understand why.

Person A gives Person B a ring-pop, and when B takes it, A declares that they’re married now.

Person A kisses Person B on the cheek. Person B starts squealing about cooties.

Person A forgot to bring cookies, so Person B shares.

Light Based Prompts [x]

Sunlight: Person A and Person B waking up to see the light shining in the window while they’re cuddled up together.

Moonlight: Person A and Person B sitting outside together late at night and as the temperature begins to drop they snuggle up together.

Starlight: Person A has always lived in big cities so they haven’t been able to see the stars well so Person B drives them out, far away from the city, to show them what the stars really look like.

Streetlight: Person A always wanted to go on late night walks but was to nervous to do so alone, Person B then decides to make a date out of it and they go on a midnight walk holding hands.

Christmas prompts! [x]

Christmas cookies, bonus points for badly building gingerbread houses.

Cuddling together in front of a fire and reading (Better if one person is reading to the other!).

One giving the other their scarf or jacket because they looked cold.

Cooking dinner together.

Flirting while cooking dinner together.

Traveling for Christmas. Home or wherever. Just the chaos and fluff with traveling.

First time spending Christmas living together.

Introducing them to their family.

Old Christmas movie marathons.

School AU Prompts [x]

“I have no one to sit with at lunch so I sat at your table and now your friends are not-so subtly kicking you under the table. Now they’re very loudly whispering that your crush has shown up and oh my god. I have never seen you this red by the way.” AU

“The substitute legit doesn’t care about this class so we’re doing increasingly worse and weirder things to see if he calls us out. And now you’re basically straddling me while a group of kids is singing happy birthday and honestly this is the most romantic thing to ever happen to me.” AU

Aquarium Date Prompts [x]

- “Aww, look at the cute dolphin.” “That’s a manatee.”

- “Are we allowed to touch the fish?” “No.” “What about this one?” “No.” “Ok, what about th-” “No.”

10 AUs [x]

“My dog absolutely adores you, and you absolutely adore my dog. Whenever we see each other, the two of you play for a good half-hour, at least. That’s great and all, but what’s your name?”

“I’m an actor, and part of my costume is a wedding ring, but I totally forgot I was wearing it. Now you’re yelling at me for flirting with you, and I have no clue how to get a word in edgewise to explain.”

OTP AU Ideas [x]

The ice cream truck is giving away free samples to couples; I’m dead broke and single, but you’re just standing there, so, “yes sir, this is my boyfriend of five years; I’ll take the chocolate waffle cone” and “stop asking questions, do you want ice cream or not?”

I got caught robbing McDonald’s on a dare (honestly, it was three quarters and a milkshake, are the handcuffs really necessary, officer?) and now I’m stuck in the back of a police cruiser. The officer picks you up on the way to the station, and you slide in with a smirk and a Wendy’s frosty and say, “You too, huh?”

I go jogging every morning and you’re the asshole who tapes motivational messages on my route, like, Stop running and have a donut at the bakery! and That candy shop sure smells better than running shoes, right? Eventually I get fed up and storm into the coffee shop you work at (A coffee a day keeps exercise away), ready to give you a piece of my mind, and wait…all this time, you were asking me on a date? How the hell does a slogan count as a dating invitation?

OTP AU Ideas: How They Met [x]

Taking refuge from the rain at a gas station

Waiting in line for an amusement park ride/both on the single rider line and get seated together

At a museum, admiring the same artist

Person A has a friend who’s close to one of Person B’s friends, and they set Person A and Person B up on a blind date with each other

Person A goes to the college cafeteria late when there’s an event going on there and it’s packed and there’s literally nowhere to sit, and hey, that kid (Person B) looks lonely, I’ll go sit with them

#writing #writing prompts #otp prompts #au prompts #prompt list #compilation of writing prompts #otp aus

31 notes · View notes

vampirefreakism · 5 years

Text

The Scientist (Chapter 29)

Summary: In the events following Asgard’s destruction, Loki finds himself on Earth seeking refuge to await the inevitable. Much to his surprise, it comes from a source he would never have expected.

AO3 Link

The Soundtrack So Far

Warnings: angst, Loki being a casual bitch

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Amazing, and look at me, releasing a chapter in less than 2 weeks. Thanks for sticking with it so far. I have never written something this massive, but I'm glad I started. This chapter was going to be one huge one, but I figured I'd go easy on you guys and split it into two parts. I know some of y'all got school and finals looming on the horizon, so take it easy. But make sure to take it.

Masterlist

----------

The first few days of the New Year progressed as they had for the past few months as though nothing had changed. Interactions went as desired, and peace in the home remained sustained. Luna's holiday break from work would last for another long weekend, as would the snow surrounding her apartment complex. Once the time was gone, it was back on the grind.

Loki was getting his fill of her, watching her every move whether she was aware of it or not. He carefully gauged their conversations, asking questions to things he felt she may shy away from, each time toeing the line set between them. It was tempting to cross it or sway Luna to move it, but he staved off such desires. It was too soon to take such heavy risks.

Engrossed in his new device, Loki perused the internet, reading clickbait-y tabloids and watching cat videos, all from the palm of his hand. If he had such a thing on Asgard, he would have never bothered to venture outside his room. As much as he detested Stark, his products were fantastic.

On the opposite end of the couch, Luna was deep into her own activity, her own phone sitting in her room. In its place, she busied her hands with a bundle of strings and a piece of paper dictating instructions on how to tie them.

“What are you doing?” Loki inquired.

She threw him a side glance. “Making a friendship bracelet for Tony. I promised him a Christmas present, so here it is,” Luna said, tying another colored knot.

“I thought you said he wasn’t really your friend.”

“Yeah, but what do you get a man who has everything and can buy anything?” She held up her partially-done creation. “Something handmade, of course.”

Loki gave a light chuckle. “Of course,” he echoed.

She set the bracelet back in her lap and continued. “If you’re jealous, I can make one for you too. I used to do it for all the Avengers, no matter if they liked jewelry or not.”

Loki put his gaze back to his phone. "If you wish, I won't object,” he said, missing Luna’s little smirk. She could read him well, but sometimes he suspected she forgot how well he could read her. Or rather, how hard he tried.

He could assess her emotions with ease, but their origins were tricky. He got a goodly amount of information from her diaries and the personal belongings he looked through, but the blank spaces were a mystery. Any piece he came upon, he filled in with his own experiences involving other people. Such things have been unreliable in his past. However, when push came to shove, he was forced to make do with them now.

Forgetting the random blog post on the screen, Loki pondered on his findings in regards to his unlikely friend. She was kind, headstrong, loving, intelligent, and realistic. Any problems she had, she dealt with and didn’t try to create more. She kept a sturdy house despite being alone in it. It perplexed him, but he accepted it wholeheartedly.

But Luna’s sides didn’t stop. Peter and Tony were closest to her, but she wasn't entirely comfortable with them. Mentions of her family were met with quick diversions, and talks of love or past relationships were countered by indifference and disdain. She hid something from him. As impressed as he was by her ability to do so, he craved the unknown.

And now she makes friendship bracelets for people she’s not friends with. Interesting.

Clicking his phone off, Loki angled his body towards Luna. “I think I’ve got it.”

Luna glanced his way. “Got what?”

“You.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes. I’ve finally figured you out.”

She scoffed and returned her attention to the assembly of the bracelet in her lap. “Alright, tell me what you think you know about me.” She acted as unfazed as she felt. She’s heard such lines from the boys she was acquainted with in college. In this instance, Loki is no different from them, so she expects falsehoods and misconceptions.

Loki threw an arm around the back of the couch, his hand inches away from Luna’s shoulder. “You’re all alone here.”

“Obviously.”

“And that makes you lonely.”

“Again, obviously.”

“Though you’re friendly, you don’t cling to people. You keep them close, but far enough so you can push them away at the right time. You do this with Stark, Rhodes, and Peter. You guard yourself from friends and from love.”

Luna shook her head. “You know, you’re really going to have to try harder because that sounds just like every depressed teen going through puberty.”

“You find some aspect about yourself undesirable. Whether someone told you or you decided it is, you can’t get rid of it, and it eats at you.” Loki gripped the back of the couch and pulled himself closer to her. “Your cordiality is a façade to cover up for something seated deep within you, something dark.”

Luna's hands stopped their knotting. Her skin felt icy and hot, her jaw clenched tight, and her heart beat like a bird’s wings in flight. The air unsettled around her. Could Loki feel it too?

“Again, Loki, try harder,” she said quietly.

Loki leaned back. “Oh, I intend to, so long as you play these games with me.”

Luna gasped and whirled around, aiming her pointer finger at Loki’s chest. He pulled back more, surprised. “Don’t ever say I play games with you! I do no such thing!” she yelled, her nerves and face on fire.

Loki knew she was right, but old habits die hard. “Well, what do we have here? Is that anger?” He leaned his face closer to hers and watched as her expression contorted into one of shock, then rage.

Using her finger like a spear, Luna stabbed the center of Loki’s sternum, pushing him further into the cushions. “Don’t,” she growled.

Grabbing her craft and its instructions with a crunch, she got up and marched back to her room without another word. Pushing the door shut and locking it, Luna sank down to the floor, hands covering her face. The raging fire in her veins simmered down as it was joined by the telltale prickle of fear. Her temper got the best of her. Loki’s words deserved to be silenced in the manner they were, but they made Luna lose herself. It was embarrassing and disgraceful and made the scars on her legs itch and ache. She scratched her thighs over her leggings, but it did nothing to help.

Loki was dangerous. His inquisitive nature proved as much. It was clear he snooped through her things, but what else did he know and think? He was capable of toying with her emotions and not feeling the least bit sorry if he poked the wrong area. Luna knew so, but she let her guard down enough for him to hit her where it hurts.

But he was right; right about her harboring a dark secret close to her heart. Much of it was written out on her skin. He showed no signs of knowing what it is, but he was determined enough to make her spill it if he wanted to. Luna ground her teeth.

On the other hand, he accused her of playing games with him. Manipulating him. She never did and had no intentions to. How dare he charge her with such a fault? Luna rose back to her feet, whipped her glasses off, and face-planted on her bed. She hoped Loki was happy with himself because she certainly wasn’t.

Loki sat quiet, one hand lying still by his side and the other over the spot where Luna jabbed him. He stared at the wall – mind blank – trying to see through it, past it. Over the many people he’d angered in his life, being on the receiving end of Luna’s anger felt like the worst of them all. His snide comments got the better of him, and he touched a nerve he wasn't supposed to. A place no one was meant to tread. And here he went in and walked all over it without her permission.

Bringing his hand up and covering his mouth, the last words his mother spoke to him surfaced in his mind: ‘Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself.’ With an anguished groan, he put his head in his hands and shook it. He made the mistake of mistakes. He transgressed in a way he may not be able to redeem himself from.

Next in the imaginary line to whisper words of wisdom in his ear was his brother: ‘Life is about growth. It's about change.’ Yes, indeed it was. Loki had changed enough to gain a worthwhile companion. Someone not looking to use him or hurt him to get what they want and pervert the title of ‘friend,' but someone who knew the value of him. Someone who liked him – free of all illusions and disguises – but he gracefully dashed those prospects away. The look in Luna’s eyes told him enough of how he hurt her and how deep it went.

‘But you seem to just want to stay the same.’

No. Loki did not want to stay the same. He wouldn’t stand idly by and let his beautiful friend slip away from him. She clothed and fed him when no one else would, stayed up with him when he couldn’t sleep, danced with him solely for the sake of having fun with him. Nothing was worth maintaining her fury against him.

Grabbing his phone, he opened up the text app and sent one to Luna: ‘please come back out.’ Loki heard a ping from her room and watched the screen with anticipation, willing a response from her to pop up. A little ‘read’ appeared beneath his message, but nothing more of note. He tried again, but no sound was heard. Another ‘read’ marked his text, and he was granted no more.

Loki kept up a repetitive motion, of sorts. He would choose a spot to sit, send a text, and pace, waiting for a response. He never received one, but he’s as stubborn as they come. Luna had to emerge from her room at some point. She couldn’t stay in and go hungry. The thought to break her door down drifted into his mind, but it left as quickly as it came. The apartment was public property. If he destroyed it, Luna wouldn’t be the only person cross with him.

She did come out about an hour after the sun had set. The glance she shot him on her way to the kitchen burned his heart like a hot knife. Albeit calm, her upset emotions hadn’t settled. He didn’t blame her. He would be mad too.

“How about leftovers? I don’t feel like cooking,” Luna called out. Reluctant to raise his voice at her, Loki shot up from his seat and made his way to her side in front of the open fridge. “I'll have curry and rice. You can have whatever." She pulled a bowl and water glass from the cupboard.

“I’ll have the same,” Loki said evenly, treading lightly with his words. Though Luna wasn’t looking at him, she was speaking to him, and he wanted her to keep it up.

From the cold pot of rice, she pressed into it firmly with a clean spoon, slowly breaking apart the mass into pieces she could scoop into her bowl. Once done, she pushed the pot and spoon in Loki’s direction for him to take as much as he liked. He copied her method and served himself.

They filled their bowls the rest of the way with as much leftover curry as they liked, effectively emptying the Tupperware container. Luna heated hers up first with Loki waiting patiently for his turn. Bringing everything they needed to the couch, Loki sat in his spot and switched on the television. Luna placed herself as far away from him as she could. It made Loki antsy. She always sat closer.

Leaning towards her, Loki spoke, pleading with her. “Talk to me.”

Luna didn’t bother looking at him. “I have nothing to say to you,” she stated, taking a sip of water and changing the channel to a nature show about Indian wildlife.

Loki took the hint. She was intent on not talking to or hearing him. However, circumstances as they were, he still admired her. Personally, he would have started a fight as soon as he could and argued his way to receiving an apology from his offender. Luna's method ensured she gets her way as well as keep the peace in the home, her silent treatment stoking Loki’s guilty conscience as it was meant to.

They took their time eating, hungry for good food but lacking in a proper appetite. Luna finished hers first and rinsed her bowl out at the first chance she got. She didn’t rejoin him. On the way back to her room, she stopped at the doorway to the little hallway and gave him one last look.

“I’ll be up for a while so you can shower first if you want to.”

Loki didn't get a chance to respond. She was gone, the door shut and locked behind her, allowing her to have the last word. He opted to let her sleep on it. In the morning, her temperament would be cooled down enough for her to hear him with a level head. He would have a proper apology ready by then.

He did take her advice and freshen himself up enough to sleep comfortably. Leaving the books alone, he read anything and everything he could find on his phone until it slipped from his weak hand. He took the hint from his body and turned it off, eager for sleep to take him.

----------

Taglist: @the-doctor-9-10 @pinkieperil @sherlockfan4life

12 notes · View notes

mrsronan · 5 years

Text

Last Thursday (March 7) I got to speak to a large Women’s Bible Study in San Francisco. I attended the study for three years and have quite a few friends still involved. Here’s what I said. (Health update and other details below the speech.) Also, it won't hurt my feelings at all if you skip the speech and just read the health update. :)

_________________________________________

I’m thankful I get to be here with you ladies this morning. You are always such a blessing. Malene and Karen invited me to give an update on how I’m doing. Most of you know me, but let me introduce myself to those of you I’m not yet acquainted with. My husband and I grew up in Cincinnati Ohio, I’ve served as a missionary to Haiti and spent two years teaching in China. My husband and I believed God called us to San Francisco so we moved here four months after we got married in 2006. When we got here everything that could go wrong went wrong, including losing our housing on the same day I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant. That surprise pregnancy led me to seek help at Alpha Pregnancy Center, the pregnancy ended in miscarriage but I never forgot that Alpha was ready to walk with me and find solutions to all of my concerns. Later I went back to Alpha, but as a staff member and I eventually became the director. I spent almost a decade running that ministry until I was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer and had to resign. I’ve been going through chemo and radiation treatments since July 2016.

Before I give you an update on my health I want to tell you a story that will explain my perspective on this challenge.*

The day I arrived at my new home in Haiti where I would live for a year, I walked into a house that had been robbed. Everything was gone- furniture, curtains, dishes, everything except the kitchen sink. I had met my roommate for the year one day earlier, Shelley lived in the house the year before and knew our neighbors well. She assured me that since we were back and our neighbors loved her, the house would now be safe and nothing more would be stolen. I didn’t believe her. We had just a couple hours to drop our things off before needing to leave for a meeting at the school where we’d be teaching. On my way out the door for the meeting, I silently prayed, “Lord, if our house gets robbed tonight, please don’t let them take my radio, my guitar, or the vase from Morocco Kellie gave me.”

When we got home that night, our house had been ravished. Clothes were strewn everywhere, Shelley’s nice camera— gone. The sheets off our other roommate’s bed— gone. I made it to my room in the back of the house and did a quick scan of my bedroom: my radio was there, check; my guitar was there, check; my vase— gone! What!? Didn’t God hear my prayer? Why would the thieves want my vase anyway? It was just a small memento that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone but me. My heart sank. I felt robbed. But just as quickly as my heart sank, the Holy Spirit began to speak: “Chastidy, I didn’t bring you here this year to look at that vase. I am the same whether or not that vase is on top of your dresser. I haven’t changed and I am worthy of your praise with or without that vase.” My heart responded, “Oh, check. Yes, Lord, I trust you. I’ll praise you. Thanks for being the same and being good no matter what I’ve lost.” A moment later, a fellow teacher who had come to help walked in the door and said, “I found this on the street, does this belong to you?” and held up my vase.

That small momentary loss and the Holy Spirit speaking to my heart taught me how to get through larger losses that aren’t temporary. When my mom was murdered, when I had multiple miscarriages, when my marriage has been difficult, and many other times of loss I’ve gone back to that moment and remembered God is the same no matter what I might be losing.

To be honest, the months since November have been filled with loss.

My grandfather died because of lung cancer.

Five of my other friends have died as well (three cancer related deaths).

My landlord promised me a bigger apartment and even gave me the keys then changed her mind and took the keys back.

The clinical trial I’ve been on has stopped shrinking my tumors. (More on this below)

But amidst these tragedies there have been some triumphs.

I was given the Gianna Molla award and spoke to 50,000 people.

My daughter turned 3 and sweetly told me I set up her party so nice and perfect.

I turned 40 even though some medical professionals never thought I’d live this long. My husband, family, and friends threw me two surprise birthday parties.

So I find myself responding to all of this in a few ways

Crying out to God in mourning and in thanksgiving.

Praying for others as well as myself.

Singing Amazing Grace and really meaning every word of all 7 verses.

Returning to scripture and asking God to keep His word as the foundation of my heart.

Some of the verses that I’m returning to over and over have become anthems for me that I go to daily to set my heart and mind in the right place.

Hebrews 13.8 Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Reminding me that with or without cancer, God is still worthy of praise. For me, all these efforts to get treatment and extend my life are primarily for my three year old little girl. I don’t want her to have the pain of growing up with out her mom. But, this verse reminds me that God is the same and worthy of our praise even if she does grow up with out a mom.

I also go back to the story of Shadrach Meshach and Abednego from Daniel 3.

You probably remember the story well. Everyone in their town was told to bow down and worship a false god. The punishment for refusing was to be thrown into a fiery furnace. Everyone worshipped the gold statue, but Shadrach Meshach and Abednego refused to follow suit. Some people told the king and he was furious.

Here’s how the Message version of the Bible tells the rest of the story:

The king questioned them and gave them a second chance to obey.

16-18 Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego answered King Nebuchadnezzar, “Your threat means nothing to us. If you throw us in the fire, the God we serve can rescue us from your roaring furnace and anything else you might cook up, O king. But even if he doesn’t, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference, O king. We still wouldn’t serve your gods or worship the gold statue you set up.”

19-23 Nebuchadnezzar, his face purple with anger, cut off Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. He ordered the furnace fired up seven times hotter than usual. He ordered some strong men to tie them up, hands and feet, and throw them into the roaring furnace. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, bound hand and foot, fully dressed from head to toe, were pitched into the roaring fire. Because the king was in such a hurry and the furnace was so hot, flames from the furnace killed the men who carried Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego to it, while the fire raged around Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.

24 Suddenly King Nebuchadnezzar jumped up in alarm and said, “Didn’t we throw three men, bound hand and foot, into the fire?”

“That’s right, O king,” they said.

25 “But look!” he said. “I see four men, walking around freely in the fire, completely unharmed! And the fourth man looks like a son of the gods!”

Some people say that is Jesus; I love that even though they were in a literal fire, they weren’t in it alone. They had to go through the fire, but Jesus went through it with them.

26 Nebuchadnezzar went to the door of the roaring furnace and called in, “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, servants of the most High God, come out here!”

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego walked out of the fire.

27 Everyone gathered around to examine them and discovered that the fire hadn’t so much as touched the three men—not a hair singed, not a scorch mark on their clothes, not even the smell of fire on them!

Next the king praises God. Shadrach Meshach and Abednego’s fiery challenge

Gives the king a fiery passion to praise God.

28 Nebuchadnezzar said, “Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego! He sent his angel and rescued his servants who trusted in him! They ignored the king’s orders and laid their bodies on the line rather than serve or worship any god but their own.

29 “Therefore I issue this decree: no one should speak against the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. No other god can pull off a rescue like this.”

Friends, I’m in a battle where I can say— Only God can pull off the kind of rescue I need.

But, I’d bet half my bank account most of you have felt that too. Maybe you’ve had severe health issues, maybe you’ve needed the courage to leave an abusive relationship, maybe you’ve had the sorrow of losing a child, maybe you’ve been plagued with overwhelming anxiety…

I’m guessing that everyone of you have had a time when you thought, “only God can rescue me from this.”

I look back at all those trials I mentioned earlier and see, yes, He jumped into the fire with me on all of them and pulled me out and actually it made me stronger than before. So, right now, in this fire of cancer, I’m looking to the God who has rescued me time and time again and saying “I know you are able to rescue me, and I believe you will, but even if you don’t I will still praise you.”

The final scripture I return to as an anthem I’ve read with you before. Psalm 118.

I’d like to share some of it with you again today

Psalm 118

1 Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;

his love endures forever.

2 Let Israel say:

“His love endures forever.”

3 Let the house of Aaron say:

“His love endures forever.”

4 Let those who fear the Lord say:

“His love endures forever.”

5 When hard pressed, I cried to the Lord;

he brought me into a spacious place.

6 The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid.

What can mere mortals do to me?

7 The Lord is with me; he is my helper.

…

8 It is better to take refuge in the Lord

than to trust in humans.

9 It is better to take refuge in the Lord

than to trust in princes.

I’m saying it’s better to trust in the Lord

than medicine or doctors

13 I was pushed back and about to fall,

but the Lord helped me.

14 The Lord is my strength and my defense[a];

he has become my salvation.

15 Shouts of joy and victory

resound in the tents of the righteous:

17 I will not die but live,

and will proclaim what the Lord has done.

21 I will give you thanks, for you answered me;

you have become my salvation.

27 The Lord is God,

and he has made his light shine on us.

…

28 You are my God, and I will praise you;

you are my God, and I will exalt you.

29 Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;

his love endures forever.

Verse 17 is something I’ve especially clung to.

At first I thought, I will live and not die so that when I am healed from cancer I can tell the miraculous story of how God healed me and what seemed impossible with man is possible with God. And, that is still what I’m counting on.

But, I’ve begun to think I’m alive today. I can tell what God has done today. I can tell you today that He has been with me in the trenches of every fire I’ve had to walk through, and he has used them all for the good of many lives and souls.

And, when I return to scripture it allows me to fix my thoughts on Jesus. He endured the cross scorning its shame for the joy that was set before him. And remembering that He did that, and being bought with his blood gives me the strength to be content in a small apartment, to endure the disease of cancer, and to get through the other pains that come with life in a fallen world but doing so with joy because of the promise of a glorious eternity.

Two nights ago, as I was putting my daughter to bed we were singing “what can wash a way my sins” and she stopped me mid song and said, “Mommy mommy, the blood of Jesus, it can heal everything. Even if you die it can heal you.”

If I could leave you with any thought this morning it would be that. The blood of Jesus can heal anything you have going on in your life. Remember He never changes even when our circumstances do, lay your burdens at the foot of His cross, and let His blood bringing healing to your life.

_________________________________________

HEALTH UPDATE

So, what does it mean for me that the clinical trial isn’t shrinking my tumors? To catch some of you up to speed on what I’ve done before I answer that, I’ve already done 3 kinds of chemo and radiation. The clinical trial I’ve been in is my fourth form of treatment. There are no other FDA approved treatments that have been effective at treating my kind of cancer. I have a biopsy scheduled for Thursday. The results of the biopsy will show if the immunotherapy trial I’ve been on has changed the genetic make up of my tumors. If it has I can continue on the trial. If it hasn’t then I’ll need to start searching for other clinical trials or treatments at different hospitals and clinics. My oncologist thinks I’ll have to begin a search for other clinical trials. She is willing to help me. My family might have to move in order for me to continue to have effective treatment options. I’m really hoping that I won’t have to move, but if we do have to move there’s a promising clinical trial in Cleveland that I’m looking into which would get me closer to my family and I’d be thankful for that. Yet, I am willing to go wherever I need to get treatments. I’ll try to write a short update after I get my biopsy results.

Separately I had a chalazion in my eye. It has healed.

OTHER UPDATES

I’m still a super Warriors fan and even though they’ve had a few embarrassing losses recently they are still number 1 in the western conference and still the favorites to be champions this year.

I lead prayer in the SF Prayer Room every Wednesday night from 6-9 pm. I’d love it if you join me some time.

My landlord offered to let us move to a bigger apartment and even gave us the keys. She later changed her mind and took the keys back. I was absolutely heartbroken and cried for days. Now, I’m wondering if God kept us from moving because we might have to move so I can get treatment elsewhere.

We were gifted tickets to see Hamilton and loved it! It left me wanting to live in a way that gives others freedom.

My husband, family, and friends threw me TWO surprise birthday parties. I’ve lived to be 40 and I’m pretty thankful about that.

I threw a small birthday party for Catica. The week after her party she snuggled up on my lap and we had this conversation, C: Mama, you did such a good job. Me: A good job on what, Baby? C: My party. You set everything up so nice and perfect. My heart melted.

PRAYER REQUEST

Please pray for miraculous results to this biopsy and miraculous healing. God is able to do more than we can ask or imagine.

_________________________________________

*I know I’ve already told this story on my blog before but I love to share it whenever I can as it keeps my perspective in check.

#fortyandfabulous #chalazion #clinicaltrial #ucsf #colorectalcancer #cancerisdefeated #byhisstripesiamhealed #biopsy #supriseparty #sfprayerroom #liveandnotdie #psalm118 #Goddoesnotchange

2 notes · View notes

hobierella · 6 years

Text

To love the loveless - |Ch. 5|

Chapters list: |intro| |Ch. 1| |Ch. 2| |Ch. 3| |Ch. 4| |Ch. 5| |Ch. 6| |end|

Tags: Yoongi x reader (only slightly), Jungkook x reader, cheating, unhealthy coping mechanisms, a bit of angst, friends to lovers, smut in future chapters.

Description: You’ve decided not to let anyone hurt you ever again, and shit is going great… until it hits the fan.

Author’s Note: I really hope this isn’t getting too boring omg. The end is near, my friends, so bare with me just a little bit longer. Enjoy?

Was there a worst word for guilt? Because you were definitely feeling that. Yoongi’s plan was simple, yet the execution was complicated. You just had to say you were sorry, which you truly were, to everyone in the group. Taehyung became your first target unknowingly, by mere chance, because you had found him first in the cafeteria.

“The whole avoidance game is over now, then?” he asked when you sat by his side while he ate an apple.

“Tae, I am truly sorry for not replying, for disappearing, for every trouble caused” you said, a whole speech prepared somehow that went down the drain the minute you opened your mouth. You wanted to be more eloquent about it, you really did, but suddenly you forgot how to articulate better. “I… I…”

“Yeah, I know” he nodded, staring at the nothingness before him. “I found out about what happened. You sorta fucked up.”

“I did” you conceded.

“We all do sometimes. It’s ok” he comforted you, smiling weakly. Well, that had been easy. Too easy, in fact. It was bordering suspicious.

“Tae…”

“You know, I was wondering why you never really cried or screamed or acted like your heart was broken when Yoongi hyung did what he did” he interrupted you, pensive. “Actually, we were all worried for you because of that. We talked about it a lot. I guess we all have different ways to deal with problems… Joonie hyung said you were troubled, but that we shouldn’t force you to talk. Yet I kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t really have your heart broken in the first place. How is your heart feeling?”

“I… I don’t know” you confessed, but stopped to think about it some more. The least you could do was to be honest with your friend. “I guess that it wasn’t broken, no. I knew that what I had with Yoongi wasn’t the real deal, and yes, it kinda hurt a bit when you did what he did, but…”

“But you forgave him.”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet. He’s still my friend, of course, I think that friend Yoongi and lover Yoongi were two different people, if that makes sense.”

“So lover Yoongi fucked up, but friend Yoongi is still good” Tae said with a mouth full of apple. You nodded. He hummed his acceptance. “I think the whole deal after you and Kookie had sex was more like the sort of reaction we were all expecting you to have after a heartbreak.”

You cleared your throat, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the way Taehyung had worded his thoughts, so directly, so naturally. But the thought of it stuck, and it made a lot more sense than anything before. Except that… did that mean you actually had your heart broken because of what happened with Jungkook?

“Yes” he muttered as if he was reading your thoughts. “That was some high school level drama shit, with Jimin screaming in the background and all. Flames everywhere, a river made of tears were lost souls drowned, all that and more. Thinking about it, Jungkookie is acting just like that, too. He barely even blinked with Jieun’s cheating scandal compared to what he did after thinking you got back together with Yoongi hyung.”

“Jimin told me he was a mess after what happened at the party” you told him. Taehyung shrugged.

“Jiminie likes to abuse of those poor, poor hyperboles. Jungkookie was obviously disappointed and all, acting out more because of his bruised ego and all than because he was actually hurt. I guess he was sorta hurt, but, like… not heartbroken hurt. You really did a number on him” Taehyung hummed, almost amused. You hanged your head in shame.

“I’m sorry” you murmured. He patted your shoulder.

“It’s not me who you should say that to, but Jungkookie” he assured you. “I am here just for the drama. It’s fascinating.”

You ended up laughing at that, feeling like a heavy weight had been lifted from your shoulders. But there were still mountains of weight you were carrying, and you job wasn’t done. Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok were about as easy to convince to forgive you than Taehyung, but they put up a fight first. Giving you ultimatums, making you promise them it’d be the last time you did something like that or they’d have the right to kick your ass, things started to look better.

You started to have more hopes to sort it all out. But there were still two individuals you have yet to confront, and neither of them were ones you wanted to talk to while they were still mad at you. Specially Jimin, God forbid you from angering him ever again if you were lucky enough to be granted his forgiveness.

“Kookie is currently living with us” Jin said, without being asked, as he set the cup of tea on the table before him. He didn’t need to actually do it to know what you were thinking.

“For a few days now” provided Hoseok, not very happy about it. Jin and Hoseok were roommates, had been from the beginning almost. “Jimin and he fought a while ago and he came to seek refuge at home.”

You remembered the way Jimin had confronted you a couple of days ago, and how you foolishly released information you had thought he already knew. Apparently after that Jimin went to face his best friend about it and things hadn’t gone all well. Another pang of guilt stabbed you next to your lungs. It had been, once more, by pure coincidence that you had found Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok in that café (although you knew they liked that place and they hanged out a lot there, so you could blame it on fate or on your own decision that you have met them there).

“You should go talk to him now, he’s probably still growing mold in our couch” Jin spoke again, a thin line on his lips. “But no fucking.”

“No fucking up” Namjoon interjected.

“Yeah, please, no more of that” begged Hoseok.

“Alright, no kind of fucking is allowed, then. Unless it’s to give a fuck, then, that’s alright” Jin decided.

“Did you forget your keys ag---?”

Jungkook stopped talking when he noticed you weren’t the one he had expected to see on the other side of the door, and for a second you thought he was going to close it on your face. His hair was disheveled, like he had just woke up from a nap, there were a few stains on his otherwise white shirt, and he was wearing his best scowl.

“The hyungs aren’t here” he informed you, and this time he did try to close the door on your face, but you moved quickly, out of sheer instinct, to stop it from happening.

“I came to talk to you, please” your voice was clear and stable, strong and decided, and it sort of surprised you. He looked at you for a second before turning around and going back to where he was eating cereal on the kitchen. With a hint of hesitation, you entered and closed the door, following him after.

This time you had no speech prepared, no idea what to say except the basics (I’m fucking sorry), yet the whole situation was overwhelming. This was the first time you were going to him, putting an effort into interacting with him, and that was saying a lot in itself. You had never actually thought a lot about you and Jungkook and the relationship between the two of you, but if you started to do it right there, you’d end up not doing anything at all.

“I’m not back together with Yoongi” was the first and actually only thing that you could come up with on the spot. You watched at the spoon stopped midway towards his mouth, but Jungkook didn’t look at you.

“Ok” you could hear him mumble before he actually shoved it inside his mouth. Well, that was definitely disappointing.

“He… he was there to talk. To apologize for what he did” you continued, because it was still the only thing you felt you could actually say. Jungkook didn’t even make a sound. “And I’m here to apologize to you, now. I fucked up. Big time. Constantly. Consistently. I never meant to hurt you and I…”

“What are you apologizing for, exactly?” he cut you, finally looking at you, his expression unreadable. What a grand fucking question, you had no idea what to reply to that.

“For… for hurting you.”

“And what did you do to hurt me? Why do you think I’m hurt?”

This was the first time you have ever heard Jungkook so distant, so unreachable, so deeply pissed off. He was a completely different person, and you were starting to freaking out. When you couldn’t come up with an answer right away, he clicked his tongue and looked away.

“Well, then” he said, like it was all he needed to know to make a decision, and that scared you.

“No, wait, fuck…” you begged, moving closer. “I… I fucked up and I just… I just don’t know how to make it better, but I want to make it better. I swear. You don’t have to forgive me…”

Yoongi came to mind, and exactly what he was trying to say that day when the two of you reconnected, so to speak. You understood then what it was like to know that you might not be forgiven, but to still want to atone for your mistakes. To put yourself out there, step outside of the shell you’ve build with your fears and the pieces of your heart and soul that others had managed to break, and just take a chance at letting someone see you.

“In a perfect world, people would talk or some shit. That’s what you told me” Jungkook started talking and you nodded, remembering. “You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

“Yes” you accepted, since it was… well, the truth. You always said people had to talk, but the last thing you had ever done was to actually talk. To actually communicate.

“You avoided me like the plague” he continued, ignoring you for the time being. “I… I thought you hated me, I thought I did something wrong. I went to your house a few times, stood by your door, you never answered. And when I see you again, it was just by coincidence and you tell me to leave because Yoongi hyung was there.”

“Yes” you repeated.

“And then you go and tell Jimin hyung that we fucked” this time Jungkook chuckled, but there was no mirth or joy in the sound. It sounded dry and sarcastic. “And there I was, stupid little me, trying to defend you when he told me that you didn’t give a fuck about me, saying that it had been my idea from the beginning, when he tells me…”

A pause.

“When he tells me that you already knew how I felt about you.”

Well, fuck.

“Yes.”

You murmured the confirmation, but it sounded like if you had screamed it thanks to the heavy silence weighting around you. You dared to look at Jungkook after a few seconds passed without any other sound, and you found him staring at his bowl of cereal, nodding like a broken bobblehead… and it breaks you. You finally came to understand what you had done, how you hurt him, what exactly you did to fuck everything up.

“Ok” he mutters, but that’s all. Nothing else follows, and you suddenly feel like you no longer exist because he keeps eating his soggy cereal and grabs his phone to check his social media.

“Please” you ask, but you have no idea what you’re asking for.

“It’s ok, noona” he says. “Really.”

“No, Jungkook, please, look at me, I’m sorry” you tried again, stepping closer.

“Sorry for what?” he stopped you, still being that person you didn’t know and had no idea existed. “It was my idea from the beginning. It didn’t have to mean anything… and it didn’t mean anything, obviously. It’s ok. If you don’t mind, now… could you just leave me alone?”

Days passed by like blurred images escaping from your grasp. Things weren’t the same, and that only fact made you lose part of yourself in the process. The guys were still around, but not like before, and you couldn’t quite blame them: they were taking turns to babysit you and Jungkook. Just like before, except that this time the distance between you and them was bigger. Yoongi and Namjoon kept you company, and Taehyung would sometimes text you or talk to you whenever you found each other on campus, but Jin, Hoseok and Jimin were on Jungkook’s side (it was stupid to put it as taking sides, but that was exactly how it felt).

You were notified that Jimin and Jungkook had patched things up, and you were happy for them, or as happy as you could be, because you were still utterly unhappy. You had brought it on yourself, you knew that, but part of you wanted to throw a tantrum.

“You know, when I adopted you into the group, I didn’t know you were going to become its demise” Namjoon sighed. You looked at him, your lips curving down, frowning.

“Dude” Yoongi warned the younger.

“Nah, it’s ok, I deserve that one” you shrugged, trying to look unaffected, yet failing miserably. “It was all on me.”

“Yeah, that’s right, keep blaming yourself for everything, that’s super healthy, I’m so proud” Yoongi rolled his eyes, sighing.

“Don’t you have some taken pussy where to put your dick in?” you spat back.

“Shut the fuck up, both of you” Namjoon interrupted before it could escalate into something else and worst. “Part of the blame is on you, the other part is on Jungkook. Fifty-fifty, I say. Children shouldn’t even try to get into other children’s pants if they are not going to be mature about it.”

“Fuck off” you groaned, but not as strongly as you’d have wished. “What am I going to do?”

“About what?” both males asked.

“About this whole thing. I want to make things right. Should I try to talk to Jungkook again? Should I just step away for good?”

“Give him time. You already apologized” said Yoongi. “If he wants to accept the apologies, good. But that doesn’t mean he will want to talk to you ever again.”

“But in the case he wants to, then he will come to you. He needs to think about what he wants” came Namjoon to offer, always trying to be optimistic.

“What do you want, though?” the older male asked.

“Everything to go back to normal, to the way it was before. And before you say anything, yes, I know that nothing will be the same, but I want to… I don’t know. I want to be able to rest, to know that I’m done fucking up, to be forgiven, if possible. For Jungkook to stop hurting.”

“Don’t we all” Namjoon sighed, and that was the end of the conversation.

It was Jimin who approached you the next day, much to your surprise. At first you didn’t recognize him (actually, you just felt someone had sat in front of you but you kept reading the book in the library like nothing had happened) but when he demanded your attention by clearing his throat, you were half shocked and half scared to death. Another round with angry Jimin was the last thing you wanted.

But he didn’t look angry. He looked exhausted. He looked sad.

“I… I was born in Busan first” he said, slowly, softly, whispering each word carefully. “I’m older than him, I feel that I need to protect him because I’m his hyung. Taehyungie is always telling me that the only thing we can learn from other people’s experiences is to be afraid of the consequences for their actions, but that doesn’t help us to learn how to live, only how to be afraid. And to fear everything isn’t the correct way to exist.”

One, two, three heartbeats went by in silence. He wasn’t looking at you, his smile wasn’t reaching his eyes. He looked pale, the bags under his eyes prominent because of that.

“He says that I need to let Jungkook live a little, to let him make his own mistakes because the kid is stupid enough to make a ton of those without anyone’s help… I know I overreacted, I know it wasn’t my place to go around trying to fix the mess you both caused, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“You meant well” you smiled, but he shook his head.

“I’m just so tired of the separation between all of us… I’m tired of the fights, of having to choose, of walking on eggshells, of always having to think twice before I say a single thing because whatever I say that barely reminds him of you sets him off…”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

Jimin finally looked at you. There was a quiet calm flowing like a river between the two of you, and you felt bad for not having reached out to him before. After what had happened the last time you tried to talk to Jungkook, you had given up on the whole thing. At least on the whole reaching people out thing. Jimin didn’t deserve that, he had just wanted to protect his friend and to help.

“I told him about you knowing about how he felt about you because I was angry. I told him that you didn’t give a shit about him, that you were using him. I was so mad at you…” he confessed, his voice strangled, about to break. “I tried to help him realize what a bitch you are but, hey, fun fact, the bitch is me.”

“I didn’t believe what you told me about Jungkook’s feelings. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t, but now I accept that as possibility. You were trying to help someone, I was trying to just not deal with anything like a normal, mature, smart person would have done. I freaked out after it happened, I started avoiding everyone, I made him feel like shit. If anyone’s a bitch, that’s me. You were right, momma Jimin.”

“It doesn’t make me any happier to know I was right” he said, trying to smile. “I hate to see him like this, I really do. You should go talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me” you pointed out.

“No, but he should either way. This is breaking all of us apart, so I think it’s worth another shot, right? If it’s not for you two, let it be for all of us. Whatever happens, so be it. But at least you will be able to say you tried” he offered.

You nodded at that. He was nothing but right. Something had to change, again.

You were going to make sure this time around you did your best to be prepared for that.

#bts smut #bts scenarios #bts reactions #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #jungkookxreader

21 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 7 years

Text

Kings and Queens. {Ch 14}

Summary: A Throne of Glass AU inspired by the Breakfast Club (1985). Five students come together for Saturday detention, and realize they are not all that different. You can read previous chapters here.

Author’s Note: The story is wrapping up! We have two more chapters, and an epilogue. Let me know what you all think. :)

Caution: NSFW.

Two years before….

It had gotten late as we lied in my bed sipping on chardonnay from my mother’s wine cabinet. They were away on business, again, and Aelin had stayed the night, as she always did when my parents were away.

Which was often.

It had always been innocent. There had always been something between us, a bond, but we had never acted on it. Never beyond holding hands, or simple kisses.

Not until that night.

I could still remember it: the feeling of her slender hands sliding up my bare abdomen, of her lips trailing down my neck, my tongue sweeping along her bottom lip as she moaned into my mouth.

We stopped, we didn’t go all the way, I wasn’t ready, she wasn’t ready, but gods I loved what had happened to us that night.

The closeness, the beauty of loving someone who loved you.

It was love in its purest form.

Rowan

1:00 p.m.

She kept pausing, scanning the shelves for something wonderful. I knew she loved reading, but I had never seen her look at books like she was then – like she hadn’t been able to enjoy one in quite some time.

Maybe she hadn’t.

We were walking through an aisle when she stopped, snatching a novel off the shelf with a gasp. “I love this book.”

“What is it?” I asked, not that I wanted to read it myself either way, but because I wanted to hear her speak.

I had to make up for lost time.

She showed me the cover, and my eyebrows rose at the title. “Pride and Prejudice?”

She laughed, breathily. “Yes. It’s a classic. One of my favorites of all time. The story never gets old.”

“A love-story?”

“Yes,” she drawled, flipping through the pages as if she could pick up every word as she did so. “Elizabeth is a stubborn, confident woman. I always admired her for that, the way that she didn’t care what society thought and just wanted to be herself.”

“You and her would get along just fine, I’m sure.”

She nudged me in the shoulder, rolling her eyes, as I asked, “What’s he like, then? I assume she falls in love, in this love-story.”

“Oh, he’s a lot like you,” she grinned, and I braced myself for what was coming.

“Oh?”

“Mhmmm,” she mumbled, closing the book and setting it adoringly on the shelf, where it belonged. “Darcy’s a dick.”

“Ouch,” I laughed, then took a step closer to her. I longed to hold her hand, to press my lips against hers. “I only pretend to be a dick, thank you.”

Her smile turned wistful as she nodded, “So does he.”

“You’re sad.” It wasn’t a question, because I could see it in her eyes. I hadn’t asked her about what she had confessed earlier, and I wasn’t going to. I knew Aelin. She didn’t want pity, she just wanted to be free.

She deserved to be free, too.

I wanted to give her that freedom.

“I’m not sad,” she whispered, staring at my chest as she did so. “This just seems too good to be true. Talking to you…..just like I did two years ago. Like nothing ever happened. Like the past two years have been erased.”

“Why can’t they be?” I dared. “Why can’t we erase them?”

Aelin scoffed. “We can’t just wake up one day and decide to be someone different.”

“Can’t we?”

She was quiet for a long time, staring at the place in my chest. There were a thousand things I wanted to say to her in that moment, but none seemed good enough. Let me help you change. Tell me what I can do to help, and I will do it. Tell me what you want, Aelin, I’m begging you. Please let it be me. Let me be a part of your future. I just want you to be happy – if it’s with me, great. But if it’s not….Shit, I just want you to be happy.

I didn’t say any of it, though. I let her sort it out for herself. There was a battle within her that I could not diffuse, no matter how much I wanted to. She would sort it out, though. She was strong. And I would be there waiting for her when she did.

No matter which path she chose.

“How do you just decide to take a different path? How do you forget everything that you’ve built and start over? How do you –“ she cut herself off, and shook her head. “I see the end goal. The place I want to get to……I just don’t know how to get there.”

I couldn’t stay silent any longer. Brushing a golden lock of hair behind her ear, I took a step closer. “Let me help you.”

“Why?” She inquired, incredulously. “After all that I’ve put you through…..”

“I know who you are,” I promised. “I have always known who you are. I never stopped loving you, Aelin. I tried, trust me, but I couldn’t. I could never stop loving you.”

She blinked, and a single tear slid down her cheek as she did. “I never stopped loving you, either.”

I would say that we kissed, but it was much more than a simple show of affection.

At first it was soft, and gentle, as the sweet taste of strawberry fell from her lips to mine. And then it tumbled into an array of passion, as if she, too, was making up for lost time. We were searching for air, and the feeling of her open mouth against mine was the only way to find it, the only way to breathe. She nipped at my bottom lip, forcing a soft growl to tumble out of my lips, into her mouth.

The goddess within the Princess of Havilliard High had unleashed.

Freed.

Her slender fingers found my hood, and yanked it off, sending silver hair falling in every which direction. She quickly brushed it back from my forehead, and twisted those fingers through my cropped locks as I pressed her back against the looming bookshelf.

Aelin shivered as I brushed the straps of her tank top down her shoulders, and pressed my mouth firmly against the small space between her neck and collarbone. Head leaned back against a row of books, Aelin Galathynius called out my name.

I lifted her up. The thin, black tank top fell further down her shoulders as my mouth fell in between her breasts. And as her legs wrapped around my waist, I moved. I carried her back, back through the maze of textbooks and novels, back to the narrow, dark hallway, and into the restroom.

We locked the door behind us, before I pressed her body against the wall and her lips found mine, once more.

She reached down, finding the hem of my hoodie and yanking it over my head, then followed it up with my old, ratty tee-shirt. She paused to run her fingers down my bare chest and I lifted the tank top, slowly, over her head, and froze.

She tensed, watching me, knowing what I saw, what I then couldn’t take my eyes off of.

She had gifted me with that dogtag for my birthday, the one over the summer we spent together. I took the thin, platinum in my fingers and read the inscription, “To whatever end……You……You kept this?”

I had thrown it in the creek, the day she broke up with me, the day she told me all the horrible things she did.

The day everything changed.

Fuck you, Aelin, I had said, and walked away, never to look back, never to talk to her again until that morning, when I walked into the library.

She had picked it up out of the water. And kept it.

“I couldn’t just watch it float away,” she said, not looking at the necklace, but at me. “I couldn’t force myself to let go of it. As soon as you walked away…..I regretted it. I regretted every word that had come out of my mouth, and I hated myself. I hated watching you walk away. I had to hold onto something.”

“To whatever end,” I repeated. She had kept it, this little miniscule gift, for the same reason I had worn it every day since she gave it to me. She never had much money, but she spent everything she had on that tag, on the words that had been engraved on it.

Soft fingers grazed my cheek as my eyes finally met hers. “To whatever end, Rowan Whitethorn.”

“Fireheart,” I whispered, the old nickname I had once used so often, the old nickname that I had called out night after night in my greatest dreams, when I was seeking refuge.

My lips clung to hers as if all was forgotten, and the future was full of endless possibilities.

After unclasping her plain, black bra, and watching it fall to the tile, I took her breasts into my mouth as she fiddled with the button of my jeans.

Before I could catch my breath, her hand was wrapped around my cock and my mind was in a hectic blur of where the line was.

“Ro.” She lifted my chin, forcing our eyes to meet. “Kiss me.”

I did, as her hand moved back and forth, starting out slow, gentle, and getting faster, harder.

I can’t remember how I got her jeans undone, couldn’t remember how I slid them past her thighs, couldn’t remember how they ended up on the tile with our other scraps. Holding her strong, bare body against mine, my hands wrapped around her ass, and I pressed my forehead against hers. “I want to give you a better first time than this.”

We were in a restroom, at our school, in the library…..It wasn’t the most romantic of settings, even I could admit that. I may have been a man, but I was a man of good taste.

“I want to give you the perfect first time. Let me –“

“I want you,” she whispered, “I want you now, Ro.”

“I don’t have any –“

“Birth control.”

We stared at one another for a long time, as she stroked the length of me, as I became lost in turquoise eyes and forgot what I had just been saying.

So, I simply stated, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she promised, pressing her lips softly against mine as I lifted her higher.

With her scarred back pressed against the wall, I thrust myself into her. She gasped at the instant sensation, before a look of discomfort caused her eyebrows to scrunch.

I stopped, without hesitation. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she smiled, eyes bright and full of want and need. “I’m okay.”

She buried her face into the nape of my neck, one hand tangled in my hair, the other digging its nails into my back, muffling the soft moans that escaped as I continued.

The utter bliss that flowed through my body was new, pure, right in every way. I loved this girl, just as I always had. I had waited, I realized, I had waited for her, all this time. As the years passed, I hadn’t been able to convince myself that I was still holding onto her, but I was. It was obvious, even to her.

She was it. She was my person. She was the other half of my soul.

Fire filled my core, as it poured out of her body and into mine. My breathing became heavier as she moaned, called out my name, begged for me to go faster, harder, into my neck.

I obliged her.

As the climax approached, I cursed. My body became undone, and I felt like the contents of my soul were pouring out as sweat gleamed down every inch of my skin, and I shook from the earth-shattering sensation.

We clung to one another. We held one another as if we were afraid to let go, because we had gone too long without holding one another.

I missed her. Gods, I missed her.

“I love you.” I couldn’t stop saying it, couldn’t stop repeating it. “I love you Aelin, my Aelin, my Fireheart.”

She brushed my damp hair back, and kissed me softly before erupting into a fit of laughter.

“What?” my cheeks heated. “Was it that bad?”

“No!” she claimed, shaking her head quickly. “No, of course not. It was perfect. It was amazing.”

I finally caught my breath before leaning back, still holding her up against my body.

“I’ve never felt that before,” she admitted, biting down on her lip. “It was amazing, Ro.”

“Come home with me tonight,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Come home with me tonight.”

“To do what?” she raised her brows, a dangerous glint in those beautifully colored eyes.

“First I’ll make you dinner,” I promised, “then I’ll put in a movie of your choosing. After that…..”

As I trailed off, she kissed me again.

We didn’t leave the restroom for quite some time.

@bigbangt1963 @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @sarah-akhavan@gcarroll@kortanna@nightquart @notjustanyoldfangirl @superhuman-imagines@iwouldtrusthagridwithmylife@callmeladytypewriter@saybell1994@2-bookmaster-2 @eye-of-elena @shadowsinger-fireheart@inejcalmarekaz@viridiantopaz @books-are-friends-not-objects@raven-the-dark-titan@theantisocialbookworm310@whydoyoucareaboutmyusername

#kings and queens tog #throne of glass #empire of storms #rowan #aelin #rowaelin #chapter 14 #fanfic #fanfiction #love #my writing

222 notes · View notes

cherryblossomcheesecake · 6 years

Text

How Rare & Beautiful: Chapter 2 - A FFXV OC Fanfic

Getting kinda generous with the chapters here. Two days in a row now, but fair warning, this is only because I'm on reading week and I'm actually balancing assignments well right now. We're still kinda building up Soo-Min as a character in this chapter but hopefully if all goes well, next chapter will feature some familiar faces. I'm also trying to keep to a consistent word count, anywhere between 1,700 to 2,000 is what I how to write per chapter, besides special chapters that just have to exceed that limit. This is mostly done for the readers benefit do y'all can get chapters faster, while being an obtainable goal for me. Hope you enjoy this new chapter. I highly recommend that you listen to "frostfall" on youtube as it was this chapter's inspiration and complements it well. WORD COUNT: 1,805 words POSTED: 02.21.17 Master List Previous Chapter

Frostfall - Jeremy Soule

I let Miss Renata fuss over me for the next day before she allowed me to be around the other children again. Even then, if the other children were being too loud around me, they were shooed away by the old woman or her husband.

I took refuge in the books the couple kept around the house and occasionally the newspaper, if Mr Faustus was finished with them for the day. Through them, I had learned that I had ended up in a realm called Eos, and was currently living in Insomnia, the Crown city of the kingdom of Lucis.

In order to help me "remember", Miss Renata had gone over my details on file with me. In this world, I had been born to some Goryean immigrants and left on the foster home doorstep at 9 months old. The old couple had named me Cassia when I was brought here 8 years ago, but at the thought of using a name that was not my own, I demanded to use the name I knew as my own. With a lot of grumbling and sighing on the old couple's part, they reluctantly changed my name to Soo-Min.

While I had been recovering from my head injury, the other children living in the foster home had attempted to get me to participate in their games. I tried to be involved as best I could and play the part of an eight year old, but more often than not I found myself nose deep in a book about the history of Lucis and the Royal family.

But Miss Renata and Mr Faustus were concerned for me, and how reclusive I was becoming. The elderly couple went out of their way to try and speak with me, to get me involved with the other children's games. I only smiled and asked for more books to read. Eventually, the couple gave up and began giving me books in place of dolls and games. The other children also gave up in trying to include me in games, unable to come up with something that would hold my interest for longer than five minutes

Every once in awhile, there would be a hype about how potential adopters would be stopping by and take a child home. But I never really took part in it; I was a strange kid who wanted to read instead of play, and more often than not, the couple usually wasn't interested in adopting an immigrant.

It was one of those days where a couple was coming to potentially adopt, and the house was in a frenzy trying to get everyone and everything in order. I had dressed nicely as Miss Renata had requested and set up the dining room table with some refreshments with one of the older girls earlier this morning.

I sat on a couch in the sitting room, reading a battered copy of The Cosmogony, in an attempt to learn about the beliefs of the people of Eos. The Astrals were a fascinating subject and I was so thoroughly engrossed in the old tome that I was unaware of someone sitting down beside me.

"I always found that the young people never truly appreciated the legends of the Six like they used to. It's refreshing to see a child so engrossed in their tales." I startled at the sound of the stranger's voice, looking away from the book to my left.

Sitting on the left end of the couch was a man somewhere in his late thirties, wearing a casual suit as he smiled gently at me. His hair was a golden shade of blonde, with kind green eyes staring down at me. I jolted as I realized that he was waiting for me to respond.

"Oh, um… I like reading just about anything, especially since I hit my head a month ago and can't remember what was taught in school." I explained quietly, looking down at the book that lay in my lap.

"What would your favourite genre of reading be? Mine would probably be crime novels, if I'm being truly honest." the man stated with ease, leaning an elbow against the arm of the couch.

"Probably history and the Cosmogony. Since they're both interesting and important, of course." I offered, looking up with a small smile, "The legend of the rejected king is one of my favourites."

"Well, that's refreshing to hear. Not many learn about that one after preschool... " the man mused, trailing off as he caught sight of a woman lingering in the doorway.

"Ah, Myung-Hee, come here. I'd like you to meet someone, sweetheart." the man called out to the woman, who smiled lightly as she approached the two of us. The small woman was dressed in a pretty blouse and a loose skirt, her dark hair piled up on her head to reveal her brown eyes, features attributed to Goryean heritage. The woman took a seat across from us in one of the armchairs that littered the room, smiling lightly at the man beside me.

"This is my wife, Han Myung-Hee. I'm Aetius Farron, forgot to introduce myself earlier." the man introduced with a chuckle, shaking his head at his forgetfulness.

"Soo-Min." I offered, bowing my head lightly in return. Myung-Hee laughed lightly, looking between her husband and me.

"So, Soo-Min-ssi, has my husband been talking your ear off about books? He'll chat about his obsession with anyone he can." the woman asked with a laugh, a slight accent staining her words, but understandable nonetheless.

"Actually, it's nice to talk about books for once. None of the other children want to hear about the Six or old legends, they just want to play all the time. So I'm often alone and reading." I replied with a sad smile, looking down at the Cosmogony resting in my lap.

"Sometimes being alone with a book is the best thing in the world." came Aetius' response, the man trying to be helpful in some way as he patted my head with a heavy hand. I looked up again, forcing a warmer smile onto my face.

"So, what do you do for work?" I asked out of honest curiosity, as the couple had been the first adults to have an extended conversation with me when looking to adopt. And considering I actually liked them, I might as well put in some effort.

"We both work up at the Citadel, actually. Myung-Hee is one of the Prince's caretakers and I work in the Crownsguard." the blonde-haired man replied, looking at me carefully as he answered my question. I nodded lightly, my shoulder-length black hair swaying around me.

"I've only seen pictures of it in my history books on the Lucian Royal family and the kingdom itself, but it looks so amazing. And the fact that it's ages old makes it even more awesome, in my opinion. It's so cool that you get to work there." I gushed, my love for old buildings flooding my tone with admiration. Myung-Hee chuckled at my enthusiasm, smiling fondly at me.

"Yes, it's quite the honour to be working in such grandeur. Though I must admit the magic tends to wear off when you're trying to wrangle the Prince into his bath or attempting to get him to eat vegetables occasionally." the woman said, laughter apparent in her tone as she spoke fondly of the Prince.

"Between you and me, my wife has the fun job out of the two of us." Aetius mock whispered from behind his hand, driving me into a small fit of giggles.

"I'm sure brandishing a sword and beating up other members of the guard are just as fun, dear." Myung-Hee countered with a wide smile, brushing invisible dust from her skirt as she and her husband stood from their seats.

"It's been a pleasure, Soo-Min. But my husband and I have to speak to Miss Renata and Mr Faustus, enjoy the rest of your day." the woman said, Aetius ruffling my hair before standing and guiding his wife out of the living room in search of the two caretakers.

After the sounds of their steps had faded, I set my book on the couch beside me and followed in their wake. Tailing the couple to the dining room, I lingered just outside the doorway as they spoke with Miss Renata and Mr Faustus.

"Are you sure you wish to adopt her? The poor child has been a handful ever since she hit her head and awoke with no memory of anything. She is trying to relearn eight years of information and we need to be sure that you aware of this added commitment." Mr Faustus cautioned the couple, his voice stern.

"We're quite capable of handling her, Mr Faustus. She'll have the best education available and we'll treat her as if we were her parents from birth." Aetius assured the elder man, taking on a professional tone that he hadn't use with me.

"My husband and I are aware of how special of a girl Soo-Min is, the conversation we shared in the living room is proof enough. We believe that we can give her what she needs to succeed. We're positive we want to adopt her." Myung-Hee said, unfaltering in her words as she spoke to the older couple. I smiled brightly at the thought of the nice couple adopting me, excited and hopeful that my caretakers wouldn't deny this opportunity.

With a heavy sigh, Miss Renata finally spoke after a moment of silence.

"Very well, once Soo-Min has agreed to the adoption, we'll sign the paperwork. We must put her feelings and opinions into consideration as well, Faustus." The man grunted lightly in response, "Very well then, I'll go fetch the kid."

Before he could stand for his seat, I stepped into the room, much to the surprise of the adults.

"I'm sorry for eavesdropping but I couldn't help it. I wanted to know if Aetius and Myung-Hee were planning to adopt me." I apologized, bowing my head slightly as I spoke.

"It's alright, child. But do you agree to your adoption? It's a lot to process for most children, let alone one in your situation." Mis Renata questioned, her gray gaze sweeping over me in concern.

"Yes, ma'am. Nothing would make me happier than to go home with them." I spoke calmly with a smile on my face, praying to the Six that Miss Renata wouldn't find a reason to doubt my sincerity.

"Very well then. Go collect your things then, we have paperwork to sign." the old woman sighed, standing from her chair to retrieve my file from the office. Myung-Hee and Aetius smiled happily at me before I disappeared out of the dining room and up the stairs to my room to collect my things.

Next Chapter

#ffxv #original characters #noctis lucis caelum #ffxv fanfic #my fics

0 notes

adventuresofamybee · 7 years

Text

first week, second internship...

Here I am again. The “gringa loca” is back in Chile for the summer (well, winter here)! The words I am about to share are going to be as transparent as possible, because while I am an optimist, I will not deny the reality of life (mainly, culture shock) and possibly deprive someone else the opportunity relate to me. However, I am trying to choose my words very carefully & accurately update what it has been like to be back in Santiago (which has been, in summary, wonderful).

It’s officially been one week, and boy, a whirlwind of a week it has been! It has been overwhelming and nonstop, but full of blessings. My first day back, I got here around 7:30am, took a short time to lay down, then went straight to church. I enjoyed the rest of the day at the mall with my host brother (Seba! I missed this special family) and his cousin, just to find that it was all to stall me from the surprise welcome party that erupted from my living room when I walked through the door! Though, on the walk back Seba said “I bet you’re ready for bed, aren’t you?” (in Spanish, of course) to which I replied “yes, I’m exhausted”, walked into the house and exclaimed “time to sleep!”. I was answered with the screams of “SORPRESA!!!” and lots of balloons thrown my way. I stood there, speechless and my heart full of joy at the sight of some loved ones. So, I didn’t go to sleep, haha.

The next day I threw myself full-force into my internship. I got my errands done, my phone number changed, and my schedule made. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday I spent all day back with my beloved babes at the House of Hope.

I LOVE THOSE KIDDOS. That seems like it will be my main focus during this internship. They all remembered me from last year, and all the new ones got attached to me after the very first day. I cannot articulate the love that overflows from my heart every time one of them arrives and runs to hug me. I love to listen to them talk about school, I love to read books with them, I love to help them with math and English, I love to have them hanging off my arms & legs, I love them tangling my hair and fighting to hold my hand, I love listening to/watching them sing & dance, I love to see the growth that has happened in a year, and I love getting to know them as little individuals. Somehow, when struggles tug at my heart or tears well in my eyes, every negative feeling flees the second I see their precious faces running toward me. I cannot get enough.

Saturday and Sunday I spent at church. This is the part that gets a LITTLE bittersweet. I am struggling with culture shock a bit more than I did last time, so far. I know that sometimes irrational or exaggerated feelings can come from the ups & downs that culture shock brings. My mind could not be as open as it was the first time I came, because I am already familiar with everything here, so it is affecting me differently than before. Have you ever been in love with a place, moved away, and come back to find everything both strikingly different yet painfully the same? I left with a picture-perfect point of view of this country and the relationships I have made here. Unfortunately, life is not perfect. Some friendships fell through because of distance or because people changed in a way that simply clashed with the person I am becoming. There are people I look at and feel pangs of sorrow to see how they have transformed, and can’t help but remember the way things were the last time I was here. At the same time, there are people I look at and feel disappointed to see that we simply are not growing up at the same rate. This is not solely a cultural issue, of course, as there will always be people around us that do not realize when maturity becomes necessary. (Though Chileans would admit that it does make a difference that they live with their families and depend on their parents a lot longer than the people of the USA do- those are words straight from my host-father’s mouth). Nevertheless, it can be disappointing. My first year at college changed me a lot (but for the better, I’d say!), and I am not the same person I was when I left. I have not lived with my parents since I left for Chile in September 2015, and I understand that I cannot expect the same growth from people who aren’t in the same circumstances. This, of course, goes both ways, so I try my best to see things from everyone else’s point of view.

Anyway, this leaves me with some spread-out friendships, but not exactly the old group that I had anticipated. There is the typical church drama that occurred while I was away that noticeably divided up the youth and broke the unity I had fallen in love with the last time I was here. This, then, leaves me to find “my place” again. It is a little awkward, and at times makes me feel like an outsider. Not only is everyone more segregated, but I have also missed out on a year’s worth of events. BUT, all I have to do is remind myself that God brought me here to serve, and I am not obligated to be involved in what has come of the “youth drama”. To be an outsider does not have to be bad. I will be set apart, I will not choose sides, and I will strive to love everyone. Old friends, broken friendships, restored friendships, and new friends. I remind myself that I need to keep my head above water and not get sucked into any discouraging temporary circumstances. My time back in the USA made me see things through rose-colored glasses, so I am working on accepting the reality of things. This is life! In conclusion, that has been the hardest thing to fight with at the moment. The enemy is thrusting loneliness in my face. I forgot how isolating it can feel to be here alone at times. My personality type feels things pretty intensely, and I am very introspective, which can actually benefit me many times, as I am able to analyze transformations as I go through them. Unfortunately, it can also be a disadvantage, as the spurts of loneliness can hit me pretty hard, but I am thankful for the opportunity to be alone with God in my mind and really study the way certain aspects of the trip affect me emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. So, the good thing is, I am aware of this battle and I am fighting back. Through the doubts and the bumps in the road, I am clinging to the Word. I spit out the lies that are being put in my head, and I restore my soul with God’s truths. I am trying to take advantage of this time to grow even more. My faith has the chance to be cultivated, and I am taking action to make sure that happens. I am constantly striving to redirect my focus to how I can glorify God and serve everyone (especially my House of Hope children), instead of stressing the little things. I also acknowledge that, although I try so hard to gain more and more wisdom from The Lord, I am still 18 with so much to learn. However, it has been helpful to think “How would a mature adult react to this? Would a godly woman let these things impact her?”; that usually switches my instinctive thinking pretty quickly.

All in all, though it has been a busy, overwhelming, exhausting week, it has been AMAZING. I am sure I will continue to adjust more as time goes on! I do believe that a lot of the weird emotions and confusion about my state of being has to do with culture shock. Sure, I have been here before and I know the language, but I have to adapt again and therefore am going to experience the crazy things that the natural process of culture shock triggers. Despite navigating my adjustment, I am loving the time I get to spend with my host family and the House of Hope children. I just prefer to be vulnerably honest and not pretend that everything is perfect, because really it never is… for anyone, anywhere. I am so unexplainably thankful for the opportunity to be back here, and I cannot wait to see what God does! I want to grow in humility, denying myself and living to love others. I close out this first Chile update with a few verses that have been helpful this week!

“Unless the Lord had given me help, I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death. When I said, “My foot is slipping,” your unfailing love, Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy. […] But the Lord has become my fortress, and my God the rock in whom I take refuge.” Psalm 94:17-19; 22

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” Isaiah 43:1-2

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. Then I will teach transgressors your ways, so that sinners will turn back to you.” Psalm 51:10-13

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” Deuteronomy 31:8

GOD BLESS❤

#chile

0 notes