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massharp1971 · 11 months

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gimme the......untitled! trauma! fic!

I'm not sure this one will ever see the light of day because it's really, really angsty as it charts John and Rodney's respective ptsd experiences (imagine if these were real people, how completely traumatised they'd be). So I'm going to share a bit more than a snippet from the beginning, because I kinda like this bit... ---

John never slept heavily, so he was out of bed and opening his door within a beat of the chime.

There was Rodney McKay, looking rumpled and troubled.

But alive, his skipping heart told him. When John had seen Rodney’s prone figure on the floor of the gate room it had ignited an entirely unfamiliar kind of terror. The whole incident had given him layer upon layer of freak-out because number one, the cowardly lion of an astrophysicist was clearly susceptible to acts of ridiculous and life-threatening bravery and that meant it would be that much harder to keep him safe. Number two, it seemed just a little weird that John was more scared today than he had been not two weeks before when he had mercy-killed his commanding officer and been forced to his knees by a life sucking monster. Number three, and probably related somehow, was the weirdest thing of all – he had made a friend, and potentially a good one, and that wasn’t something John did often.

Well, ever.

Something about Rodney’s very existence gave John a feeling of overwhelming… relief, recognition, rightness… it was hard to look at too closely but impossible not to notice. Which meant that John very much did not want Rodney to die horribly.

“Can I…” Rodney waved his hands in the direction of entry, and John stepped aside, letting the man into his quarters.

“Sure, Rodney,” John said. “Something wrong?”

“Would it be… appropriate, for me to talk to you about… you see, I’ve learnt the hard way…” Rodney looked a little pale and sweaty, and John felt a stab of concern.

“Rodney, sit.” He gestured to the bed, and hunkered down beside it, feeling a little too self-conscious to sit next to the scientist. “You can tell me anything you need to,” John said, hoping he hadn’t just invited some kind of wildly inappropriate middle of the night conversation.

“I made a mistake, at the SGC,” Rodney said, his eyes refusing to meet John’s, his hands in constant motion that almost hid the underlying tremor. “I should have got support. Not everyone is… later, I spoke to a therapist and, well he pointed out to me that it wasn’t really that unreasonable of me to be terrified. So, I will speak to Heightmeyer of course, but I think it would be good if I spoke to you too and reminded you…”

Rodney hadn’t been looking at John, but suddenly his fearful eyes lifted. Their startling blue was intensified by the slight moisture there, and John had the ridiculous urge to surge forward and put his arms around Rodney’s broad shoulders.

“Reminded me of what?” John said gently, resting his hand reassuringly on Rodney’s kneecap in lieu of an embrace he didn’t dare risk.

“That I’m not a soldier… I haven’t been trained to deal with life or death.” He looked panicked and uncertain.

“Rodney, breathe,” John told the scientist. “Slow down. I don’t know what you’re trying to say here, but nobody expects you to be a soldier.”

“Look, most boys at least learn the basics, right? But I was never taught to fight – there wasn’t any point, because I moved up the grades so fast and the boys were so much bigger than me and they could do what they wanted,” Rodney suppressed a shudder that matched anything a wraith queen could cause, and John wondered what it had been like for young Rodney. He felt suddenly protective. “Fighting back would have just got me hurt more. My life lesson was to run and to hide and to avoid and to listen to my fear.”

John winced in sympathy. He’d been a weedy kid until he hit late teens and soft enough that his queerness was assumed and attacked.

“And now here I am being taught to use a gun and I’m expected to be brave and I’m not. Not everyone is cut out to be a hero.” Rodney lifted his chin in that tell he had. John already knew him well enough to know it meant he was unsure of himself. “I don’t think I can choose to be something I’m not and I’m going to let you down if you expect me to be… like SG1 expected, took it for granted that I wouldn’t be afraid of accidentally blowing up the whole fucking mountain to save their teammate.”

“Whoa, wait, McKay… you are brave,” John couldn’t bear to hear him talking this way after what he’d done only hours before. “You were so brave today, when you walked into that thing...”

“No, I wasn’t. I was terrified, and I ran every calculation possible in my head and it was the only answer that would save all our collective asses. I was smart. There’s a difference.”

“No, I’m not buying that,” John said firmly. “I know what it’s like to be so scared that it takes a while to get your body to move in the direction you know it has to go. Knowing the right thing and doing it are not the same.”

“Major, with respect… nearly everyone around here but me and you is SGC stock. They’ve been given unreasonable expectations by the culture there. The civilian member of SG1 not only had a death wish from the moment his wife was taken, but also, he’s died more than once and recovered from it. People’s perceptions here are skewed and… Major, none of my scientists are replaceable,” Rodney was talking nineteen to the dozen, but John just held on and tried to keep up. “I can’t just recruit new people if something happens… I’m scared. Not just for me, for all the people I’m responsible for. We’re civilians. We’re here to do science. But I think the SGC folk expect us… what I did today. Assume that’s part of the job. That we would have any idea how to be heroes… as if we knew we’d be coming somewhere with monsters and…”

McKay was babbling and John realised the man was very pale. The sheen of sweat was more pronounced, and his hands were trembling more obviously.

“Hey, you don’t look so good, Rodney,” John said, worried about his friend. “I think this might be delayed shock. Let’s get your feet elevated…”

He pushed Rodney back onto the bed and put his pack under Rodney’s feet. Rodney’s eyes were suddenly lost and vague.

“I’m going to call Carson,” John said.

He already knew McKay was reputed to be a hypochondriac, so he was surprised when the man shook his head.

“No, don’ s’not… shug. Gimme sugar,” Rodney slurred.

John kept dextrose tablets in his emergency kit, so he pulled two out and gave them to Rodney. He remembered Rodney saying he had hypoglycaemia, but in all honesty, he hadn’t expected it to look like this. He’d kind of expected it to look like an excuse to eat chocolate.

Rodney closed his eyes. John was still debating whether to get Carson when the trembling began to lessen.

“Fuck,” was what came out of McKay’s mouth eventually. Rodney didn’t often swear, and it was somehow reassuring. “Sorry. I, er… may have been a little vomity before I came over… should’ve known it would mess with my blood sugar.”

“Rodney, like you said, you’re a civilian finding himself in an unimaginable situation. Nobody expects you to just take it all in your stride.” John fished out a power bar from his bedside table and handed it to him as he said this.

Rodney huffed, something like a laugh but without any humour attached. But he accepted the bar with a look of gratitude.

“Are you sure about that, Major?” he asked around the first mouthful.

John knew what Rodney meant about the SGC folk – they were damn weird in the way they saw things, like they’d just stepped out of some adventure book where wild things happen, but the day is always saved.

John was already facing the fact that this was no storybook, and they were going to lose people – important people. Like the goddamn man who actually knew how to command a bunch of Marines. And the truth was, he was crapping himself over the situation they found themselves in, and still coming to terms with the fact that he made things a million times worse by trying to stage a rescue and waking the wraith.

John tried not to think of those first few days too much, because he was liable to crawl out of his own skin when he did.

“I’ll protect you. All of you,” he said, because he thought that was what was expected, but much as he desperately wanted it to be true, he knew this wasn’t a storybook. His heart clenched painfully at the thought of something happening to Rodney.

“Dumbass,” Rodney said in between still slightly panicky breaths. “Go read the SGC reports and then come back and tell me who usually saves who. Spoilers: It’s science. It’s always science… still, I appreciate the thought. I believe you want that to be true.”

“Well, all I can say is I’ll do what it takes to have your back, then,” John said.

That response seemed to satisfy McKay. John also noticed his colour was returning, and he was less clammy.

“Can I just rest here a while?” Rodney said, his voice small and vulnerable. “It’s all been rather a lot.”

“Sure,” John said.

He looked down at Rodney’s slowly settling form and wanted to be tender, wanted to brush a hand down his cheek or stroke his brow, but real men didn’t do that – military men definitely didn’t do that. John tried to at least pass for what he was supposed to be. Not just a real man (whatever the hell one of those was) but the man.

Instead, he retrieved his pack and rolled out the bedroll next to his bed.

The first time he’d met Rodney McKay, the man had been larger-than-life, bundled up in an orange fleece that clashed with his startling blue eyes, so excited by John’s gene that he’d launched straight into the middle of their relationship before bothering with a beginning and it had been like that ever since.

They clicked. The man could be an ass, sure but John knew he was goodhearted, and soft in ways that John appreciated in this harsh reality. He realised his growing fondness for Rodney didn’t map onto what he was used to. For a start, Rodney didn’t seem to want to fuck John and that was the only kind of closeness with men that John was familiar with.

“Oh…I can’t let you sleep on the floor in your own room,” Rodney said. “I’ll go…”

“No, you won’t,” John said, making a split-second decision. “Shove over.”

He got into a position with Rodney that was just short of being big spoon, finding himself longing to press close and surprised to find McKay pressing back against him. He tensed, unsure what to do, even though he could tell Rodney wasn’t coming onto him.

“Don’t worry, your virtue is safe, Major,” Rodney muttered.

“Not sure I have any of that,” John retorted. If only McKay knew. “But for the record, so is yours.”

He let his body relax against Rodney’s, finding himself both mystified and enticed by the closeness. He momentarily let go of all the tension he was carrying and drifted into sleep.

#mcshep #sorta #sga #cw trauma #hypoglycemia #toxic masculinity at the sgc

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thejosh1980 · 1 year

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Dr Kitch, it's terrible...

It's been a while. I know that writing my thoughts and feelings down has a real positive affect on my mental well being. I learn about myself and often feel free, or freer, from the worry or concern I had before I started writing.

I just haven't prioritised writing lately. Sometimes I don't feel motivated or, more often, I don't feel I have anything interesting to share.

I do write, but I don't share everything. I have unsent letters to friends, family, pets and myself, which I have written for the sole purpose of getting my thoughts and feelings out, and hoping in the process find a little bit of calm.

Recently I got a new job offer.

My current position as a community support worker is fantastic for many reasons, and not so great for a few. After finishing my studies to become a counsellor I wanted to get some experience in the real word. During the past 6+ months, I have seen improvements in the well being of the people I work with, and the influence I have had on their lives. I really enjoy the time with the people I work with, even if shifts can be challenging at times.

However, I am not excited about the company, my managers and the system of care in place. Probably the best way I can explain it is, the company can be more of a challenge to work with than the people I work one on one with.

It was never going to be a long term job, it was about getting experience, learning about myself, the people I work with, the various mental health diagnosis out there, and how the system works. After 6 months, I still put in 100% with the people I work with, but I'm not a fan of the system.

So I am changing systems.

The new job will be somewhat similar, but vastly different in other areas. I will work at one location, and people who need support will come to that location. I will no longer work in isolation, I will have colleagues to work with, and support me, during the whole shift. Shifts are longer and there's no cancellation at the last minute. I will work as a peer support worker at a suicide prevention project. I can't go into further details right now, but it'll be an exciting step for me to be able to support people in crisis daily.

I will work both jobs for a while, but eventually cut back on my old position once I settle into the new job.

Part of the new job is that I'll need to keep myself safe, prioritising my mental well being and physical well being. I am really pleased I will be part of a team, and have colleagues, who I can talk to, learn from, and share my experiences with. I'll have a daily opportunity to debrief, something that is often missing in mental health work. I'll have a chance to learn from other peer workers, one on one, as well as sharing with people who visit the project.

Exciting times...

What isn't exciting is how I'll keep myself physically well. I need to get vaccinations. Now I don't want to go through the whole COVID vaccine debate, it is what it is, and this is about something else.

I am very scared of needles!

Prior to COVID, The last time I remember getting an injection was in late 1997, when I broke my pinky finger and needed a local injection in my elbow, in the spot we call the “funny bone”, where that nerve tingles down your arm when you bump it. I had to be gassed up, held down and I still was crying, shaking and hating every moment of the process. I remember the doctor said “stop being a baby”, which definitely didn't help the situation. I remember telling him “make sure you put in more than enough to numb me, because you won't get a second chance”.

I was alone, he gassed me, jabbed me, re-broke my finger and set it in place.

Good times...

I have learnt a lot since the COVID vaccines became mandatory, I learnt that I could get a jab (or 3) if I had Alex with me to hold my hand and an understanding nurse who was gentle. I focused on the fact I was showing courage, even if I was reacting with tears and shaking, doing something that protected my family, and myself.

Those jabs were the first I had had in over 20 years.

Last month I began the process of getting jabs for the new job. I calculated I'd need at least 4 seperate injections, if not more, over the coming 3 months. Initially 2 at a time and then 1 or 2 after that, not to forget the dreaded blood tests I'll need too.

Oh boy!!!

In December, I had the doctor, nurse and Alex lined up on Thursday morning to get the ball rolling. Except it didn't roll very far. I was amped up and before the appointment thinking “right, I'll go in, lay down, they'll jab, I'll cry and shake, and then we'll move on like nothing happened”...

After huge anticipation, and a few sleepless nights, leading up to that appointment, it didn't happen. The appointment ended up being only a discussion with the doc and a prescription for the jabs. See, I didn't know I had to go to the chemist to get the needles and come back for the jab. So it was all rescheduled for the following Saturday morning.

I had been mentally prepared on Thursday, only to be denied, and had to prepare again for Saturday. I am so lucky the nurse and the doctor were compassionate, understanding and knowledgable on how to support folks like me. Folks who have a strong reaction to needles. They did a great job, and I don't do this very often but I'll blow my own horn here, I did a great job too. I kept my arm still, cried, shook, wiggled my toes, talked very fast, lost a little oxygen or something because my face was tingling, and I got through it, I survived.

2 jabs down!

I could tell the nurse was pinching me (pretty hard according to Alex) to help desensitise my upper arm as I was laying down looking over Alex's shoulder, tears in my eyes, wiggling my toes. I didn't make eye contact with anyone while in the nurse's room. I could tell when the needle went in, and it didn't hurt. I should know better, I know it doesn't hurt.

So why the reaction?

I have been thinking about this since the job (and jabs) came up. Why do I react in such a strong way, even though I know they don't hurt, they're not unsafe and I have survived them before? And why is there this strong reaction, just to the thought, of having to have an injection?

In fact the fear was so strong that about 15 years ago, while surfing in Hawaii, I cut my big toe up on a reef. I had to go to the emergency room. My partner at the time can surely remember the Jackie Chan type nurse who took care of me, and the shaking boyfriend on the bed with eyes all big and fearful. I knew that needles were going to be mentioned. Those needles could be for stitching me up or for some other thing like tetanus!

What the hell is tetanus?

I am sure I had whatever necessary vaccinations a child needed back in the early 80's, which might have included this tetanus the nurse mentioned, but when asked when I had my last tetanus shot, I lied. I said “oh, in my late teens”, which was within 10 years and satisfied the nurses curiosity. Secondly, thank god they decided not to stitch me up, they decided to use super glue instead.

Crisis averted.

I was glued up and left the emergency a relatively happy man. Eventually I got a walking stick and enjoyed a rockabilly festival at our next stop, in Green Bay. Playing cricket and doin' the limbo with my rockin' cane on the dance floor. Those that were there, know, it sure was a good time to have a limp.

Back to the question of the day... So, why the reaction?

Firstly, I'd say that long gap of 20+ years between jabs hasn't helped. I got more and more scared, worried and distant from the needle. I avoided getting any blood tests, or jabs, for almost 25 years. I wouldn't travel to a country that required a jab. I wouldn't go to the doctor if I hurt myself and thought there's even a hint of a chance that the doc might consider the possibility that there's a reason he might think about using a needle even close to me.

So lets go back, back even further than 25 years...

Many of our adult thoughts, feelings and behaviours stem from our childhood experiences and what we make of those experiences.

I have a memory of receiving a jab in 1986 in Brunswick Heads that didn't go well. I was 6 years old, and my parents had separated the year before. I don't have many memories from my childhood, this is surely the strongest.

I know the previous jabs were all in 1980-1981, I was just a wee baby and it's in my baby booklet Mum has kept all this time. I don't remember any of these jabs. By 1986 I was more aware of the world around me, I was aware Dad wasn't around, I was no longer living in the big city. I knew there were things going on, with me, Mum, Dad and my sister, that I couldn't quite put my finger on. I'm sure it was a stressful time for us all, I am sure that stress was something I didn't know how to process.

I remember feeling very small, with the feeling of tears burning down my cheeks, fighting the doctor, shouting and crying. I may have tried to run, but didn't get far. I remember being at the door pleading with them not to do it. I remember the doctor wasn't very impressed with me. I can not remember Mum being there.

This was a traumatic event for me.

It isn't the event itself, but the stress one feels, that makes it a traumatic event. That's why two people can experience the same event, and have different reactions. One may feel fine, the other traumatised.

So why the stress? Why the reaction?

My recent thoughts directed me to my parents having recently separated, and I was taken away from all that I had known: big city suburbia, and my family security at the only house I'd ever known. My environment, and our family, had changed and I hadn't processed all these changes. I was missing Dad, and trying to adjust. I remember I was struggling to settle in at school. Mum did her best, I have no doubt she protected us kids and made the best of the situations that arose. She definitely worked very hard to support us. I don't have memories of any other really challenging events, between the time we left Melbourne and when I had the jabs.

Mum said as a baby I was fine with the jabs, I cried a little, but didn't react to the extent I would show a few years later that continues to this day.

What I remember as my worst experience since my parents separated, still affects me years on. There has to be a connection there, because that experience affected me so deeply. Another way to think about it is to ask the question, if I had those jabs in Melbourne, with parents who were still together and happy, would I have developed the fear?

I am not upset with my parents for separating. I think it was what they had to do, as there was unhappiness in their relationship that they couldn't work through. I've been there too, and ending the relationship was the best way.

Even as I type this, I can't get close to connecting the dots. Usually I do, usually as I write I find answers to questions I ask myself, because I let my thoughts wander, I let them go deeper than I have before.

So far, nada.

I may need to go deeper, and that is becoming more challenging around this subject. I feel I may need professional help with that. It isn't always easy asking yourself the hard questions, I may need a little help.

But it did affect me, didn't it?

My fear and reaction are so ingrained that I struggle to shake it off. The fear and worry has been in my head for too long to just “get over it”, “man up”, and get it done. It takes a lot of work, it's a real journey, to change years of behaviour, thoughts and feelings. I have been reframing my thoughts, becoming more comfortable with being vulnerable in front of others, and finding small ways to see myself take whatever steps I need to get through these few moments of intense reaction.

Small steps.

The smallest ones I could possibly do to get 'em done. I've written about this before, when a job, event or action feels too big and overwhelming, I break it down into the smallest parts possible.

Small achievable steps.

I have thought about the steps I took to get through the COVID jabs, and that was because I saw the reasoning behind it, I made a choice to get them to support safety within my family, close friends and community. I got those jabs for someone else, not for me. I surely didn't want those jabs, I never have ever wanted to have 'em.

Alex came to all 3 of those appointments, held my hand, wiped the tears, and talked to the nurses. She showed me the compassion and support the doctor didn't showing me in 1986 and again in 1997. I did the jab for her, and she in turn showed me I could do it, I could face the fear after all these years.

When I found out I would need to get updated and new vaccinations, like this tetanus shot, I decided to work on small steps to help me. I would need the dreaded blood test too, something I have never been able to successfully do. I tried once, when I was about 20, but I didn't last long in the pathology clinic. I was out of there the moment they tried to put that strap around my arm to stem the blood flow.

I never looked back.

Recently, I used an opportunity to experiment with exposure therapy. That is, to expose myself to small amounts of needles.

About 6 weeks before my first injections, when a close friend needed to get an IV put in his hand from the ambulance, I stayed in the room. I didn't actually watch the thing go in, hell no!!! I was a couple of meters away, watching his face, and seeing little reaction or worry, in fact he was calm. Once it was in, I had a quick look at his hand, didn't look too bad either. OK, this was a small step, I let someone else get a “permanent” jab while I was in the same room.

Happy days...

Next step, upping the exposure....

I had the opportunity to take someone I work with to get a blood test a few weeks later. I could have looked away, I could have left the room, I could have asked him to turn away, but instead I faced my fear. I watched the whole process, and the outcome was 2 vials of blood, and he said it was the best blood test he'd experienced. I immediately took down that nurse's name and would book in with her when I needed a blood test.

I felt like I'd come a long way from the days of not being able to even be in the same room with a needle.

Now with the new job, we're back at it, getting jabbed. That Saturday's appointment was intense, I wiggled my toes to distract myself, so much so that I didn't realise I was digging my nails into my toes, and was bleeding.

I got 2 jabs in a row... I still can't believe it.

It helped to have a strong reason to get on with these vaccinations. A new job... A new job which supports our goal to buy our own house. I figured out the overall reason too, my health. I'm not getting any younger, I'll need jabs and blood tests more and more likely as I grow older.

But I don't think I am ready to volunteer to get a jab just because...

I need a solid reason, I need support and understanding, and I hope over time, with more growth and understanding, I'll be calm, cool and collected while the nurses and doctors do what they gotta do...

Thanks for reading,

Josh

EDIT: I re-read my blogs to make sure I cover all the detail, to go as deep as I can. As I wrote this, I was sure the issue with my fear stemmed from my parent's separation. The thought of a needle throws me back to that time of change.

I am sure, that it does to a degree, and needs further exploration... But...

Just now, as I read through, correcting a few details, spelling mistakes and grammar, I came to realise in 1986, the biggest part of the needle fear stemmed from my feelings surrounding the doctor's attitude and lack of compassion towards me.

I felt hurt, I felt unfairly judged, and I felt that I was treated badly.

I was a sensitive kid, my parents weren't together and I was experiencing a lot of change. I feel that the doc didn't care about any of that, he just wanted to stick it in, no matter what the experience may have felt to me.

Now, I can work on finding calm.

#needles #personal growth #doctor #growin’ up #vaccinated

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helloalycia · 3 years

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secret relationship // wanda maximoff

summary: you're the daughter of the famous Black Widow, which comes with its own set of hurdles such as revealing to her that you're dating the newest Avenger that she also happens to be mentoring – Wanda Maximoff. What could go wrong?

warning/s: minor (implied) violence and injury

author's note: okay so the request was the reader is Natasha's daughter and is struggling to tell Natasha that she's dating Wanda. All I know is I got excited (as usual) and this happened so yeah, enjoy! Also, Wanda’s age is always a mystery to me since it’s interpreted differently with everyone, so I tried my best to explain the age gap between you and natasha so things made sense.

masterlist | wattpad

"Did you know red onion and red cabbage is called 'red' instead of 'purple' because back in the old days, they didn't have enough words for colours so anything purple was defined as red?"

"The mission, Y/N," my mum, Natasha Romanoff, AKA Black Widow, scolded.

I sighed, my attention still focused on my surroundings and my gun directed ahead. "I know, I know. But did you know that the most common internet password is '123456'?"

"Y/N," Wanda, my girlfriend and teammate said with a laugh. "Stop it."

"Yeah, please, quit it," my mum added with an eye roll.

I smiled at Wanda, admiring how beautiful she looked when she hid her laugh. My mum wasn't aware we were dating, so I settled for sending her a playful wink before looking ahead.

I knew I had to focus on the mission – scouting out this abandoned HYDRA den – but it was boring. And it was obviously empty of any threats, so talking was my only pastime.

"Did you know the inventor of Pringles is buried in a Pringles can?" I said after a moment of silence, making my mum stop walking abruptly.

"Okay, you know what? New plan," she said, looking between Wanda and I. "Everyone split up. Take a look around. Stay alert. Keep in contact. Sound good?"

I quirked a brow. "You trying to get rid of me?"

She narrowed her eyes my way. "Yes."

I frowned, making Wanda crack a smile and nudge me in the shoulder.

"You need to learn to have an off button sometimes," she joked, her Sokovian accent shining through despite the voice lessons my mum was giving her. Honestly, I preferred her Sokovian accent to her American one.

"You love it," I teased, giving her a knowing smile, my mother completely unaware of the double meaning.

"Just do as I said," my mum said, already shooing me away. "Wanda, you know what to do. If you see or hear anything suspicious, use your comms."

"Yes, Miss Romanoff," Wanda said obediently, and I tried so hard to hold in laughter at her seriousness. I mean, it was great that she was respectful of my mother and her mentor, but God it was funny to witness.

"Once again, Wanda, you can just call me Nat," my mum said with a wince, trying to be polite. "Go on."

Wanda nodded and walked off, her gun raised as she'd practiced. I grinned at my mum, noticing the way she massaged her temple with mild agitation before her gaze fell to mine.

"Go. Now." She pointed behind me, and I stifled a laugh.

"Bet you love babysitting duty," I joked.

"It's not babysitting if I'm your mother," she pointed out. "Though sometimes, you make me regret not picking the baby instead of you."

"That baby would have been six years old now," I informed her. "If anything, I spared you the whole diaper thing and the outgrowing clothes thing and the– oh yeah! Not being able to speak thing!"

"At least they wouldn't be annoying me with stupid facts," she retorted, hand on her hip. "Now be a good agent and do your job."

I rolled my eyes playfully, knowing she was kidding. Whenever I annoyed her, she'd bring up the story of how it was between twelve year old me and a six-month old baby at the adoption centre. She was worried I'd view her as an older sister or something, hence her choice of adopting the baby instead. But I never did, as she was always way more mature than any twenty-seven year old I'd met or seen at the time. And maybe, I guess, I was really desperate to have a motherly figure, and she just happened to fit the bill.

"Aye, aye, Miss Romanoff," I saluted, making her raise an eyebrow threateningly. "Okay, geez, I'm going."

I wandered off, exploring the dishevelled HYDRA den with full focus. The brief clearly stated it was an abandoned site, but I stayed on alert anyway in case there were stragglers. As usual, I only got given half the facts because of my clearance level, so I knew we were looking for a hard drive, but I had no idea what was on it.

Being a seventeen year old working in S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't exactly how I saw my life going when I grew up in an orphanage. I honestly never thought I'd get adopted, as rumours spread quite quickly through the orphanage that once you hit double digits, nobody wanted you. So, when the beautiful, red-headed Natasha Romanoff came in, looking for an addition to her family, I felt like the luckiest kid in the world because she chose me of all the kids there.

I definitely didn't expect her to be the Black Widow, nor to teach me everything she knew about espionage, stealth, hand-to-hand combat and much more. She ensured I was multi-lingual like her, preparing me for the many S.H.I.E.L.D. missions I would have to go on. There were times when I absolutely despised her, particularly when she overtrained me or stopped me from seeing my friends. And there were times when I wished she'd never adopted me, hating that I couldn't have a normal teenage experience.

But when it came down to it, I knew I couldn't have asked for a more caring, considerate and compassionate mother. I learnt early on into our relationship that she was unable to have kids of her own, hence her interest in adoption. And honestly speaking? That was probably the worst thing in the world because if anybody deserved a child of their own, it was Natasha Romanoff. I guess, in that sense, I was lucky to have all of her love to myself.

Now that I was older, I came to appreciate how awesome she was, especially when we got to go on missions together and I saw her awesomeness upfront. The only thing was, she was extremely overprotective, so it was difficult to get sent on the dangerous missions. Though, I guess, whenever I did, she was always there to have my back and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

Her overprotectiveness was also a reason why she didn't know about Wanda and I's relationship. Wanda had joined the Avengers a year ago after losing her brother in the battle against Ultron. She was a year older than me, so naturally we were drawn to each other, and before I knew it, our friendship became more. But of course, my mother could never know that. At least not yet.

"Empty here," I mumbled, rounding a corner into an empty room. As I looked through the rubbish on the desk, I continued, "Empty here... and here... and oh, look, here, too. What a surprise!"

"Y/N, I love you, but God help me I will kill you if you don't turn your damn mic off," my mother's voice came through my comms piece in my ear.

For once, I wasn't trying to piss her off, so I smiled sheepishly to myself and replied, "Sorry. Love you."

I could imagine the eye roll she was giving me in response, so continued to look around for the hard drive I saw on the brief. Still, there was nothing here.

My searching was interrupted when I heard a loud crash from a nearby room, like the sound of bricks tumbling against one another. I spun around, eyes widening with concern.

"Y/N? Wanda? What happened?" my mum's voice came through my ear, slightly reassuring me as it wasn't her who was caught up in anything. But then that meant–

"Wanda! What happened?" I replied worriedly, already rushing out of the room and to the source of the sound.

"I'm okay," Wanda's shaky voice came through my ear, which did nothing to ease my concern.

I found the room Wanda was in quite quickly, seeing her sat on the floor as if she'd been pushed. She had a deep cut on her forehead and looked visibly distressed. Running to her side, I kneeled down beside her and cupped her face, studying her head.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" The words tumbled from my mouth so quickly I wasn't sure if it was understandable.

She nodded slowly, accepting my hand and holding it for reassurance. I followed her gaze, seeing a hole in the wall ahead, bricks crumbling and dust beginning to settle. Laying on the floor through the hole and into the next room was a HYDRA soldier, clearly dead from the impact of hitting the bricks.

Wanda's power was magnificent, but hard to control. A year later and she was still learning its limits, but sometimes slip-ups like this happened. I was, admittedly, in awe of her actions.

"I'm sorry, I should have kept him alive like Miss Ro– Nat said," Wanda apologised suddenly, and I looked back at her to see her shaking her head. "He just– he startled me and I didn't know what I was doing until it happened. I thought–"

"Don't apologise," I cut her off, squeezing her hand gently, before looking back to the cut on her forehead. "I'm just glad you're okay. You did good."

Despite my words, I bit my lower lip to contain a frown, worried about her cut.

"Damn."

Wanda and I both turned to the doorway to see my mum, who stopped and took in the sight of the hole in the wall with partial surprise and partial amazement.

"Mum, we need to get her back to the quinjet," I said, pulling her attention away from the wall. She approached me as I said, "She needs medical assistance."

I didn't let go of Wanda's hand as I moved to the side for my mum to take a look. Gently guiding Wanda's chin to the side, she took a closer look at the gash on her forehead, expression showing nothing as usual.

"You'll be okay, honey," she reassured, letting go. Her eyes drifted to our connected hands briefly, but I figured she wouldn't piece anything together, so I didn't let go. She continued, "Let's get out of here. There's no hard drive anyway."

Wanda nodded and my mum and I helped her to stand up, me still not letting go of her hand.

"The hard drive is on him," Wanda spoke suddenly, nodding to the dead HYDRA agent. "I heard his thoughts before I– yeah."

My mum raised her brows with surprise. "Oh. Perfect. Y/N get the drive and let's go."

I pursed my lips, glancing at Wanda with concerned eyes. She gave me a small, reassuring smile, squeezing my hand subtly before letting go.

"Right, yeah," I said, swallowing hard.

I looked back to my mum, who seemed to be studying my expression, so I cleared my throat and left to get the drive. When I retrieved it, I jogged after Wanda and my mum, checking in on her with a small smile, before leading the way to the quinjet.

When we boarded the plane, I hung around Wanda and my mum as she helped the brunette to take a seat in the back. I noticed Wanda's momentary dizziness as she sat down and felt my chest tighten.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked, kneeling before her as my mum got the first aid kit.

Wanda gave me an endearing smile as I swiped at the blood dripping down her forehead.

"I'll be alright," she said, holding my gaze with comforting green eyes before they flickered to behind me.

"Okay, Y/N, stop hanging about and start the plane whilst I stitch Wanda up," my mum said, appearing from behind me and kneeling beside me.

I nodded, glancing between the needle, thread and disinfectant in her hands and Wanda's head. Reluctantly, I got up and left them both to it as I started up the plane and got us in the air. Once we were in the clear, I flicked on autopilot before heading back to Wanda and my mum to see how things were going.

"We'll have someone look at it properly when we get back to the tower," my mum was saying to Wanda, who was now stitched up and wearing a small bandage, "but it'll hold up for now." With a playful smile, she added, "You're not dying on me just yet."

Wanda cracked a smile and whilst I appreciated how lovely it was to see their closeness in a way I never usually saw, I was still troubled by her injury. Logically, I knew she'd be okay, but it never felt good to see her injured.

"Plane is on autopilot," I announced, making my presence known. My eyes never left Wanda's bandage as I asked, "Everything okay here?"

"You need to calm down," my mum joked, making me look her way. "It's not that serious. Just some stitches."

I smiled awkwardly, but I knew it was much more than that.

"Yeah, relax, it's not a big deal," Wanda added playfully.

Her eyes met mine and I knew she was communicating the same thing through her gaze, holding a seriousness that wasn't able to be shared verbally because of my mum's presence. I tilted my head, giving her a knowing look; she knew I was aware of how big a deal it was. All I wanted to do was give her a hug and kiss and not leave her side until she felt better. And she knew that.

"I'm gonna go fly the plane," my mum said suddenly, and I almost forgot she was standing there until she spoke up. "We'll get back to base quicker..."

I glanced at her, mildly confused at her sudden change of expression. She headed to the front of the quinjet, leaving Wanda and I alone.

"Seriously though, you should relax," Wanda said, sounding like she did when it was just her and I and nobody else. She had an amused smile on her lips as she watched me worry. "I'm fine. All stitched up."

I licked my lips, sulking, as I dragged myself over to the seat beside her. She laced our fingers together, pressing a kiss to the top of my hand before facing me with an easygoing smile.

"I'm fine," she repeated gently, lovingly, sweetly.

I offered her a small smile, before leaning forward to press a kiss to her bandage. "I know. Just don't worry me like that. Especially in front of my mum. I can't take it."

"It's cute," she noted, amusement returning. "It means a lot to know someone cares."

My shoulders relaxed. "I care too much. So, please don't test that."

She laughed and I felt my heart flutter in my chest, never getting used to the sound.

"I promise not to," she said, looking up at me through her lashes.

I leaned my head on her shoulder and kept ahold of her hand, staying with her until we arrived back at base. My mum flew us the whole way back, only coming to get us once we landed. I knew I should have left Wanda's side as to not raise suspicion with my mum, but I couldn't find it in myself to do so. I just hoped she would interpret it as two concerned friends rather than her daughter having a secret girlfriend.

"You should head to the medical wing to get checked out properly," my mum said once we were back at the tower, looking to Wanda.

"Yeah," I agreed a little too eagerly. "I'll go with you."

My mum gave me a curious look. "I mean, that's not necessary."

Wanda must have sensed my eagerness, as she said, "I'd appreciate the company, actually. I don't mind."

She shot me a subtle smile, eyes bright with reassurance.

"I'm happy to accompany you, Wanda," my mum offered, and I felt my mouth go dry.

"It's okay, mum," I said suddenly, making her look to me with pursed lips. "You can go debrief and I'll make sure Wanda is cool with everything."

Glancing between us, my mum finally nodded. "I see. I guess I'll see you both later then." She paused, looking between us once more, before adding, "You did good today. Both of you."

I looked down to my shoes as Wanda shot her a grateful smile. She walked away, leaving us be, and I immediately intertwined my fingers with Wanda's as the two of us headed to the medical wing.

"You may as well write desperate on your forehead," she teased with a beautiful smile.

"So funny," I said sarcastically, though a smile of my own was present. "Let's just get you checked out."

"If it means you'll stop pouting, then sure."

"Real jokester you are. Hilarious, honestly."

Her laughter surrounded me like a warm hug and I could have listened to it forever.

—

Since our mission together, I noticed the distance my mum was putting between her and I, and I had no idea why. I thought I was overthinking it and seeing things that weren't there, so I didn't follow up with it until one evening.

It was a rare occurrence for all of the Avengers to be at the tower at once, so when they were, we'd all have a 'family' dinner for some normalcy. Only, this time, I noticed how strange my mum was acting whenever I spoke to her. She'd either act super dismissive or give one word answers to my questions – once again, I wasn't sure if I was seeing things.

After dinner, everyone went their separate ways and Wanda and I stayed in the living-area to watch some TV. Though it was playing, the volume was lowered and neither of us were watching it. We were just talking about random stuff and enjoying each other's company.

"Okay, how about this one?" I said to Wanda, turning so I was facing her, a grin on my lips. "What did the clock do when it was hungry?"

As with all of my other attempts at making Wanda laugh, she stared at me with an amused smile and a quirked brow.

"Say it...," I encouraged, motioning for her to speak with my hand.

She sighed. "Okay, what did the clock do when it was hungry?" Mumbling, she added, "Even though clocks don't eat..."

I slapped her leg playfully. "Sshhh, you'll ruin the joke. And the answer is, they go back four seconds!"

Wanda didn't laugh, but she seemed entertained as she hid a smile. "Seriously?"

"Because of the number 'four' and the word 'for'," I explained. "C'mon, that's a good one!"

"D'you think you're funny?" she asked, eyeing me playfully. "Because you're not."

I shrugged, playing it off like I wasn't fussed. "I mean, I don't know about that... how about now?"

Before she could question me, I moved forward and began to tickle her sides, watching as she squirmed with laughter.

"Stop it!" she shouted, but her smile was as wide as ever as she was unable to stifle her laughter. "P-please! Y/N!"

"But you said I wasn't funny!" I retorted with a grin, practically straddling her as she attempted to push me off her. "I'm just checking if you still think that!"

Wanda was crying now, tears escaping the corners of her eyes as she continued to laugh. "I'm s-sorry! Y/N, stop!"

Before I could think how to respond, the doors to the living-area opened and in walked Steve Rogers AKA Captain America, a confused expression on his face as he saw me sat on Wanda.

"Hey, ladies," he greeted, raising an eyebrow. "You both good?"

I pulled my hands away from Wanda and breathed out, still smiling as I glanced down at her. She blew a strand of hair from her eyes and glared at me playfully.

"Yeah, just talking," I answered Steve, before being thrown off Wanda and to the floor with a thud.

"Just Y/N harassing me as usual," Wanda corrected, and I sat up to see her sitting up, too, fixing her hair.

Steve chuckled as he headed to the fridge in the connected kitchen. Wanda helped me back onto the couch, nudging me in the side as a response to the tickle fest, before leaning on me and stretching her legs across the couch.

"So, hey, what's up with you and your mum?" Steve asked as I continued to annoy Wanda by flicking her face.

"What do you mean?" I asked, not looking up as I grinned down at Wanda, watching as her eyes glowed red threateningly.

"Don't make me hurt you," she said teasingly, lifting a hand and summoning her powers, red wisps of energy becoming present.

I stopped flicking her and intertwined her hand in mine, watching as her eyes faded to its usual colour.

"She just seemed distant at dinner," Steve continued.

I looked up and saw he was leaning against the counter with a water bottle in his hand. Wanda continued to stretch, practically on top of me, probably to annoy me as I had been doing with her. I moved her hands out of my face as I nodded to Steve.

"So, you saw it too? She was being off, right?" I asked him, glad I wasn't just imagining things.

He nodded, gulping his water, before saying casually, "Definitely. What did you do? Finally tell her about you and Wanda?"

It took me a second to realise what he'd said, but when I did, my eyes widened and I spluttered out a terrible response. "What– what about Wanda and I?"

I glanced at Wanda as she began to sit up properly. She looked more confused than panicked.

"You know, that you're together," Steve said like it was obvious.

I cleared my throat. "What? Why would you think that?"

Steve smiled with confusion. "Wait, so you're not? But I thought–" He paused, pulling a face. "No, you are! Everybody thinks you are!"

I shrugged it off, though inside I was panicking. "I mean, even if that was the case, why do you think my mum knows?"

Steve nodded knowingly. "She's been off with you all night. And then I caught up with her after dinner and she wasn't in a very talkative mood. Just mumbled something like 'new girl, her age, pretty, nice, should have seen it coming'. I assumed she was talking about Wanda."

Heat crept up my neck with embarrassment and when I looked to Wanda, I saw her cheeks dusting a red colour, similar to the energy she could summon. She looked as flustered as I felt.

"Has your mum been okay with you before today?" Steve asked, trying to be helpful.

I chewed on my lower lip and shook my head. "Not since we got back from our last mission..."

Steve scrunched his face with sympathy. "Oof. You should probably talk to her then. You know how much she hates secrets."

I groaned internally. "Thanks for the reminder."

He saluted playfully, his stupid smile on his stupid face, before leaving Wanda and I alone again.

"Well, looks like she knows," I said to Wanda, sinking into the couch with hopes it would swallow me forever.

"She might not," Wanda tried to make me feel better, resting a hand on my leg. "It could be something else."

I gave her a knowing look. "She has to know. It's the only thing that makes sense. You heard Steve."

Wanda sighed, sinking into the couch beside me. "Yeah..." She glanced at me and I looked at her as she said, "I did tell you to tell her."

I forced a smile. "Gee, Wanda, that was helpful. Thanks."

Wanda rolled her eyes before leaning her head on my shoulder. "Sorry..."

I rested my hand on hers. "It's okay, sorry. I just– she's gonna be really mad that I kept this from her."

"Yeah, why did you do that again?" Wanda asked questioningly.

I massaged the tension between my eyebrows. "Because she's too overprotective. It gets too much to handle sometimes... Take my last boyfriend for example. He was some tool that cheated on me and, oh boy, my mum wanted to kill him. I had to physically restrain her from doing so."

"I don't blame her," Wanda quipped, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

I smiled a little, squeezing her hand. "I know... she ended up slashing his tyres and egging his car without telling me. But instead of egging the outside, she broke into it and egged the inside. A thoughtful take on a classic, I must admit."

Wanda laughed, her whole body shaking with pure amusement as she listened to the story. I couldn't help but smile myself, remembering it like it was yesterday. Definitely a fun time.

"I appreciated it, don't get me wrong," I added, smile fading. "I just didn't want that to happen again. I wanted to enjoy our relationship without anyone spying on us, y'know? But now she's gonna be super angry."

Wanda let go of my hand and rolled on top of me, leaning down on my chest so she could look me in the eyes. I wrapped my arms loosely around her to keep her steady.

"She only wants the best for you," Wanda told me gently. "You have to tell her you're sorry. Explain why you did what you did, but hear her out, too. She's your mum. Caring too much isn't a bad thing."

I groaned, knowing she was right. She smiled reassuringly, patting my chest.

"You get the caring too much thing from her by the way," she added, before leaning forward and pressing a haste kiss to my lips. "It's okay though because I love it."

I smiled, never really seeing it like that. Raising my hand, I brushed my thumb over the small bandage on her head; her injury was still healing, but she didn't let it bother her. Very Wanda-like.

"Thanks," I mumbled, meeting her gaze. "You always say the right thing."

"Which is why I'm going to tell you to get up and go to your mum," she ordered playfully, pushing herself off me and holding out her hand.

I let her pull me up before straightening up and taking a deep breath. Wanda was right. I just needed to be open and explain my piece. It would be fine.

—

So, it wasn't fine.

When I entered my mum's living quarters, she wasn't the happiest to see me. In fact, she actively turned her body to face her TV when I came through the door.

"Hey," I started with a small smile, fighting the nerves in my stomach. "Can we, er, can we talk?"

She grabbed the cushion on the couch next to her, hugging it to her chest. Her eyes didn't leave the TV, but the space next to her was free, so I took that as an opportunity to close the door and sit beside her.

The news was playing on the TV – headlines, I think – and they were talking about a new elected congressman in New York.

"Seriously? The news? Even in your free time?" I asked playfully, hoping it would lighten the mood.

She didn't even glance my way as she muttered, "I like to know what's happening in the world."

Losing my smile, I straightened up and cleared my throat. "Right, right..."

It went quiet as the TV played in the background and my mum said absolutely nothing. I grabbed the other cushion on the couch and hugged it to my chest, similar to her. It was a nervous habit that I picked up from, well, from her.

"You said you wanted to talk?" she reminded me. "So, talk."

Having the Black Widow as your mother wasn't something anyone could get used to. She could be the most caring, loving, protective person in the world, but she could also appear quiet, intimidating and ruthless like the trained assassin she was. Not the greatest combination when trying to open up to her.

"I think I know what you're thinking," I started, pinching my hand to distract from my growing anxiety.

Without hesitation, she bent forward to grab the TV remote and turned it off before turning to me with sad eyes.

"That's where you're wrong," she said calmly, and it was way worse than her yelling. I would have preferred her yelling to be honest. The disappointment in her voice was much worse. "You always assume you know what I'm thinking. What I'm going to say or do."

I avoided her eyes guiltily. "Mum, look, I know that I should have told you the truth. And I know how angry you are, but–"

"I'm not angry, Y/N!" she shouted, finally, standing up off the couch and creating space between us.

I winced. "You sound angry."

She put her hands on her hips, looking down to her feet and taking a breath. Her voice at normal volume, she said, "I'm upset. You– you didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. Instead, I had to put it together when you acted how you did with Wanda after that mission and..." She paused, sighing. "Forget it."

"No, keep going," I pleaded, the guilt piercing through me sharply. "You're right."

She swallowed hard, glancing at me with glassy eyes. "I wouldn't have done anything. I know I have in the past, but this is Wanda we're talking about. I've been her mentor for a year. I care about her and– and– she's good. And she's good for you."

Okay, I definitely misread this whole thing because now my mum was upset, on the verge of tears, and I was the arsehole responsible for it.

"I'm so sorry," I said, standing up and moving forward to hold her arms. "I should have trusted you. I mean, it wasn't even about trust. I was just scared you'd react badly. But it wrong of me to assume that."

She frowned, looking down to her shoes. "I know I can be tough sometimes, but it's only because I care."

I thought back to Wanda's words and gave her a small smile. "I know. I get it from you."

"I am happy for you, you know," she said, glancing at me petulantly.

My expression softened. "Thank you. That means a lot coming from you."

Without another word, she pulled me in for a motherly hug, making me close my eyes and relax in her arms. I still felt horrible for making her feel like I couldn't trust her when it was anything but that.

"I'm sorry," I repeated quietly into her shoulder.

"I forgive you," she said, before pulling away and giving me a small smile. "Now tell me. You're happy?"

The thought of being with Wanda gave me butterflies and I couldn't help but smile in response. With a nod, I said, "I am."

She nodded, squeezing my shoulders gently before fully letting go. "Good. I'm glad you've got her... I know you can take care of yourself, but she's strong, too. She can look out for you when I'm not around anymore."

I shoved her in the shoulder. "Don't joke about that. She isn't replacing you and you're not going anywhere, you hear me?"

She laughed, nodding. "Not yet anyway. But sure, okay."

I relaxed and gave her a nervous smile. "So, you wanna meet Wanda? Like, as my girlfriend and not your student?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "If I must."

I smiled widely, grabbing her hand and leading her to the door. "She loves you a lot, y'know. She wanted me to tell you about us as soon as we got together. She hated lying to you."

"Yeah because she knows that lying is wrong," she teased me, making me groan loudly. With a chuckle, she added, "I love her, too. She's definitely something."

"Hell yeah she is," I said in agreement, grinning to my mum as I dragged her to the living-area where I last left Wanda.

On the way, we passed Steve in the hall, who took notice of the smiles on our faces and nodded knowingly.

"Glad to see you worked it out," he said supportively.

"Thanks for the heads up," I told him gratefully as we passed him.

When we reached the living-area, I saw Wanda sat on the couch watching TV. When she saw who entered, she straightened up instantly, moving to stand and unsure what else to say or do. It was cute, the respect she had for my mum.

"Did you– I– She told you?" she stumbled over her words, starting to speak to me but eventually looking to my mum.

My mum glanced at me before meeting Wanda's nervous eyes. "She did."

Wanda licked her lips anxiously. "And you're okay with it...? Angry...? Wanna kill me...?"

I watched my mum, nodding encouragingly to her. She sighed before giving Wanda a small smile.

"No killing will be necessary," she reassured my girlfriend. "Unless, of course, you break my daughter's heart. Then in which case, I may have to find you when you're sleeping."

"Mum!" I complained, face falling into my hands with embarrassment.

"I'm just being truthful," my mum said with seriousness, before looking to Wanda expectantly.

Wanda surprisingly took it well, probably used to my mum's personality after training with her for a year. "I understand completely, Nat and I'll hold you to that. I have no intention of breaking Y/N's heart."

A rare, genuine smile appeared on my mother's lips. "I know you don't. Just–" She paused, glancing at me. "Keep her safe, yeah? She's a bit stupid sometimes."

Wanda laughed as my mum smiled with amusement, like it was an inside joke.

"Right here, you know," I reminded them with a wave of my hand.

They only rolled their eyes.

"I will," Wanda promised my mum. "Thank you for being okay with this."

My mum nodded, giving us both a final smile and once over, before saying, "I'll leave you to it. Goodnight."

Wanda and I bid our goodnights, watching her leave before a giant sigh of relief escaped our lips.

"You feel better?" Wanda asked me, grabbing my hand and tugging me to the couch.

She let me fall on her chest easily, snuggling up to her as she wrapped an arm around me and held me close. I inhaled her perfume, a familiar and comforting scent, as my head rested in the crook of her neck.

"I feel better," I answered, closing my eyes and letting her intertwine our fingers.

"I believe this is the part where you say I was right," she prompted, a hint of amusement in her words.

"Don't make me hurt you," I mumbled, making her laugh quietly beneath me.

"You're lucky I love you," she said, kissing the top of my head. "I guess opposites do attract. You're the stupid one and I'm the clever one."

"Wanda?"

"Yeah?"

"Fuck off."

She laughed again, and even though it was at me, I couldn't help the content smile from spreading on my lips.

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel #mcu #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen

702 notes · View notes

alicanta77 · 3 years

Text

NCT Dream Reaction: You surprising them by speaking their native tongue

Mark:

mr confused bilingual is so shook when you surprise him

he would have literally no idea that you were even learning

so when you just started talking to him

he probably initially responded in the same language, not quite registering that it isn’t the language you normally speak in together

when it finally sinks in, he just pauses exactly where he is

and slowly turns towards you with that wide eye stare he does when shocked

“yooooo when did you learn that???” *cue the giggles*

is taken aback as to how much you already know

and promises to do his best to help you learn more if you want

really likes being able to switch between both languages with you

since he does that a lot already, he’s now not as worried about accidentally excluding you from the conversation

sometimes switches to see your progress and give you any tips he can

is a quiet supporter but everyone can see he’s immensely proud of you

Renjun:

absolutely and completely melts into the softest pile of uwu you can imagine

he already thinks you’re the most perfect, adorable, precious thing on the planet

and now you’ve gone and surprised him with this and his heart cannot take it

pinches your cheeks

then kisses them

then hugs you

and gives you his trademark temple kiss

and smothers you in a level of affection you weren’t quite prepared for

is asking you to repeat it all throughout the day

is also asking what else you know

constantly teaches you little useful phrases

and looks at you with the softest eyes when you get it right

he literally swears that he falls in love with you all over again

Jeno:

as you as you speak to him his head shoots up

stares at you with wide eyes

cue the confused puppy noises

definitely asks you to repeat what you just said

before breaking into the biggest smile

also definitely gives you a massive hug and forehead kiss

is already so proud of you and what you’ve learnt

is also really touched that you wanted to surprise him with this

is one to ask if you want help rather than just call himself your teacher

if you say yes he’ll be so patient and calm and happy to teach you

if you say you want to learn it by yourself, he’ll be fine with that

he’ll likely just slip in and out of the language so that it helps you learn it and become more familiar when speaking

is also fiercely protective of you if anyone tries to tease you about it

so don’t anger or upset this one

cause he will do anything for you

Donghyuck:

one of the few things he wouldn’t tease you for

is initially really surprised at your ability

had ZERO idea that you were even learning so is completely blown away

also incredibly confused as to how he didn’t notice

but praises you to the ends of this earth

maybe teases you once or twice early on

until he sees just how much effort and time you’ve put into this

and goes into the full supportive boyfriend mode

helps out whenever he can and becomes your personal tutor

as long as you buy him food in return

is always proud of your progress

and constantly gets you to show off to others

is also likely the most encouraging

like he nods along when you stumble over your words, or helps you out when lost and ALWAYS makes sure to remind you of your achievements and how far you’ve come when you begin to get disheartened

Jaemin:

the BIGGEST smile comes across his face

audible giggles at how adorable you are

and 100000000% pinches your cheeks

absolutely INSISTS on being your personal teacher

yeah you’re not gonna have a say in that

rewards you with a kiss every time you get something right

and comforts you with two kisses when you get something wrong

is obnoxiously supportive of you and how well you’re doing

uses it as a bragging tool

“yeah well my s/o is the smartest bubba on the planet so do the goddamn dishes jisung”

also brings it up literally whenever and wherever *see example above*

he’s just so proud of you that he thinks everyone in the world should see it

also talks to you in the language you’re learning so that you can improve

has never ending patience when he teaches you so it’s very easy for you to learn

Chenle:

he knows exactly how hard it is to learn another language

so is MAJORLY proud of you when you start comfortably speaking to him

makes you repeat what you said to every person you come across

just wants to show off how awesome his s/o is

has the cockiest smirk on his face when you show off your skills

“yeah that’s my s/o, they’re awesome what about it?”

but inside his head sounds a bit more like

“YES THATS MY BABY YOU GO Y/N IM SO PROUD OF YOU I LOVE YOU”

so don’t be fooled in the slightest

since he has experience with learning another language, he would be another one to teach you

gives you a little nod with a smile on his face every time you get something right

really loves seeing your progress and never fails to remind you how well you’re doing

Jisung:

wide eyes and confused face stares at you for about 20 seconds

before eventually melting into a soft little smile

“wow that was really good”

is another one who will ask you to repeat what you said

since he was the one who helped chenle the most

i strongly believe that he would be so excited and prepared to help you

also

unlike the others

i don’t think jisung would show you off to the other members

he’d wait until you wanted to show them and they enjoy watching their shocked reactions

they’re all staring at you with wide eyes and he’s just sitting there like

“yep they’re cool, pretty and smart”

also has the biggest heart eyes you can imagine

if anything this just makes him ten times more whipped for you

which is apparently possible

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aubreyprc · 3 years

Text

happier

for @ssa-sparks , who asked for happier+hotchniss💕💘 feel free to send requests, ask/message💖💗💞💘💓

part four of my sour series

ao3

“Say you love her, baby,

Just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly,

When your hands are on her

I hope you're happy,

But don't be happier”

It hits her sometimes, how close she was to having everything before her life unravelled, leaving nothing but chaos in its wake. Leaving her too broken to even attempt at rekindling something with him, too messed up to think he could ever truly feel the same for her as he did before. Before Ian, before Boston. Before he learnt of Lauren, and how she’d shared her body and a bed with a known terrorist for two years as part of a job.

She’d been cruel when she ended it, forcing words out of her mouth that she didn’t mean in order to keep him safe. She remembers the look on his face when she’d called them casual, can remember the words he spat right back at her as she left.

She remembers how forgiving he was when he sat at her hospital bed. Grabbing her hand gently while he whispered gentle words, placing a soft kiss on her lips as he promised her that he would do whatever it took to get her back the team. Back to him.

She can also remember just how different everything was when she returned, how absolutely nothing was the same between her and anyone on the team, but especially him.

She remembers the moment it ended, the moment he told her he wanted her, but they needed time. She should recover from everything that she’s been through and they’ll talk when it’s time. They’ll know when it’s time.

Yet that time never comes, the two of them moving further and further apart as months go by and soon they’re not even talking. She accepts with a heavy heart that it’s truly over when it’s obvious he’s started to see someone new.

It hits her again with force, like a harsh slap to the face (which, she thinks she would have preferred. It probably would have hurt less) how close she was to having everything when she hears the name Beth fall from his lips, talking in his office with Dave with a glass of whiskey. (something the three of them used to do, but she won’t dwell on it. She can’t. It hurts too much) Her plan was to just hand him her report and leave. Ignore the way his eyes would linger on her for a moment too long to be friendly, words he refuses to say on the tip of his tongue as he watches her walk away without a word. Absolutely nothing let to say between the two of them. They had something, something remarkable, something that a person only gets once and it was taken from underneath them because of her, and as she stands outside of his almost but not quite shut door, she freezes, the soft tone the other woman’s name being said in rendering her frozen, the wind completely knocked out of her.

It could have seen seconds, it could have been hours before she clears her throat, tapping three times softly on the door before opening it.

“The report,” she smiles, walking to his desk, setting it down gently with a fake smile while her broken heart hammers in her chest. “Night.” She smiles to the two men, nodding her head in farewell and she turns to leave.

“Can we talk, tomorrow?” He asks her and she closes her eyes, holding down the door handle as she takes a deep breath before turning, her fake smile back on her face.

“Sure,” she agrees, “is that all?”

He nods, sending her back a smile that doesn’t seem like his and she wonders then, if he can see right through hers. Nodding again, she leaves his office, taking deep breaths, holding back her tears as she grabs her coat and bag before swiftly existing the building.

She’s in the comfort of her own car when she lets them fall, can feel them rolling down her cheek as she speeds out of the parking garage, as though she can out run the heartache.

To Emily’s surprise he comes to her the next night, knocking on her apartment door at too much of a late hour for it to be anything professional and as she lets him in, watches as he looks around her new apartment she inhales a deep breath and prepares herself for whatever words he was about to speak. Maybe he’ll finally say the ones that have been on the tip of his tongue for the last three months, she thinks.

“I take it you heard?” He questions, looking at her for the first time since he walked in.

“About Beth? Yeah…” She tells him, sending him a sad smile.

“I was going to tell you first, before-” He stops, shaking his head. “You should have found out from me first hand and for that I’m sorry.” He tells her.

“It’s fine,” she smiles, “I’m glad you’re moving on. You’ve seemed happier these last few weeks.”

“Emily-” He starts to say, only to be stopped by her a moment later.

“Really, Aaron.” She smiles, “It’s okay, we ended and you moved on, it’s normal.”

“Yeah,” He says, “I just wanted to apologise, for not telling you first hand.” He smiles.

“No hard feelings,” she jokes, a small laugh escaping her throat. “Did you want to talk about anything else?”

He stays silent for a few moments, mulling over the words in his head as he ponders about saying them, ponders about opening up old wounds.

“No,” He says, deciding to draw a line on what could have been, choosing instead to try and work on gaining her back as his friend. His close friend. Maybe his best. “No that’s it.” He tells her with a smile.

She nods, leading the way to her front door, almost closing it as he steps out only to stop when he turns back to face her.

“You know you’ll always have me, right?” He questions shyly, as if he’s unsure, “No matter what…”

She stares at him, clearing her throat before speaking.

“I know.” She tells him softly, smiling as her eyes meet his properly since he walked out three months ago. “I know.”

“Good.” He nods, “Good night.”

“Goodnight.” She smiles, watching him walk off before closing her door, his words ringing in her ears like a siren.

Knowing about Beth and meeting, Beth, turn out to be two completely different feelings.

You can ignore the existence of someone you’ve never met, trick yourself into thinking that they’re no one, that’s it’s nothing.

You can’t ignore them however, once you’ve met them. Seen first hand the happiness written over their faces.

That’s something Emily learns while hungover, stood at the finish like of a triathlon, staring at Aaron’s smile as he hugs the other woman, the way his eyes almost shimmer as he looks at her…Beth. The happiness that radiates of him causes her stomach to turn and she has to look away while she does her best to ignore their laughs, turning to watch him, Beth and Jack walk away, her heart cracking in her chest as she watches him smile into their kiss, forcing herself to look away and follow JJ and Penelope to Reid’s car, throwing on a smile while spilling a lie about her head when they ask why she looks like she’s just seen a ghost.

The conversation with Regina sends her right back to where she started, hitting home more than she would have liked and she knows its obvious when Hotch lets her go back to the hotel, telling her she was done for the day and to take sometime to herself.

She’s no idea how much time had past, how long she’d been staring at the ceiling replaying how well her life was going before Ian had found her, how happy she was, maybe the happiest she’d ever been. She thinks about how he’d run a hand down her spine as they spoke in hushed whispers in his bed, confessions and laughs shared between the two in the late hours of the night, as though they were the only two people in the word. She thinks about how he’d cup her jaw gently before kissing her if she babbled on too much, leaving them both smiling into their kiss, pure happiness written on both their faces as they each tore further into the others heart, the feeling of forever lingering in the air as they wrapped themselves in each other.

She turns her head to the door at the gentle three taps and sits up, running a hand through her hair as she walks over, already knowing who it is before she even opens the door.

“Hey,” He says softly, passing her as she moves aside to allow him in. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” She tells him, “Just a tough case.”

“I know how hard it must have been, to listen to Regina.”

“It’s fine,” She tells him, “She was right. Mine is dead.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.” He tells her from experience and she looks down, wiping her tears just as quick as they fall but not quick enough, already feeling him talking steps towards her before stopping mere inches away, cupping her face gently as he had done so many times before, and wiping her tears.

“It’s going to be okay.” He tells her gently, her eyes meeting his and in that moment it’s easy to let themselves believe for a second it’s him and her again, that there’s no Beth, no Ian and no Boston, just them, a mere year ago, happy and on their way to love.

His lips are almost on hers when she places to flat hands into his chest, pushing him away slowly as she drops her head.

“We can’t,” she whispers, “You’re with Beth.”

He steps back, “sorry, I should…I should go.” He mumbles, looking around the room as he clears his throat.

The words I want you die on his tongue as he forces himself to walk out of the room, flashes of their nights together playing on a loop in his brain as he screws his eyes shut.

They don’t talk about what almost happened.

She continues to watch his happiness increase as months go by, and carries on pretending that she’s fine, that she isn’t dying inside with every passing moment she spends watching him smile at another woman, watching him be happy with someone else.

He finds her for the second time at JJ’s wedding, a few hours after their previous conversation. He comes up to the side of her, smiling as she laughs at one of his lame jokes and as she turns to face him, he stills, a look on her face one he hasn’t seen before.

“Do you love her?” She asks softly, and he nods.

“I do.” He tells her and she rolls her lips, nodding her head as she forces herself not to cry. “But not like I loved you.” He continues and her eyes snap up to his, examining his features for a tell he’s lying and failing, her heart beating rapidly against her rib cage. She stares a few more moments, before gently placing a hand on the side of his face, catching his lips with her own in a delicate kiss, looping her hands to rest on the back of his neck when his arms softly wrap around her waist and pull her into him.

Their foreheads rests together as they separate and she smiles sadly.

“I miss you already.” He whispers, pulling her into a hug.

“Be happy.” She whispers back, before pulling from his arms and smiling at him, the words but please don’t be happier with her than you were with me renaming unsaid, taken instead by, “You should go, I’m sure Jack will be looking for you.”

He nods, turning to face the garden, before looking back at her.

“Go,” She laughs sadly, “I’ll be right out.”

He squeezes her hand before walking off and once he’s out of view, she takes a deep breath and turns, catching a glimpse of him, Jack and Beth as they laugh together in a corner, and even though it kills her, she has to be happy for him, she loves him, and with a heavy exhale she knows that’s all she wants, for him to be happy, even if it is without her.

She flies to London and he lets her go. He lets her go without ever telling her that it’s her he was ever truly happy with. Starting to find far too many similarities within Emily and Beth. He sees Emily’s face sometimes when he kisses Beth, imagines it’s her spine he’s tracing his fingers across and thinks of her when he envisions forever.

He ends it with Beth six months later, a tumble of apologies falling from his mouth as she walks out with a sad smile and a nod.

“You should call her.” Beth says as she stands in the doorway, “Emily.” She tells him as he frowns, his eyes widen and then she’s gone.

He calls her two weeks later and three weeks after that, is standing in front of her door, drenched head to toe as he waits for her to answer.

The smile she gives him when she opens the door makes the terrible weather and the awful traffic worth it and when her lips crash into his, he realises he’s never needed anyone but her to be happy.

fin

#hotchniss sour series #hotchniss fic #hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron x emily #criminal minds fic #hope you like it bestie <333 #my fics

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spideyspeaches · 3 years

Text

We always have been ↬ fem!p.p

A/N: AHHH I love genderbent Peter skjkjhjka and I’ve only seen @justme--emily write for her so far so I wrote one of my own 😤

Summary: It was not every day you crash into your ex boyfriend in a Stark Gala, was it? Your ex boyfriend you dumped right after your senior prom? It was probably her Parker luck striking, never a good sign, she learned that from experience.

Warning: um cursing lol.

Pairing: female!Peter Parker x Harry Osborn

WC: 2k

When Mister Stark had asked her to attend one of those glorious charity galas, Penny had been elated, internally (and externally) jumping at the thought of wearing fancy gowns and walking past pretentious rich bureaucrats and business people.

She was practically lost in paradise when Miss Potts had accompanied her to shop for her dress, a beautiful blue and red full length gown, hugging her in her curves with a chinese collar neck and embroidered bust (very on brand of her).

“Is your dress comfortable? Oh god I think I should have altered it myself, it’s not too tight right?” May fretted, fixing her hairdo and last minute make up she learnt from makeup hacks videos. Groaning, Penny nudged May by her shoulders, sitting her down on her twin bed, holding her aunt’s cheeks.

“May, the dress is comfortable! Miss Potts made sure that it was altered to my size okay? Now calm down, it’s just one night.” She smiled, folding her hands under her chest. Her dress was truly comfortable, and she looked undeniably good, she checked (she was a nerd, yes, but she wasn’t blind. Especially now that she had 20/20 long vision due to her spider powers.)

“You know how I feel about you going to fancy parties, baby.” May sighed, making her wince, “the last time you went to prom ended in a disaster. Both of them”

“I know May, but on the bright side, it gained me an actual paid internship. And Mister Stark and Miss Potts are going to be present the whole time!” She reassured, squeezing her aunt’s shoulders. In all honesty, she understood her anxiety, shuddering as she remembered her prom fighting Liz’s dad, and then breaking up with Harry, “besides, I have my spidery powers remember? I’m a big girl May, I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can sweetheart, god look at you all grown up, Ben would be so proud of how much you’ve grown, my little woman.” May sniffed, getting up to caress her head. She shook her head at her aunt’s emotional state, smiling as she bowed her head at the nickname. It was something Ben used to call her- little woman.

“Ben would be proud of you too May.” Penny said, willing her eyes to not water at the sudden rush of sentiment she felt at the mention of her deceased uncle.

“Now, shoo before I change my mind and keep you all to myself!” May laughed, fixing the non existent crease near her shoulders.

“Okay okay! I’m going May, jeez it’s like you and Mister Stark are holding a shared custody of me.” Penny snickered, scrambling to wear her uncomfortable heels, the ones that matched her dress.

“Maybe I am, but I get to be the primary guardian!”

Laughing, she gave her aunt a kiss to her cheek, doing a preliminary check of her cell phone and emergency bracelet, blowing her a kiss before walking into the car that was standing outside their apartment.

The car ride was silent, her stomach bubbling with nervousness and excitement. She was practically vibrating in her seat, glad that Tony had sent another driver instead of Happy- he would have teased her incessantly for being so nervous. She had grown close to Happy, the man growing fond of her as well, but he could be an embarrassing dad at times.

The gala was everything she had imagined, brightly lit in an overpriced hall, adorning overpriced decorations with people in overpriced clothes.

“Hey Mister Stark! Thank you so much for inviting me!” She grinned, skipping towards her fath- mentor.

“Hey Pen, wow don’t you look beautiful. A little too beautiful, beware of those good for nothing boys you hear me?” Tony smiled, hugging her, a protective hand on her shoulder.

“Oh don’t mind Tony, hun, he’s only joking.” Pepper said, giving her a kiss on her cheek and doing a once over, just like May had.

“I’m serious Pep, if those boys even tried anything, you call me okay? I’ll take care of them.”

“Mister Stark, you can’t just threaten teenagers.” Penny giggled, looking at Pepper with a smirk.

“Barely a teenager kiddo, why did you grow up so fast?” He smiled, a fond look in his eyes.

“I’m nineteen Mister Stark, I think I can take care of those boys themselves.”

“Hell yeah you can, that’s my girl.”

Easy for her to say, because not long after that, Mister Stark and Pepper had abandoned her to talk to some prominent dealer about some… deals concerning Stark Industries, she didn't ask.

By the end of an hour, she was already bouncing on her heels, bored out of her mind. Even the Avengers could entertain her only so much, going back to their important work. And

Penny was an awkward girl, always finding herself in situations she was unwilling to participate in, so socialising was out of question.

She remembered the one time she had accidentally spilled coffee all over Mister Stark’s touch sensitive keyboard, stuttering the whole time. He hadn’t even been mad, reassuring her that he had done that enough times before, hence the liquid resistant keypads.

And then there was that one time the school nurse had called Tony when she was experiencing period induced fever. That was embarrassing, if not a little heartwarming to know that he cared about her enough to confront Pepper about menstrual problems. She was his daughter in everything but blood, he reminded her that every day, though not verbally.

There was also this one time she had been caught kissing MJ, but none of those were going to top what she was facing right now.

Literally.

“Penny! Penny Parker?” Harry’s chirpy voice rang in her ears, his footsteps sounding increasingly closer as she tried to hide her face behind her (non alcoholic) drink, frantically walking towards the vague figure of Mister Stark as fast as she could with her overly expensive stilettos.

It was not every day you crash into your ex boyfriend in a Stark Gala, was it? Your ex boyfriend you dumped right after your senior prom? It was probably her Parker luck striking, never a good sign, she learned that from experience.

Finally standing near Mister Stark, she tried to stand next to him, ignoring the weird look he was giving her. Penny was petite, always has been small for her age, so she was glad Mister Stark could cover her with his side. Apparently he got her cue, as he shifted slightly to hide her from whomever’s view.

“What’s wrong Pen? Some pesky boy chasing you? Accidentally met your ex?” He joked, giving the old businessman in front of him a handshake and smirking at her with amusement.

“Something like that.” She shrugged casually, snickering at Tony’s wide eyes.

“Penny! Hey it’s me, Harry.” He said, nearly standing behind her. He was either incredibly stupid or incredibly brave, weaving his way through the crowd to stand right in front of her. He probably hadn’t noticed her clinging to Tony, which is why he came forward, a big goofy grin playing on his handsome face, sending her heart into a frenzy, his blue eyes shining under the gleaming lights.

“Uh, h-hey Harry.” She grimaced, elongating his name with a chuckle. Shuffling forward, she ignored Tony’s raised eyebrows, opening her mouth to speak, but all she could look at was Harry Fucking Osborn standing in front of her, “Um, small world?”

Her words sounded distant to her, heart heart a lump in her throat. She felt underprepared for these situations. Sure, they had broken off on a semi- good note, but it didn’t make whatever this was any less awkward.

“Small world indeed.” He said, much softer than before, a solemn expression taking over his face, “It’s not every day you get to meet Penelope Parker in a Stark Gala. Heard of your internship by the way, I knew you were smart enough to get it.”

“Oh, thanks about that. I guess you’re an unwilling guest here? Haven’t seen Mr. Osborn around.” She smiled shyly, shuffling on her feet.

“Yeah, kind of, I mean you know how he is.” He shrugged.

“How long have you two known each other?” Tony interrupts the two, watching in amusement as both his pseudo daughter and Norman’s son blush under his gaze, as if just noticing his presence.

“Uhm, Hi Mister Stark! B-big fan, hi oh my god Penny I’m standing in front of Tony Stark.” Harry stuttered, shaking Tony’s hand for a little too long.

Staring at him with confusion, he shook Harry's hand back, silently asking Penny the lingering question.

“He’s a bit of a fanboy.” She answered.

Harry was still looking at Stark with his wonderstruck expression.

“Well it’s always good to meet my fans, but you didn't answer my question, kid. How do you two know each other?” Tony said, smiling as politely as he could while his hand was still stuck in Harry’s grip.

Realising that, he instantly let go, standing awkwardly as him and Penny said at the same time-

“I’m her ex boyfriend-”

“He’s my best friend.”

His eyes widen, realising what he had just said.

“You guys dated? And when were you going to tell me about that Pen?” Tony asked, baffled at the thought of Penny dating a guy, and Osborn’s son of all people.

“Well, you see, I was going to tell you soon, but then we broke up. You know? We haven’t talked since.” Penny said, the last sentence directed towards Harry. She was looking at him now, gritting her teeth.

“Well did you expect me to call you after you dumped me? During prom nonetheless? I was ashamed, Pen, I couldn’t do it.” Harry said, looking apologetic. It made her heart clench, inherent guilt building up in her tummy. It was her fault, technically.

“Yeah but, Harry you were my best friend before my boyfriend, and I missed you okay? You could’ve at least called.” She defended. Tony was good at reading the room, so sensing a banter building, he quietly left the area, not wanting to witness the misunderstanding.

“I really missed you too Penny, I- I didn’t think I was good enough for you, gosh I really fucking love you.” He said, immediately stiffening.

Even back when they were dating, they had never said the L word to each other, not even when they were best friends, and now? Well he had just made the air more thicker than before.

“You- you what?” She asked, voice small as her heart jumped. She moved closer to him, holding her hands out, reaching to touch his shoulders. Her hands set on his silky tuxedo, she stroked her hands in a slow motion, dropping them immediately when she realised she was touching him.

“I really fucking love you Penny, even if you don’t want to get together, can we still be friends? Go back to our movie nights and lego sessions?” He asked, furrowing his brows as if to keep himself from crying.

No words left her mouth, her breath hitched when he moved forward, chest stuttering. With a sudden confidence she didn’t know she had, she leapt forward, capturing his lips in hers. Their lips moved with a sync, his familiar ocean scented deo invading her nostrils, his soft skin against her. The world around her melded in a technicolour blob, the only thing she could focus was his heartbeat echoing in her ears.

“I really fucking love you too by the way.” She said, pulling away from the kiss. She vaguely spotted Miss Potts in her periphery, shaking her head with a smile as she held back Mister Stark.

“So, are we friends then?”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“We are more than friends, you dumbass. We always have been.”

I’m a thirsty bitch, pwease give me feedback? 🥺🥺

#peter parker x harry osborn #harry osborn x peter parker x reader #harry osborn #female peter parker #female peter parker x harry osborn #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #tony stark #spiderman #spider woman #spideygirl writes

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snowboiwinwin · 3 years

Text

The Boyz as my University Professors

Disclaimer: Some of my professors are evil bitches; none of the boys are truly evil and I am in no way implying they are or trying to make them look bad! I love the boys and I just thought it would be a fun thing to post :D

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

Sangyeon:

the one professor that absolutely loves the topic of his class

super wholesome and smiley throughout the 90 minutes class time

getting super close to the camera (actually to the mic) because he is worried students won’t hear him well enough

always asking questions and encouraging students to interact

not offended when something isn’t clear and therefore students don’t know the answer

reading EVERY. SINGLE. MESSAGE written in the chat (sometimes students have mic problems or don’t wanna speak)

making everyone feel valid and appreciated

being super calm and relaxed

barely doing breakout-rooms cause he knows no one likes them

ending class always a little earlier cause “I know how stressful your life can get.”

just the cutest prof out there

Jacob:

another sweet guy

never holds class at its normal timeframe

just uploads all the files students will need (although attendance is supposed to be mandatory)

“you guys are all grown-ups, I trust you to decide yourself when it is the best time for YOU to study.”

constantly uses smileys and is therefore super popular with students

doesn’t teach many classes, cause which good prof does that? ugh

gets right back at students when they email him their concerns

and no, you don’t get half-assed answers

you get a very detailed answer, which is rare in university life

THANKS STUDENTS FOR SENDING HIM THEIR HOMEWORK!!!!

“Dear [name of stundet], thank you very much! 😊”

offers students to call him by his first name

“I’ll call you by your first name too if that’s okay... creates a more comfortable atmosphere!”

the best <3

Younghoon:

he is a savage professor

his look is hella scary and students fear taking his classes

but he is actually the coolest and most laid back dude ever

the first time class is held, he comes in, stone cold expression and literally throws his bag on the desk - everyone is hella scared

then he says, in the scariest voice ever, “We can have fun here in class, no problem, but i AM YOUR PROFESSOR. NOT YOUR FRIEND. Remember that.”

*everyone scared to death*

“Welcome to class everybody! My name is Mr. Kim and I am very looking forward to teach this class in our summer term! Feel free to ask any question that might come up and don’t hesitate to reach out to me whenever!”

no need to be scared, he is a sweetheart

strict and has high expectations, but won’t overdo it with homework or assignments

constantly jokes around but then switches back to being serious

he creates a nice atmosphere where students want to learn something and do it voluntarily

cares for his students and appreciates their hard work - especially during the pandemic

“I know this is not easy for any of us but I am so amazed by your guys’ work this semester. It was an absolute pleasure teaching you. I hope to see you guys again, but not in this class. Please don’t fail.”

I love him

Hyunjae:

omg, he is an absolute legend

class starts and he is doing his introduction part

the class i about british literature

“Welcome to this literature class, you are in for a long ride!”

so far so good right?

“Let me just say, British Literature is an ABSOLUTE shit show!”

when I tell you, I almost died hearing that (no offense to anyone, pls don’t take my profs words to heart... he lives for british literature 🥺)

he definitely has his students hooked with this one sentence

“the teacher that taught this class before me... what was he even talking about! I mean, british literature is so much more than what he made it out to be!”

basically starts ranting

teaches with so much passion

can’t forget the jokes here and there

also uses smileys which students seriously love (at least I do)

wants students to be informal with him as well

“moving on to this next topic... a little disclaimer before we start: I will go batshit crazy with this topic because I LOVE IT. So please tell me to shut up when I exceed the 10 minutes mark. Thank you!”

A savage legend that everyone loves

sadly only teaches a handful of classes as well

Juyeon:

super laid back and chill

does never check attendance and just trusts his students

usually talks most of the time and doesn’t ask too many questions

is super happy when students contribute though

but he isn’t one to force them

“I know your day has probably been really long, so it’s okay. I’m not taking this personal.”

his class is not based on theory but more on experiences he made

shares funny stories, mistakes he made and what he learnt from them

always gives the smallest and easiest homework ever

“please just share your experiences with these types of situations in our forum”

and he does not want to grade students based on an exam

“I have a better idea. In order to understand a certain topic, I want you to write a portfolio about it. It should be detailed but I won’t give you a number of words. Do what feels right and surprise me! Be creative, nothing will be worth a failing grade as long as you put in some effort.”

does split classrooms

one half is in the main room with him, the others are in breakout rooms, working on a certain topic

super chill and just not as hard as some other classes

but students definitely learn from him!

Kevin:

oh boy, students either gonna hate or love him

he is very kind and nice but he is STRICT

take his class serious and work or you will fail

although he has very high expectations, he will make sure students will be prepared for all the essays, assignments and presentations he throws at at them

no half-assed instructions, you will get the full program (as every student should!)

you have to write an argumentative essay but have no idea how to do that?

Professor Moon (students are allowed to call him Kevin) will explain an argumentativ essay in detail, will show examples and will tell you exactly what to put in it

having trouble finding sources?

Kevin will help you, just let him know!

Also a very empathetic teacher

something happened and you can’t attend class? Absolutely no problem

whenever something serious happens (for us it was a shooting), Kevin will cancel class and spare his students cause their well-being is more important

he doesn’t throw out A’s and B’s easily but when you do get such a grade in one of his classes... dude, you did a really good job

so as I said, he is either your fav or least fav professor... choose your side!

Chanhee:

he is a bitch (not really, but he gives the impression)

at first, he is that nice, bubbly professor

super friendly and kind

and his classes are absolutely okay! no biggie

or so they THOUGHT

his exams and progress tests or whatever ARE HELL

he makes it seem as everything is so easy and not overwhelming at all

BUT nothing is easy and everything is overwhelming

50 pages for a damn progress test two weeks into the semester!

the grading is so strict, you need at least 65% to pass! (maybe I am a baby but 65% is a lot for a passing grade hahaha)

but he confuses students

he is so kind and soft spoken

constantly smiling and in a good mood

but the exams????

are you sure you were the one creating them Mr Choi?

and yes, he is one of those professors that wants to be addressed by his last name (nothing wrong with that)

as I said, he confuses students

they don’t know what to think of him

at the end of the day he isn’t a bad guy

just not the type of professor the students would want in every single class for the rest of their lives

Changmin:

changmin is not your ordinary professor

because he is a big fan of team-teaching

so all his classes are taught by him and his dear colleague Haknyeon!

YAAAAY

I love this duo already

he is the part of the duo that is EXTREMELY motivated

he is is so hyper and so ready for teaching

his classes are always fun but also slightly overwhelming?

juts imagine having too much caffeine in your body

that is changmin being able to teach something he loves

that’s just the passion jumping out of him

he is constantly talking and laughing and throwing jokes left and right

he is having a good time!

super understanding and empathetic

and although everything seems fun and games

you will definitely learn from him!

he has this natural and authentic way of teaching in his body

it comes... naturally and it all makes sense somehow

although the class is packed with inside jokes and changmin teasing haknyeon

haknyeon doesn’t even have time nor the chance to speak

this is changmin’s time to shine!

they love and hate each other

but the students definitely love this iconic duo

Haknyeon:

as I mentioned; haknyeon and changmin are a team

it wasn’t really something haknyeon wanted but... how could you possibly say no to baby changmin? 🥺

so yes, changmin’s cute face got him into this situation

he doesn’t even have to prepare anything for class - his lovely colleague does the talking anyways

he usually lays back and relax

he frowns into the cam cause he tries to intimidate students

but they know he is a soft guy anyways

while changmin is talking, he is chatting to students in the chat

as I mentioned earlier, not everyone wants to unmute themselves and therefore posts in the chat

so he is having chats with students, often not even related to the topic

“Please excuse me, I will be absent for a few minutes - mommy duties” -student

“Don’t worry Miss! I know exactly what you mean... children.” -haknyeon

whenever he tries to get a word in, he has to talk VERY LOUDLY

he literally has to talk over changmin

but changmin doesn’t mind, he just smiles, nods and listens

changmin is super proud whenever haknyeon speaks

and haknyeon thinks that’s very sweet

but that thought passes as soon as changmin makes a joke about him

at the end of the day, they love each other at least to a certain extent and students adore them

Sunwoo:

he is not an ordinary professor either

class time? virtual meetings?

nope, not with sunwoo

again, in the classes the boyz teach, attendance is mandatory

mandatory? sunwoo has never heard of her

he doesn’t require students to attend meetings and homework is also something he does not expect from them

he uploads powerpoint-presentations with videos and audio of him explaining everything in the presentation

but the boy is clumsy

and he is not good with anything technical

so him dropping his glass and spilling his water all over his lap?

well, students will see this in the video

“... and it’s important to- YAAAAH OH NO....”

*awkward silence*

“I spilled my water... if you haven’t seen.”

*more awkward silence*

“Give me a minute”

*the video continues and sunwoo is nowhere in sight*

after ten minutes of an empty chair, sunwoo returns and continues as if nothing has happened

sometimes his kids walk in and dab in the camera without him noticing

“and then - Hey! I am at WORK.”

he loves it though

and he posts these “fail” videos on purpose

“I want to show you, that it is okay to not be perfect and to not be in control of everything! Stuff like that happens, especially with us being in home-office! And don’t worry, if your mom walks in or whatever, in my classroom no one gets judged! This is life and now that we have to do everything from home, the unexpected is unavoidable!”

Another students’ favorite

Eric:

I would love to imagine him as this savage prof I have in mind... but no <3

he is a sweet guy

also super obsessed with the class he is teaching

he is LIVING for it

usually experiences technical problems right before class starts

“oopsie daisy, sorry guys... might take a few minutes *giggles*”

and no, it’s not a creepy giggle but a really cute one, I swear!

constantly has a pen in his hand and clicks it absentmindedly while teaching

students constantly hear the clicking sound... or when the pen falls to the ground.... which happens every five minutes

he constantly forgets to mute himself whenever he wants students to work by themselves and all they hear is him chugging down his water or whatever drink he has prepared

also sends out super sweet emails

but due to him being a young dude, he wants students to call him by his last name

he also calls students by their last name but he does use smileys to lighten the professional mood that comes with honorifics

overall a very motivated but extremely kind-hearted dude

#the boyz #scenarios #kpop #imagines #reactions #headcanon #the boyz as #eric sohn #jacob bae #kevin moon #ju haknyeon #younghoon #hyunjae #juyeon #sunwoo #sangyeo #chanhee #changmin

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mistaeq · 4 years

Text

The Jobros: Finding out their s/o is Pregnant with Twins

TW // none

Original Request: Can you do the jojo's reaction to their s/o being pregnant with twins after a long time of trying? You can find this here.

The sweet @serenityblaze44 asked for this same prompt with the Jobros, so... here it is! <3

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

ROBERT E. O. SPEEDWAGON

As soon as you tell him, his eyes widen, like a cat who saw his favourite toy. It's almost as if he was a kid, and you were telling him that Santa was gonna bring him his favourite gift ever. No wonder, he'll be speechless for some seconds. Not only one baby, but two? This sounds all the way like a dream becoming reality. Living in the street like he did years ago, he could only dream about having a family.

You've been trying so hard to have a baby, you both felt ready, and after all the danger he went through along with Jonathan, Robert wants to settle down and have a family, finally starting something serious. But you had a lot of problems with getting pregnant, and he was losing his hope. Until you told him you were expecting a baby. And now, you were telling him they were two, two angels of his growing in your stomach. This feels crazy.

Speedwagon won't force you and won't get angry, if you don't feel like you'd like something like this, but he'd love to name one of the twins Jonathan or William if there's at least a boy and Erina if there's at least a girl. These people mattered so much in his life, and would be the happiest if he could bring these names with him forever. If you don't like the idea, he will respectfully accept it, and he's open and ready to hear your own ideas, too!

He wants everything to be completely organized, when the twins will come to the world. Every parent buys furniture and clothing for their baby, even before the birth, it's a pretty common thing. But Robert more or less behaved like Joseph buying stuff for Shizuka with Josuke's money. Speedwagon almost bought an entire baby store out of happiness and excitement. He's enthusiast and nervous. Bear with this loving gentleman.

"What do you mean I don't have to buy six cribs for the babies? What their two ones break and we need to change it?" he groans, handing you a bag, you looking at him with questioning eyes. "Nevermind... y/n, will you hold these fifty pacifiers for me while I get the twenty pairs of baby shoes out of the car?"

Speedwagon can't keep the news to himself. He'll call Erina before everyone else, and then all his friends, like immediately, to tell them the good news. He looks calm and rational, but he spent most of his life in London's street, and few years won't erase his loud and impulsive attitude. It's probably a good thing, after all. Even gentlemen can be excited. A little sudden, but hearing it makes Erina so happy, she'll be like an aunt for your kids!

He would enjoy reading books to your stomach during your pregnancy. He would have done it even if they weren't twins, but he claims that being them two, he'll need to work twice the amount he did before to teach them stories and literature. Robert is an amazing man, but still a too grown baby, he'll never stop his ideas about how to teach the children something. He just thinks about what he'd like to do or hear if he was a child.

CAESAR ANTONIO ZEPPELI

He stops practicing with his hamon for some seconds as soon as you tell him. Funny, he was so focused on his training that he swore he started hearing things. You didn't just tell him that the baby bubble growing in your stomach are in reality two baby bubbles. He... oh, forget it Caesar, you must have dreamt it. But you're right next to him, and almost immediately repeat what you just told him, making him realize what he heard is true.

It takes a while for the italian boy to realize it, but when he finally does, you can tell he's happy. Mamma mia. The adrenaline and excitemente in his body won't stop flowing, this is why, when Caesar will hug you, pick you up and jump around, hamon bubbles will still be coming out of his fingertips, and you find it the cutest thing ever. It's the physical proof of how happy you make him, there's no way to deny it. Family is all he ever wanted, over his flirting habit. You're the right one for him and he knows.

Prepare your kids and your stomach to get a whole load of opera music during your pregnancy. Caesar is a great lover of opera, and will care about his kids to be as informed on it and respectful of the genre. Either he'll put on some of it, of he'll straight up sing it for you and your future children. His singing voice isn't actually so bad, you notice, and this is how he earns the task of singing them the lullabies when they'll come to the world.

"Hey! What do you mean I get to sing them the lullabies... I'm good at opera... not baby songs..." he whines, almost sounding like a baby himself. "Fine... but at one condition. You change the diapers and I sing the lullabies. Take it or leave it."

He cares a lot about his family's traditions to go on. Being the flamboyant italian he is, Caesar prides himself on the love for his close family and relatives. He doesn't have a huge request for you, but he cares about what he's gonna ask. The father-to-be would be happy, if one of the twins is a boy, to give him Antonio as a second name. Like his own second name, and his grandpa's too. He secretly hopes the twins are a boy and a girl, he's always wanted a baby princess.

The young Zeppeli will grow twice more protective and caring of you. This translates in him not letting Joseph get closer to you than three meters away. This is how you learn to speak even louder to talk with people. Your loving boy will always be in front of you to keep you safe. You appreciate it, but sometimes he's exaggerated.

He'll probably beg you on his knees, for you to allow him to teach the children how to master the hamon technique when they'll grow up. You can't really deny it, sometimes it's useful. During your pregnancy, Caesar and his calming waves helped you coping with pregnancy pains and cramps, massaging your belly and leaving some bubbles around to soothe and distract you. Oh, your caring italian love.

NORIAKI KAKYOIN

When you told him the good news, his heart exploded with happiness and excitement. However, Noriaki is known for being a pretty calm boy, and he tried his best to keep calm after your words, too. You had to tell him to let go and don't worry about wanting to hug you, or pick you up and kiss you, or even cry, if he felt like letting it all out.

Before you even got pregnant, Kakyoin and you had been trying every single way on Earth to have a baby. Take count of your most fertile phase, buy a lot of pregnancy tests, using different positions, praying, making rituals, crying and asking Siri, in tears, why Noriaki couldn't manage to get you pregnant. Did those ways work so well that you got twice more pregnant than you expected? Nevermind, all you know is that you and your loving cherry boy are gonna have two beautiful babies.

"Listen... why do you think I can't get my baby pregnant? We've been trying every single way... do you have any advice?" as soon as Siri answered, Kakyoin's eyes widened, and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, don't give me the 'Sorry, I'm not sure what you said' treatment!"

One of his first thoughts, is that there's a small - but now it's higher because the babies are two - percentage of chances your babies might be stand users. Yes, it's not the highest percentage ever, but it's still there, and Kakyoin is pretty afraid of it. Stand users' lives are never calm and quiet, he had the occasion to prove this himself. They often go towards almost deadly experiences. He's gotta be a good dad and protect his children.

Hierophant Green is overjoyed! Noriaki and his stand worked hard, to create some decorations for the babies' room with emeralds. Green is a neutral color, since you don't know whether the twins will be boys, girls, or both. Still, you don't think colors like pink and blue are gendered, that's some stereotypical bullshit. But you had the luck of having green decorations, perfect for anyone, from Hierophant's power.

Kakyoin secretly hopes that at least one of the babies, no matter whether it's a boy or a girl, will have his hair color or hair noodle. Think about it, wouldn't it be funny, cute and incredibly special to have a small version of your husband/boyfriend walking around the house? Oh god, what if they're identical twins? Three Noriakis? Oh my.

Even if this might embarrass him a little, you'll often get to see his parents during your pregnancy. First of all, to give them the good news about the baby being in reality two babies, and second of all because mrs. Kakyoin would be on cloud nine, getting the chance to give you some parenting advice. That's also how you get to know some interesting information and curiosities about your man's childhood. The cutest things ever. But this... is another story.

NIJIMURA OKUYASU

Okuyasu.exe has stopped working. What do you mean two babies? He thought the shocking news were finished, after the pregnancy announcement. He's gonna ask you a billion times, on the verge of tears, if you're joking or messing with him, knowing how much these news matter to his heart. When he gets you're serious, Okuyasu just lets go and cries. He feels so damn happy.

He learnt to hate your period as much as you, honestly. Because everytime you got it, it meant another month in which he had failed in getting you pregnant had passed, and this made him feel useless and disappointing. You never thought anything like this about him, but making him understand this is pretty difficult, he wouldn't have forgiven himself until he succeeded. You wanted a baby and Okuyasu wanted so too, so he would have given it to you, no matter what.

"Oi... did you... you know, bleed this month already?" Okuyasu asked, with the eyes of someone who was afraid of asking. But you shook your head. "This is good, love... but let's not get our hopes up, shall we, y/n?"

He doesn't really have any special requests or ideas for your babies' names. Or better, he does have one, but will never tell you, as he thinks for sure that you'll never agree with doing it. Okuyasu would have liked the kanji "兆" ("chou": trillion) to be in at least one of your babies' names, to remember his brother. But your boy is pretty sure you'd hate it, and he'd never suggest this. You'll probably feel there's something he's not telling you and find out anyway.

Expecting two babies is tiring, and you'll need to rest a lot. Okuyasu would like to join you and hold you in your sleep, but he also wants to be awake to take care of you, get you something to eat or drink, or put in order his messy house to make it look at least decent for when the babies will come. This is why, while you take your naps, he works around the house and lets The Hand cuddle with you. It's always him, after all. He feels the way you hold his stand.

This leads to the father-to-be being often pretty tired, too. He overworks himself. At night, when he finally joins you in your bed, happens to fall asleep in a matter of seconds, wearing his ordinary clothes instead of his pajamas. You can tell he's gonna be a good dad. Some mornings during your pregnancy, if you happened to wake up before him, you'd quietly turn off his alarm clock for him to rest more.

Okuyasu's dad is on cloud nine too, as his family is going to get larger. Mansaku totally wants to take a photo with you two and his grandchildren, as soon as they'll be born. He accepted you and behaves with you the same caring way he does towards his son. He's changed in a better man, despite his appearance. But the first person Okuyasu told the good news to, was Keicho. He purposely went on his grave, because he knew his brother would have been proud.

BRUNO BUCCIARATI

You tell him the good news while he's working. Not only it'll make his day better, but it'll also hopefully get his mind off of that giant bunch of papers on his desk, for once. The capo suddenly stops, moving his gaze towards your eyes, then your stomach, then your eyes again. You'll have to repeat, or he'll be sure he's imagined what you said because of the too much time spent working. But there's no joke or dream, you're pregnant with twins.

Screw all the papers and all the work that's left. He's gonna get you in a so tight and warm embrace of his, and never let go. Libeccio's for dinner that night? Guaranteed. He's usually a calm man, but whatever is related to his family, gets celebrated. When you announced your pregnancy, you had a dinner with the whole gang at the restaurant, but this time Bruno would rather have something more personal and private with you. Make the dinner romantic.

When you were still trying to have a baby, Bucciarati was the one who managed not to lost his temper when every attempt of yours resulted in a negative pregnancy test. But when you weren't around, I won't say he cried, but was pretty close. He was afraid of not being able to give you what you wanted, and usually ranted about this with Abbacchio. Bruno wanted to be the shoulder you could cry on, and couldn't breakdown too.

You both decided to wait some time before telling the gang about the baby being in reality two babies. They were still excited for your pregnancy itself, Mista and Narancia above everyone, and giving another shocking news would have probably brought the peace to say arrivederci. They still managed to get you confess, the look in Bruno's expressive eyes was too happy not to notice.

Just like Giorno would do, Bruno wouldn't be happy if his two angels ended up being involved in Passione's business. He totally will let the gang around his babies, as he trusts them, but during your pregnancy you both decided that the one of you taking care of the babies on a certain day, wouldn't even think of getting close to Passione's headquarters with the children. And you agreed with Bucciarati, for your little ones' safety.

"You'll agree with me that our children's safety is the most important thing, tesoro mio..." Bruno murmured, caressing your cheek. "Let's not bring them close to this place ever, I beg you. I'm sure you'll understand."

He would enjoy talking and interacting with his babies by laying his head on your stomach, kissing it and listening to them moving in the last weeks of your pregnancy. Sticky Fingers is in love with you too, and Bruno won't ever lose the chance to close you in a cuddle sandwich between his body and his stand's to make you feel protected and let you know how proud of you he is. Bucciarati will be a special dad, indeed.

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leejungchans · 3 years

Text

— our first snow.

word count: 2.2k

pairing: dino (svt) x idol!oc (juliet)

warning(s): mentions of cyberbullying, allusions to stalking (dispatch yucky), mentions of the toxic/dark side of the kpop industry

genre: mostly fluff; slight angst (about idol life); crushes-to-lovers; idol au

notes: can be read as a standalone but you can refer to juliet’s masterlist for more info on her!! there may be some weather inaccuracies in this ahskhwjs please don’t be mad 😭 i live somewhere that never snows :(

summary: a confession is made during the first snowfall of 2021.

a/n: thank you to the anon who suggested a cute dino/juliet scenario 🥺💖 i hope you like this!!! thank you all for reading and have a nice day!!

Winter in Seoul is beautiful.

Even though she’s been living in Korea for six, almost seven years, Juliet thinks she can never get tired of seeing snow. Something about it is just so utterly magical and charming, like being in a Christmas card. Sure, it’s freezing and the snow sticks to everything—her hair, parka, boots, even her lashes, but it’s still one of her favourite things about living in Seoul as it’s something she wouldn’t be able to experience back home in Sydney.

Juliet still remembers the first time she saw snow the year she moved to Korea and how transfixed she had been. Upon learning about this, Yeri, the first friend she made at her former company, immediately dragged her out to the sidewalk where snow elegantly floated down from the sky and would eventually envelop Seoul in a pristine white blanket.

Though, she supposes that at the moment, they’re experiencing more of a snowstorm than a snowfall. By the time she gets back to the dorm, her black parka will probably turn white from all the snow sticking to it. She wonders what her members are doing, if they’re also enjoying the snow or staying inside to shield themselves from the biting cold.

A particularly strong gust of wind blows the hood of Juliet’s parka off her head, causing snow to immediately start landing on her newly-dyed purple hair. A gloved hand instantly reaches up to tug the hood snuggly back into place.

The female idol turns to her companion and smiles, even though he can only see her eyes due to the both of them wearing black masks, but she hopes he notices her eye-smile anyways. “Thanks, Channie.”

Juliet watches Chan’s eyes curve into crescents, and she knows he’s also grinning behind his mask. They’re always so sparkly, she thinks, like they hold the entire universe in them.

“C’mon,” he says softly, “the snow’s getting heavier, better get you home before we’re both stranded out here.” Juliet doesn’t tell him, but she wouldn’t exactly complain even if they do get stranded as along as she’s with him.

Here being a mostly empty street with only the dim lights from the street lamps and the occasional passerby to keep them company. The passerby’s don’t pay them any attention either as they walk briskly in an attempt to get out of the snowstorm as quickly as possible. They did pass a few small groups of people who came outside to enjoy the first snow of the year, but those people too occupied with making snowmen and taking photos to notice that they had crossed paths with two idols.

Despite the late hour, Juliet doesn’t want to go home. At least, not yet. She knows she should be back by now, a few award shows are scheduled for the end of the month, not to mention ATEEZ’s upcoming projects and appearances, so she needs all the sleep she can get to keep up with the practising. Chan definitely also needs the rest, yet he insists on walking her back to her dorm after their late night out before going back to his.

Juliet knows they’re both physically exhausted from their hectic lifestyles, but it is the unspoken knowledge that this is the only time of the day they have for themselves, truly just themselves, that make them want to stay out longer to retain a sense of normalcy. Over the years, she’s learnt to cherish the short-lived moments away from the cameras and prying eyes.

It’s knowing this that causes her to deliberately slow down her walking pace, because she wants just a little more time where she is simply Baek Minyoung instead of Juliet from ATEEZ, spending time with her friend Lee Chan and not Dino from SEVENTEEN.

Juliet has always believed that she is someone who warms up to people slowly with the exception of her members. But then Chan came into her life and effortlessly wove himself into the seams of her heart in a blink of an eye.

She thought they’d just be friends, she really did, until she found herself falling for the energetic boy with a heart of gold after a few secret outings much like this one. Before either of them knew it, their friendship had morphed into something more, though neither dared to make a move. After all, they know how fragile idol relationships can be in their industry—interfering companies, invasions of privacy, the slew of hateful comments that every idol couple cannot escape...

There were many nights where Juliet stayed up late thinking if it was easier to stay friends than to take the next step. Idol friendships, even opposite-sex ones, typically last longer and are met with less scrutiny, after all.

In those times, she also found herself wondering what her life would’ve been if she never came to Seoul and became an idol. She never thought that at one point in her life, getting a coffee or grabbing lunch with friends without having people shove their phones in your face would be a luxury, but here she is.

But if she never came to Seoul, she never would’ve met her members, the kind staff members who treat her like a younger sister or daughter, the amazing friends she met along the journey of becoming an idol...

She also wouldn’t have met Chan, so there’s that.

She once asked him during a phone call last year how he and his members cope with all the downsides that come with being an idol.

“It’s a learning process every day, I think,” he says thoughtfully. “But in general, I try to tell myself that even though bad things happen, there’s still a lot of good that outweighs the bad...I get to meet amazing people and do what I love for a living...These things are what I will cherish forever, the bad things won’t last forever, and it doesn’t do me any good to lose myself in them instead of the good.”

Juliet thinks about that a lot. Not that he has to know, or he’ll never let her live it down.

“—say about the first snow?”

Chan turns to face her with confusion written across his face from a lack of response. She blinks blankly at him. “What?”

He shoots her a look of mock exasperation. “Were you seriously not listening to anything I was saying?” he whines.

“Sorry, I spaced out!”

“I’m not going to be friends with you if you keep ignoring me like this!”

Before the boy has time to react, Juliet grabs a handful of snow from the ground and launches it at his face. He splutters for a moment, brushing off the flakes from his mask as she cackles, but her glee doesn’t last long when he reaches for a larger handful of snow.

Juliet shrieks and jogs away from Chan, which isn’t as easy as she thought given that her feet keep sinking into the layer of snow. “Wait, wait! Stop! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You have to keep it down,” he laughs, gently tossing the snow back onto the ground, “we can’t be out here screaming and drawing Dispatch’s attention.” His tone is light and teasing, but the mention of the news—no, gossip—outlet makes her wrinkle her nose in distaste.

Though she can’t help but find it funny that if someone from Dispatch is actually currently following them—and she hopes they’re not because, hello? What happened to privacy and human decency?—all they’d get would be footage of them throwing snow at each other.

“You’re right,” Juliet says as they continue walking, “let’s not give them more business. What were you saying earlier, by the way?”

“I asked if you know what people here say about the first snow.”

Of course she does. Even if it has never been brought up in the dramas or movies she watched, her friends outside the industry have certainly gushed about the symbolism.

“No, not really,” she replies, feigning innocence. Playing dumb is fun, especially when you can also play the ‘foreigner card’ to back yourself up.

“It’s said that any lie you tell on the day of the first snowfall will be forgiven, and that any wish you make will be granted.”

Juliet frowns. “I thought that was for the first snowfall of the season, not the year. So technically, today’s not the first snow.”

Chan’s mouth drops open in a large ‘O’. “I thought you said you don’t know much about the first snow,” he accuses before shoving her lightly.

“Ah-ah-ah, you can’t be mad at me! You said any lie told today will be forgiven!”

“You’re the one who said today doesn’t count!”

“Okay,” Juliet relents, “this can be our thing, then. We can have two first snows each year.”

He laughs, and she can’t help but admire the sound of it. It’s just so contagious and never fails to put her in a good mood. “Deal.”

They keep walking until her building is in view. Admittedly, it’s a risky move to have him walk her all the way to the building’s entrance, as it’s known that people tend to wait outside idols’ dorms hoping to catch a glimpse of them, but Chan insisted that he didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of her walking alone in the dark at this hour.

“You know what else people say about the first snow?” Chan’s voice loses its usual playful edge. Instead, it sounds far softer and might’ve even betrayed a sense of nervousness.

Juliet doesn’t respond, but she turns to face his side profile to assure him that she’s listening. He keeps looking down at the ground, so she decides to silently admire the straight slope of his nose and the sharp angle of his jawline.

“People say that if you confess to someone during the first snow, you’ll stay together for a long time.”

“Is this your way of saying that you want to be with me for a long time?” she teases, but her grin drops when Chan looks at her with a solemn expression. “Oh. Oh. You’re being serious.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh at her wide eyes. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but what would you say if I told you I want to be with you? Officially, I mean.”

What would she say? A million thoughts are running through her mind, and she feels as though she’s been struck by lightning. How would the boys react? Their second year since debut was only a few months ago, would they think it’s too early? Would they be upset with her? Should she tell her company or let them find out? Would they tell her to break it off if they knew?

What if they break up? Will they still stay friends after that? Idol relationships can crumble easily given the nature of the industry and its habit of selling the fantasy of idols being ‘available’. Ten fingers wouldn’t be enough to count all the couples who broke up due to the pressures that come with this job—hectic schedules, obsessive fans, meddling companies, cyberbullying, the list can go on forever.

Is it worth it to take the risk when there seems to be a million reasons suggesting that it’d be better to stay friends?

But what does she want? Does she want to live basing every decision off of appeasing people who only know her from what they see on a screen?

Or does she want to live unapologetically with the people she loves and cares about, even if she has to risk her reputation and image simply for being happy?

Her answer couldn’t be clearer.

“I’d say that I’d like that a lot. Unless you’re secretly playing a prank on me.”

To say that Chan is flooded with relief would be a massive understatement. “You scared me!” he whines as he clutches his heart. “You weren’t saying anything for so long and I thought you were thinking about how to reject me!”

“I’m sorry,” Juliet giggles, eyes shining up at him. “Forgive me?”

A dramatic, reluctant sigh. “I guess I can make an exception for you,” he finally says.

Despite their masks hiding most of their faces, their eye-smiles tell the other just how happy they both are.

Deep down, Juliet knows that a simple snowfall cannot guarantee a fulfilling, long-lasting relationship. Perhaps a few years later, or even shorter if they’re unlucky, they may find themselves dealing with imminent heartbreak and separation.

But when her gloved hand—gloves courtesy of Chan because he somehow knew she’d forget her own— reaches for his, interlacing naturally as though they’ve done it a hundred times prior to today, she hopes that the universe will grant her silent wish that they can stay like this for a long, long time; that no matter how much they and their environments may change, they will still be able to find happiness and comfort within each other. She thinks it’ll come true.

After all, it is the first snow. Their first snow.

— bonus!!

a/n: eeeeeeeeppppp ngl this is,,,kinda cute if i do say so myself ;-; and yes this is also indulging my wish to have a cute boy (preferably park seonghwa or lee chan) confess to me on a snowy day ahdjhwjs 😔 again, thank you for reading and take care!!

feedback is always and highly appreciated!! whether it’s a reblog, a reply, or a short ask, it would mean the world to me 🥺💗 and remember that you are more than welcome to chat with me about anything in my asks!!

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dorminchu · 3 years

Text

ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE

The war against Paradis is over. Eren and Annie are forced to confront their mortality in a world that seems to have no need of them, and their significance to each other. [Post-Canon]

I didn't know there was an ereani week this year until a couple days ago, but I figured: cool, I should probably post something. Title comes from the track of the same name by The Killers.

The prompt is: Day 3 (4/12): "I love you" / "I loved you"

[Ao3 | FFNet]

When the war was over, it was Armin who took the glory. That was a new look for him, Eren thought. Smart but eternally overlooked until he inherited the role of the Colossus Titan. Willing to carry the burden of humanity's savior without much complaint, unlike his teenage self who had always been plagued by doubts and fears. Eren wouldn't have thought Armin would be ready to chew the bullet while he quietly slipped into the background—but he was the leader, and Eren had always been accustomed to his status of figurehead.

Their roles had inverted with age.

As part of an overarching deal with Queen Historia, Eren was granted quarters—a cabin ten miles from the border of what had once been Wall Rose—and a modest pension, as long as he held his tongue and did not make any attempt to intercept the negotiations between Paradis and the surrounding countries. Eren put in an application for professor at the local military academy and spent the days trying to record what he could remember of his experiences in Marley.

The cabin had been around since the start of the war. About ten or so miles from the nearest village. Perhaps even before Eren was born, when Paradis was just a penal colony in name and the boundaries on inhabitable territory were less strict. The pipes still worked and there was evidence of an outhouse as well as quarters for a small animal—he wondered if it had been a hunter’s lodge.

After growing up in the back end of Shiganshina for the first nine years of his life and living in barracks and halfway houses for the next ten, it was a lot quieter. He felt oftentimes as if he were on a permanent state of leave, awaiting orders that would never come. There was so much time to fritter away now, without a war on the backburner.

ii.

In a bid to lessen the severity of his scarring, Eren tried growing a beard. He couldn't sprout a full one like Zeke could, just the chin-hairs, an innate reminder of his days in Marley. Most often he kept his hair pulled back in a short ponytail or else cut it short in the warmer seasons, though never as short as it had been in his days of adolescence.

He'd regenerated his leg and other limbs since the ceasefire, regained his motor functions in a week-long, agonsing process that he was sure Hanji would've loved had she been alive to witness it—but a day or so after settling into the cabin the old pain was flaring up again. He had a vivid memory of asking Commander Hanji once, at seventeen, after exhausting his father’s journal, but the only conclusion either of them could come up was phantom pain. Even if he were whole and unmarred, he did not anticipate sleep as any source of relief. Colours in his right eye gradually turned dull and it was getting harder to read even by candlelight, disorienting to walk out into harsh sunlight. Eventually he just began wearing a patch for the sake of simplicity. His other eye was unaffected.

He could still remember Ramzi's face better than most of his dead Scouts and it kept him up at night for hours. His way of life—the Titans, ODM gear—was quickly being phased out, trading blades and canisters for rifles and ammunition. His place among the armistice seemed moot.

Eren thought more often of his father. He did not wish to, explicitly, but the memories of him that popped into his head were usually indecipherable and triggered by stress.

The doctors in Marley would define this as shellshock. Other times they left impressions like the outline of the sun under closed eyelids; warmth, family, agony, guilt that would eat away at him for the rest of his remaining life.

Eren was, at least, confident in the fact that he was nothing like his father. He didn't pretend he was doing anything morally righteous, nor had he allowed himself to be molded into a pariah like Zeke. He had only accomplished what those same men were afraid or unable to do. It was nothing to crow about. He did not blame Zeke for that upbringing. Eren had taken action, knowing he would be hated and feared by his own comrades. He could only leave behind his memories in print, and if by some Godforsaken chance they somehow managed to fall into the hands of a like-minded company—well, perhaps one day he would be understood or misconstrued further. Rotting in the ground he could not defend his truth or bias.

But while he was alive, he could not rest. He knew better than most that all of this was fleeting.

It wasn’t as though he was out of shape with all the walking. He still stuck to drills in the morning to keep himself busy; awaiting orders that would never come. It sounded like something Armin might say. But Armin was content to busy himself with the sons and brothers of deceased bureaucrats; the succeeding generation to the brilliant men and women who'd led them right into the mouths of hell and out again.

Commander Hanji was dead. Commander Irvin had been dead four years now. Captain Levi was on his way to retirement and attempting to get Mikasa to replace him.

After seven years of military service his soldier’s inclinations remained unshakeable. He'd wake up every morning, going through the motions as though he were still a stowaway in Marley. He'd never allowed himself to consider a life beyond the pretext of enlistment and eventual expiration within the Scouting Regiment, much less the seemingly endless war between Paradis and the rest of the world. In the best case he had assumed he would die eventually, of old age or a more unheroic death out in the field. He'd never allowed himself to be ruled by that fear of mortality because he had to eradicate the Titans first—it was a child’s logic that had gotten him through military academy. Yet here he was, nineteen, with four going-on three years left to kill. Annie had three, going-on two. That was the only certainty she'd admitted to him without need for prying.

So Eren had to be sharp for the rest of their sakes. The war on Paradis had ended and brought with it economic turmoil. A mourning period that seemed to extend indefinitely. The next decade of prosperity would not be won in a year, nor three, and it would come on the backs of the losing side and breed the same old resentment, and then inevitably the same slow descent towards outrage and madness and oppression. Always in the back of his mind like the learnt urge to drink, or his inherited memories—he could almost convince himself of his hard-won stability. It was a good enough reason as any to stop answering Mikasa's letters.

iii.

The door opened to reveal the very last person he had ever expected to see again. She was every bit the woman he had seen in Marley and little of the girl in the crystal remained. What could he say to a four-year old crush-turned-heartbreak whose face he could scarcely recall among the hundreds of thousands of other casualties? "You shouldn't have come back."

When he moved to close the door, she stopped him with her heel. "I'm no longer a Warrior, nor a soldier. I have nowhere else to turn. You and I understand each other, so there's no point in bloodshed."

He gauged this, chewing his tongue. "Did someone send you?"

Her shoulders stiffened. "No one you'd know."

"I suppose you were sent here to finish the job for Marley?"

"No." Bluntly, she forced herself into the doorway. "I came here on my own. I just—"

"—all right, it seems like there's been some kind of miscommunication between you and whoever sent you."

"I was told you'd be able to accommodate me."

"I don't need anyone else here."

Annie squinted at him. Her hand was clenched tightly on the doorjamb. "You must get bored living up in the mountains. And you could use another pair of hands if you're not regenerating." Eren said nothing. "Did you carve your eye out again?"

"Goddamn you," he growled, and wrenched the door open.

He let her walk past the threshold. Looked at her once, and then away. "I'll set a place aside for you to sleep," indicating a well-worn sofa, "you can stay as long as you need to until you find somewhere you like."

"I don't know why you're so upset. You could have killed me years ago. You've had every opportunity, and yet—"

"—I've moved on." He said it flatly, almost resigned. "You haven't, obviously."

Annie didn't flinch. "So you're just going to stay here and wait to die?"

"I keep myself busy."

"What do you do?"

"I teach the new cadets over at the Academy. It's about two hours from where we are; nothing special, but they seem eager to learn."

"I see."

He turned finally to face her. "What about you?"

Annie hesitated. "Used to work with the other displaced soldiers up until a few days ago."

"How'd that treat you?"

"It was all right. Why, are you too good for it now, now that you're a war hero?"

Eren ignored the barb. "It's been a while since everything settled down, so I wondered how you would fare."

"What, so you just popped up in this house?"

He scoffed. "Of course not. There was a tribunal, and it was decided to let me live on the condition I'd be kept far away where I wouldn't bother with anyone. I can't say the same for the others."

"You sold them out?"

He chuckled. "I didn't have to say much. They did it to themselves. We shared a common goal at one point but never the same ideology. At the very least, I can say I took no pleasure in what I—"

"—Ackermann gave you an out?"

Eren gauged the sharpness in her tone, the stiffness of her posture. "I didn't ask her to." He frowned. "You never told me how you got here. Did Mikasa have something to do with this?"

Annie froze, then averted her eyes. "I didn't have much of a choice. It was either come here or work myself to death doing manual labor. I wouldn't have minded that."

"Why didn't you tell me that she sent you?"

"I don't know. She seemed to pity you."

"Oi, it's not your fault. She can feel however she wants." He sounded bemused, scowling. "What the hell else she she think I'm going to do in four years? I have no plans to start another war."

Annie finally eyed him in her peripherals. "We didn't talk much other than that."

Within the next few hours he'd gotten a few more details out of her. In exchange for agreeing to be quartered here, her record was wiped clean. She had recently reapplied for the MP brigade under a new name and secured a position as secretary in the Karanese district headquarters. She had also admitted to him that she was dying to get back onto the streets again.

As a bedfellow Annie was, in some ways, more than he could've hoped for. Despite the introduction, she talked far less than they had as cadets. She did not seem particularly happy or unhappy, just neutral. She woke up each morning at six hours and left to do her drills. She would come back in an hour and offer to help him with whatever menial tasks needed doing, as if they really were holed up together in the remnants of a cabin lost ten years ago to a threat that would live on in sordid, haunting memory. The kind of life one would find beyond the realm of a weathered photograph.

Unobtrusive without becoming idyllic. The best outcome he could afford her was three years of uneventful domesticity.

They didn't spar anymore. Not for lack of want, or kicking the habit. Eren just couldn't keep up with her the way he used to. His leg was shaky and she pointed it out first. It would have an impact on the kind of punishment he could take as opposed to when he was fifteen and shrugged off every injury like it was nothing. His eye was not healing.

Annie was in better condition. Just by studying her gait it was obvious that she'd taken better care of herself. She had not had to bunk up with a gang of stinking, vulnerable soldiers riddled by shellshock. Trying to communicate with them in German worked, but it got him a lot of funny looks and no end of comparisons to fathers and grandfathers enlisted or long since dead.

Annie wasn't interested in his stories from Marley but she didn't brush him off either. She just tolerated it in a much more polite way than Mikasa or Armin would.

At twenty years old she came up to his chest. Either the crystallization had stunted her growth or she was naturally short. She was also scarred enough down her face but it was of the same sheer consistency as her hair. You would only know what she was if you were paying close attention.

She got skittish and temperamental if he tried to push his luck training with her. Initially it had pissed him off:

"What do you think I'm going to do?"

She'd looked at him bluntly. "You're still recovering. Why overexert yourself?"

He'd never told her about his injuries but the idea of her picking up on it this quickly rankled for reasons he did not care to discuss. "I'm not a kid."

Something flashed in her eyes. "I'm not going to push you."

And that was the end of it. He'd decided that this ritual mattered more to her than him, and respected her space. He still did his own drills.

But every time they locked eyes now he'd get that same, absurd itch in the back of his mind from a year ago. Sharpened his tongue and made him want to speak in ways he didn't think he should attempt to justify whilst sober.

iv.

Days passed. He did not always see her until late in the evening.

In the middle of the night he rolled over onto his bad leg and the pain woke him. In silence he got up, not enough to require medication but still pretty uncomfortable.

“Eren?”

He went still. Annie was up herself, over by the window, staring at him as though he were on his deathbed. In the low light her eyes looked strange and luminous. “Does it hurt?”

“Does—what?”

“Your leg.”

Eren sat up slowly as not to aggravate his condition. She didn't say anything else. “It’s not so bad that I can’t sleep.” He studied her face for signs of age, finding naught but scars, a weariness in her eyes he could speak to. She didn't frown. She just watched him coolly. Eren shrugged. “You can’t sleep either?" No answer. "Thinking about to-morrow?”

“I can get you something for it.”

Eren shook his head. “That's not necessary."

"Don't be stupid."

"This isn't something I can just take pills for.”

"It's chronic." Her tone pregnant with incredulity. "Why haven't you seen a doctor for this?"

"Annie, what the hell is a regular doctor gonna do for either of us? We already fix ourselves. There are other veterans that have been stranded here, they aren't growing their limbs back. They need all the help they can get. Anyway, it's only, what, three more years of living? I can take three. Fuck, I've taken ten."

The more he kept talking, the darker her eyes became. Clench in her jaw, tautness of her shoulders, pronounced enough to notice from a distance—an involuntary reflection of his own revulsion.

"I don't know how you managed to win one war, let alone, if you can't even prevent yourself from running into the ground." Her voice was icy and distinctly contemptuous. She stalked over to him. Cold fingers dug into the meat of his naked shoulder, pushed him upright between the wall and headboard; tight, controlled movements. "Four years later and you still want to pretend you're a fucking martyr. It might've worked on Mikasa, but I'm not your sister. I'm not going to help you hurt yourself."

She kneaded at his leg in a much brusquer way than the way the orderlies in Marley. Eren didn't argue. She was not going to take no for an answer. When it was done she coaxed him to lie down again. He stiffened as he felt her weight join his on the mattress, curled almost tentatively against his chest. She didn’t try to hold him, just huddled as though for warmth. She did not explain herself.

Eren had a vague recollection of the last time this had happened. Back then she came up to his chin, rather than the middle of his chest; their disparity was only thrown into relief. He could feel the human warmth of her through the thin undershirt, the softness of her hair on his cheek. He’d dreamt about this a lot when he was sixteen, while the tragedy of her betrayal was no longer fresh but still painful in his mind. He had no energy left to hate her then, for she was not his enemy.

He heard her breathing even out.

She had stayed this long. There was no sense in abandoning her now.

Sometime after that, Eren started noticing her in more tangible ways. Smell of her hair. The subtle glint in her eyes in lieu of a smile. She'd wait up for him in the mornings before he left. He'd tell her good-bye.

When he came home he’d catch her eyes lingering on him in profile.

Just one day too many of the same quiet inactivity. The fact that they had slept in the same bed was just a catalyst of how familiar they were with each other already.

She woke up an hour later than usual and, fuming, went out to train. A light rain had started. Eren made breakfast. Over the next twenty minutes the light sheet became much more torrential. Annie came back in about half-an-hour, dripping water all over the floor. He would've told her off but she grabbed his wrist. He turned as she leant up and took his face in her hands and kissed him like her life depended on it.

Maybe the situation had always been building to this. He had forgotten about its immediacy until the moment presented itself. But now there was nothing left to say. So he gathered her up and placed her on the counter, kissing her breathless, bunching up her threadbare shirt, palming her tits through the military-issue brassiere—he muttered, "see, I thought you were just being nice," and she scoffed, set her heel to the small of his back even as he put his mouth on her. She was chilled from the rain; it was not yet summer. Half-dressed and needy, he took her right there on the countertop. Afterwards, there was no shame or lingering uncertainty that would have been present as cadets. She pressed her cheek to his.

"I'm going to be away for a while. It's higher pay if I stay in Karanese. Maybe two or three weeks." She looked up at him. Her eyes were bright but her tone was stoic. "I just…" She trailed off because he was only looking at her face. Eren smoothed her damp hair away from her cheek.

"I love you." Then he stopped. Like he was finally coming to grips with the idea. Annie blinked rapidly. A crease formed in her brow. Her mouth worked but no sound came out. Eren kissed her chin. "But, if you're gonna be trackin' mud everywhere you'd best clean it up after yourself."

She finally came back to herself. Shoved him lightly in the chest. "Fuck off." Then hoisted herself off the counter, fixed her trousers, and asked in a dry voice where he kept the washbasin.

vi.

On his own the cabin felt distinctly empty. Sometimes he'd wake up hard and just—take care of it. Annie on top of him. On her knees. Pulling him up to her. He missed her a lot more than he'd care to admit to her face and it wasn't just in the sense that she was available. She'd probably just smirk at him anyway.

But when she returned it was nice to have her around, even for a little while. She kept to herself and he gave her space; it was as though she had never left.

It was still morning. He was working when he felt her come up behind him, hands slipping over his wrists. “Oi,” he muttered, “I’m a little busy.”

“You’re just sitting there.”

He scoffed. “Really? How would you know what I’m doin’?” No answer. Eren closed the book. “You really are demanding, ain’t you?” Faux-annoyance. But he turned.

She looked prettier in uniform. Hair pulled back into less of a bun, more of a severe ponytail. She was looking him up and down as though deciding something for herself.

She leant down, kissed him firmly, nipping at his lip until went with it, half-amused. She stepped back, breathing evenly, eyes glinting. She cupped his face, a vestige of tenderness he did not anticipate.

Then her eyes shifted, something empty, strange. A harsh crack against his jaw he could not anticipate and he took it, worked his jaw, blinking rapidly. “What the hell are you—?”

Annie jerked her head back slightly, fixing him with the same expectance he realised he’d completely misinterpreted. “Hit me.”

Eren didn’t move. Her jaw trembled, then set. He caught her wrist. “That’s enough.”

“Why?” She sounded annoyed. “It’s all right. I can take it.”

“What is this?”

“I’ll be dead before you anyway, it would be easier just to take—”

“—I said that’s enough,” he said, terse. “I’m not going to do anything to you."

Her brow furrowed. "I thought you understood.”

Eren just stared, fighting to keep himself calm when he wanted to grab her shoulders and demand her to justify why the hell she wanted to be hit. "What am I supposed to understand?"

Annie’s eyes darted over his face and then to his wrist. “I want you to hit me back.”

“I’m not going to do that.” He cupped her jaw and she almost flinched; his stomach twisted. “Do you understand me?“

Silence built up between them. "I know you’d stop if I asked you to.”

“I’m not going to wait until after I’ve hurt you to stop.”

Annie pressed her face into his chest. He took her by the shoulders, watching her stiffen.

“Do you hear me?”

She nodded.

"Why d'you want me to hit you?"

"Do you want a list?" He gripped her tight enough to make her flinch and immediately regretted the look of fear that came across her face. He let go of her. "I’ve been complicit in the death of your comrades.” Her voice thickened. “And I’ve taught you everything I know. You don't need me here for anything other than your own gratification.” Returning to the facade of impassivity with unnerving ease. “So, there’s no point in comparing our tallies.”

“Annie—"

“Are you stupid?” Annie spat, the most emotion she had exhibited thus far. “You've taken my country and my life and my father and you—now you want me to love you back. You want to marry me as if we're ever going to—I'm the one who killed your friends, why would you ever want to be reminded of—"

"You love me." She looked helpless in her vulnerability. "What? What's the matter?"

"Why would you want me? I—I can't even have children. I'm going to die in four years. I'm going to watch you die unless I kill myself fir—"

"—Annie—"

"—you could fuck anyone you wanted!" she exploded. "Why does it have to be me?"

"Because you don’t have to earn anything from me! I just want to be around you—can’t you accept that?”

Annie kissed him hard. He trembled though he was holding her.

“Take me to bed." Eren opened his mouth and she kissed his chin. “I want you to take me to bed. I—”

Even then, he was hesitant to touch her. She led the way, stripping down to skin and splaying on his bed. He caressed her when she asked him to, a gentleness in his hands that betrayed his own sympathy; for once she didn’t chastise him.

Her scarring was far more pronounced in the light. He'd noticed before, briefly on the counter and more clearly with enough attention, but not like this. It clustered around her sternum and down her spine. He wondered, briefly, if that was why she'd wanted to do it quickly. Now her eyes were bright and shimmering but she took him into her, reached for him.

"Is this OK?" His voice was a croak.

Her eyes flickered to him. Cautious, sure. "Yeah."

He was on his knees, lifting the small of her back, working her towards a much sweeter surrender. He slid one arm around her waist to support her and touched her breasts, the side of her neck, cupping her jaw. His thumb ran over her scarring.

“Annie.” She gasped at the sound of her name. “Ann. Look. Come here.” She was biting her lip. Head fallen back, her hair was almost diaphanous in the light. He murmured her name and she was shivering with emotion. She turned into her elbow and told him in an unsteady voice to go faster, and the bed creaked to match him.

Her body arched, jaw slack. She wouldn't stop shivering. Her voice did not rise in expectation. It just wavered, edgeless.

He took her wrist away from her face and—she flinched. This serrated, ugly, sound that jerked out of her body. He pulled out, holding her. “Look at me,” his voice hoarse and horrified, “please.”

Annie curled up against his chest and shook. Eren just kept apologizing. She didn't push him away.

Eventually she stopped. Raised her head. Their eyes met and she lost composure again. He brushed her hair from her face. “Stay,” she croaked, “please. I need you.”

He kissed her brow. She almost flinched. He tucked his chin into her shoulder, arms around her back, until she’d calmed down.

"You don't have to do anything," he said quietly. "Do you understand that?"

"I know."

Laying prone, she only came up to his sternum. Annie sat up first. She got to her feet and went over to the window. Her shoulder was parallel to the glass. His attention stayed firmly on her profile. “You’re gonna get colder than hell. Come back here.”

She turned and glanced at his forearm curled half-surreptitiously against his stomach. Scar tissue along her breasts was prominent. In the dead light of this cloudy, April afternoon she finally looked her age.

There was a naked uncertainty in her eyes that made him freeze. "You're not my father and you never will be. You've been kinder towards me than I deserve, given the circumstances. I wish I could despise you."

Eren rolled his shoulders. The silence held for a while. "I don't know if what either of us have done can be forgiven. But, as long as you’re here, I want you to know that I don't hate you." All she did was stare, a slight crease in her brow. “I never could.”

“You love me,” she said. Not with scorn. Like she was testing the idea in a way they would have shied away from as kids. She averted her face towards the window.

She watched him get up and tensed. He limped towards her in a couple strides and draped the blanket around her shoulders with the same tentativeness. She did not put her arms around him. She pressed her face into his shoulder. His arm came around her back and she closed her eyes, just existing in the cold slats of wood against her feet and the rise and fall of his breast.

He put the blankets around her and laid beside her.

He’d always supposed he would heal with enough rest. He didn't know how to put what he felt into words, but eloquence had never been his forte. It was not unlike laying on your deathbed, mulling over all the things that hardly seemed to matter until there was no time left to spare.

There was no pain now, just certainty in the presence of another—the old urge to drink was absent.

This is a cleaned-up version of a couple tumblr WIPs + some old/new material blended in for fun. Think of it as a pilot episode for a much larger fic.

For what it's worth I did like the ending of AoT. Elements of that ending will likely factor into the aforementioned larger fic. I am totally disinterested in arguing about ships or wasted potential—at this point, I’d rather write whatever seems interesting, and leave it at that, canon or not.

And hey, if you think acknowledging canon will override my crippling addiction to the "morally challenged antihero/problematic blonde" dynamic… I really don't see that happening. Even after exiting this fandom, it's like, ALL I've been writing for a year (looking at YOU Insult to Injury) and I feel like I'm going insane. Back on topic though: Now that AoT has concluded, I find I am far less stressed at the prospect for writing for this series again. It won’t be my main focus, but I do like this fic’s concept enough to flesh it out.

#ereaniweek2021 #ereannieweek2021 #eren jaeger #annie leonhardt #ereani #ereannie #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #apologies for any disparity between canon #I'm a bit behind but I have the jist of what happens #fanfic #fanfiction

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dhwty-writes · 4 years

Text

Toss a Coin to your Lover

I finally cracked. After months of reading (who are we kidding, inhaling) Geraskier fanfic, I finally wrote an one-shot. What inspired me to do it was this extremely heartwrenching post by @clown-of-rivia, who kindly gave me permission to write this. And write I did! I typed half of this at 2 AM on my phone because I couldn’t sleep until the words were own and the other half in the last 3 hours. It was a lot of fun, honestly!

Best you read the post mentioned above first to know the context but basically what happened is that Geralt and Jaskier slept together and Geralt (like the absolute idiot he is) put some money on the nightstand the next morning and left (because he couldn’t imagine himself worthy of love that is not bought). Here’s what happens after. It’s angst but with a happy ending, don’t worry. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Jaskier stared at the coins on the nightstand for a very long, probably an embarrassing long time. Alright, definitely an embarrassing long time. But in his defence, the sun had barely risen and he'd frankly had the best sex of his life - and that ought to say something - so he thought he ought to be forgiven.

He'd be very glad to say that, when reality had finally caught up to him, the first thing he'd felt was rage. Alas, that was not the case. Because despite what other people thought, despite his infamous reputation as an exceptional (and intermittent) lover, despite everything, he actually cared about sex. His flings were seldom only a fancy to sate his needs; he was genuinely, truly, deeply in love with his usual bedfellows.

And Geralt? Geralt wasn't his usual bedfellow. He wasn't anything like his usual bedfellows. Jaskier fell for people easily and had been even more prone to do so in his youth. He had been in love with Geralt from the first moment he saw him. And over the years the feelings hadn't subsided in the slightest.

He was not ashamed to say that at this point he loved Geralt with all his being. Melitele's tits, he'd spent the last two decades traipsing after the damned witcher, composing ballad after ballad to his glory and beauty and virtue and finally - finally! - he'd thought Geralt had understood.

And then-

This.

Disbelievingly he stared at the money on the bedside table.

So, naturally, Jaskier felt hurt. He wanted to curl up and cry for days as he'd done after his first heartbreak, a lovely stable hand his father had sent away after catching them in the hay.

But then- resignation. Because he'd always known. 'Death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak.' In some way he'd even been prepared for it, as much as one can prepare for such an eventuality. But not like this. This wasn't fair, this wasn't how it had been supposed to go, his heart not only broken but shattered into a million pieces, like the beautiful painted glass vase he had broken all those years ago in the Countess de Stael's manse. Beautiful even in shambles, yet dangerous to everyone who dared touch the shards.

He exhaled forcefully, clinging to the feeling of glass cuts on his hands, clinging to the pain, the sting, the bite. Finally, the rage kicked in. That was better than heartbreak, that was something he could use as a weapon, wielding words as lethal as any sword, as sweet as honey and as beautiful as a field of poisonous buttercups.

He stuffed the coins into his purse and got up to get dressed, seething and too furious to even attempt buttoning up his doublet. It wasn't as if Geralt hadn't seen that before. He had and he had loved it and then he had thrown coins onto Jaskier's nightstand and left. The audacity!

And the audacity to just leave! Jaskier was of half a mind to not go after Geralt after all because wasn't that a pitiful sight? The great poet Jaskier in the role of the scorned lover, running after his witcher with desperate need? But then again, he was just too angry and he needed to have words with Geralt. Oh, and what words they were about to have!

'Errands to run,’ Geralt had said and Jaskier scoffed in disbelief. Because now, apparently, the witcher had gone craven, Roach and her master long gone when he peered into the stable. 'Good,' he thought, 'so he's afraid.' And he ought to be, really. Jaskier wasn't about to just stand idly by and let the love of his life leave - he had been much too persistent over the last two and a half decades for that.

So, he tightened the straps of his lute case and his bag and set out to do what he did best: Not composing or singing or giving exceptional blowjobs (although he certainly excelled at all of those tasks), no, no, no; what Jaskier did best was tracking a certain whitehaired witcher of his, no matter how little he wanted to be found.

A few pointed questions and sweet words later, he was on his way, huffing and puffing while running to match the speed of a horse and trying to compensate the head start Geralt and Roach had gotten – and praying, Melitele, please, that they hadn't galloped away because then would take days to catch up to them – yes, he spoke from experience, one of his not so fond memories from the beginning of their friendship when Geralt had still thought he could shake the bard. He had learned better quickly, though now it seemed he had forgotten the lessons learned half a lifetime ago.

Luckily, though, he hadn’t galloped away, as Jaskier caught up to him half a day's march later while he was watering Roach by a creek. Good. That was good. That meant that his white wolf wasn't completely averse to being found. Still, the sight of the peaceful tranquillity - as if nothing had happened - only fuelled his rage.

'How dare he?', he thought. 'How dare he be calm when I am furious, how dare he find peace while I am aching, how dare he hurt me and not hurt in turn?'

Oh, but that wouldn't last for long. No, Jaskier would see to that.

"Geralt!" he called even though he knew that the witcher had to be long aware of his presence. Still, he hadn't deemed it necessary to acknowledge him, not turning, not even raising his head. The nerve of this! "What errands lead you to the middle of nowhere?"

The witcher flinched and looked up, his brows furrowed. It was a look Jaskier had long learnt to identify with pain. 'Good,' he thought, although he felt a little guilty, 'he shall hurt, too. Just like I do.'

"No answer?" he asked flippantly. "Fine. Then I'll do the talking. As always. You better sit down, witcher, because we will be here for a while. And you will listen." Geralt didn't move. Fine for him.

"What the actual fuck," he began his tirade, "we're you thinking, you cursed witcher?" He flinched but Jaskier didn't care. He was bitter and battered and broken-hearted and it was Geralt’s fault!

"What do you take me for?" He shouted and dug for the coins in his purse. "Some common whore? Some- some common travelling bard who will just as easily fall into bed for some coin as fall into song?" He probably shouldn't care that much but even if he was now famous enough to normally elude such propositions- as well as the need to accept them - it still rubbed him the wrong way decades later.

"For years I've kept you company, for years I've sung your praises. 'Toss a coin to your witcher', indeed. Here!" One by one he hurled them in Geralt's general direction. "Have some coins! Have plenty of them because trust me, I’m not wanting for money! I’m not wanting for anything, to be precise! I could easily retire to Oxenfurt to teach or to basically any court on the Continent to make a home. Easily, do you hear me? I do not need your pity! I do not need you to pay me!"

He had run out of Geralt's coins to throw and while he could certainly bombard him with his own money, he was actually quite protective of his earnings. So, he reverted back to verbal assault: "Is that what that was to you last night? Another night of paid company you like to indulge that you could just leave behind come morning? What were you even thinking? That you could finally shake me of after years of travelling with you?"

He gasped as a terrible thought came to his mind. "Is that what it is? You try to insult me so that I finally stop following you? Because then you have succeeded, Geralt. This insult is-"

"Jaskier," Geralt said, the first time he spoke since his arrival. It sounded weak. Broken. Pleading.

"No!" he answered. "No, I'm not finished with you, yet! You humiliate me, Geralt. For years I've endorsed your terrible bedside manner but this is a step too far. Really, I'm at a loss for words! I woke up with a wonderful afterglow to see you leaving and was worried for you. Turns out I shouldn't have been because apparently this night has no impact whatsoever on you. You're as calm as- as- I don't even know! See what you do to me? I'm a poet! A minstrel! A pretty little wordsmith, yet you make my words fail me. My weapons, my craft, my only asset, my-"

"Jaskier, please," Geralt interrupted him and to his shame tears rose to Jaskier’s eyes, "I didn't want to hurt you!"

"Then why did you do it?" he yelled, choking on the tears. "Because guess what, Geralt, I'm hurt! I'm really fucking hurt!"

"I'm sorry. Last night was a mistake."

"Oh, great," he scoffed. "First you add injury to insult. But sure, why not add insult again?"

"I shouldn't have made you do this."

"Made me?" he howled. "You didn't make me do anything! Fuck, I kissed you because Melitele's tits, I've been in love with you for so long and I just couldn't take it anymore!" His voice broke on the last syllables and he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to quell the tears. "Shit-!" he croaked weakly. He hadn't meant for it to go this way, he was angry and he wanted him to feel the fury, not to crack down before him, show him his weakness, show him just how helpless he made him feel and-

He gulped down air, in a hope to stifle the violent sobs that shook his body. Oh, how he ached to curl up in a lover's embrace, to be held and comforted and yet Geralt was the one to reduce him to the blubbering mess. It was fucked up. It was so fucked up. Fucked up to run after him, fucked up to yell at him, all so very fucked up.

Still, he calmed down. Slowly. But still, he did.

When he was only sniffling a bit, he lowered his hands and found Geralt staring at him, unmoving, unblinking. Then he said: "No you're not."

"What do you mean, I'm not?"

"You're not in love with me. You can't be."

He scoffed. "Do you now claim to know my heart better than I do? Do you think I cannot judge whom I love? Do you think me an imbecile, Geralt? Incapable? Weak? Whatever it is, tell me! Better tell me now!"

"I think you are insane," he growled and Jaskier gasped, "to think yourself in love with a witcher."

"What, you absolute idiot, do you think have I been doing the last twenty-odd years? It hasn't been a deterrent all that time, so why should it be now?"

"Because you can't love me, Jaskier," he roared, the first time he had actually raised his voice at him since the djinn. "Because I am a witcher and can't love you back and demanding your affection would not be fair!"

"Denying it is equally unfair!"

Geralt growled and turned away, obviously displeased by something though Jaskier couldn't tell what it was.

He was still angry and he wanted to continue yelling, yell how Geralt paying him wasn't fair, how Geralt leaving him wasn't fair, how- But somewhere in his rage-clouded mind a voice of reason spoke up, granting surprising clarity for just a moment.

He clung to that clear thought as if for dear life, letting the fury dissipate until he was thinking again, and not just feeling and hurting. "Geralt," he said cautiously now, "why did you pay me?"

The witcher scoffed and ducked his head. "I had to pay you something, didn't I?" he mumbled almost too quietly for Jaskier to hear. "I mean, you were expecting something. No-one would bed a witcher without- without recompensation."

Jaskier stared at him abhorred. "Why on earth would you think that?" he asked with disgust dripping into his voice.

"Because it's always been like this!" he answered exasperated. "Women love me only for the money and even then, they cannot look at me while taking me to bed. Yen could, but-" He winced. "The djinn- And you, Jaskier. You don't have anything like that. But I had to give you something. I could never ask a sacrifice like that of something without-" Jaskier watched with astonishment as the witcher's voice broke. "What else do I have to offer you?"

"What- what else would do you have to offer me?" Jaskier gasped and spluttered trying - and failing - to find any words.

He just grunted and took Roach by the reins as if he was about to walk away - again.

"No!" He stepped in and ripped the reins out of his hands. "No, you do not get to flee! You stay and listen to what I have to say." He just stared, watching the bard as he started pacing. "What do you have to offer me, Geralt?" He asked bristled. "Why, what indeed? It isn't as if you have made me famous, ensuring my wealth and livelihood. It isn't as if you've saved my life countless of times, putting yourself in harm’s way right from the very beginning when you didn't even know - or like - me. It isn't as if you listen to my endless ramblings, as if you replace my lute strings when I need to, as if you lend me your coat when I'm freezing or carry my bag when I'm tired. It isn't as if you've nursed me back to health after illness and injury alike. It isn't as if you've rendered me completely speechless last night. No, none of that has ever happened."

He ducked his head. "That's nothing."

"That's everything."

His head snapped up. "Well, I'm still a witcher!" he shouted but Jaskier didn't flinch nor waver.

"And when have I ever cared about that?" he shouted back. "My love for your mind and soul and heart has been free for as long as I know you. Why would you think that my love for your body wouldn't be?"

"You mean it," Geralt said his voice full of surprise.

"Of course, I do, you big dumb oaf! That's what I've been trying to tell you for the past half hour. What else am I supposed to do to convince you that you are worthy of love and softness and care? What else am I supposed to do to show you that I've been giving you all of this for half of my life without asking anything in return? I never needed to ask! I've been paid in turn thousandfold. Not in money, Geralt, in actions big and small. I thought-" He choked on his tears, "I thought I've been paid in love, too."

"Witchers can't love. Witchers can't feel at all."

"Stop telling yourself that lie. I've known you for twenty years, Geralt. When you're happy you smile, when you think I'm funny you huff a laugh, when you're angry you shout, when you're sad you shut me out and when you're hurt you lick your wounds. You hide it, of course, but you haven't been able to hide it from me for a long time. And I know you love people. You love your brothers and Vesemir and you love Yennefer in some way and Ciri, too. And I think you love me, too. Don't hide your love, witcher. Not from me. Never from me. You're just scared. A coward. Scared to get hurt and scared to hurt me."

"I'm not craven," he growled.

"No?" Jaskier crossed his arms. "Prove it."

Geralt looked at him quizzically. Jaskier raised an eyebrow. A challenge. An invitation. A plea. And just like that, Jaskier could see the witcher break. It was plain as day, the little crack in the facade, the little gleam in the eyes and then, suddenly, he was being kissed.

There was a desperate sob caught in Geralt's throat when they kissed, the anguish and agony overwhelming Jaskier and making him stumble a few paces back. Geralt kissed as if he'd never kissed before, frantic and fierce and forlorn, as if he feared that Jaskier would pull away, as if he waited for eventual rejection, revulsion, rebuke.

And that broke Jaskier's heart again, maybe even more so than the coin. No, Geralt could have paid him all the coin in the world and it wouldn't have hurt half as much as the onslaught of- of- decades of loneliness and loathing and longing that choked him.

He was still angry - he was sure that he would continue being angry and hurt for quite some time - but that didn't matter right now. Right now, all that mattered what that he loved Geralt. And his beloved witcher, his dear white wolf, his revered companion, friend, lover was hurting, too. Because he hadn't been able to even imagine being worthy of the affection Jaskier gave him so readily, so freely, so effortlessly. Oh, and how much affection he had to give!

He raised his hands gently to cup his cheeks, wiping the tears away with both his thumbs and leaned into the kiss. The desperation faded away, as did the agony, to be replaced with tenderness and love. He reached for Geralt's hands to place them on his hips, whispering quietly between kisses: "It's okay, it's alright. Hold me, embrace me, I've got you." He placed a tender hand on Geralt's chest, manoeuvring them until they reached some rocks beside the creek to sit down on. He cradled his witcher into his lap, carding his fingers through his hair and kissed him, wishing that he never had to stop, hoping to pour all the unsaid words, all the undelivered confessions, all the unsung ballads (that he definitely did not have ready, no) into the slow movements of their lips.

When Geralt pulled away and leaned their foreheads against each other he was almost disappointed. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry, Jaskier, I'm so sorry, I never meant- I never meant for any of this, I never meant to hurt you, to insult you, to- I just don't- I don't know how to- I want to make this good, make this good for you, and-"

"Shhhh," he made soothingly. "I know. I know, my love, my witcher, my dear heart. And I forgive you. You know I always do."

"I don't deserve-"

He pressed a finger to his lips. "No," he declared. "None of this nonsense anymore. I've yelled my throat sore trying to convince you otherwise. What else am I supposed to do to prove it?"

"Kiss me again," he begged, "A thousand times. Maybe I'll start to believe it then."

To his own surprise, Jaskier laughed. "That, my dear, I can do." He pecked him on the lips. "One," he said. "Nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine to go."

To his even bigger astonishment Geralt of Rivia, the witcher, the white wolf, smiled. Widely. "Hmm," he made. "I think I like that. Do it again?"

He did. "Two."

That earned him a quiet chuckle and a quivering sigh. "I love you," Geralt whispered. "I really do."

Jaskier smiled, too. "I know. I love you, too."

He buried his face in the crook of his neck and Jaskier's breath hitched. "I'm not good at showing it yet," Geralt said and Jaskier had to keep himself from squirming at the tickling sensation. "I'm shit at showing it. I can't promise you that I won't hurt you again. I've never done something like this before. But I will try. For you. Anything for you."

"Oh, my love," he sighed, his heart beating quicker. "And what a wonderful adventure that will be. A tale of love and woe, of-"

"-death and destiny?" Geralt interrupted him and looked at him, a sly smile on his lips. "Heroics and heartbreak?"

Jaskier gasped. "You remember!"

"Of course, I do. I never forget anything important." He opened his mouth to protest and Geralt quickly spoke: "Do you think it is a story worthy of a ballad?"

His expression went soft and his heart warmed. "No, Geralt," he said and kissed him again. "This is the stuff of an epos. In a thousand years they will still tell legends of our love. There will be novels and plays and songs, and- oh Geralt, I love you, so much it hurts."

The witcher pulled him close. “I love you, too. I love you even if I don’t show it. I love your singing, your dramatics, your fancies. I love that your hair is soft and that your body is unscarred and that your hands are always gentle. I love that you never smell of fear. And I still can’t believe any of this.”

Jaskier smiled and kissed him again. “Three,” he announced.

“Do it again?”

He laughed. “Always.” And so, he did. A thousand kisses and a thousand more. To make his witcher believe. To make his witcher stay. To love his witcher.

Because he always had. Jaskier, Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove, strolling minstrel, master poet, bard loved Geralt of Rivia, the Witcher, the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken since the moment he had first laid eyes on him. And now he got to show it to. Now he received love in turn. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #my writing #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier ficlet #angst with a happy ending

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tales-of-magic-and-chaos · 3 years

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Cozy library in one of their houses, LOTS of cuddles for a hurt/comfort insecure!Loki with Tony and Stephen comforting him and like reading to him while he falls asleep knowing they love him

Thank you for this lovely prompt!

I had a lot of fun writing this story, hope you’ll like it! I also posted it on Ao3: Morpheus

Surprisingly, Loki loved Midgardian fiction. More precisely fairy tales, fantasy and all stories of foreign and fantastic worlds.

He could spend hours, if not days, reading these books. Escaping through them while staying in the comfort and security of the library.

Tony has been worried in the beginning, seeing his lover isolating himself and reading until he forgot to eat or to sleep. Even though he was far more resistant than humans, Loki still needed to rest and eat. Retreating himself this deep into his own world was far from healthy.

It was Stephen who reassured Tony by reminding him how much peace and comfort Loki could find in books.

The library was Loki’s sanctuary. It always had been, to be honest. Even back on Asgard, Loki always found refuge and comfort in the middle of this comforting and almost mystical place that is a library. Books always have been his confidents and best friends in tough times. Allowing him to escape loneliness, bitterness, distress. They taught him the most precious of his knowledge : magic. They reassured him through the entirety of his life, it was no surprise that even if he now lived on Midgard he still found such comfort in reading.

Stephen, too, found comfort in reading. But, contrary to Loki, he found this comfort through learning more about magic, science or whatever subject he was currently interested in. He did read fiction and diverse other books but the real comfort to him was perfecting his craft and knowledge. He always found comfort and peace in perfecting his knowledge and skills. Books have always been a means to improve himself.

Tony realized he completely understood his lovers. After all, he too found refuge in his own sanctuary, though it was his lab and not the library. He too spent days working on his inventions, forgetting to sleep and eat. He too felt immense relief and peace working on his suit and inventions, surrounded by his tech in the familiarity and comfort of his lab.

They all found different safe places throughout the years, when they needed solitude and comfort.

That said... Maybe it was no surprise that Loki specifically loved Midgardian fiction so much. Well, of course Tony and Stephen were always astounded to see a god who saw thousands of marvelous and mysterious worlds in his life being as amazed as a child each time he read Midgardian stories. But, all these experiences he lived were certainly precisely why he loved these books so much.

There was a feeling of profound familiarity despite a cruel sense of loss and disorientation with these tales. Midgardians’ collective imagination found his roots in myths that were somewhat closely familiar to Loki, because he often knew the truths behind these myths. It was fascinating, as much as disorienting, to see how these truths had been changed into something totally different throughout the centuries. The truth had been shaped and metamorphosed through means that had nothing to see with lies or intentional manipulation. It was only the results of oral transmission and romanticization. Humans were always exploring their history through fiction. Truly fascinating. Midgardians really were amazing story tellers.

Asgardians legends never equaled the beauty of Midgard stories in Loki's opinion. Oh, for sure, there were hundreds, if not thousands, of legends narrating Aesirs' most glorious and epic fights. There was the wise and profound philosophy hidden behind poems. There were tales of love and adventures sung. But it was nowhere near what stories were in Midgard.

Stories were more to Midgardians than mere glorification of the past. Of course, their tales took their source in humans' history. But while Asgardian legends were just pleasant memories that warriors loved to tell again and again and again, for Midgardians it was something totally different that was at stake.

Transmitting their history was absolutely crucial for Midgardians, way more than for the immortal Aesirs. There was always the threat of death and of the erasing of their heritage. They always were one disaster, one tragedy, one pandemic away from the loss of an immeasurable heritage. Humans' memories and myths were not the words of rambling elders thousands of years old, there were lively and diverse stories continuously changing and transmitted.

In Loki’s eyes, it was why the Midgardians gave so much importance to telling stories. Storytellers were in a way the guardians of humanity's whole history and heritage. These fantastic and fictional worlds were more enthralling and mysterious than anything else Loki saw in his life and despite this, these stories were vibrating with infinite echoes of the past. Midgardians stories were as diverse and wildly lively as their creators. Full of dreams, of hope, of memories. It was like a cauldron for changes and evolution all the while transmitting elders’ memories and thoughts.

Loki could not help but be simply amazed. It often left him dreamy. How sweet it must be for midgardians children to be soothed with such beautiful and fantastic tales. It was nowhere near the legends of his childhood. The Aesirs always related the same stories of glorious victories, of fierce and valourous heroes and of the, oh so incredible, conquests of Asgard through the Nine Realms. The Elders always loved to narrate these same tales of war and conquests. Especially those about the Jotnar and their Realm.

Oh, how many times did he hear how the brave and mighty warriors of Asgard defeated the terrible and truly monstrous Jotnar? How many times did he hear how Odin defeated Laufey? How many times did he hear these stories of heroic war, of glorious violence, of marvelous destruction?

He always hated these stories. It wasn’t the preservation of a heritage or fantastic tales meant to inspire like in Midgard. It was just old chauvinistic warriors patting themselves and the back for war memories already narrated and heard thousands of times.

Perhaps it was bad faith. After all, war was obviously central in Asgardian culture. All the children learnt early how to fight and defend themselves and their Realm. Those not able to fight like respectable and heroic warriors were… weren’t.

It surely was not a surprise to see this theme being this preponderant in Asgard’s myths. Since the dawn of time until Ragnarok. It simply was a very long life made of glorious fights, feasts and wars.

Asgardian mentality was always about being the most powerful and brave warrior. Tactics? Cunning? Magic? Oh no! The only power was strength. Physical strength. Submitting your enemies with your sword, or your hammer, was the only true and honorable power. How could you ask for respect and consideration if you were not even able to show the strength of a true Asgardian warrior? How could you be worthy of being a warrior? How could you be worthy of being an Aesir? How could you be worthy of being an Odinson?

The answer was easy.

You could not.

And in the end, they were right. They were so right.

He never deserved to be a respected Aesir warrior nor a true Odinson for he was nothing more than a Jotunn runt after all. A weak, evil and monstrous Jotunn, one of those that Aesir parents warn their children against, when they narrate them the wondrous Asgardians legends.

He would never be worthy in the eyes of the Aesirs. In the eyes of the warriors. In the eyes of his brother. In the eyes of Odin.

A monstrous creature. Directly from Aesirs’ most known stories.

A stranger.

An imposter.

His whole life was made of lies and horrific legends. He wasn’t him, Loki. He was a Jotunn, a creature made of ice, evilness and violence, as narrated in the legends. Sometimes he couldn’t figure himself as real. Sometimes he forgot he was something else than a monster feared and hated. Sometimes he was losing grasp on reality. Sometimes he was feeling like an outsider. Observing life and reality from the exterior. Like a simpte fictional being allowing people to shape him as they wanted. Just an horrific tale and a sweet lie.

A lie as sweet as the lips that were softly kissing his forehead. As sweet at the tender hand caressing his hair. As sweet as the perfume of books, cinnamon and fire floating in the air. As sweet at a profound and soft voice he could hear.

But these sensations were nothing like lies nor fiction.

As he was reconnecting with his body and reality, he could feel more and more of those sensations coming to him. The soft warmth of the fireplace. Someone holding his hand and softly caressing the back of it with his thumb. His lovers by his sides. A whisper.

« We’re here, Lokes. We’re here, I promise you. » Another kiss. « And you’re here with us too. »

A reminder.

The other voice never stops reading. The hand in his hair doesn’t stop either.

It probably hasn’t stopped since the beginning.

But which beginning ? When did the voice start ? When did the caresses start ?

He didn’t know.

He hasn’t even been aware of being disconnected from the world. He hasn't been aware of being cuddled by his two favorite people in the world. He wasn't aware of the comfortable room he was in.

Maybe it has been hours since his lovers, worried to not have seen him in a long time, joined him and took him in a warm and loving embrace.

It felt like an eternity. Or an instant. Or just. It felt just good. Timeless. But good. Immensely good.

Stephen softly caressing his hair while he was snuggled to his side. His soft voice never stopping from reading.

Tony cuddling him softly, his eyes closed, while he was listening to Stephen's voice too.

The Cloak was carefully covering them and they were comfortably settled in the couch, surrounded by soft cushions. The room's warm colors were only adding more to the feeling of peacefulness and cozyness that Loki felt each time he was in the library and in his lovers' arms.

Anxiety, sadness and dread were already disappearing. Oh, they would come back, sure. They always did.

But for now, he was safe and loved. In the security of his sanctuary and in the comfort of his lovers’ embrace. All was well. He knew his lovers were here for him. And he knew Stephen would never stop reading and Tony would never leave his side, not until they were certain their lover was ready to leave this little bubble of peace. He could allow himself to rest now, lulled to sleep by Stephen’s voice and Tony’s soft caresses.

#frostironstrange #ironstrangefrost #loki x tony x stephen #strangeironfrost

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moon-in-daylight · 4 years

Text

Read Between The Lines / Count Orlo x reader

Summary: You have been friends with Orlo for years now, even though you have always fantasized about being something more. When Orlo reads some compromising papers, you’re not sure you can keep your infatuation with him a secret anymore.

Words: 5.4k

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for weeks and now I’ve finally finished it. I’m not sure I’m content with the result, but considering I’ve overcome a really huge writing block to finish this, I’m posting it either way. I haven’t proofread any of this, so sorry for the potential mistakes and typos. Hope it still makes some sense. Also sorry for posting so late at night, but now that I finally have a fic to post, I can’t wait to do it until tomorrow 😂

Surviving in Peter’s court wasn’t an easy task and anyone that had spent more than a few nights between the opulent walls of his palace could confirm that. The competence of the young Emperor could be easily described as inexistent and both the country and the palace were suffering the most absolute misery under his wicked and corrupted hand.

The war with Sweden had lasted too long, killed too many of your own people, but as harsh as it sounded, the front wasn’t the most hostile environment in Russia.

Sooner or later, that war would end. Eventually, things would go back to normal to the few lucky Russian soldiers that survived the unforgivingly cold winter in the battleground. Whatever outcome the dispute would take, the remaining survivors could go home and return to their families, live the rest of their lives in peace despite the atrocities they had been obliged to perform and witness…

The court, on the other hand, was endlessly immersed in a constant, vicious war for power that had started long before you were even born, and most certainly would still go on long after you were gone.

Every single soul living in Peter’s palace cared only for themselves, looked exclusively for their own interests. Winning the Emperor’s favor was vital for survival, and no one seemed to care whose feet they stepped on to get it. You could understand their selfish ways, you weren’t completely innocent either. You often forced yourself to laugh at the terrible jokes Peter made or took advantage of your family’s prosperous situation to get the any whims you could desire, even when in the majority times you actually didn't need most of the things you owned. It was an unfair situation and you were aware of it, but you had to take advantage of the fact that you had been born lucky and privileged.

But you normally tried to stay out of the way of the big political players, of those of the court’s residents that were trying to manipulate Peter into ruling by their beliefs and principles.

It was exhausting to live in a place like that. A place where everyone hid their true intentions and where you couldn’t lower your guard at practically any time of the day.

Much to your disgrace, the situation at court wouldn’t change while Peter was alive and occupying the throne. Even when he was the most incompetent, useless ruler the country had had in centuries – probably ever -, you were doomed to endure his reign with the only hope that you could outlive him and see a better Russia after he passed away.

He was too childish and puerile to run a country, far more worried in the seek for his own pleasure and amusement than meeting the needs of his people.

It was hard to conceive that while thousands of men were dying at the front, the Emperor could be drinking until passing out and making full display of his stupidity and recklessness through humorless jokes. It was evident to everyone’s eyes that he wasn’t qualified to run Russia, but you knew that saying that out loud would more than certainly get you killed.

He came from a long bloodline of rulers and that gave him a full pass on doing anything he wanted, no consequences, all by the divine grace of God. There was absolutely nothing you could do, except watch everyone around you butter up and lick the boots of the man that was destroying your homeland.

Not being able to deal with the hypocrisy of the court, you had soon learnt to ignore the real world and hide yourself up in fantasy ones, the shelves and books of the small library of the palace becoming a shelter for you.

In addition to being meaningfully smaller than the other rooms of the palace, the library was old, outdated and dusty. But it was also the quietest place and most peaceful room you could have access to, the least crowded. Just for that reason, it was the perfect place for you.

Although what you could have initially expected, you weren’t always alone in there, as Count Orlo often visited the library too. He was probably the only soul in the whole court beside you that care the slightest for written words, that enjoyed learning new things just for the pleasure of it.

You were intimidated by him at first, his political career and reputation making him seem cold and ruthless. In your eyes and judging by what you had heard of him, he was nothing but a calculating mind seeking to expand his power and influence, putting up with the Emperor’s constant mocking of him just so he could manipulate him.

That view you had of him immediately changed after the first time you exchanged a few ideas about the philosophy book he had caught you reading, his passionate words allowing you to see the concepts you were reading about from a different and more interesting point of view.

It wasn’t rare for the both of you to coincide in that room and through your encounters you easily familiarized and grew comfortable with each other presence. How could you not? He was always nothing but kind to you.

Whenever he had the chance, he got reunited with you so you could discuss your readings, recommend each other new books or just spend some quality time away from all the court’s madness. He was incredibly friendly and caring, always willing to share with you his knowledge, which you were incredibly thankful for.

Women weren’t supposed to learn the things you were learning. Most of them at court were illiterate, and you would be too had your father not thought it could be useful to teach you how to read when you were a child. You were grateful that he had taken the time to teach you, knowing that most men wanted the women around them to be ignorant and obliging. You were tired of seeing the patronizing way in which your gender was treated. So seeing that Orlo was treating you as an equal and was happy to answer even your most stupid questions was truly relieving.

It didn’t take long for you to grow fond of him, maybe fonder than you would have liked to admit.

Orlo was the only person in court you felt you could rely on, his views and ideas more similar to yours than what you could have ever imagined. Despite what everyone else gossiped about him, you knew he was brave and did the best he could to make a difference in Russia. He couldn’t do much to reason with Peter and talk him into making what was best for everyone, you doubted that anyone could. But at least he tried, unlike all that people who dared to mock him.

You saw in him something you had been looking for your whole life; a ray of hope. A promise that things could change, a reminder that not everything was that bad.

You couldn’t help but to let yourself fall for the feelings you slowly developed for him. It felt too good and tempting to not do so. The way your heart raced whenever you were around him was something thrilling, exciting. Something you had never thought you could ever get to feel while living in that place.

You weren’t willing to act on those feelings and risk losing his friendship, though. It was evident how uncomfortable he felt about that subject whenever Peter and his minions made fun of his lack sexual experience. You could see him clench and cringe under the court’s mockeries, discomfort filling his features every time anyone made a sexual reference in his presence. You assumed he simply wasn’t interested in those matters.

Plus, if he had been interested in you that way, he would have said something, shown some sign of his affection towards you…

It was okay that he didn’t feel the same. Just being able to befriend him was more than you could have asked for, and silently daydream about made up scenarios of you and him usually did the trick when you felt the need of being loved back.

That’s how, during one night in which you couldn’t get Orlo out of your head while reading, you had started writing a ‘book’ of your own.

You had been gathering different fantasies during the last couple of months. Endless reveries about how kissing him for the first time would feel like, what his reaction would be to other men taking an interest of you, or even about how the most quotidian parts of the day, like waking up or having breakfast, would be like with him.

Why should you not write something of your own, for your own consumption? You had always loved reading, and your feelings for Orlo gave you a never ending source of inspiration. So many ideas that you barely could remember them all. By writing them, you could preserve the happiest of your thoughts, go through them after a bad day and have your little stories bring a smile to your face.

It was harmless, so why not doing it? If it brought you joy, it couldn’t be that bad. Plus, Orlo would never have to know about your writings, as he didn’t need to know about your feelings for him either.

You hadn’t been able to write or read anything for the past days, though. Since the arrival of the Empress to the court everything had been even more chaotic than usual, and even when you much have rather stay in your chambers or with Orlo in the library instead, you had been obliged to attend to the wedding and following events.

As soon as you had seen her innocence, the look of hope in her face as she arrived to the palace for the first time, you had pitied her. She was an outsider hoping to find in the Emperor the love of her life, and in Russia a new home. You almost felt inclined to advice her to run away as fast as she could and never look back the second she walked through the palace’s doors. Living in that place was already awful enough without being married to Peter, and you figured that more sooner than later she would be regretting ever having left her home.

It only took a few days for her to realize in what a godforsaken place she had gotten herself into, as you had figured would happen. What you weren’t expecting was for her to start plotting against his husband’s life so she could steal his throne, nor that she would be requesting for your help in the process.

You had of course agreed to help her as soon as she had told you about the coup. You barely knew the woman, but you were already sure she would be making a much better work at running Russia that Peter ever would. Even a monkey could do it better, you suspected.

Because of your implication to her plans, you had found yourself having less time to spend with your own thoughts and writings, but that was compensated by having the chance of spending even more time than before with Orlo, as you had been able to convince him into taking part of the coup too.

It was actually nice to take part in the plotting against Peter, not only because you hated the bastard, but because due to the extra time you spent with Orlo, you could feel the bond between you getting stronger. During coup meetings, you would usually support each other’s ideas, have inside jokes between the two of you… You even defended him against Marial’s rude comments of him.

But as much fun as you were having helping Catherine kill the Emperor, it was also a really exhausting and demanding task, and you soon found that you barely had time to spend by yourself anymore. It had been at least a week since the last time you had been able to sit by your desk and write any of the scenarios you pictured with Orlo. And now that you were spending so much time together, you had a lot to write about.

That night you had arrived to your apartments early, right after dinner. As was tradition every few nights in the court, the Emperor was hosting a party, and you had been fortunate enough to be spared of the torture of attending.

You were hopping you could spend a quiet, peaceful night by yourself for once. To get lost in your thoughts as you imagined Orlo by your side in a new, reformed Russia. But your plans immediately took a different turn when, after searching through the whole room, you couldn’t find your writings anywhere.

After inspecting every drawer and every corner of your room for the second time, you started to get seriously worried.

What if someone had sneaked into your chambers and taken your writings? It was unlikely, as you hadn’t tell anyone about their existence. Why would anyone want to steal those, anyway? What value could they hold to anyone other than you? Of all the items in your quarters, those papers were probably the least valuable thing. If anyone had intended to steal anything from that room, you were sure that would be the last thing they would have taken, and yet, it was the only missing item…

But looking around you, you realized it wasn’t the only thing out of place. In the top of your desk you found a book that wasn’t supposed to be there, the book you had supposedly lent Orlo last week.

Quickly putting all the pieces together, you realized the fatal mistake you had made as your heart practically started to bump in your chest.

You had given him your own writings, instead of the Voltaire pamphlet you had been meaning to share with him.

Mumbling and cursing yourself, you grabbed the book between your hands and rushed out of your chambers and towards Orlo’s.

The Count had been even busier than you with the whole coup situation, so you hoped and prayed for him not to have found a single moment to read in all that time. You knew that in usual conditions, he could and would devour entire books over night, but you held to the hope that he hadn’t seen any of the things you had written about him.

Well, you had seen him exhausting himself from work every day for the past week. His mind seemed to be too focused on planning the next move, on thinking of possible allies for the Empress. It was quite possible he hadn’t even remembered that the book was in his possession.

If he had seen the words you had written, he would have already said something, right? So maybe you could still fix your mistake and act as if nothing had ever happened.

Assuming that he was still at the Emperor’s party, you could sneak into his chambers and switch the books. Prevent the awkwardness that the discovering of your fantasies with him would arouse between the two of you.

You didn’t bother to knock on his door before silently making your way into his chambers, holding the book close to your chest as you tried to ease the pressure that you felt inside.

When you saw that the entrance seemed to be empty, you let out a silent sigh of relieve. Yet, your steps were carefully slow as you got deeper into the room, trying not to make a single noise just in case.

It felt somewhat wrong to be there without his permission, but saving your friendship came before any moral conflict that could arouse within you at the moment.

If everything went okay, he would never have to know about any of it.

You held onto that thought as you kept walking towards the door of his bedchamber, where you knew he kept most of his books. Even when what you were doing felt wrong, it was for a greater good. How uncomfortable would the coup meetings be if he were to discover about your infatuation of him? For the well-being of Russia itself, he should never find out.

Besides, you were just trying to mend a wrong. You had given him your writings in a foolish mistake, by taking them back and leaving the actual book in their place you were just making things right. You convinced yourself it was the righteous thing to do, even when deep down it didn’t feel like it.

Succeeding into making your way to the front door of his bedchamber without any major complication, you pushed the doors open and quickly got inside the room. You didn’t mean to stay too long in there, but you closed the doors behind you in case any guard found them open and got alarmed.

The last thing you wanted right now was for anyone to find you there and having to make up an excuse for your furtive presence in the Count’s apartments.

When you looked up and found him sitting on his desk your body immediately froze, and when he looked up from the papers he was reading to look at you, you felt the cold sweat forming in your forehead.

For a second, you kept your eyes on him, watching surprise taking over his features. You tried to think of something, anything. An excuse to why you were sneaking into his chambers late at night when everyone was supposed to be either sleeping, dancing or completely wasted. You considered the idea of pretending to be drunk, make him think that you had entered his apartments by mistake and let him guide you back to yours. Being the gentleman he had always been, you knew that would be exactly what he would do in that situation.

It would certainly be embarrassing, and you feared he would feel uncomfortable having to deal with a drunk version of you. But you knew it would be far more embarrassing and uncomfortable to tell him the real reason why you were there.

If you were lucky enough and your performance succeeded, maybe you would even be able to ‘drunkenly’ roam through the room in search of your writings and take them with you without him noticing. Maybe you could still fix things.

You were about to ask him what he was doing in your apartments in what you hoped would sound as a drunken tone, but you desisted when you noticed the papers he was holding in his hand.

He had already read them. There was no point in making even more of a fool of yourself.

Neither of you dared to say anything for the following moments. Awkwardly, you looked at each other in what felt like the longest seconds of your life. You no longer knew what to do or say to fix that situation and, judging by the terrified look on his face, you doubted there was anything you could possibly try to make things better.

That was it. Your friendship was officially over. He would probably never want to say another word to you again. Maybe not even be in the same room as you again.

“I-“ You stumbled over your own words, feeling the lump forming in your throat and the pressure in your chest growing stronger, until the point of almost suffocate you. “I’m deeply sorry.”

As you quickly but sincerely said those words, you felt your mouth getting dry and your cheeks blushing, self-hatred taking over every inch of your body. You couldn’t bear the weight of his stare on you. Orlo’s eyes had always seemed the sweetest thing in the world to you, always so expressive and caring whenever he looked in your direction. But right now you felt them hovering over you judgmentally, with a hint of disgust on his face.

You had to look away from him immediately, but you still could notice how his face reddened too with what you assumed was second hand embarrassment.

Closing your eyes, you wished you could magically banish from that room. You wished for a hole to appear in the ground and swallow you, or for the walls to crumble and fall upon you until you were buried deep in the rubbles of the palace and nobody could find you. Literally anything could be better than standing there in front of Orlo.

You had no excuses, no way out. You wanted to properly apologize to him, make him see how truly sorry you were and how much you appreciated his friendship. How desperate you were not to lose him.

But you couldn’t find the right words for it.

“I should go.” You muttered nervously, still hopping that that entire situation was just a bitter nightmare. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Turning to leave his apartments, you wished he hadn’t notice the crack in your voice as you spoke. That whole scenario was already too shameful for you to bear, the last thing you needed was for him to see you crying. All you wanted was to get out of there as fast as you could, lock yourself in your chambers and drink until you forgot about what had happened or just passed out, whatever occurred first.

“Wait.” Orlo’s shaking voice stopped you.

As much as you wanted to run away, a single word from him was enough to stop you.

You were mortified as you stood there, still refusing to turn in his direction. You didn’t dare to. He was probably going to lecture you about how wrong and improper was what you had done, how repulsed he was by it. You didn’t want to go through it, but you owed it to him to face the consequences of your actions.

“I-I didn’t know you write.”

The Count’s tone was surprisingly tender and insecure. You turned to him with wondering eyes, trying to discern whether if he was mad at you or not.

“That’s not-“ You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but your mouth was still dry. “I mean, I don’t.”

“But aren’t these writ-?” He started to question, but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Those don’t count.” Orlo frowned at your words, confused. You made an effort to explain yourself. “They’re rubbish.”

You watched him clench his jaw and avoid your gaze before he spoke again.

“I like-“ He stuttered. “I liked them.”

His words made you blush again. Not with embarrassment, but with flustering this time. He didn’t seem mad at you. In fact, he seemed way more nervous than you. His stammering confession of his liking of your work made you realize how hard he was trying to seem composed.

“I thought you’d be upset.” You tried to state, but your doubtful tone made it sound more like a question.

“I am not.” He was quick to reply, but still refused to meet your eye. “I think the way you… I really enjoyed your descriptions. They’re very detailed and intricated. And the vocabulary is delightfully rich.”

You could see the way Orlo moved around as he spoke, grabbing your writings in one hand and gesticulating with the other one to emphasize his words. He was visibly nervous, but he was doing his best to hide it. He was trying to act as if he was making a simple review of any other book you had shared with him and, as thankful as you were that he was attempting to normalize the situation, this wasn’t just another one of your endless talks about literature.

You hadn’t written those stories with the purpose of discussing them. It felt cold to talk about the use of vocabulary in them when your only intention at the time of writing them had only been to find a way to deal with what you felt for him. You weren’t especially proud of the product of your writing, but you had poured your heart and soul in them. How could he act as if he hadn’t read right through you? Was he really that oblivious that he didn’t realize that you were head over heels about him?

It was literally impossible he didn’t know, he had read about it with his very own eyes. Still, he seemed to be trying to act as if nothing had happened. You had accidentally stripped your feelings, showed him your deepest desires. And all you got from him was nothing.

For a second you thought you would have preferred that he had screamed at you, showed you rage, discomfort, or even disgust. Literally any other feeling that wasn’t the indifference he was giving you. Did he really not care at all?

Confronting him about it felt wrong. You weren’t entitled to it, and you didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. Instead, you decided to play along.

“And what do you think of the plot?” You asked, hoping he would take it as a cue to address the issue that worried you.

“T-The plot?” He repeated anxiously as he readjusted his glasses. You nodded, hoping for him to say something, but all you got from him was a mumbling mess.

You felt your heart ache for him as he stumbled through stuttered words and unfinished sentences. The Count seemed even more uncomfortable trying to find a right answer for you than what he usually was when being mocked by the court. And considering how awkward he felt under the constant jibes he was put through daily, that was saying something.

“Orlo, I’m sorry you read that.” You cut him off in an attempt to calm him down. Embarrassment was taking over you once again and you felt the urge to leave his apartments immediately, but you first needed to try to calm his nerves. You hated seeing him so unsettled, and you knew that he was going to be torturing himself about that interaction once you left the room, just as you were going to do too. At least, you had to try to find the right words to clear his mind. It had been you the one that had put him in that place after all. “I shouldn’t have written those things about you. It’s okay if you feel uncomfortable about it, you don’t have to pretend you don’t. I understand if you’re upset, even. It’s not your fault. I have no excuse for this, I now realize I should have never-“

“I’m not-“ Orlo’s voice surprised you, making you hush instantly. “It’s not that I’m upset. I just-“

He closed his eyes and sighed, probably still struggling to find the right words to express what was going through his mind. Knowing the man, you realized he was probably beating himself up inside that restless head of his. Cursing himself for not knowing the best way to react to that situation. The man was a perfectionist, always had been. If he said the wrong thing now he wouldn’t be able to think of any other thing for the rest of the week.

“I really can’t tell if you wrote these stories as a joke.” He finally sentenced.

“A joke?” The words left your lips before you could even process them. “Why would you think that?”

“I know I’m not a ladies man.” He stated, discomfort still plaguing his tone. “I’m well aware of all the rumors and jests about me. It’s just… I know I’m not desirable to women.”

You couldn’t help but frown while hearing his words. Your heart broke a little inside your chest, too. How could he think that you would mock him like that? Had he really grown to believe all the mean and hurtful things the evil tongues at Court said about him?

“Orlo, that’s bullshit.” You stepped forward, the embarrassment you had been drowning in suddenly turning into indignation. “You’re not a coward. You’re the bravest, most caring man I know. Not even half of the other men in this palace would be courageous enough to have joined this coup, to fight to make a difference. They can’t say nothing to you and it’s criminal that they have the audacity to mock you.”

The Count stared at you in disbelief of your words, still reluctant to look at you directly in the eye. It hurt you that he couldn’t seem to believe your words were true.

“You aren’t ugly either.” You continued, placing yourself right in front of his desk. “You have the most beautiful and intense eyes I’ve ever seen. I could stare at them for hours, if you let me. And your hair? It looks so soft, I’d love to run my fingers through it.”

Your heart beat increased as you kept listing the things you loved the most about him. It felt weird to just say to his face all the things that you loved about him and that you had kept in secret for years, but you needed him to understand just how wrong he was.

“You’re so intelligent that I sometimes fear you will laugh at me when I say something stupid, but deep down I know you won’t because you’re too kind to ever do that.”

Looking into his eyes, you took a deep breathe, deciding if you should keep on or just cut it off already. Truth was you could have continued like that for hours.

“Orlo, you’re the best person I know, and anyone incapable of seeing the many virtues you have must be completely blind. Including yourself.”

Silence took over the room for the following seconds, and you feared you had made his discomfort grow stronger. Still, you didn’t regret saying those things out loud. You had kept them to yourself for too long, and he needed to know his own value.

The Count simply stared at you, eyes shifting and mouth slightly ajar.

“I never knew you thought such nice things about me.” He finally muttered bashfully, as if he was apologizing.

“Well, I’ve been in love with you for years. That’s the reason I wrote those stories.” You casually added with your newfound confidence. Somehow, it still seemed to get him by surprise. “It has been painfully obvious and I think everyone else has realized already, but since you don’t seem to be able to read between the lines, I’m telling you.”

It felt liberating to finally get it out your chest. For years you had feared his rejection, but now that you witness his own insecurities making a display right in front of you, all you cared about was to make him feel he was worthy of love and respect. You didn’t even care if he didn’t requite your feelings.

“I’m such an idiot.” Count Orlo stood and looked at you, not being able to hide the red color his cheeks had taken.

“Indeed you are.” You smiled at him, touched by his innocent obliviousness. “A very cute one, though.”

Orlo stood in front of you, closer than usual. When you noticed him fidgeting in the spot and nervously running his tongue through his lips, you realized what his new intention was. Not leaving him time to regret his decision, you captured his lips with yours in a chaste but sweet kiss.

You couldn’t help but recall the way you had imagined and described that moment in your writings as you pressed your lips against his. You had always imagined your first kiss to be more passionate and intense, but as you pulled away slowly from the kiss, you thought that the sweetness and tenderness of the actual moment was more fitting than what you could have ever pictured.

“You should have told me earlier about this.” Orlo stated, face inches away from yours.

“I’m not done telling you everything.” You smiled contently. “There are still plenty of things I love about you and that I think you should know.”

“I can think of a few about you myself.” He whispered, more relaxed now. You liked this carefree side of him.

“I’d love to hear them, but they can wait until tomorrow.” Handing him the book you still had between your hands, you stated. “I think you have some Voltaire to catch up on first. And I should go back to my apartments. It’s late and there’s something I want to write about.”

Orlo’s smile was so big that it made your heart race. After leaving the book you had given him on his desk, he gave you back your writings.

“I can’t wait to read it.”

#Count Orlo x reader #Orlo x reader #Hulu's The Great #Hulu's The Great fanfiction #Sacha Dhawan #Count Orlo x you #Orlo x you #The Great #The Great fanfiction #This is basically Orlo discovering you write fanfiction about him

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primummobile · 4 years

Text

⚡️ Why are they mad at me? ⚡️

Check sun🌞, moon🌙 & MARS⚔️

✨⭐️ quick note: this is not about who’s at ‘fault’, i have simply provided some (practical) guidelines intended to explain and deal with anger in the signs ⭐️✨

⚡️ Aries (fire, cardinal): You ‘won’ (at some mundane activity). You insulted their ‘virility’, their ‘potency’ (yup, women too). A somewhat ‘basic’ emotional reaction that is usually not that difficult to understand (watch out for physical reactions!).

‘[Angry, non-verbal noises].’

What you can do: Try to distract them, do some other activity—or else they’ll try to ‘beat’ you until you both pass out from exhaustion. Exaggerate your ‘humorous tone’ when poking fun at them.

⚡️ Taurus (earth, fixed): There is most likely a practical, ‘common sense’ reason for their anger. Not prone to getting angry unexpectedly or for ‘irrational’ reasons.

‘If you’d just start [behaviour that actually makes sense].’

What you can do: Don’t argue with them. They’ll repeat the same thing ad nauseum & will never (ever!) change their mind (only internally/over long stretches of time). Consider changing certain behaviours: Taureans don’t demand much, won’t demand the impossible.

⚡️ Gemini (air, mutable): You interpreted their words literally/you don’t know the value of an (quote unquote) ‘interesting’ conversation/are limiting their self-expression. Be prepared for a verbal tirade; there is little chance of you being able to explain your point of view.

‘Sometimes I just say stuff...’

What you can do: Go talk to some water-dominant people. Alternatively: If you get to know the Gemini in question better, you’ll learn to tell when they’re being serious & when they’re just ‘experimenting’ with thoughts & concepts (hint: it’s usually the latter). Also: When they’re angry, just let them talk until they’re done.

⚡️ Cancer (water, cardinal): You offended someone they care about/someone they think needs protecting. Watch out: they will know how to hurt you because they are so easily hurt themselves/are emotionally intuitive, sensitive.

‘You can’t say that to x!!’

What you can do: Apologise to the person you (may have) offended. Simple. Tried & true.

⚡️ Leo (fire, fixed): You humiliated them (in public) or messed with their public image and/or self-image. They don’t feel valued for their gifts, they don’t feel a ‘heart to heart’ connection to you & feel you’re inauthentic.

‘You made me look stupid!’

What you can do: Verbally express your (sincere!) admiration for them. Describe how you’ll act differently next time. Make them feel less self-concious.

⚡️ Virgo (earth, mutable): You broke some very strange, very specific rule of theirs you weren’t aware of. How is it possible for them to be angry about such minor transgressions? Are they angry for ‘deeper’, more psychological reasons? You might never know.

‘You know that goes there!’

What you can do: Make a mental note of what set them off. Ask them if they’re really angry about something else. Remind them there’s a limit to what can (realistically) be expected of other people.

⚡️ Libra (air, cardinal): You only picked up on their anger because they started being passive agressive. It takes a lot of time/effort to get to the actual confrontation/the ‘why?’ part. Oftentimes it’s a case of them perceiving something you did as ‘tactless’, ‘inappropriate’, ‘rude’. Maybe you destroyed the harmony/peace in a certain social setting.

‘Sometimes I just feel like people don’t really appreciate me enough, y’know?’

What you can do: Patiently try to find out the issue at hand. If you’re genuinely interested in solving the conflict/hearing their side of the story, don’t intimidate them by raising your voice or confronting them head-on. Also: maybe buy a book on social etiquette??

⚡️ Scorpio (water, fixed): Angry due to deep psychological reasons that have their roots in childhood & are known only to their therapist. Will use their almost ‘psychic’ intuition to hit you where it hurts & to—ultimately—make you retreat & leave them alone.

‘...’

‘So going back to what you said last time about your first day of kindergarten...’

What you can do: Never assume they’re angry cause of petty reasons, even though it might manifest that way. They’ve probably been ‘brooding’ over the issue for (literal) ages. Don’t assume you’ll be able to understand said issue without having a lot of insight into their psyche/personal history. Their words will cause permant psychic damage so make sure you have either a. good psychic defenses or b. a good support system (you may need to see your therapist afterwards).

⚡️ Sagittarius (fire, mutable): You attacked their belief system. If you’re ‘lucky’ (& depending on how close you are), they might try to ‘enlighten’ you. If not, they’ll find someone else: ‘positive vibes only.’

‘[Walks away].’

What you can do: Try to approach conversations with them differently—‘Oh, that’s fascinating, yesterday I learnt [something that expands on their notion]’ instead of ‘But if you believe x is true, it logically follows you must also believe y is true.’ Or just go talk to a Virgo or an Aquarius.

⚡️ Capricorn (earth, cardinal): Some all-to-legitimate reason (Although keep in mind: they do have very high standards). Harsh & severe; a reality-check.

‘You have no right to speak to me like that. You should try focusing more on your personal growth instead of trying to pull other people down all the time. I’ll talk to you again once you’ve become a better person.’

What you can do: They probably weren’t trying to make you cry; they just believe in the whole ‘tough love’ approach to things. They usually respond well to open communiction so just tell them if they hurt you. Show them you’re trying to become a better person—but not because you’re intimidated by them.

⚡️ Aquarius (air, fixed): They may not actually be angry, just trying to demonstrate their intellectual ‘superiority’. They can easily get preachy (‘annoying’), disregarding subtle social/emotional cues on their quest for the ‘truth’. If they are angry, you might not be able to tell the difference: they will do everything in their power to remain ‘unaffected’ & ‘rational’: they will deeply insult you like it’s nothing.

‘I thought we went over this: [something you haven’t thought through as well as they have].’

What you can do: If you want to have your emotions/the conflict analyzed by them in great detail, tell them openly (without getting emotional) how you feel—they’re fascinated by interpersonal conflicts, others emotions. If not, drop it. Don’t expect them to spontaneously start talking about their own feelings (If they do attempt this, they probably care about you very much (!)). It’ll usually take them a while to ‘figure out’ their emotions, by which time you’ll probably get a ‘loosely-scripted’ explanation.

⚡️ Pisces (water, mutable): They’re more upset than they are angry. It could literally be about anything. The world is a harsh place. Victim complex (!!).

‘It’s just... [bursts into tears].’

What you can do: Make them the focus, not you. Comfort them. Listen to them. Don’t ridicule them. That said: they’re not always the victim. You might have to hurt their feelings at some point in time.

#astrology #mars signs #aries #aquarius #libra

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fellowstrangetownappreciator · 3 years

Text

La Fiesta Tech and other unfortunate decisions 1: Greek House powered by hatred (Tank and Johnny)

After my last post about my general play style for university in TS2, here I come with something more specific! (aka a blog that promised to be about gameplay is finally posting gameplay)

I ran 35 Sims through college at once - the 8 Strangetown and Pleasantview teens, La Fiesta Tech premades, plus student bin families from the other two universities. In this post I’ll focus on one of the households, what their general experience was and what are my headcanons about it.

Now, I don’t have the save file anymore. The neighborhood succumbed to corruption just a rotation after, so I restarted. It was a learning experience and now I know to run HoodChecker after every rotation and to batbox gossip memories frequently. However, I’m over it and enjoying my new hood even more, I just thought I write a short disclaimer that these bits won’t have any mentions in future posts. But my interpretation of the characters still stands and doesn’t change regardless of save files.

Anyway, let’s get down to business!

...to defeat Academic Probation.

When Johnny Smith signed up for an assignment to establish and lead a Greek House of his own, he was overjoyed. Even more so when he saw the name "Grunt" as his assigned partner.

Founding a Greek House with Ripp? AWESOME!

But... the Grunt in question wasn't Ripp...

No. It was the a**hole Grunt. They’ve already been living in one dorm (with like 14 other people) and the place was a battleground.

To be fair, Johnny and Tank didn't just fight and nothing else. Yes, fighting was like 90 % of how they usually spent their time together but there was something else...

Chess.

In this particular game Johnny had become surprisingly fond of chess and frequently rolled the want to play it.

Chess has always been Tank's favorite game.

They played quite often and it was one of the rare times they were having fun together and actually talked instead of yelling.

But are a few games of chess enough to earn one forgiveness for a teenhood of nastiness and abuse?

In Johnny's eyes rightfully not.

He had to admit the a**hole is quite chill when he's not being a total d*ckhead but that didn't change anything about the fact that Tank had been terrible to him for no good reason ever since forever and he hated him for that.

Those feelings... weren't completely mutual.

College was Tank's awakening. He found himself away from his father, away from prying eyes that would judge him for not being perfect and for the first time in his life, he felt quite free.

And empty. And alone. He realized he had no friends and that the only person who truly liked him was his father and he would most probably stop if he ever learned of Tank's inner world.

He decided it was a high time for a change.

But habits aren't easy to break, especially if they're the only thing you know. Tank had never learnt to relax around people, never learnt to talk to them just to get to know them, never learnt to express himself, never learnt how to make friends.

Why, he had never needed to! They would have been a weakness, an unmanly stain of lollygagging on his consciousness. He was taught that friendships form themselves on the battlefield and it's a waste of time to try to create them otherwise.

It was quite awkward when he started approaching Ripp in attempts to mend their relationship. Tank has hurt Ripp in the past, he actually treated them quite horribly, fueling his own confidence from being the older, bigger, stronger one and from their father approving of such behavior.

Their father has never said it out loud but it has always been simply there that Tank was the superior one. More obedient, stronger, faster, more masculine. Smarter, even! How could Ripp with an attitude like theirs, with their lousy academic results even compare to by-the-book and hardworking Tank?

Yet it was Ripp who was seemingly happier, like they didn't even care about father's disapproval or the pressure of being the offspring of a venerated general. Tank realized he admired them for that. They did things Tank wouldn't even dream of. They didn't hide who they were.

Forgiveness... forgiveness isn't easy to attain. But Tank was determined to try anyway. At the very least he would stop causing any more harm to his sibling in the future.

It wasn't that straightforward with his new alien roommate, though.

Johnny was special. First he despised him because his father taught him they were inherently dangerous and invasive, they needed to be driven away. But that got quickly buried under memories of aggression and hostile experiences. It was by all means Tank who started it and Johnny was only fighting back but that didn't matter deep in Tank's head, his brain had connected Johnny to unpleasant, awful things regardless.

But he was also the most... attractive person Tank knew. Tank couldn't help himself. He wished Johnny Smith wasn't an alien, so they could've been friends right from the start. He was athletic, even more than Tank, was interested in the same sports as him and was damn good at them, he has always had good grades without seemingly having to study that much, and all around, he would make such a worthy friend!

Friend. Was that something Tank sincerely had on mind when he fantasized about Johnny? (And did he do that a lot!) No. Not at all.

Ripp has long been out, proud and loud about their orientation, not denying they liked boys and girls and anything in between and beyond, and the general was giving them dirty looks and deprecating remarks for it. He wasn't outright punishing them, mainly because he expected nothing more from Ripp and knew his middle child was simply "a weirdo" but Tank was sure his reception would be even worse if he came out.

He was supposed to be the good son, after all. The heir. He was not supposed to think or do or, by the Watcher, be something his father considers perverted and unmanly. He could only imagine the horrible things the general could say to him and the thought alone was enough to make him shudder.

Once again Tank simply didn't understand Ripp. They liked girls, so the world didn't even had to know that it's not all there is to it. They could've just find themselves a girlfriend and not face any judging generals. That's what Tank would do!

But he couldn't. He wasn't like Ripp. He only ever felt attracted to other men and male-presenting people. There was nothing he could do, no way he could force himself to be any other way.

And nobody knew. Not even that girl from their high school that Tank asked to prom so that he didn't look weird. They were on amicable terms but they weren't even friends, they just helped each other out so they didn't seem like outcasts to the whole school on the prom night.

He remembered his father being elated and encouraging him to invite his "girlfriend" for a dinner soon, so he could meet the fine young lady that might just one day become his daughter-in-law.

Tank had to tell him that it unfortunately "didn't work out" and that he "needs to focus on his studies and training anyway" and the general then praised him for it.

Little did he know that his favorite son, even back then, was not only gay but had a hopeless crush on an alien boy.

Every time Tank tried to interact with Johnny and be nice to him, he got reminded of his feelings he was so ashamed of and of his fear of his father disavowing him, so he said something mean instead or didn't talk to him at all.

The only exception was chess.

Sometimes, when a game neared its end, they spoke. And they talked... casually. It was awkward and cautious but it was a conversation and it felt... good.

Playing chess with Johnny became Tank's guilty pleasure. (even worse than watching make-up tutorials on SimTube!)

Being forced by the assignment to live together for six semesters was equal parts a living hell and a dream come true.

They had a small house on La Fiesta Tech premises that they were to transform into a lively Greek House.

"This place looks like shit and smells like a prison cell. Or vice-versa?"

"You got everything you have for free, Smith. Stop bitching."

Johnny sighed and opened up a book. "Says someone whose loaded dad literally sent him money for this house."

"I thought your family was also well off. Is that incorrect?"

"We have a financial situation called None of your business, Grunt."

"Sorry for asking like a normal person."

"Nothing you do is 'like a normal person'."

...

"I quit! You're unhinged, Smith!"

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I found a knife under your pillow!"

"You found -what? Why the f*ck were you looking under my pillow?!"

"I was just changing the sheets. I did mine, so I thought I'll do yours, too!"

"Why the f*ck would you change the sheets on MY flipping bed?"

"Because you are a disgusting manchild and it stank."

"I was gonna change them tonight! And, guess what!"

"What?"

"YOU also have a knife under your pillow!"

"I don't!"

"Yes, you do, liar."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw you put it there yesterday, you galaxy brain. The question is, why the hell do you have a f*cking knife under your pillow?"

"Why do you, Smith?"

"Because I live with your ass. I sleep better knowing you can't just murder me in my sleep. Now you tell."

"Same. I've slept with a knife under my pillow ever since grade school in case a robber got to our house. I won't stop now that I live with YOU!"

"..."

"I won't kill you. I'm not a freak! Killing is wrong, even if it's parasites such as you. And, besides, I'm not stupid. If you turned up dead, I'll would be charged immediately, even if I didn't do it."

"So why do heck do you think I would kill you, Grunt?"

"I... don't know."

"Anyway, were you for real? Are you quitting? We fail this assignment but I'm chill with that if it means getting rid of you."

"No, no! I'm not going anywhere until we pass. I'm not a quitter! But if you want to quit, I'll respect that and be glad this circus is finally over."

"Fine. Are we getting pizza for dinner tonight?"

...

“I invited my family for a lunch...”

“Alright. I’ll be in the library. Or the gym. Haven’t decided yet.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I want you to be here, Grunt.”

“Why? So you can all make fun of me?”

“Stop being so defensive. I want you to be here, so you can just chill with us. And my folks are gonna know you’re actually... okay.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“And if you hang out with mom, dad and Jill, you’re gonna know they’re okay, too.”

“That’s not how this works. I can’t just act like we’re friends now and everything’s peachy.”

“Well, who said that? Maybe that’s exactly how it works. You never know until you try!”

“If anything goes wrong-”

“Nothing’s gonna go wrong. It’s not that deep. We’re been living together for nearly three f*cking years and had a sh*tton of time to talk. In fact, I already told them you’re my friend now.”

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t use the F-word!”

Johnny laughed. “What? F*cking? F*ck? C’mon! Your dad can’t hear us!”

“No, the other one. The FR-word.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and grinned. “Go friend yourself!”

“Okay, I’ll stay for the lunch. I’ll go get my tuxedo...”

“Please don’t.”

Reaching a truce was a painfully slow and slowly painful process. Sometimes Johnny wondered if there’s even a point. Sometimes Tank wondered if it wouldn’t be better just to focus fully on his studies and forget that Johnny existed.

But they had to live together, they had to work together organizing parties and happenings in order to grow the Greek House. They had to speak. And when the exams drew nearer, the only person who was available for evening study sessions was usually the other.

What did they study anyway?

Tank rolled the want to major in Drama while Johnny studied Political Science. Tank has never told his father the truth of what his field of study is and knowing his father has access to the university's statistics and probably could fact check that in Tank's house there lives a Drama major and a PolSci major, he pretended he's doing Political Science and Johnny is the one majoring in Drama.

When the general came for a visit to attend Tank's graduation, Johnny played along with his lie.

The relationship between Tank and Johnny improved drastically over the three years. They still weren't exactly close friends but were healing with a prospect of a friendship further along the way.

Were they romantic with one another?

No. Johnny reciprocated Tank's attraction and maybe something could happen in the future but Johnny fell in love autonomously with somebody else.

With a different Grunt, to be exact.

(typing angrily)

Anyway, even though Tank's crush on Johnny ended up futile, it was still a great experience for him.

In college, Tank Grunt really flourished, despite the initial struggle. He realized a lot about himself and started working on his social skills and repairing his relationships.

He also found a friend in none other than Ophelia Nigmos and she became the first person he ever came out to.

Plus, he was the most academically successful Sim of the whole 35 students I played, being the only one who graduated with a flawless 4.0 GPA.

Unlike Ripp, Tank returned back to live with their father and Buck for the time being. He was expected to enter the army and needed a place to be. Moreover, the general was vocal about choosing him as the heir who inherits the Grunt house someday, so it was simply right for Tank to go back and live there.

Was it? Wasn’t it?

Tank was definitely having second thoughts.

He didn’t wonder anymore if military was the right career path for him. He knew it wasn’t.

But was he ready to let the world know who he really was?

#the sims 2 #ts2 #gameplay #la fiesta tech #tank grunt #johnny smith #premades #simbrl

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