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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

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When the Chips are Down

part 12

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Y/N froze, staring at Namjoon like a cornered animal while Namjoon had her pinned down like that sharp, dark gaze that reminded her so much of a predator.

“What others, Y/N?” he growled, getting impatient with her silence.

“Namjoon…”

“What others.” he demanded, slamming a hand down on the table startling both Y/N and Moni, and yet she said nothing simply staring at him with wide, apprehensive eyes while her fingers clutched the arms of her chair, her knuckles turning white. Namjoon took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself down even though his words still came out gruff and annoyed. “What others, Y/N?”

“Don’t yell at me!” she snapped, standing up from her chair, chest heaving as she stared him down.

“What others?” he growled, returning her harsh stare.

“You don’t get to yell at me, not now.”

He sighed, taking another deep breath. Despite the tension and high emotions, he knew she was right. He had no right to yell at her about things that happened before they met, and he knew that she had been through hell before him. Yelling at her and demanding answers wasn’t going to do either of them any good. It never did.

“I shouldn’t have shouted.” his voice was softer now, an attempt on his part to be more soothing, especially as she looked like a frightened rabbit. “I need to know what others, jagi.” he took one of her shaking hands gently in his, treating her like the fragile doll she seemed like in that moment.

“Were there other pregnancies? Before?” she nodded slowly, eyeing him warily as he carefully steered her back into her chair. “When you were with Marcus, you were pregnant?” she nodded again. “Can you tell me about them, jagi?”

“There were two.” she admitted staring down at her lap, fiddling with her fingers. “The first didn’t get very far. I was only a few weeks along when I lost it.”

“And the other?” Namjoon asked, almost scared of the answer he was going to receive.

“I was five months along.” one of her arms came up to curl protectively around her belly.

Namjoon could see the way her hands were shaking, the distant almost haunted look in her eye, and it pained him. “What happened, jagi?”

“I was twenty one weeks. It was a boy” she smiled sadly “but there was so much blood, and I couldn’t get to the hospital. Marcus wouldn’t…. He left. I shouldn’t have made him angry. I knew- I knew better.” she blinked back tears, and Namjoon had to tamp down his growing rage, not towards her but towards the man who had put her through this. “By the time I got to the hospital it was too late to do anything. There wasn’t much they could have done anyway.” she shuddered at the memory. “The baby had been in distress for too long, and he came breech. There was nothing they could do. He was… he was too little, and it was too early. He couldn’t...”

Namjoon stopped her, pulling her into her arms as she trembled, gently stroking her hair as she began to cry. There was nothing he could say to make this better, nothing he could do no matter how much he wanted to.

“You gave birth?” he asked, the horrible realization, the full extent of what she must have gone through sweeping over him. She hadn’t just been pregnant. She’d given birth to a child, traumatically, and the child hadn’t survived. From the sound of it, there was nothing she could have done, nor was the loss naturally occurring. Part of him regretted asking her, for making her relive this memory, but he needed to know, and knowing what she had been through, he only loved her more. She was so unbelievably strong.

She laughed tearily, a fond but terribly sad smile passing over her features. “He was alive for about twenty minutes. I held him until he passed.”

“What was his name?”

“Noah. His name was Noah. I buried him at the little cemetery just past the bridge.”

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, gathering her into his arms again. “I’m so sorry, jagi.”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t breath after it happened. I couldn’t look at him. That’s when I met Jackson.” she admitted a more rueful smile taking over her features. “He gave me an out, and I made them pay.”

So many things made sense now. A missing piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, and suddenly it all made sense. He’d known she was in a bad situation with Marcus. He knew she had only entered the relationship to try to provide for herself and her sister, but it never made sense why she toppled a whole criminal organization to escape. Something about it just never seemed to fit with what he knew of her, but losing a child was just the sort of catalyst that would send her down that path.

His poor sweet Y/N had been through more than he could have ever imagined, more than even he had been through, but that was part of the reason he loved her, part of the reason she was perfect for him. She had seen the same darkness he had been raised in, and yet she was nothing like the women he had known in his youth, nothing like his mother had been.

Namjoon’s memory of his mother was vague. He was only a child the last time he’d seen her, but he could remember the drugs, the bottles of alcohol. He remembered the dingy half basement they lived in, how it always smelled faintly of mold. He remembered the men- lovers, loan sharks, dealers, and none of them had anything against knocking around a scrawny kid from the bad side of town. His mother had allowed it all. Nothing mattered to her except getting her next fix. Even as a child, Namjoon had known he was meant for more. He was so much smarter than the other children, so much better, and he wanted better for himself. It seemed impossible though. What could a child do to get himself out of the gutter? And then Si-Hyuk came.

Namjoon had been only eight at the time, but he could remember that day so clearly. Si-Hyuk had come to their home looking for him and his mother. He hadn’t known that he had an uncle before that day. It had always just been him and his mother, but suddenly there was this man claiming to be his mother’s half brother. His mother was out most likely meeting her dealer or one of the loan sharks she owed money too, so it had just been Namjoon and Si-Hyuk in the apartment.

Si-Hyuk was a wealthy man, a powerful man, but he lacked one thing, an heir. He needed a son to carry on the business, but his wife had failed to provide one before her untimely death. He could have simply adopted a child, but he wanted an heir of his own blood, someone with the blood of his father and his grandfather. It was a family business, and he wanted it to stay in the family, but Si-Hyuk had no siblings, no legitimate ones anyway, but there was one woman.

His father had had a daughter with one of his mistresses. Both the woman and the child had left soon after. His father had had no use for an illegitimate daughter, but Si-Hyuk had use for her now. It was a long shot, but if there was any chance that his sister had had a son, he had to take it. So he’d gone looking for her, and lo and behold, there was indeed a son. They found the perfect solution for both of their problems within each other. Si-Hyuk wanted a son, and Namjoon wanted out of the gutter, to be away from the mess of a woman he called a mother. There was only one problem, the woman herself. She might not have cared about Namjoonj, but she was a greedy woman by nature, and if she had thought there was anything to be gained from her son, she would cling to him like a leech. Everything would have been fine if Namjoon and his uncle had been able to leave before she returned. She never would have known what had happened to her son nor would she have cared, but she had come stumbling home just as Si-Hyuk and Namjoon were preparing to leave.

Distaste was too mild of a word to describe how both Si-Hyuk and Namjoon had felt about the woman before them. She might have been a beauty once, but a life of bad habits had degraded that beauty until she was nothing but a shell of the woman she had been, rotted from the inside out. She wasn’t willing to let go of her son without ensuring a life of comfort and debauchery for herself, and Bang Si-Hyuk was not a man to be blackmailed, so he’d given young Namjoon a choice: him or his mother. Only one could live, and Namjoon was nothing if not a survivor.

“Nothing will ever… I promise nothing will ever happen to our baby. I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” He urged, holding her tight to his chest.

She was a survivor too, but she didn’t have to be anymore. He was there to take care of her now. If only he’d found her sooner, but that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that she was here now. She was here in his arms, pregnant with his child, and nothing would happen to either of them.

“You can’t promise that.” she shook her head, pushing on his chest so she could stare up at him with those fathomless eyes of hers. “You don’t know.”

But he did know. This was his kingdom, and he made the decisions here.

“I promise you, jagiya, you will never lose another child. I won’t let that happen, not again.” she stared at him, brows furrowed in uncertainty. It was sweet in its own way. Logically, she knew there was no way for him to keep that promise. There was no real surety, but it was nice nonetheless. “As long as I’m beside you, nothing will happen.” he promised again, and she melted into his arms, too tired to fight both emotionally and physically, something Namjoon was quick to notice.

“Why don’t we go inside, jagi?” he murmured, still holding her close. “You’re tired, and you shouldn’t overdo it.”

“Okay.”

Namjoon helped her up from her chair and led her back into the house with Moni trailing at their heels. Miss In stood guard just past the door waiting for the couple to come back inside.

“We’ll take breakfast in the master bedroom. Y/N is tired and needs to rest. Another day of bed rest wouldn’t hurt.” she had a feeling that the last comment was directed more at her than it was his faithful housekeeper.

“Of course, sajangnim.”

Namjoon treated her like glass as he led her back to their room. One arm was wrapped around her waist to steady her while the other held her hand as though she was going to stumble and fall at any moment. She wasn’t, but she was grateful for the extra support. She didn’t talk about her other babies often, and each time it filled her with the same soul numbing sadness.

Soon enough breakfast was over, and Y/N had been put back to bed with Namjoon beside her, keeping her tucked protectively into his side as he put on a movie for them to watch. Apparently, he had no plans to leave her today.

As for Namjoon, he had always known that she was meant for him, ever since that first night. Everytime she challenged him, everytime he learned something new about her and her past, it only strengthened that conviction. She was perfect for him in every way. She was smart, beautiful, unbelievably strong, and she was his. They were both survivors, and what’s more, she was everything his mother wasn’t. Y/N would do anything to protect her family. She would fight for them till her last breath, sacrifice anything including herself. His mother had thrown away everything on drugs and liquor in a vain attempt to make her life better. He was happy the day she died. He’d been happy to be the one to shoot her. The world was better off without her, but the same couldn’t be said for Y/N.

She was light. She was music. She was everything, and he would tear the world to pieces for her. Anyone who hurt her, anyone who tried to take her from him would pay. Nothing was going to keep Namjoon from having his perfect family.

part 13

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alyssadeliv · 3 years

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The Forgotten One

First Previous

Chapter 10

Chosen One.

Marianne Al Ghul.

Mari.

Pixie.

The Lily of the Desert.

Marinette Dupain.

Ladybug.

The Great Guardian.

And now she would eventually become Marianne Wayne.

She had had multiple names and lived for what felt like a hundred lives, all very different, but all of them with one thing in common. Damian.

From the moment he was born until her first death, she lived for him. Always there to aid and protect him at all costs. At all costs. She lived for him. The only time she had something for herself, it was taken from her. So she wasn't good with owning things. Her whole life nothing was truly hers. Damian was the League’s. The Miraculous were the Order’s. She was divided between two organizations. Never truly belonging to one or the other. She ached to belong, so it was very important that she proved herself to her father. She knew she was never enough for her mother, she was indeed the second option. Useful enough to not be discarded, but not the heir she most desired.

So now. Standing in front of her Father, having imagined this moment her whole life, she had to admit, she was scared. Would he reject her too? Would she be enough?

“Father… This is Marianne, your daughter.” Damian presents her. She doesn't know how to act so she stays in place, awaiting instructions or directions, but still getting the time to analyze the man in front of her.

He was taller than she imagined, but intimidating with his Batman attire just as she had pictured. He looked at her in a cautious way, as if at any moment she would combust into flames. She kept her eye on him, looking for some sort of sign on how to act. It took some time but eventually, his expression turned to a mesmerized one.

“You look like my mother…” He whispered, reaching to her with his right hand but never touching her. His face in awe. “How… I-”

He turned his head to Damian as if he could explain more. In his face a lost and anxious expression. She could see that her little brother wanted to comfort their father, but didn't know how. So he stayed at her side, hoping that his presence was enough. Clearly, it wasn’t.

“I need to think'' And with that he turns and walks out of the cave, never even sparing a glance back. The only thing that can be heard are his footsteps, and when those are gone, an awkward silence installs.

Only then does Marianne let go of the air she didn’t even know she was holding. With not even a nod of his head father had dismissed her. He was similar to Mother after all. Only ever interaction with her if needed, just to make sure she was still alive. She could deal with that, she knew what to expect. That actually calms her more than it should. The uncertainty was still there, but at least she knew that deep down he could care for her in the future as her mother did.

“Daeh Washanuh” She tells her brother when she sees his indignant face. Her father needed time, she understood that, so for now she would let him be.

She still felt a bit weak, having spent all her energy between fighting her brother and mending her injured body. Damian must have seen said exhaustion because he instantly went to her side, to support her. With her body pressed against his side, and a strong arm crossing her waist holding her she admired how much he had grown. He was taller than her now. Stronger too. Gone was the 10 year old that followed her around. In his place was a slight better version of that person. She gives him a reassuring smile, trying to transmit her gratitude and appreciation without words, the same way she would do before they were separated. She could only hope they still understood each other after years of no contact.

Damian chooses that instant to start introducing the others. The redhead in the wheelchair looks at her with interest, as if trying to solve a puzzle. She doesn't seem to be judging her like the guy in the red leather jacket with a shocked expression is, so she counted that as a win. The dark haired teen that she knocked out a few days ago looks like he’s seen better days, and by the dark spots under his eyes and the large cup of what she assumed to be coffee in his hand, he was an insomniac, like her. The two still wearing their full costumes start to remove their masks, the one in blue has a calm expression, but the other is still very much shocked.

“Habibti... This is Richard Grayson, Timothy Drake, Barbara Gordon, and Jason-”

“Todd.” She smiles. “Long time no see.”

How could she ever forget those blue eyes that hunted her dreams. He was a big part of her past, and she would always be able to spot him in a crowd.

She can almost remember the first time she met him. At only 13 she was tasked with training this overemotional 16-year-old. Let’s just say their relationship wasn’t good at the beginning. He carried too much anger inside of him to allow him to listen to what she was trying to teach him. He was hot-headed and stubborn, and most of the time she just wanted to throw her dagger at him to see him bleed. But after some time they got close. Closer than they should.

At that time Grandfather had intensified Damian’s training so she wasn’t able to see him much, instead, she found herself around Jason a lot. They confided in each other. She gave pieces of herself to him that she never gave anyone else, only for him to be ripped from her life as punishment.

Last she heard her mother had dealt with him. She assumed she had killed him. But seeing him in front of her, healthy and very much alive was a relief. She had mourned him for a long time, but the joy she feels in knowing he was alive was immense.

“Pixie!” Jason speaks for the first time, by now he already got up from his seat, and is now standing in front of her. Different from her Father's reaction, he seems to need to touch her, to guarantee that she is real and truly there. Confused about how she knew his older adopted sibling, Damian backs away from his sister, too stunned to properly comprehend what was happening. She now was using Jason as support, feeling the heat of his body next to her’s, just proving that he was really there.

Pixie was a nickname he gave her when they first met after he discovered she could do magic. At the time she did not understand the reference, not having grown up with fairytales, but after he patiently explained to her about fairies she could see where he was coming from. Small and Magic. That was enough to describe her. And secretly she was pleased to have a nickname especially made for her. “I told you we would see each other again…” He says with a smug smirk on his face. Caressing her cheek with his hand. Oh, how she missed that look on his face.

“Am I the only one that’s freaking out with this scene in front of us?” The spell is broken by the voice of the blue hero. Richard. The first adopted son of Bruce Wayne. She knew a bit about him, when she was younger a part of her training was inspired by his stunts on the field. “How the hell do you know her, Jaybird? Bruce’s secret love child?”

He still holds her, more for support than anything else. It’s been a long time since they’ve been together, but their friendship hopefully still remains. She takes him not letting her go, as a sign that she wasn’t the only one affected by this unexpected reunion. When she first arrived at Gotham she knew she would inevitably meet her extended family when she finally sought her brother. And yes, it came to no surprise that Jason Todd was once her father’s ward. But remember that she did believe him to be dead. And if that was truly the case she would carry her secrets to her grave. But apparently, it was time to come clean to her brother. Her relation with Jason was the one thing she ever kept from Damian. And she could see from the look on his face that he was very confused.

She detaches herself from Jason and tries to reach her little brother, but the day's activity finally takes a toll on her body and she trips and almost collapses on the floor if not for the two that come to her rescue. Jason being the one closer to her catches most of her weight, but Damian has both her hands into his own.

“I'm fine…” She tries, but by the look on both their faces, they don’t believe her one bit.

“Dick, why don't we leave the rest of the interrogation for tomorrow? When Bruce can participate.” Barbara speaks for the first time. She pushes herself away from the table and starts making her way out of the cave in her wheelchair. It seems that her words have power, because with only a grunt and a side glance and he leaves as well. Sometime between her father leaving and Jason making himself known Timothy fell asleep, face down on the table in what could only be described as an uncomfortable position.

If she wasn’t so exhausted she would have questioned how easily Damian’s family accepted to wait until tomorrow for answers. If it was her she would want them as soon as possible. No matter what.

“Come, I’ll show you to my room” Damian removes her from Jason’s arms and starts directing her through the same path all the others took out of the cave. Tomorrow she would come back and admire all the technology and weapons the Bat Cave provided, but for now, she was content in being almost carried to a comfy bed. After almost a month of chasing Gabriel Agreste around the globe and mostly sleeping when she could, wherever she could, just the thought of sleeping in an actual mattress brought her immense joy. “I promise to not ask questions today, but I need an explanation for the display of affection you gave Todd downstairs.” His tone is stern and she knows he meant that.

"Deal." He nods, accepting my answer.

We walk through a long corridor for quite some time, but eventually, we stop in front of a door. Damian opens it and carries me to the bed. He sits me in his bed and goes to his wardrobe. While he does that she admires the size of his room, which is big, just as it was in the League, but here she can see bits of his personality. Photos on the wall, drawings on the tables. She is happy that he gets to explore his part of himself. When he comes backs he hands a change of clothes to her, and without saying anything he makes his way to what Marianne assumes is an adjacent bathroom. Leaving her room to change alone. He gave her a black long-sleeved shirt and black pajama bottoms that were definitely too small to git him now, and she can only question as to why he has it still.

She removes her attire and changes into the offered clothes, but not before inspecting the place where there was supposed to be a wound. She was healed, as expected, but her dried blood still clings to her abdomen. By now Damian finally comes back, wearing an outfit similar to hers and carrying a damp towel.

“I thought you would want to clean yourself of the blood.” He hands her the towel. She in return gives him a sincere smile, accepting the offered object and immediately removing all traces of blood from her body.

While she did that, he sat on the other side of the bed, removing some pillows and getting under the covers. Marianne leaves the towel on the floor beside the bed and carefully puts one knife on the bedside table and her dagger under her pillow. Old habits die hard after all.

Damian observes her with a nostalgic look on his face but otherwise remains silent. He turns the light off by the switch near his bed and the bedroom immediately gets dark, the only source of light coming through the closed windows. As she gets under the covers she feels his body getting closer to hers. And she can’t help but smile again, remembering how many times they did this exact same thing during their childhood without their mother knowing. Or at least they thought she didn't know, not knowing she merely allowed them this simple thing.

“Aishtaqt lak ya 'akhi” She repeats the same words she said to him when they were on the rooftop earlier that night.

Her only answer is his hand finding hers and giving it a squeeze.

Final chapter of part one! Do you like the stoy so far? After a lot of messages from you guys I decided to continue with a part 2 of this story. Still haven’t decided how long it would be, probably about 10 more chapters but who nows. Sorry it took me so long to post this chapter, its was finals week at my university and you know how it is.

Let’s hope I get more time to write! Thank you all fot the support do far! You are all amazing!

It curently 3 am so sorry if there’s any mistakes!

Taglist: @macncheesemonster @jumpingjoy82 @silversaphire12 @jinx-jade @swiftie-miraculer13 @greatcatblaze @megaafangirl @ramos123 @theamityislife @maskedpainter @toodaloo-kangaroo @nyx-in-line @ketchupqueenboiiii @blackroserelina @lozzybowe @user00000003 @kashlyn @msshadows97 @ira-sairain @stackofrandomstuff @myazael @frieddonutsweets @asrainterstellar @our-preciousss @laurcad123 @nyaabinch @rverfades @thefangirlwholiterallydies @astoriaandromeda @unnamed2357 @little-lady-bird @imdaqueenie @meismu @dorkus-minimus @a4-machete @arty-shadow-morningstar @catthhay @sizzling-fairy-oil @poodapup @charme-de-malchan @jayjayspixiepop @fusser90 @adrestar @iloontjeboontje @buginetye @macncheesemonster @messymessyml @redbullgivescaswings @queer-illusion @moonlightstar64 @kking13 @lupagrimm @dorkus-minimus @roguishredaxion @meow-6296 @galla02006 @samiamack @readingalldaysleepingallnight @twsssmlmaa @ihatecomingupwithusernameswtf @alexizlazy @lady-bee-fechin @mizzy-pop @alcoholic-barney @ladyqnoirr @wingl3ss @vroomtaka

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elvish-sky · 3 years

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Aerinithil Character Sheet

i’m so delighted to introduce you to my new OC, Aeri! I’m so nervous about this, but I really adore her and I’m so proud of the work I’ve put into her so I hope you all love her!

Aeri, by the incredibly kind person and wonderful artist @lady-latte !!!

Name: Aerinithil, meaning ‘sea of moonlight’ is the name given to her by her elven mother.

Nickname: Aeri. It’s what her father called her when she was little, and it’s stuck. (pronounced air-rhee)

Heritage: Half-elf, half-human. Her parents were an elf from Lothlorien and a man from Rohan that got lost and fell in love with her mother. They disappeared from everyone they knew and lived together in the foothills of the mountains west of Fangorn, raising Aeri there. The only being that ever knew there had been another union between elf and man was Gandalf. They were killed by orcs when she was in her 40s, her father living a very long life for a human. However, she was not offered the choice between a human lifespan, and an elven one, instead only given an extended lifespan. However, she doesn't know how long that lifespan is until she meets Gandalf for the first time.

Age: She was born on February 14, TA 2414, and is almost six hundred years old at the Council of Elrond.

Appearance: Aeri is 6’3, a normal height for an elf, but tall for a human. However, she is shorter than Aragorn, who stands at 6’6. She’s very muscular after so many centuries of physical activity, and lean, but not slender like the elves, a reminder of her human heritage. She does have the elven pointed ears, though.

Her hair is a mahogany color and wavy, reaching to the small of her back when she actually leaves it down. Which is rare- one of the things she hates the most is having hair in her face, so it is almost always in a long ponytail or various kinds of braids.

Aeri has piercing blue eyes, a much darker blue than usually seen, but with starbursts of aquamarine around the pupils. She has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and a few around her face. She also has a triangle of freckles on her right shoulder, something that her father had too, which has always puzzled her but she sees it as a connection to him. Her nose is slightly upturned, and her lips are somewhere in between rounded and heart-shaped, but she can never decide which.

She has a lot of scars all over, a result of centuries of fighting and a whole lot of clumsiness. She has one on the bottom of her chin from tripping as a child, that Aragorn tried for years to get the story about out of her and once he succeeded has not let her forget it. She received a scar at Helm’s Deep that stretches from her hip, across her thigh and almost to her knee. She also has a small one on her cheek from where an arrow grazed her during the battle at the Black Gate.

Personal Information: Aeri is usually very hostile with new people, but secretly craves connection and is rather touch-starved. She’s become almost numb by the time she joins the Fellowship and only does that because she received a message from Gandalf, who, when she met him centuries before, had promised to never ask her for anything unless the situation was truly dire.

She does have a sense of humor and enjoys the antics of the hobbits. Her common sense is strong, and her intuition is finely honed. She’s also inquisitive, sensitive, and has a large amount of hope, qualities that come to light as she starts to unconsciously think of and treat the Fellowship as a family.

Aeri is scared of bees, but she doesn’t know why (and thinks bumblebees are adorable, she’s just scared of any other kind). She has nightmares about her parents’ deaths that constantly trouble her, and hundreds of years later often wonders that if she’d been there, would she have been able to save them? She also suffers from panic attacks and is very nervous in large crowds, but she has learned how to cope over the years, and Aragorn teaches her tricks he uses as well.

In the years between her parents’ deaths and joining the Fellowship, she traveled Arda, visiting everywhere from the Shire to Erebor. She always returned home to the cabin in the foothills of the Misty Mountains near Fangorn, alone, with the books and goods she brought back to keep her company. And her horses and dogs over the years.

She’s fantastic with any weapon you put in her hands, but her favorites are her long twin daggers (that she bonds with Legolas over) and her long cutlass that befuddles Aragorn and Boromir.

Aeri, from this picrew!

Friends: Once the Fellowship gets her to trust them, on the way to Caradhras, she opens up a little more. She becomes fast friends with Merry and Pippin but enjoys Sam’s quieter company and Frodo’s thoughtfulness as well. She also knows a lot about compulsion and temptation and helps Frodo with the ring. Boromir quickly becomes her brother-in-arms, and she manages to take down the Uruk-hai that tried to kill him, saving his life. Legolas has a harder time trusting Aeri, especially because he can see the elvishness in her but knows she’s not fully elven. However, when she rescues him from an orc patrol one night they become friends, and he teaches her more about her heritage. She and Gimli don’t interact much until Moria, but he sees the respect she’s showing and they begin to like each other.

During the several months between her arrival in Rivendell/The Council of Elrond and the Fellowship’s departure, she becomes friends with Arwen, the first being she lets her guard down around in many years. However, she always feels a sense of jealousy around the elf, which she doesn’t realize is because of her feelings for Aragorn for a long time.

She also becomes really close with both Glorfindel and Erestor during her time in Rivendell, enjoying the warrior’s battle-wisdom and humor and the councilor’s quiet thoughtfulness and sass.

Love Interest: Aeri and Aragorn do confess their feelings for each other some time during the quest, much to Merry and Pippin’s delight when they hear of it. However, it takes a while, and there is lots of pining along the way as both think the other wants nothing more than to be friends. Aeri is intimidated by the fact that Aragorn is the Heir of Isildur, and Aragorn is intimidated by the fact that Aeri is a half-elf that’s been alive for eight hundred-ish years. Some hilarity ensues from this as well, much to Boromir and Legolas’s enjoyment.

Aeri and Aragorn with this picrew!

i’m tagging everyone on my everything tag, as well as people i think might be interested and just some that is really like to see this! i’m sorry if you don’t want to be tagged and i hope you’re not mad, i’m just very excited about this!!@entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny @laurfilijames @grunid @claraofthepen @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth @starryeyedrogue @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @ladylouoflothlorien @lady-latte @luna-xial @elles-writing @band--psycho @annkdarar

this character sheet was inspired by @guardianofrivendell ‘s for her amazing OC Tullaina, which you should check out here!

and a huge thank you to @laurfilijames who gave me the push i needed to do this. thank you so incredibly much, i hope you like her!

#aerinithil #aeri #aragorn x oc #my oc #aragorn x aeri #oc #original characters #original character #aragorn #aragorn son of arathorn #aragorn elessar #estel #lord of the rings #the hobbit #jrr tolkien #maiawrites #movies

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sesamestreep · 3 years

Text

if dreams were thunder, and lightning was desire

(read on AO3)

(read the whole series here)

SUMMARY: It's one thing to agree to get married for symbolic reasons in the name of political unity. It's another thing entirely to actually be married. [AKA - further adventures in that arranged marriage medieval fantasy AU of Rogue One]

A/N: Here I am, arriving three years late with proverbial Starbucks, to post my now once-yearly attempt at fic! I'm actually posting this as a birthday gift to my forever girl @firstelevens who is also responsible for helping me flesh out this idea in the first place.... [checks notes] uh, four years ago. Happy happy birthday and thank you for being the most supportive and wonderful friend in the multiverse, even though I’ve recently become terrible at replying to texts. Further notes are there if you want them if you follow the AO3 link above!

Cassian Andor wakes up to an empty bed, which is not, in and of itself, a startling thing. In fact, there was a time, only a few months ago, when it would have been a much greater surprise to find the other side of his bed occupied. Even now that he is married, waking to find his wife already up and gone is not an uncommon occurrence. The first few times he woke to find her gone, he had been confused, certainly, but he has adjusted to her habits and the sight of her side of the bed empty no longer inspires panic or concern as it had in the beginning.

However, this morning is different. Cassian’s wife is an early riser almost without exception, but she is not normally so far ahead of him that her side of the bed is as cold as it is now when Cassian runs his palm over the linens. Even more startling is the darkness that still lingers outside the window. It’s not yet dawn, then, and she is already awake and about the castle. That is highly unusual.

Perhaps, if Cassian had slept well, he might let these confusing details go. But he never sleeps well the night before he travels and tomorrow—or today, actually, given the hour—he leaves on a scouting mission to the southern provinces. He has slept fitfully most of the night and apparently only got enough actual sleep to let his wife slip out of their chambers unnoticed. He sighs and throws off the bedding, knowing he won’t get any more rest until he knows where Jyn has gone.

In little more than three months of marriage, Cassian cannot say he’s gotten to know his wife well. She is secretive and aloof, as a rule, and he has done all he can to give her the space she seems to yearn for, because he knows that, while she has accepted him as a husband, she did not choose him. Their union is a symbolic one, designed to mollify two disparate factions of the Rebellion as they struggle to rule together. He and Jyn are not royalty or even particularly important people, aside from that. No one is waiting on them for heirs or anything of that sort, and they can spend the rest of their lives as indifferent to each other as they please.

Still, Cassian cannot help that he has learned things about his wife, in spite of the careful distance that exists between them. He is a spy, after all. His job is to discover new information, even—or perhaps, especially—when the other party does not wish to give it to him. Jyn is adept at hiding things from others, but even she is not a complete mystery to him. No one is, for one thing, but she has the distinct disadvantage of sharing a bed with him.

What he knows does not amount to much, truly. Except that he had heard his wife complain more than once, in an undertone to her brother, of how restless and bored she feels cooped up in the stone walls of the castle. That, and the early hour where almost everyone else will still be in bed, suggests to Cassian that he would do well to get dressed and try to find his wife outside.

His instincts are correct in this case, as he finds her on the southern lawn outside the castle, standing alone and, he imagines, waiting for the sunrise that is beginning to tinge the sky with an orange glow just above the horizon. He takes the opportunity, before she hears him approach, to pause and take in the image of her, alone in the pretty half-light of the early morning.

She wears no overcoat, which irks him for reasons he does not fully understand. By midday, there is a good chance it will be a balmy spring day, but now, it is still chilly and damp without the sun to warm them. Jyn could catch a cold in this weather and Cassian has never known someone who can be so cautious and so careless at the same time.

On the other hand, she did go through the trouble of getting fully dressed before heading out, so perhaps Cassian should be thankful. He apparently also got more sleep than he realized, because he hadn’t heard any sound at all while she got her clothes on in the dark of their bedchamber. He half-expected her to still be in her dressing gown, given her lack of concern with convention.

He wishes he could say she looked tranquil as she surveys the forested land that borders the castle, but, for all he can only just make out her features in the minimal lighting, he can tell she is frowning. He thinks, absently, that she is beautiful nonetheless and then regrets it. He should not be distracted by her looks when he knows she is unhappy.

The distant call of a bird draws her attention in his direction and he sees the way her eyes widen in alarm when they land upon him before she thinks to hide her reaction. His opportunity to observe her unnoticed is gone, and he has no choice but to cross the distance between them, though he does try to appear unhurried.

“Good morning, Captain,” she greets him as he comes nearer and he almost stops short.

It always trips him up when she refers to him by his rank. It’s fine when others do so—that is protocol—but hearing it from his wife always strikes him as odd. He has told her as much, but there are moments when she defers to it still. He believes, though he has no proof of this, that she does it on purpose, that she only uses it when she is in a certain mood. Cassian has yet to ascertain what that mood is—if she is being sarcastic, if she is angry, if it might be her way of showing affection, even—but he knows there is some motive behind it that he does not understand. If he knew, he might be able to respond in some clever way, but as it is, he is at a loss for words.

“Good morning, my lady,” he says, and perhaps he is cleverer than he gives himself credit for, because Jyn’s frown deepens momentarily before she can stop herself. “You are up early today.”

“As are you,” she says, her tone suggesting that she heard the question hidden in his statement and she won’t be responding to it.

Cassian laughs, without meaning to. “I couldn’t find my wife this morning. It was an alarming way to wake up.”

He expects a terse response from her, saying that she is always awake before him. Instead, Jyn’s eyebrows raise in surprise and her frown eases, just a bit. “You were worried?” She asks, disbelieving.

“I—of course I was,” he replies. He is always worried, he doesn’t know how she hasn’t noticed yet.

“About me?”

“Yes,” he says, puzzled by her need for clarification. “We’re married. It is my duty to worry about you.”

Jyn tsks at that, whether in understanding or disappointment, he’s not sure. “And you are always dutiful,” she says, her tone unreadable still.

“I try to be,” Cassian says, feeling like he is stuck in a game of wits for which he is unprepared. He is capable and coherent around others, but his wife always has the upper hand on him. It never feels like he has the right answer for her. Even now, she nods before looking away, back at the horizon as it becomes rosier by the moment.

“Are you well?” He asks, when the silence starts to stretch out too long.

She blinks in confusion when she looks back at him, as if she had forgotten he was there. “I—yes, of course,” she says, and he realizes it was the question that confused her. “Do I not look well?”

Another question to which there is no right answer, he thinks. “It’s very early to be out of bed,” he says, instead of answering her question.

“I am always up early.”

“Not this early.”

“Have I done something wrong, Captain?”

“Jyn, I’m not chastising you,” he says, laughing. He’s not amused, not precisely, but if he doesn’t laugh, he’ll probably shout from frustration. This feels safer. “I’m asking if something is troubling you. I want to know that you are alright.”

His obvious frustration must outweigh her annoyance, because everything about her—her expression, her posture—immediately softens, the fight going out of her instantly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be defensive. I just couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you, not when you’re leaving this morning, but I see that I did anyway.”

“You didn’t. I...never sleep well before a journey.”

“Oh?”

He hesitates to say more, lest he seem like he sought her out just to drop his problems at her feet, but she is watching him with interest and, if he’s not mistaken, concern, so perhaps she would not mind. “All of the details, the logistics of the trip, I go over them, in my head, all night long. I’m practically frantic by morning, most of the time.”

“I—” Jyn cuts herself off, shaking her head, like she had something to say and thought the better of it. “I have a hard time imagining you in a frantic state,” she says, instead.

“Well, then,” he says, feeling some strange twinge of pride, “I suppose I am doing my job well.”

“As a spy, perhaps,” she replies, her tone unreadable.

“What other job do I have?” He asks, ignoring the fact that he’s not, officially speaking, a spy anymore. His actual title has something to do with “intelligence,” a distinction he’s meant to care about a lot more than he actually does. He’s not spying in the same way that he was during the war, but he’s not delusional enough to tell himself that those aren’t the skills the Republic has kept him around for.

Jyn gives him a long, searching look. “It hardly matters,” she says, finally, waving a hand and looking off at the horizon again. She’s quiet for a moment before she speaks again. “I’m a miserable excuse for a wife, though, not noticing that you couldn’t sleep.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Of course not,” she says, smiling, though the light of it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You are far too polite.”

“‘Polite’ is not the first word most people would use to describe me, my lady.”

“‘Careful,’ then,” she says, pointedly.

Cassian nods, feeling as if he has lost this round. “That is far more likely.” He pauses before he says anything more, weighing the risk of it, but ultimately decides it might be worth saying. “I did not want to trouble you. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

“I often am, at odd hours,” she says, and there’s something light and teasing about it now. “And you could stand to trouble me more, Captain. I’ve never heard of such an undemanding husband before.”

Unable to parse what she means when she suggests he “trouble” her when he cannot sleep—and unwilling to use his imagination, knowing where it will lead him—he decides to address a less mystifying part of her comment. “I’ve told you that you needn’t call me that,” he says.

“‘Husband?’” She asks, innocently, though he sees a bit of performance in it.

“No. ‘Captain.’”

“Well, you still call me ‘my lady.’ Only one of those honorifics is still worth anything, and it surely isn’t mine.”

“I only call you ‘my lady’ when…”

“Yes?” Jyn’s features take on the expression of an animal that has backed its prey into a corner, leaving it no options of retreat.

Cassian thinks it unwise to point this out, though. He also thinks it unwise to finish what he was about to say, which is that he only calls her ‘my lady’ when he wants to call her ‘my dear’ or something equally sentimental that he’s sure she would not approve of. It feels disingenuous to him, as well. He simply finds his vocabulary for expressing the intimacy of living so closely with another person without encroaching upon the territory of affection rather wanting. He cares for her, of course—why else would he be out of bed and out of doors on a freezing morning if he didn’t?—but there is hardly a chance of love or even affection in a marriage as young and unfamiliar as theirs.

“When I do not know what else to call you,” he says, instead of the truth. It’s barely even a lie, but it nags at him like one regardless. He has been trying to lie less around his wife, but it’s a difficult habit to break.

“My name would work well enough,” Jyn replies, her tone caught somewhere between amused and suspicious.

“So would mine.”

She hesitates before responding, looking shy, although it is a rare thing from her. “I thought you might like it, being called by your rank.”

“Not from you,” he says, immediately. “I am called that by enough people. When I’m home, when I’m with you, I am just your husband.”

He doesn’t realize the way this sounds—sentimental, the very thing he was avoiding—until the words are out of his mouth and Jyn’s face goes blank with astonishment. She recovers quickly, though, looking down at her feet.

“As you wish, husband,” she says, quietly.

“Well, you know now why I could not sleep. What has kept you awake?”

“Bad dreams,” she says, matter-of-factly. “As always.”

“Always?” Cassian repeats, concerned. He didn’t know she had nightmares. She shifts in her sleep often, he has noticed, always twisting herself into shapes that cannot possibly be comfortable, but he’s never known her to cry or panic enough to wake herself, the way he associates with nightmares.

“Most nights,” she confirms, looking away to avoid his gaze.

She crosses her arms over her chest, although he cannot tell if it’s a defensive gesture or simply because she is cold. He decides to proceed as though it is the latter and begins to slip his arms out of his coat’s sleeves. The rustling of the fabric draws her gaze back to him and her eyes widen with alarm when she realizes what he means to do.

“Oh, no,” she says, waving a hand to ward him off. “Don’t bother. You will freeze without it.”

“Is that so?” Cassian asks, ignoring her protests and pulling his jacket off completely.

“I know how cold you get,” she says, archly. There are things she has learned from sharing a bed with him, too, it appears.

He doesn’t take the bait to argue with her and instead steps forward until he’s only a single pace away from her and sweeps the jacket over her shoulders. She stands stiffly as he does so, as if she cannot figure out her part in this scene. Or perhaps she worries the slightest gesture will upset the moment they are sharing, though this idea might be romantic nonsense on Cassian’s part.

He draws the coat tighter around her body by the lapels and he fidgets with the collar so it will stand up and block the cold wind, since she has no scarf. He wants nothing more in the world than to take her hair that has gotten trapped in the collar and draw it out for her, if only for the excuse it would give him to run his hands through it without the risk of giving himself away. All the while, Jyn watches him with her chin tipped up, her eyes narrowed in obvious but neutral interest. Perhaps he has already given himself away.

“Do not worry on my account,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. He has finished arranging the coat around her shoulders, but his hands still linger on the lapels, holding it together, not wanting to let go and give up his excuse to be close to her. “If I am any good at my job, I will convince you to come inside before I even feel the cold.”

“Your job?” Jyn asks, warily. “As a spy?”

“Yes, and as a husband.”

“It is your duty as my husband to ensure I do not freeze to death?”

“Amongst other things.” He means it plainly enough, but in this close proximity, he sees the way Jyn bites her lip and look away at the implication of his words and he feels himself flush with embarrassment. He tries to steer the conversation elsewhere, no matter how artlessly. “I have nightmares too.”

Jyn’s head snaps up. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“About the war?”

Cassian swallows and words feel more difficult than he anticipated, so he simply nods. It’s probably important that his wife knows these things about him, especially if he wants her to tell him things too.

She watches him carefully, as if she’s waiting for a trap but Cassian just gazes steadily back at her, to see if she’ll trust him. After a moment, she sighs and says, more to his chest than to his face, “most of mine are from when I was young.”

“I have a few of those too.”

Jyn nods, closing her eyes. Cassian transfers the lapels of the coat into one hand, so that his other one is free to rub her shoulder. He wants her to say more, but he doesn’t want to pressure her. Without warning, she steps further into his embrace, close enough that she’s able to perch her chin on his shoulder. Though her face is turned away from him, the sweetness of the gesture nearly overwhelms him. He places his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, just so she doesn’t think to pull away.

“I think the trouble is not having much to occupy my time here,” she says, after a moment, and Cassian could collapse with relief at hearing her speak. “I’m not accustomed to idleness. And when I try to sleep, my mind is still awake and it gives me these vivid dreams.”

He can’t help himself any longer. He smooths a hand over the back of her head, brushing back some strands of hair that have come loose from where she’s tried to tie it at the nape of her neck. He thinks he feels her pull closer. “And what do you dream of?”

“My brother and I, when we were young, we were always out of doors. We’d have breakfast with my mother and then she’d send us away and we’d spend all day together, collecting rocks and shells from the beaches or scrambling over rocks. We never came home until dinner.”

“That doesn’t sound like a nightmare to me.”

“It was lovely,” she says, sounding pained, and he tightens his hold on her. “I had a very idyllic childhood, in most regards. Mostly because my parents didn’t tell me anything that was going on.”

Cassian laughs, lightly, at that. “That’s what parents are supposed to do.”

Jyn buries her face in his shoulder, hiding from his gaze. “A lot of good it did me,” she says, and even her tone sounds closed-off.

“What happens in your dreams?” He asks, quietly. He knows she probably wants to end this conversation and pretend it never happened, but he needs her to know that he’s here, that he’s willing to listen.

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, as if to prepare herself. “It’s just me and Bodhi as children, running around wild like always. At first, it feels like a memory, but then it starts to feel…sinister. I don’t really know how to describe it, it’s just this inexplicable dread that washes over me. Sometimes, we can hear people coming, a great mass of them, and we get scared. Other times, there’s some terrible storm moving in, faster than we can run. But we try to get home, anyway. We’re always running to find my mother, to warn her. It always feels so important that we get to her. And the ground falls away beneath our feet. Sometimes, I lose Bodhi; he falls or gets hurt and he’s crying out for my help but I can’t stop, or sometimes, he just disappears and I can’t remember how to get home. And I’m completely alone.”

After a moment’s silence, Jyn pulls back in his embrace. He doesn’t let her go, but he does give her some space. “Foolish, isn’t it?” She asks, with a false smile. He can hear the unshed tears in her voice and knows she’s trying to make light of it so he doesn’t think her weak.

“No,” he says, firmly, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “Not at all. But you and your brother survived the war, Jyn. And you’re together. It must be some comfort to you.”

“Yes, it is. Of course it is. But our parents didn’t survive. And that version of us, the children who used to play on the beach together, they didn’t survive the war, either. Our lives are so different now. I think that’s what the dream is about.”

“You wish to go home?”

“I wish to go back,” she says, bearing his personal question with grace. She thinks on it a moment, before sighing in frustration and shaking her head. “If only it was as simple as returning to Lah’mu. But I know that the place will not be the same now as it was then. And I am different too.”

“Perhaps that’s why something is always wrong in your dream,” Cassian muses. “You long to go back to that time in your life, but you know you don’t belong there anymore. Maybe that’s the source of the tension you feel in the dream.”

Jyn looks at him, appraisingly, and he worries that he overstepped somehow. However, when she finally speaks, she doesn’t seem offended. “What do you dream of, Captain?”

“Me?”

“Yes. You said you have nightmares too.”

“Oh, yes,” he replies, with considerable effort. He’d forgotten about that admission. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Of course,” Jyn says, and her expression shutters immediately. “You’re under no obligation to tell me.”

Cassian reaches for a stray piece of hair that’s brushing against her collarbone, twisting the errant strand around his finger loosely. “Don’t misunderstand me,” he says, quietly and more plaintively than he meant to. He doesn’t know why he’s so worried about offending her by accident. “I’m not equivocating. I really do not know how to describe them.”

“Do you even wish to?” She asks, with a sharpness he deserves but is still unprepared for.

“No,” he answers honestly, which makes her blink in surprise. “I do not wish to tell you anything that will make you think less of me.”

“You should not worry about that.”

“Is your opinion of me already so low?” He asks, with every intention of making light of it but the question comes out unfortunately earnest.

Jyn, for her part, looks bewildered. “No,” she says, immediately. “Quite the opposite. I have a hard time imagining anything you could say that would make me think less of you.”

He takes a deep breath, looking away from her face and focusing instead on the strand of hair he’s still toying with. “I always dream of people I’ve…lost. People I’ve hurt or abandoned,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “It’s much like what you’ve described, I think. They feel like memories but I know they’re not quite right. And I know there’s nothing I can do to change what happens. So I just have to live through it again. And again. Until I wake up.”

As he’s speaking, Jyn reaches for him, closing her hand around his wrist where it’s resting against her shoulder. When he feels the weight of her thumb pressing into the space between the bones of his forearm, he releases the lock of her hair, letting it unspool from around his finger. He’d pull his hand back completely, but her grip on him tightens like she’s read his mind. She brings his hand close enough that she can press her lips to the spot where his pulse is now racing wildly.

“You ought to have told me sooner,” she says, and she must be able to feel his heartbeat against her lips. The thought makes him warm with both embarrassment and anticipation.

He swallows with considerable effort. “To what end?”

“There are things,” she says, against the soft skin of his inner wrist, “that a wife can do. To help her husband sleep. To take his mind off his worries. I could do those things for you, if you wanted. You need only ask.”

She makes it sound so simple, as if they had the sort of marriage where they stated their desires plainly to each other, where they asked for what they wanted and then got it. But the asking is the most difficult part, in Cassian’s experience, or maybe the wanting is. They’ve been intimate together in the way Jyn is implying only once, on their wedding night, and, while enjoyable, it hardly left him with a strong sense of what his wife wants or expects from him.

Now, though, Jyn is offering that to him again. There was no mistaking it. His own need startles him, thrumming in his veins so loudly that he can hardly think. He has weeks of travel ahead of him, weeks of sleeping on the hard ground with only young, raucous soldiers for company. It will be cold and lonely and it will not even occur to him to complain, to dislike it, since it’s all he knows. Or, rather, it was all he knew before he was married. Before Jyn. He would be wise to avail himself of his wife’s offer while he can, enjoy the softness of her before he leaves and knows no softness of any kind for weeks.

He takes too long considering it, though, for Jyn’s face falls and she pulls back from him, only a little but it feels like a great distance, when they are this close. “Of course, you should feel no obligation to—”

“I don’t,” he replies, hastily. “I don’t feel any obligation.”

“I merely thought I should offer,” she says, and her eyes lower to avoid his gaze.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Cassian says, closing his eyes in embarrassment. “What I meant to say is…what I feel for you is not obligation.”

He can feel her looking at him now, the scrutiny in her gaze obvious even with his eyes still closed. “And what do you feel for me, Captain?” She asks, carefully.

An overwhelming and terrible want , he thinks. A desire so deep he has yet to discover the bottom of it. A dangerous kind of possessiveness, like they belong to one another, even though they’re not the sort of people who belong to anyone, or the sort to hold onto anything they’re given too tightly, because they know the pain of having it taken away.

He doesn’t say any of that, though. Instead, he makes the mistake of opening his eyes and looking at her and the only logical conclusion to that action is to step forward and kiss her. His hand, the one she’s not still holding captive, curves around her cheek as his mouth covers hers. Her lips part for him without hesitation and their kiss deepens. It’s as good as their wedding night, but this time he’s sharp and clear headed, not hazy and tired from long hours of drinking and celebrating, and he intends to memorize every single detail. The way she wraps her arm around him and her fingers dig into his shoulder blade, desperate for purchase. The sound of surprise she made when their lips first met and how it mellows into a quiet hum of satisfaction, as if she’s been waiting for this.

When she pulls away from him after a few moments, it takes everything in his power not to whine in complaint. But they’re both breathing heavily and Jyn’s hair is even more disheveled than before, which might be his fault but could also be from the wind that’s doing its best to push them back to their warm bed. He’s beginning to think they should listen, and he’s about to say as much, when Jyn speaks first.

“You’re cold,” she says, and he’s about to take it the wrong way when she pulls his hand from her face and wraps it up in both of her own to warm it.

He laughs, more overwhelmed than anything else. “I don’t feel it,” he says, because he was too busy feeling everything else.

She levels an arch look at him, either because she’s not impressed with his effort to flatter her or because she’s actually worried he’s going to catch his death like this, kissing her on a hillside in the early morning. He’s going to die somehow, it might as well be like this, he thinks, but he doesn’t try to kiss her again. He has the sense that she has more to say.

“You can kiss me in our bedroom, you know,” she says, making it worth the wait.

His heartbeat races, caught somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. “I can?” He asks, stupidly.

Jyn searches his face, looking for something. Reassurance, perhaps, or sincerity. Whatever she’s looking for, she must find it, because she nods, slowly, and a smile overtakes her face. “You can kiss me anywhere you like,” she says, and it does his heart rate no favors.

Cassian steps back, grabbing her hand so he can pull her with him in the direction of the castle. She follows him and, as they walk, he pulls her into his side, burying his face in her neck and planting a kiss there. When she squirms slightly and elbows him in the ribs, he laughs against her skin.

“You said anywhere ,” he says, and she laughs too.

***

The next morning, the castle bustles with activity as Cassian leaves his briefing with Draven. Using the former seat of the emperor’s power as the headquarters of the government of the New Republic has always struck him as a smart choice on the part of the rebels, from a symbolic standpoint and in a practical sense of needing the actual work of governing the country to happen somewhere. By its very nature, a castle is almost comically oversized for one person’s needs, even a ruler’s, and so the former rebels had made a much better use of the space than the emperor ever had.

However, on this particular morning, with his mind already running through logistics of the mission ahead and planning what to say to the soldiers he’s bringing along, Cassian finds the crowded halls and corridors more grating than he normally does. It hadn’t seemed possible to feel this way during the war, when the emperor’s excesses had seemed so absurd and villainous, but Cassian is beginning to wonder if maybe the castle is too small for their purposes. The new government will loathe the idea of expanding, will object to spending money on something so frivolous, but it may be necessary, he thinks, as he bumps into yet another person in the crush of people moving about as he makes his way to the courtyard. The small party of soldiers accompanying him on this mission are gathering there now and they’re meant to depart in less than an hour. It will not set a good tone for the next few weeks if their captain keeps them waiting.

Much like in the old days—and it is staggering to think of the rebellion as something of the past, he realizes with a lurch—these missions are to gather information on activity across the Republic. However, unlike in the old days, he’s not trying to find the one piece of intelligence he’s certain will win the war for the rebels, which is a welcome change. He’s also, generally speaking, not in constant mortal danger anymore, though there are some areas of the country that the war ravaged worse than others, leaving desperation and crime in its wake. That’s why Draven still sends Cassian on these scouting missions, to see what corners of the nation still need aid or resources. Peacetime has been far from perfect for everyone, but even with the things he’s seen, Cassian can’t deny most people, himself included, are better off.

He’s so lost in his thoughts of the mission as he makes his way to the rendezvous point he arranged with the party that Bodhi must have had to call his name a half a dozen times before Cassian finally heard him. By the time he turns around, Bodhi is practically at his elbow, which is both impressive and guilt-inducing, from the way Cassian can see him leaning heavily on his cane. He does his best not to wince, because Bodhi doesn’t enjoy being fretted over, and slows down so his brother-in-law can more easily keep pace with him instead.

“Captain,” Bodhi exclaims, managing to only sound slightly out of breath, “I’m glad I caught you!”

“Coming to see me off, Captain Rook?” Cassian asks, pointedly.

Bodhi looks properly chastened. “Sorry, Cassian. I’m still not used to it.”

“Calling me by my first name or being a captain yourself?”

“Either,” he says, and Cassian understands. Bodhi was only promoted to Captain after his heroics in the Battle of Eadu and it was only a few months later that the treaty was signed. He’s only ever been a captain in peacetime. “I just don’t fully think of you as my sister’s husband yet.”

That does make Cassian wince and he isn’t quick enough to hide it from Bodhi, whose eyes immediately widen in alarm. “Not like that!” he practically shouts. “I mean, it’s nothing to do with you! I just can’t believe Jyn has a husband at all. In my head, she’s still six years old and telling me what to do all the time.”

“To be fair, she does still tell you what to do,” Cassian replies. “No change in your rank will ever change that.”

Bodhi laughs. “You’re certainly right about that.” After a brief pause, he adds, “Where is my sister, anyway? Isn’t she coming to see you off?”

“Oh, well, she’s—no.” He clears his throat. “We’ve already said our goodbyes.”

Bodhi nods absently, seemingly satisfied with this answer and mercifully doesn’t ask for any further details. Cassian is not sure his nonchalant facade would hold up under questioning and the exact nature of the goodbye he and his wife shared this morning would soon be extremely obvious to her brother. It’s better for everyone if they somehow avoid that outcome altogether.

His relief is short-lived, however, when Bodhi suddenly asks, “And did she…uh…did she get a chance to, well…?”

They arrive at the training yard before Bodhi arrives at his actual question. Cassian pauses in the archway that leads into the yard and turns to face him. “What is it?” He asks, dreading the answer.

“Well, I was just wondering if my sister got a chance to speak with you?”

“Bodhi, your sister and I are married. We speak with one another quite often as a result. You will need to be more specific.”

Bodhi makes a face that suggests he would much rather do anything else. “I thought she might have mentioned the incident with Senator Jebel?” he says, voice stuck between a statement and a question.

Cassian blinks, searching his memory for anything relevant. “Incident?” He finally asks, when nothing comes to mind. He doesn’t like the sound of that.

“‘Incident’ might be too strong a word,” Bodhi admits apologetically.

“Here’s an idea: why don’t you tell me what happened and I’ll decide what the correct word for it is?”

“It’s just—if Jyn didn’t tell you about it, then it clearly didn’t bother her very much. I certainly don’t want to insert myself into the middle of your marriage!”

Cassian doesn’t point out that it’s a little late for that sentiment and instead asks, as calmly as he can manage, “What happened, Bodhi?”

“Well, it was just—” He pauses as a few people pass between them to exit into the yard, shifting his weight uncomfortably while trying to maintain his grip on his cane. When they’re gone, he continues, “Jyn and I were walking together the other day when we came across Lieutenant Tuesso walking with Senator Jebel. And, well, Kay was saying something to her about passing along some information for your upcoming scouting mission and—actually, Jyn told him to tell it to you himself because she’s not your secretary—”

Cassian smiles at that, able to picture it so clearly. Kay is perhaps his oldest friend and the person he trusts most in the field, but he and Jyn get along like oil and water. Still, if Kay had truly objected to Cassian’s marriage, he would have done everything in his power to stop it, but he’d only asked if Cassian was sure before giving his blessing. Well, it was more like his resignation, but coming from Kay, they’re basically the same thing. Cassian likes to imagine that Jyn’s fiery temper and sharp wit secretly amuse Kay but he’s simply too stubborn to admit it.

“But that’s not the point,” Bodhi says, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “The point is: Kay was talking about your trip and Senator Jebel asked why you were being sent off on a mission so close to your wedding, to which Jyn replied that it had been three months and that it wasn't terribly close. And then the Senator said she must have been very confident in…well, winning you over, if she was comfortable sending you off on your own so soon.”

“‘Winning me over’? What does that even mean?”

Bodhi looks uncomfortable. “You know, as a wife?” He says, sounding pained. When Cassian just stares at him blankly, he sighs and adds, begrudgingly, “Senator Jebel may have implied that a man of your rank might use a mission like this to…avail themselves of the sexual talents of women other than their wives, you know, during their travels. Unless, of course, the wife in question had already proved herself irreplaceable in that regard.”

Cassian knows that Bodhi has expressed himself clearly and put all of his words in the right order, and yet he still cannot comprehend a single thing he’s just heard. They stare at each other in silence—his baffled, Bodhi’s embarrassed—for a long time before anything clicks into place in Cassian’s mind.

“He said this to Jyn?” He asks, finally. It’s hard to speak around all of the dread pooling at the base of this throat.

Bodhi cringes. “Well, he really said it to me and Kay. He was talking over Jyn’s head, which sounds better but, as you can imagine, made it much worse.”

“And what did she have to say to all this?”

“I made sure to drag her away as quickly as possible and Kay distracted the Senator with just as much haste!”

“Bodhi,” Cassian says on an exhale. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, feeling the early signs of a headache coming on. “What did Jyn say?”

His shoulders sag in defeat. “She only said that she had no concerns on that front,” Bodhi says, plainly unsure if he’s helping or hurting at this point. “And then I made our excuses and got her away from him as soon as I could, I promise!”

“I believe you,” Cassian replies, holding up a hand in acknowledgement. “And I appreciate your efforts to take care of your sister.”

“I thought perhaps her feelings had been hurt by Senator Jebel’s comments, but since she has not mentioned the incident to you, perhaps she dismissed them as quickly as they deserved.”

“Perhaps,” Cassian says, for Bodhi’s benefit, but his mind is on his wife’s behavior this morning; all of her talk of the ways a wife could comfort her husband, how solicitous of his troubles she’d been, how vulnerable she’d seemed herself, even the kisses they’d shared and the way she’d allowed him to take her to bed. How different it all looked in this new light. Of course she wouldn’t mention the conversation with the Senator to him—to do so would be, in Jyn’s mind, to admit to a weakness, that she cared at all what others thought of their marriage or, worse, that she cared what Cassian thought of her as a wife—but it wouldn’t stop her from taking it as advice.

So she’d seduced him, and quite adeptly at that. He hadn’t even realized it was happening. He might have known better, under other circumstances, but he’d naively thought that being married to someone meant that you didn’t have to concern yourself with seduction. If his wife wanted to sleep with him, it seemed to him that all she had to do was show interest in such a thing or, heaven forbid, simply say so, and she could have her way. To play such games about it seems counterproductive to him, but given how easily he was manipulated on this occasion, Cassian might not be the person to ask.

“I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn,” Bodhi says, anxiously, at which point Cassian realizes he has been staring off into space for a long moment.

“Of course not,” he says immediately. “I appreciate your telling me.”

“You won’t tell Jyn I mentioned it, will you?”

“No. Like you said, if it had bothered her, she would have told me herself.” It isn’t true, not in the slightest, but Cassian can see that Bodhi needs to hear it. “Besides, now I can use my spare time on this trip to plan my revenge on Senator Jebel.”

“Revenge?” Bodhi asks, wide-eyed with concern. It’s sometimes hard to believe someone as tenderhearted as he is fought in the war, let alone survived it.

Cassian waves a hand dismissively. “I’m not thinking of challenging him to a duel, Bodhi. Relax. But there are a great many ways a man of my position can make his life…uncomfortable and I shall enjoy thinking of as many of them as possible.”

“I am once again reminded how glad I am to be on your good side, Cassian,” Bodhi says, faintly. “And that you’re looking out for my sister.”

Cassian has never felt less capable of doing any such thing, not when Jyn is still keeping secrets from him and treating him as an opponent, but he nods anyway. His wife would likely roll her eyes at the sentiment, but he cannot stand by knowing that someone made her feel small even for a moment. He gets a savage sort of thrill out of the idea that she shall have his protection, whether she wants it or not.

“I am glad to be of service,” he says, vaguely. “But I’m afraid I must give the soldiers their orders now if we’re to be off on time.”

“Of course. Safe travels.” Bodhi offers his hand for Cassian to shake and then claps him on the shoulder as he takes his leave.

Cassian is certain that he relays Draven’s orders to the soldiers assembled in the yard as soon as he’s done speaking with Bodhi but he can’t actually remember a single thing he said by the time he’s securing the saddle on his own horse. His only excuse is that his mind is obviously elsewhere. Even though he knows he should focus on the mission ahead, he can’t stop thinking about Jyn.

As though he’s conjured her, she suddenly appears in the courtyard, with Kay and Senator Mothma in tow. The latter two are deep in conversation about something, while his wife doesn’t seem to be participating at all if the mild, far-off look on her face is any indication. It’s not surprising to see them all together; he’s sure that the Senator is the one who approved their scouting mission for General Draven and that he asked Kay to appraise her of the mission’s status because he’d rather not do it himself. And Jyn and Senator Mothma are often in each other’s company. Jyn often jokes that the Senator has claimed her as an unofficial assistant but Cassian suspects it’s just because she doesn’t want to admit that they are friends.

Before he can think better of it, Cassian calls out to Jyn, despite the fact that she’s on the other side of the courtyard still. It doesn’t occur to him until afterwards that shouting to get someone’s attention in a crowded area is probably bad manners, especially if that person is a lady. She looks startled to hear her name and the soldiers scattered throughout the area look up in shock at hearing him raise his voice at all. When her eyes meet his across the yard, Jyn’s neutral, distant expression shutters, turning into something more wary and focused. Cassian tilts his chin very slightly to beckon her over, not risking a bigger gesture lest the assembled soldiers think they’re about to witness something salacious. He’s determined they won’t, and Jyn catches his meaning anyway, even from a distance, and begins to make her way over.

He means to use the long moment it will take her to reach him to plan what he will say, how he will broach this delicate subject with her without implicating her brother in divulging the information to him, but he’s too distracted by the sight of her. She’s dressed plainly enough, not being one for embellishment, but her dress is a deep burgundy that suits and fits her well and she’s gingerly holding the skirt to keep the hem from dragging along the dirty ground. He only has to think on her clothing for a moment before his mind supplies the image of her this morning, as he was preparing to leave, just in her nightshirt, only deigning to get out of their bed to give him one last kiss goodbye. It was the only time he can remember being tempted to stay in bed rather than get on with his work. By the time she arrives, his face is warm with the sort of embarrassment he thought he’d grow out of once he was married.

“Yes, my lord?” She asks, and he’d tell her again to do away with such pointless formality if he couldn’t see the bright glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She’s trying to be funny.

He still has no idea what to say to her. His mind remains a complete blank, while his pulse is running wild. There is no way to tell her she should have trusted him enough to tell him about the incident with Senator Jebel, or that he knows the intimate moment they shared this morning was more inspired by that than by any genuine passion on her part, without giving away that he’s been listening to gossip. To admit that would only succeed in raising her defenses and causing an argument.

She didn’t trust him. That’s the heart of the matter and what is bothering him the most. Or perhaps it is that, for once in his life, he acted without suspicion or subterfuge and now he looks like a fool. Without realizing it, he’d begun to trust her but apparently the feeling is not mutual. It is only once this thought articulates itself in his mind that he catches himself; he’s embarrassed. She’s injured nothing but his sense of pride—that he always knows when someone is lying to him, that he’s always the man in the room with the most information.

But what, really, is the cost? So what if she outsmarted him? It’s not life or death, this. He wishes she had felt safe enough to be honest with him, but he can hardly blame her that she didn’t. In the grand scheme of things, they hardly know each other and three months is not long enough to change a lifetime of mistrust in others, especially if one is accustomed to it as a means of survival. He still doesn’t know much about her past before they met, but if it was anything like his, he understands why opening up to him might prove difficult.

And maybe some of it was real—the dream she told him about, the reasons she has difficulty sleeping. Maybe she needed the ulterior motive of seducing him to make sure he doesn’t stray as an excuse to tell him the truth. And what does it tell her if he gets angry? How does it look if he holds it against her for being as secretive and wary as he always is himself? How can he ever expect her to trust him with anything if he lets his ego get in the way now? And perhaps more importantly, what does it really cost him to let her be right?

If she did what he thinks she did, it was an act of desperation, to ensure that she had some control over the life she was unceremoniously shoved into three months ago. She was afraid of the idea of him leaving on this trip and forgetting the vows he’d made as soon as she was out of sight. He can see now all the ways that her own ego is tied up in this—not wanting to be seen as an inadequate wife, wanting to prove Jebel wrong after he’d been so crass and unkind to her, and perhaps even worrying that Cassian felt the same way, that he had any complaints of their marriage—but he can also see further, to the core of the matter, where it’s just Jyn being afraid and alone. How can he punish her for that, when all he wants is for her to feel safe with him?

It costs him nothing to let her be right, then; to let her believe that he’s blissfully unaware of any hidden reason for her behavior or any conflict and just play the role of the devoted, smitten husband. It’s not as if he planned to be unfaithful to her while he was away, and giving her some assurance on that matter without revealing what he knows should be easy enough. Let her believe that her machinations paid off and she’s won her husband over with her feminine wiles. There’s no harm in that. When he thinks of it that way, it’s barely even a lie.

“Cassian,” she says now, eyes full of concern at his silently staring at her. “Is everything alright?”

He comes back to the present moment when her hand comes to rest on his arm. “Yes, everything is fine,” he says, weakly. “I apologize. There were probably less dramatic ways to get your attention.”

“No matter. I appreciate the efficiency of your method, I must say.”

“Still, I do not wish to embarrass you.” When he sees she means to shrug at that, he adds, “under any circumstances.”

She blinks at him, surprised, so some of his implied meaning must come through. “You do not embarrass me,” she replies, warily.

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Is that why you called me over?” She asks.

“No, I was—well, I realized I had forgotten to ask you if…well, if there was anything you needed.”

“Me?”

He nods, probably a touch too emphatically. He’s normally better at this, but Jyn has always caught him off guard. “Yes, I’m going to be traveling for the next few weeks and you can get almost anything from the markets in the southern provinces, so if there was anything you needed, I could bring it back for you.”

She stares at him as though he’s spoken in a language she’s never heard before. “I don’t believe I need anything at the present,” she says, finally, after considering her words for a long time.

“It doesn’t have to be something you need,” he says. “Something you want would suffice. Didn’t you lose your gloves recently?”

“No, I found them. I had left them in Senator Mothma’s chambers after she and I returned from a walk.”

“Still, I could get you nicer gloves.”

“It wouldn’t make much difference. I’d still forget them everywhere.”

“I could get you several pairs of gloves.”

“Cassian, what is this about?”

He covers her hand, still lingering on his arm, with his own, chafing her knuckles with his thumb. “Keeping your hands warm,” he says innocently.

She laughs incredulously. “You are not going away for the sole purpose of buying me presents. You will be busy with work. I imagine you will hardly have time to even think of me.”

“No, I’m afraid the real difficulty will be thinking of anything else,” Cassian says, his own pulse thundering behind his ears. It’s not the nerves of telling a lie and fearing getting caught, he realizes, but the panic of finally telling someone the long-guarded truth.

Jyn looks down at her feet, scuffing the toe of her shoe back and forth in the gravel. “You don’t need to say such things. I do not require flattery to sustain me.”

“Well, whether you’re flattered or not is incidental. What matters is that it’s true.”

“Is that why you said it?”

“Yes. I know the truth and I have a complicated relationship, sometimes by necessity, but I try to be honest with you, as much as I can be. And I can only hope that I get a little better at it with each try. It’s not much, I know, but—”

“It’s worth more than you think,” she says carefully.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” He doesn’t say the rest of what he’s thinking— you can be honest with me too or I wish we could know each other better —because it feels like asking too much or risking betraying Bodhi’s confidence, so he leaves it at that.

Behind him, one of the lieutenants whistles for everyone’s attention. “Everyone is here and accounted for, Captain,” he adds, to Cassian. “We’re ready when you are.”

Cassian nods to him before looking back at Jyn just at the moment the wind picks up and loosens several strands of her hair from where it’s pulled back. He attempts to brush them back into place, while she watches him with amusement.

“It seems I must be going,” he says.

“So it does,” she replies. She appears to struggle with something, turning it over in her mind for a moment before she leans in and kisses him. His hand is still buried in her hair, trying to keep it from blowing about in the breeze again, and it helps him to keep her close. He’d normally be reticent to have such a display in front of his fellow soldiers—he doesn’t want to give them inspiration for gossip or a reason to tease him mercilessly if he has to spend the next several weeks in their company—but he’ll have to make an exception this time. It feels like a coded message from Jyn, that she trusts him, that he’s done well as her husband, at least in this moment. She’s not one to say so directly, and that’s fine. He’s willing to learn to speak her language, especially if it means kissing her like this more often.

However, common sense prevails eventually and he’s forced to pull back from her before they embarrass themselves in front of all the gathered soldiers. He runs his thumb over her cheek just once, feeling the chill of the morning there more than in his own body. “Goodbye, Jyn,” he says, quietly so only she can hear, and kisses her knuckles lightly for good measure.

“Take care of yourself,” she says, in a rush. Like she’s tried to keep it to herself but couldn’t manage it. “I expect you home in one piece or there will be hell to pay.”

“Of course, my dear,” he says as he steps up into the saddle.

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” the lieutenant beside Cassian chimes in, looking amused. “We will make sure nothing happens to your husband. You have my word.”

Cassian shakes his head at the young man, who looks even more shamelessly delighted, but Jyn is pleased by this, he can tell.

“Good,” she replies, nodding at him. “You don’t know me very well, sir, but I will tell you this: you would not like to be on my bad side.”

The lieutenant laughs. “No, ma’am, I would not. I’ll lead the party out, if you’d like, sir,” he adds to Cassian.

“Thank you,” Cassian replies. When the group has started to move out from the courtyard, he turns his attention back to Jyn and reaches his hand out to her.

She takes it, and plants a kiss on his knuckles. “My thoughts go with you,” she says.

“And mine stay here with you.”

The answering smile he receives stays with him as he follows the rest of the party out of the courtyard, as he lies on the cold ground of their camp that night, even as the mission turns long and tedious. It lasts until he can replace it in his memory with the smile he gets when he returns home again and sweeps her into his arms once more.

#rogue one #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #bodhi rook #au #vaguely medieval fantasy au #my writing #my fic #one day i will title one of the fics in this series with actual graceland lyrics but today is not that day #i've been staring at this fic for three years basically just take it away from me please #anyway here's wonderwall #otp: built on hope #otp: your mother and i have been together ever since #HBD Zainab you elegant and industrious capybara

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thr-333 · 3 years

Text

Drastic Measures- Part 16

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Deaging~

Yes I know I left a cliff hanger. Yes I know it was evil. That my friends is the point! if I cannot be an evil gremlin whats the point in writing at all.

Ao3

First < Previous

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Damian blinks awake, head groggy and with an ingrained sense to pretend he’s still unconscious. There are bird calls and the sound of the wind. He isn't at the league's base. Last he remembers he was.

Then he catches the sound of movement, not from an animal but a human. He stays still. They look around for a minute before shuffling closer to him. Foolish, they were obviously untrained and stupid. Even more so when they poke his cheek talking with soft-spoken words.

Damian grabs the wrist lightning-fast making them yelp. He surges up turning the grip into a pin and going for his sword, which isn’t there. In fact, he has no weapons. This realization makes him zero in on the person below him. It’s a girl, his age, and looking terrified. As she should be.

“Who are you?” He demands, no weapons so he presses the wrist at a painful angle.

“Ma-Marinette!” She squeaks, Damian doesn’t let up raising an eyebrow, “Dupain-cheng!”

Damian doesn’t know that name. So she can’t be a threat and she can’t be important. He lets up enough that her wrist won’t break and takes stock of his surroundings. They’re outside, a tropical area judging by the foliage. There are tire tracks, some footprints, and that's it, no other people around.

It must be a test from his mother or grandfather, those aren’t unusual. The question is what could it be. Certainly, it can’t just be to kill this girl, Marinette. Even without weapons he could have snapped her neck long ago. Information doesn't seem to be it either she doesn't have any training in resisting pain. But perhaps she can provide a clue, maybe that's her purpose.

“Why are we here?”

“I don’t know!” Or perhaps not.

He’ll have to look around. He drags Marinette over to a tree using the vines to tie her up.

“If I am meant to kill you I can do that later, it’s harder to unkill someone,” She relaxes, “Harder, not impossible,”

She is no longer relaxed. Damian paces through the forest, the tire tracks are clear, no effort to hide them, and can easily be followed back. He takes stock of his clothing. Someone changed those. They are all ill fitting, and now that he notices so are Marinette’s. Damian looks over his person for any details missed, finding a small notebook.

None of its coded which is strange in itself since it’s his had writing. Notes, a to-do list, Marinette is mentioned several times, something about a pet store, calculations and what he’s looking for; a location. They’ll head to Alaska then, he likely had to bring Marinette considering she was mentioned. He’ll have to find out where they are and move from there.

“Where are we going?” She demands as Damian unties her from the tree, not completely unbound as they start walking.

“That's not your concern,” Damian snaps pulling her along by a length of vine.

“Well, I am concerned so-”

“What?” He hisses turning to glare at her, Marinette shrinks under it.

“Fine,” She follows along in a few blessed moments of silence, “... what’s your name?”

“That’s not your concern either,” Damian rolls his eyes, this journey is going to be insufferable.

“Is anything my concern?” Marinette snarks, Damian squashes the smirk down putting up his serious facade.

“Walking faster so I don't gut you,”

That's an effective threat, at least for a while. Damina followed the trail of snapped branches and squashed foliage. If this was a test tracking certainly wasn't what was being tested. So what was? How quickly did he have to figure it out? And what would be the punishment if he didn’t?

“Do you know where we are?” Marinette tries again, she’s incessant that certain.

“I will soon,” The dirt was kicked up into what could almost be a road. They followed to find a proper dirt road and follow the worn path.

There's a few tracks, recent enough to be the past few days which means it wasn't just the people responsible for their situation that have come through here. It was a long walk. Not that it bothered Damian he had trained for much worse. The problem was Marinette. She wasn't tired, actually the opposite which was a problem for Damian. Pounding him with a hundred questions a minute.

“I’m from Paris,” Despite her hands being tied behind her Marinette still managed to lean in front of him, “Where are you from?”

“That's none of your business,” And so he kept trying to shut down every topic, but Marinette seemed more afraid of silence than whatever threat he could dish up.

When night started to fall they set up camp off to the side of the road. With luck, a truck would drive by at some point and he could commandeer the vehicle. Damian was willing to set up a fire but not try and hunt. Without weapons and Marinette in tow, it would be a pointless task regardless.

“Do you like pastries? I live above a bakery,” Which only begged the question of why this girl was important. The daughter of a baker? He was the demon heir and son of Batman, why on earth was he left here with her?

“I don’t care shut up,” Damian rolls over, Marinette securely fastened to a tree.

He wouldn't sleep tonight but maybe the illusion would keep her quiet. It doesn't. And Damina is unwillingly lulled to sleep. He only realized this when he was startled awake by Marinette warning him that a truck was coming. Damian readies himself to fight as the truck slows as it approaches them. Marinette has other ideas.

“Excuse me, we could use a ride,”

“Why are you tied up?” the driver asks looking between them concerned.

“A-a prank!” She is not a convincing liar, “Could we please ride with you?”

“Uh, sure, just untangle yourself and let's go,” Damian weighs the advantages of just killing the driver here, but ultimately deems it not worth the effort. Letting Marinette free can’t be that big a risk he greatly outmatches her in speed, strength, and skill.

Damian will admit her habitual questioning comes as an advantage as she makes small talk with the driver. Figuring out where they are. They get dropped off at the main city and from there they go to the port. It’ll be easier to stow away on a ship than a plane even if it will take longer.

“Stay quiet and follow me,” Damian warns Marinette, hiding behind crates at the dock.

Marinette nods following along closely her steps louder than his practiced soft ones. They sneak onto the boat headed for Alaska, its easy enough to stow away hiding among the shipment during the security checks.

“Wow you move like my Maman,” Marinette whispers, once the security has left.

“I highly doubt that,” Damian scoffs perched vigilant high on the crates.

“No really, she always moves silently and sneaks up on Papa accidentally,” Marinette giggles leaning back on the crates.

“Ah-ha,” Damian dismisses watching her out the corner of his eye.

“Yeah she tried to teach me but I’m too clumsy,”

“Teach you?” Damian actually looks over, “That would imply she actually trained,”

“She did, I don’t know where but I think it was with aunt Talia,” Damian freezes.

“.... Talia?” He hesitates, looking fully at Marinette now, “What's your mother's name?”

“Hm? Sabine,”

… well… it's a really good thing I didn't kill her Sabine would have taken down the whole league

“... So it was an act?” Marinette looks over at him concerned, “Surely Sabines daughter wouldn't be bested so easily,”

“What are you talking about?”

She must know something but what?

“Hey, wanna play hide and seek?” Marinette breaks Damian out of his thoughts.

“For training?” Damian puzzles.

“No silly,” She laughs, Damian can't bring himself to feel offended as it doesn't feel like she's laughing at him, “For fun,”

Hesitantly he lets her drag him along, taking turns hiding among the crates. At first, it does feel like training, staying silent, staying still. Then when she catches him he realizes the difference. There's no pain, no punishment, nothing. Marinette just smiles.

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no taglist :P

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous fanfic #miraculous marinette #Marinette #badass marinette #maribat #daminette #marinette x damian

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taehyungsgrowl · 3 years

Text

Duncan x Sugar Babies Angst Pt 2

Can we just appreciate this gif for a moment? I forgot how much I love Duncan Shepherd.

Thank you all for hanging in there for a year for part 2 lmfao! I hope you enjoy it!

Italics to signify time jump! I hope it makes sense lol

love you!

also...... the fact that this..... is finally out a YEAR after part 1.... what am i?? a hollywood script writer? ugh i hate myself.

also.. this is really just one version of how the met! i know we’ve talked about different scenarios of how they came together but i liked this one for the storyline :’)

tw: duncan kink shames piss kink (as he should) jjnkdvjskv, a smutty mention, but genrerally pg-13, a lot of fluff.

word count: somewhere over 4,000 words i think

Duncan huffed as he walked down the narrow aisle of the plane. How the airline mixed his first-class seat for an economy one was beyond him. But after a stressful conference and being away from his home for so long, he didn’t have the energy to fight them. All he wanted was for this flight to be over.

He glanced at his boarding pass and back up to the numbers above the seats. 18 B. A middle seat. As if this could get any worse, he thought to himself.

Duncan’s sharp blue eyes found where he would be seating; he held in a sigh as he noticed his seat mates were already in their designated seats.

Y/N peeked up at the man who stuffed his carry on in the overhead compartment. She tried not to stare as his shirt rode up his tummy exposing a bit of skin. She looked over at her best friend, Jim who was watching out the window with his headphones in.

“Excuse me,” the older man offered her an almost shy smile as he asked her to stand so he could take his damned middle seat.

“Oh! Sorry!” Y/N stood from her seat allowing Duncan to squeeze in between her and Jim.

After Duncan was seated, Y/N reached over his lap to tap Jim on the shoulder, “Sorry, sir,” she told Duncan - he lifted his hands and nodded, “You’re good.” he flashed her a quick smile.

“What time do we land again?” she asked when Jim removed his headphones. Duncan glanced between the two; curiosity took over him as he wondered whether they were a couple. They were both very attractive, roughly around the same age, and had arrived together.

“10:00 p.m” Jim shook his head at his best friend. He loved her to death - truly. No one else could convince him to fly across the country with so much uncertainty.

“I’m sorry,” Duncan interrupted, “If you two are.. Together, I can switch seats with one of you.”

“Oh no! We don’t mind, sir! Thank you.” she glanced at him once again.

Duncan tried to get comfortable before the plane took off - he had a long day and an even longer flight ahead of him.

The flight attendant started to make her way down the aisle

“What would you like to drink,” she set down napkins on each of their trays.

“I’ll take a Sprite,” Jim answered, giving her a sweet smile. “Me too,” Y/N echoed.

While she worked on getting their sodas, she turned her attention to Duncan, who was taking out his AirPods, “Anything for you, sir?”

“Scotch; neat.” he nodded, putting his earpiece back in.

Thinking back to that flight, it’s hard for Duncan to recall how one thing lead to the next.

Y/N, always the extrovert in Jim and Her’s duo, asked Duncan what brought him to Washington D.C.

He told her he worked for a company there, being careful not to divulge too much personal information (like the fact that he was the heir of the company in question).

“And you two?” Duncan glanced at Jim. Duncan wasn’t used to small talk on planes - but he had a few drinks on an empty stomach making him looser than he’d normally be.

“Uh..” Jim hesitated, giving Y/N a panicked look.

“Work!” she answered,

Duncan gave her a puzzling look, but decided to not press it.

What Duncan had expected to be a long flight, literally, flew by, with conversation with Jim and Y/N.

They were careful not to give each other any information that felt too personal, but it was easy to just listen to his interests.

Before they knew it, the flight was over and they parted ways.

Duncan lingered with them as they gathered their bags. It’d been so long since he had real conversations with people who weren’t just interested in his power or company.

Duncan watched out the window of the car that his chauffeur picked him up in as Jim and Y/N stood by the curb, fumbling with their phones for an Uber.

‘I should have offered them a ride’, he thinks as the shrink off into the distance.

Not a week had gone by since Duncan arrived back home when he already had another event lined up for the weekend. Perks of being the face of the Shepherd Foundation often times felt more like chores.

At least the Gala was just out of a D.C and he didn’t need to worry about an airline messing up his seat again.

He smiled and waved at the flashing cameras.

As the night started Duncan made his way through familiar faces and strangers. A glass of champagne secured in his hand as he made rounds.

As elegant as these events were, they were often a bore - especially when he came alone. He found himself seated alone at the bar waiting for his eyes to land on someone he found vaguely interesting enough to chat up.

His eyes scanned the room until they fell on a pair that seemed to be new comers. The woman wore a silk red gown with a low back, tracing over her figure. When Duncan turned his attention over to the man that stood by her, he realized he recognized them.

Jim fumbled with the cuffs of his shirt, trying to keep himself together before his “date” got back to him.

Duncan recognized them from his flight back a few days ago. Truly, D.C was smaller than he realized. He picked up his drink from the bar and strolled over to them, easy grin on his face.

“Hey, 18 A and 18 C, right?” he glanced them up and down a bit. He almost could have gone the whole night without realizing who they were - they cleaned up so well from the old t-shirts and sweats they were wearing on the flight to the designer clothes they wore now.

Jim felt his face go hot. Both he and Y/N had gushed over the handsome man they sat next to after that flight.

“Hope our first clients are as hot as that guy...”

“HA!” Y/N let out a humorless laugh, “If only...”

Y/N kept her cool demeanor, offering Duncan a sly smirk. “Hi stranger,”

“Duncan.” his lips. tugged up into a smile, “Duncan Shepherd.”

Y/N and Jim had assumed right to think Duncan was just the kind of guy they sought after as a client. The way he carried himself screamed wealth and power.

“And you two are...” he raised a brow, waiting for their names. He hadn’t seen them at any other gala or even so he knew they were new comers. Maybe heirs to some fortune 500 company. His eyes wandered around the room wondering who their parents were. Duncan had the reputation of getting “inside information” on some of his competitors by pulling his charms on their trust fund babies.

“Working,”

Duncan chuckled, raising his champagne flute, “Work hard, play hard, right?” his gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips.

“Duncan,” his attention was called by a big name politician that had appeared at Y/N’s side. “It’s been too long,” he extended his hand out for a shake. “Tell me, how is the development of your app coming? We really could use someone like you before reelection,” he laughed.

Duncan didn’t fail to notice his hand on Y/N’s waist (or the tight lipped smile she had as soon as the man appeared).

“You’ll be the first to know when it’s ready,” Duncan answered, tearing his eyes away from his hand.

“James,” another man approached them. Duncan had seen him before at other events. The man looped his arm in Jim’s before handing him a drink. He leaned in and whispered something in Jim’s ear, making him blush.

Duncan lingered between them, easily making conversation until both men made their rounds for more drinks, leaving him with Y/N and Jim again.

If he knew anything, he knew the game the powerful in D.C played. And he knew well enough to know what kind of work Jim and Y/N were doing.

“Working,” he gave them a knowing smile. He raised his flute to them before taking a long sip, drowning back his champagne.

He watched the color flood to Jim’s cheeks again and it only made him chuckle. It wasn’t past Duncan to hire an escort. Dating as an up and coming business mogul doesn’t always allow him the time for dating or anything other than business. Sometimes, he just needed to secure his own private deals. Much less of a hassle than having to deal with the entanglements of relationships.

Duncan wasn’t a callous man. He planned on settling down at some point. He was an older bachelor. Well seasoned - he didn’t mean to sound cocky but it wasn’t that he didn't have the opportunity. He didn’t want that - not yet at least.

“Walk with me,” he nodded his head towards the hallway.

Y/N looked over at Jim, both exchanging in a silent conversation before following alongside Duncan. They turned the corner into a quiet hallway away from the gala.

“You both clean up nice,” he smirked, “Although, I personally loved your airport wardrobe,” he winked.

Y/N mirrored his smirk, reaching forward to adjust his pristine tie, “Are you wanting to talk business Mr. Shepherd? If not... our clients are waiting.”

Duncan chuckled. “I’d like to propose something more... exclusive.” He searched their eyes, smile tugging on his lips. He remembered enough about his flight with them to know he liked them. And now, seeing them look so... sexy. “Let me take care of you.”

Jim shifted back and forth on his feet. He was sure the offered only stood for Y/N. He looked down at the floor, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Both of you,” Duncan met Jim’s eyes.

“You two made for great... companions on the plane. If you’re willing to,” he coughed awkwardly into his fist for a pause, “extend your uh... companionship -- I can be very generous.”

“Like a sugar daddy!?” Jim finally spoke up, his voice dripping in a mixture of surprise and interest.

Duncan shrugged easily, his thumb running over his bottom lip. “That’s one way to put it,” he bit his lip. He reached into his card holder and handed them a beautifully embossed business card.

“Give me a call if you need to think about it. Unless you’d rather go up to my room to... discuss it further,” he chuckled.

Y/N and Jim remember ditching their dates to follow Duncan to his suite. Hushed whispers between them as they got the courage to take up Duncan’s offer.

None of them knew the love that was about to blossom for them that night. They sat out on the balcony of his suite, letting the cool breeze hit their skin. Always the gentleman, Duncan didn’t initiate any advances that night. He bought them room services and gave them a safe space away from the former clients.

They curled up in the California king bed just talking like they had on their flight.

“Uh so... what exactly do you like,” Y/N asked. She fidgeted with the gems on her dress. It was beautiful - beyond what she could ever afford, but it was starting to become uncomfortable.

“Cashmere and fine wine,” Duncan laughed, making Y/N roll her eyes. He caught her struggle with getting comfortable. He got off the bed and found his small suitcase they’d brought up for him, digging for his pajamas. He placed a few comfy items on the bed, “If you two.. wanna get more comfortable,” he smiled sheepishly.

Y/N sat up on her knees sorting through the clothes and tossing a tshirt at Jim. “Seriously like... we have to know what you... enjoy, daddy..” she pouted, playfully testing the waters.

It was his turn to roll his eyes, but there was no hiding the fact that he did like the sound of that. “I don’t have a piss kink or anything like that,” he scrunched his nose, “But,” he got closer, tilting her chin up, “I’d like to hear you that again for me some time.”

Y/N and Jim floated back down from cloud 9 a few days later when they were back in their not to luxurious apartment.

After that first night, they spent the next two days at Duncan’s penthouse slowly going over what the arrangement would entail (although, if they were being honest most of the time was spent between Duncan’s bed and sharing sharing pastries with Duncan on his balcony).

Duncan pulled up up to their run down complex. He’d been having so much fun during the past few days, he didn’t want it to come to an end yet.

Duncan didn’t say what he wanted to say, but he felt a strong distaste for where they were living.

They’d just moved to the city and started working when they met Duncan - they were still hoping to make enough money to find a nice place. This was just a temporary stay.

It wasn’t long before Duncan gave them an extra key to his place...

“I figured if where you’re staying is just temporary... you’d rather stay here..”

Duncan knew he could easily get them their own loft or apartment, but he was enjoying them being there more than he realized he would.

He knew starting this arrangement would be fun. He knew he liked them. He just hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been before.

He looked up at the ceiling as Y/N and Jim slept on either side of him... reminding himself that for them... it was just a job. A way to get their things paid for. But then again... it was he wanted, right?

Another realization that came far later for Duncan Shepherd was that to Jim and Y/N... it had also become much more than a job.

For Jim, he remembers the moment he knew he was falling for not only Duncan, but his friend of many years, was on one of the first trips Duncan ever took them too. Jim had always wanted to be near the ocean. He had such bittersweet memories connected to it. But for him now, the sweetest one comes from laughing in the sand after convincing Duncan to try and surf. Y/N was rubbing sunscreen on their backs soon turning into a pile of kisses on to one another with the sunsetting softly over the horizon.

From the beginning, it never felt “mechanical” or “strictly business” with Duncan. Not like their first few clients. It’d always been easy with Duncan. Maybe it was the initial crush Jim had developed on the plane that made the difference. Either way he knew he loved Duncan.

Y/N would be lying if she said she didn’t have feelings for Jim before the whole affair started. She often brushed it off as just a friend crush -- but after being with him and Duncan things began to develop quickly. She loved them both so much in their own way. They each filled different parts of her heart to make her feel whole.

The moment she knew -- the moment she took them to uncharted territory by being the first to say “I love you,” was after she’d spent the day in bed crying. Feeling so vulnerable after a hard day. She felt herself isolating herself from Jim... from Duncan.

She remembers them silently coming into the room to hold her. Duncan let her cry on his chest while Jim played with her hair. In that moment of safety, she whispered, “I love you,” and there was no question as to who it was directed to -- because they knew she loved them both.

“You want to what?” Duncan spoke, his composure faltering. “I don’t - I’m sorry.” he felt loss for words. He hadn’t noticed that his hands started to shake until Jim reached forward to take his hand in his own.

“Shh,” Jim cooed. Duncan wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to being the one who needed to be babied. He wasn’t the one who needed his hand held, for Christ’s sake.

“Hear us out.” Jim led Duncan down on the chair.

“Duncan.” Y/N’s voice was clear and steady. “We don’t want to be your sugar babies anymore. We don’t want this to be…” she searched for her words, “an exchange.”

Jim rubbed her back reassuringly. “You mean so much more to us than the nice things you buy us. We want you, Duncan. We want to end the arrangement because we want to be with you. Like, as a real relationship.” she peeked up at him from her lashes, “If you’ll have us,” she nodded her up towards Jim, who was all but vibrating next to her.

Duncan blinked back tears. The knot in his throat made it hard for him to say anything. All he could do was nod - nod and let the tears fall freely from his eyes.

Y/N reached up to his face, wiping it clean. “Is that a yes?” her lips tugged into a smile.

Duncan cleared his throat and took both of their hands in his, “Of course. Yes. A million times yes.”

The way they made him feel so loved - after years of feeling like he wasn’t capable of it, and here he was -- madly in love with two beautiful souls. They wanted - they loved him for him!! He knew it in his heart before that morning but hearing it sent his heart into overdrive.

He called into the office that morning to be able to spend the day with the people he loved the most. The idiots back at the Shepherd Foundation could figure it out on their own.

After that restless night, they all needed all the R & R they could get.

After a few mimosas and waffles, Y/N and Jim dragged Duncan out to their hot tub on their back patio. Duncan had that hot tub long before he met Jim and Y/N, but didn’t start to truly enjoy it until they moved in with him.

Duncan sighed as he slipped into the hot water, the jet pressure working against his calves. “Well,” he smiled up at them, “Are you not going to join me?”

Y/N smirked at him right before grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head. She exposed herself completely stripping down to nothing before she slowly made it down the steps into the water, “Mhmm,” she sighed as she took a seat next to Duncan.

Duncan chuckled softly, shaking his head, “Baby?” he called over to Jim, his hand, already wandering up Y/N’s thigh.

Jim followed Y/N example and stripped off his clothing before climbing into the tub, on the other side of Duncan. “You’re overdressed,” Jim mumbled into Duncan’s neck, snaking his hand into the waistband of the little black trunks...

Duncan told himself he wouldn’t cry. After everything they’ve been through - it had led to this...

His toes dug into the white sand as he looked out into the sea. He couldn’t have chosen a better place - his their beach house was their haven. Their little slice of paradise. It was only natural for them do it there.

Every thing was picture perfect. The sky was a beautiful array of purples and pinks, reflecting on the clear water. To his left, a gorgeous set up of candles, blankets, twinkle lights, and a picnic of his babies’ favorite treats.

Jim and Y/N knew that Duncan had been planning something for weeks now. When he booked a getaway to their beach house, he didn’t allow them to lift a finger packing. Told them he’d take care of it all. And he did.

He had their outfits laid out on their bed for them. For Jim, he had a thin pair of linen pants in a light sandy colored with a baby blue shirt of the same material. Y/N’s wasn’t too different. He had a white dress of the same fabric. It was soft and flowy - perfect for the beach.

They made their way down to the beach where Duncan waited for them. He turned to face them, his hands behind his back, biting down on his lip to try and keep it together,

He knew they were his life and he was spending forever with them.

“Duncan,” Y/N breathed out, her eyes going over the set up. She reached for his hand, “This is beautiful,”

Duncan squeezed her hand, and took Jim’s in the other one.

“I have something for you,” he dropped their hands and dug a little velvet bag out of his pocket. “I know there isn’t anything... traditional,” he laughed, “about our relationship, but” he pulled the string of the baggie and dumped the contents of it into his palm. He played with the cool metal, shifting them around his hand.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way and,” he paused to look into their eyes, “I’d want to spend the rest of my days with you,”

He took his time, placing a finger on Jim’s finger and then YN’s. “Since we can’t really do a courthouse wedding,” he laughed, taking both of their hand again - this time adorned with the precious jewels he gifted them, “I figured, we could do something more our style,” he gestured towards the romantic scenery he’d set.

“Will you take me to be yours forever?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Jim and Y/N replied their “I do”’s over each other. When Jim noticed the tears pooling in Y/N’s eyes, he reached over to wipe her cheek.

Duncan couldn’t smile any more if he tried. Jim loved the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled that big. Duncan’s hair blew softly in the gentle breeze. His peppered hair matched his graying beard, but like the fine wines he adored, he aged well.

He pulled them closer, caressing their cheeks before kissing them.

He loved them. Duncan Shepherd had found love.

Y/N and Jim embraced him with everything they had. They never wanted to let each other go - but when they finally did, Duncan popped the champagne, loving the way Y/N giggled when the bubbles poured out of the bottle.

By the time they downed the champagne and cake on the beach, the buttons of Duncan’s shirt where messily unbuttoned. He had sand in his hair and lipstick marks on his neck.

The sun was close to being gone, but the candles and fairy lights were enough for them. The were covered in the soft glow of the moon.

Duncan’s heart felt so warm as he watched Y/N feed Jim another bite of cake. Jim’s laughter like music to his ears. Jim caught his eye and crawled over to Duncan. He swung his legs over Duncan’s thighs and sat on him. Jim took his face in his hands and kissed him tenderly.

Jim found his place.

He found a home with Duncan and Y/N - a home with nothing but love to offer and he was ready for it.

They each had their space in each others hearts and it melted perfectly into who they were.

Who would think that a day would come when Duncan Shepherd would be thanking his lucky stars for an economy flight seat?

Tags: @desertsunflower00 @xavierplympton @quillanpie @spoo-per @langdons-pinkyring @little-grunge-flowerz @sexwon131 @leatherduncan @royalblueviper @shenevertricks1831 @sadhoecentral @chloelucia13 @shyvirgoanon @langdonswhoreprobably @littledemondani @bitchchatter @rpwithjayn @chloelucia13 @agonydearest @midnightontheearth @7-wonders @prophecy-is-inevitable @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @wickedlangdon @fckinsupreme @michael-langdon-appreciation @jimmason @brattylovee @dark-mei-rose @lovelylangdonx @blakewaterxx @dyns33

sorry if i missed someone!

and please LMK what you think 🥺

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd x sugar babies #jim mason #jim mason x reader #cody fern

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itsmoonphobic · 4 years

Text

👑Royal Buisness👑 (SBI+Tommy AU)

Hello!My name is Moonbow and I am a huge sbi+more fan! And so I decided to do my bois some justice and create a au based off of dnd and skyrim!They all reside in the land of "Bladestrom" a legendary kingdom build out of mysterious ruins and on the ground where dragons once rested.I will let you in on some headcanons and insights about each character!I hope you guys enjoy it🥺👑💓

Dave(Techno) Blade:

The 12th heir of the throne King Technoblade,or simply King Blade.A strong and fearless warrior known for his determination,power and strength.

He has a serious and egoistic facade.Though in reality the king is anything but egoistic and serious.Quiet the opposite actually:He tends to be very polite and respectful.Sure his ego is the size of a full grown dragon but he is a big hearted man.

Techno mostly stays in his castle walls and prefers to read or write in peace.The only time he will actually step foot in the outside world was during night,when his people need him or his favorite hobby ;)

He has a pretty unbalanced and unhealthy sleeping schedule which he constantly gets reminded of.

The only person Techno actually lets into his private life is his best friend Phil.Phil is Techno's personal knight and right hand man.Techno trusts Phil with his eyes closed,his loyalty is very appreciated.

A huge downside for Techno's reputation is that he is really shy and socially awkward.The poor guy can't find the right words or say anything normal without feeling like he said something fully absurd.

Apart from reading and fighting,Techno loves to farm potatoes in his free time.He loves the fresh taste once they are harvested and prepared properly!!His potatoes are known to be from the best quality in the whole land!Which earns Techno some extra money.

Techno won't admit it infront of Phil or anyone else but he has a soft spot for children,especially orphans. He knows the feeling of growing up without parents and he feels connected to them.That's why Techno stops by the local orphanage to donate some money he earned from his potato farming.

Techno loves to train and upgrade his swordsmanship abilities to their fullest potential.Always coming up with new strategies and techniques to use whenever the time for war would fall upon them once again.

And speaking of war,the thing that terrified the neighboring kingdoms and enemies even more about King Blade is the fact that he never manages to lose. Everyone stupid enough to challenge the king of Bladestrom would go down in shame and regret.

Though Techno isn't really in control of himself in those types of situations.His lust for blood overcomes his senses and he can't but see red with every step he takes on the battlefield.

Phil is usually the one who manages to calm him down and get him back to his normal self.Techno would feel awful and expose the side he hates the most about him to Phil: Vulnerability

Techno doesn't take things very seriously.He is very sarcastic and relaxed all the time,and that's what makes him even scarier.

He competes in the yearly bladestrom championships which is a battle arena with different challenges and obstacles you have to beat.And suprise,suprise Techno wins em' all!

Techno suffers from adhd and anxiety.Something that only Phil is aware of is Techno's ptsd.He didn't exactly have the luxurious and perfect life growing up,so when he ends up getting nightmares or panic attacks Phil's dad instincts take over and do their thing.

Long story short,Techno doesn't necessarily know his limits,but he is hundred percent aware of his strengths and weaknesses.He protects and takes care of the people he deeply cares about and welcomes them as family.His power is what makes him a fearless and violent king.But his heart is what makes him a kind and understanding human.And if he ever forgets about that side of him he simply has to listen to the repeated beating in his chest.

Phil Watson:

The royal guard with a five year long achievement on staying at the top of his game and ranking as the number one royal knight.

Earning himself the trust and life long,brother like friendship with the king himself was a big plus!

Phil is a very loyal and hardworking man.He seeks justice and always wants to take things the slow and pacifistic way before instantly turning to violence and bloodshed,much unlike his best friend.

Phil is very kind,and gentle when he needs to be. Everyone loves seeing Phil in the local town tavern or in a city bar.He always seems to read poeple like an open book and find the right topics to talk about.

Techno and Phil have a very close and important relationship.They are like a brothers,though Techno secretly looks up to Phil like a father he never had. Phil would risk his life for Techno,not only becouse of his duty as his personal guard,but becouse family comes first.

Phil is a very wholesome and strong willed guy.

Whenever Techno is feeling down or something like a panick attack or nightmare is happening,Phil immediately notices it.Techno doesn't have to say a word for Phil to hug him and take care of the vulnerable king in his hands.

He will find Techno on his balcony while patrolling the castle halls or garden in the middle of the night just staring at the moonlit sky.He always seems so lost in thought and carefree that Phil simply smiles and continues his work.

He does scold him for not resting enough the next day though-so he's never really off the hook :D

Phil is also the only person who really knows Techno.He knows his deepest fears,biggest insecurities and darkest secrets.He sees him in moments where the world would turn his back on him but Phil doesn't and he never will.That's what he promised him all those years ago.

Long story short,Phil is very kind and hardworking.He takes problems into his own hands and solves them the best way he possibly can.He can and will tease the living daylight out of Techno and that infront of other residents of the castle who don't know if they should laugh or simply stare in shock.Phil deeply loves and cares of Techno like his son and always makes sure ro put his well being infront of his own.

(I WOULD DIE FOR PHIL-HE IS SO WHOLESOME AHHH-)

Wilbur Soot:

A lonesome musician on the lookout for money and success-

Wilbur is a guitarist living on the streets of Bladestrom He goes from bar to bar and performs his musical talent there.Though the majority of the time Wil plays and sings on the streets.

Earning money is hard so affording an apartment,even a room for a few nights is almost impossible for Wilbur since he only earns a few silver coins per night,that is if he gets lucky and poeple actually listen to him.

He is very charming and suave,also add the fact that he is pretty handsome to the list and you have yourself the perfect boyfriend.May I inform you that his voice is a perfect balance between velvety and rough-

Wilbur isn't from Bladestrom.He grew up in another kingdom which he can't remember the name from since he arrived here during a war 19 years ago.

He never really heard from his parents,they just sort of disappeared.But that was something Wilbur didn't question,he didn't care about them.He learned how to survive and keep himself company.He doesn't need a family ro accomplish his goals.

Wilbur is a huge gentleman and he is also tends to be extremely flirtatious,which he is really good at btw!So yeah he earns himself some extra points with the ladies ;)

His biggest dream that he is trying to achieve is to become a famous musician in the whole entire land. Opening his own theater and doing what he loves the most.Sing and perform.

But living on the streets has it's ups and down's.Most nights Wilbur has to deal with drunk people wandering the alleyways or annoying little children who constantly pickpocket you-

Wilbur will sometimes nonchalantly sneak into a hotel and sleep in one of their cozy beds,since he doesn't experience that feeling often.Or the places he performs at reward him with shelter instead of money.

Long story short,Wilbur can keep apart dreams and reality.He is a smart and sly person who knows how to accomplish his goals.Even though Wilbur has his one Night stands more than often he would never betray a woman if he got into a serious relationship,which he plans on not having any time soon.He keeps to himself and sternly focuses on the things that matter in life,everything else is irrelevant.

Tommy Simons:

An energetic orphan with no manners and the mouth of a sailor.

Tommy grew up on the streets,any memory of his past life or family only appear as a missing puzzle piece or a black canvas.

Tommy is a very outgoing and optimistic person,his emotions are practically worn out on his sleeves.

Spending his days in the local town orphanage Tommy met a few poeple who he spends his time with.You could say that he has formed a wierd alliance with his more questionable friends.

Tommy learned how to defend himself and make sure that his "gang" stas safe aswell.He is quite the expert at pickpocketing which comes in handy.

Being quick and light on his feet,if Tommy does get caught by the royal guards he manages to escape and get away with the stuff he stole.

On the other hand though,Tommy is extremely clumsy and seeks huge amount of admiration in any way.He constantly wants people to refer to him as the best.

And to repeatedly prove himself worthy of that title he picks fights with multiple poeple and always manages to make poeple hate him.He won't say it out loud but he sees the bloody noses and bruises as badges of honor,he's proud of them.

This little troublemaker has only one person he dreams to meet one day,but for now he can only hear stories about him and admire him from afar.And that person is none other than King Blade himself.

Oh what he would give to train with him and show off his badass moves and fighting skills.

Long story short,Tommy doesn't think before he acts and he surprisingly manages to pull off any stupid stunt he plans to do.For Tommy it's kill or be killed.Either you face your fears head on and establish dominance or you act like a coward and run away.And there was no way Tommy ever does the second option even if it gets him into dangerous situations.Tommy is very overprotective over poeple he cares about,his guild is his brotherhood,his family,and he would do anything for them,even going sofar as risking his life.

THIS IS ALL I HAVE FOR NOW-I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS AU BECOUSE I AM ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE AND I CAN'T GET OVER THE FACT THAT MY BRAIN ACTUALLY MANAGED TO WORK PROPERLY AND CREATE SOMETHING USEFUL-Sorry I ramble alot,anyway I am definitely planing on making this a whole ass fanfiction on AO3 so yeah KWKDJWKIS I AM HYPED!!Love u all <3

#mcyt #au #alternate universe #technoblade #wilbur soot #ph1lza #tommy innit #minecraft #videogames #minecraft youtubers #royalty au #headcanon #i hope this is okay!#i love this #very proud #sleepy bois inc #sleepyboisinc #sleepy bois

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purgatoriorpg · 3 years

Photo

PERFIDIA. ⟡ MOON SOO-HYUK. ⟡ 26, M.

TW: domestic violence and abuse.

POWER HAS NEVER BEEN MORE MALLEABLE OR MERCURIAL THAN IN YOUR HANDS—A DANGEROUS GAME OF VOLATILE AMUSEMENT. You and your sister came into this world like Fibonacci spirals intertwined, the heirs to one of the largest chaebols in South Korea. Renowned as one of the five great pillars that transformed the nation into one of the world’s largest economies, your family’s empire spans legions of subsidiaries. You were like modern royalty made godlike and enviable for the lives you led—extravagant, exemplary, idyllic. The picture of the quintessential nuclear family with your father the model of business domination and success and your mother the beautiful, benevolent philanthropist icon. You were never as susceptible to the lie as your sister was; you were the older brother, the only thing standing between her and anyone who would dare to hurt her. Even your own blood. The millions of dollars your family poured into their flawless deception turned you cynical and indifferent. Money and power went hand in hand with media play and corruption. All the luxury in the world couldn’t have made your family a more perfect figment of society’s imagination. And if it was to be deceit and propaganda, subterfuge and artifice, you would learn to speak the language like your native tongue.

DYNAMICS.

FALLACIA. ⟡ IT WILL ALWAYS BE US UNTIL THE END.

From the very beginning, it was you and her. You had no need for anyone else, and it’s a fortunate thing you were born together, seven minutes and twenty-three seconds apart. Alone, you might never have made it. You fight the same way you defend each other, with a savageness that comes from knowing the other as well as you know your own mind. The twin heirs of one of Korea’s greatest chaebols, you stoked the wildfires of fame and notoriety with your reckless, borderline criminal exploits. There was never any evidence, of course. Nothing they could pin to your shimmering, untouchable name. But the collateral damage you trailed in your wake—careers, lives, fortunes—was immeasurable. Since the moment you were born, you have been inseparable. Your identities irrevocably intertwined without end or beginning. Where she is fixated upon past and present, you see beyond into a future where your interminable lives will eventually diverge. It isn’t sustainable, to be a half of a whole, forever. Your sister has never terrified you, but the thought of this reckoning dawning between you strikes terror down to your marrow.

INVIDIA. ⟡ LAST YEAR I ABSTAINED; THIS YEAR I DEVOUR.

There is no such thing as loyalty and honesty in a world of puppets and puppeteers. You have played so many parts, both real and imagined, that sometimes even you forget what you are beneath it all. In spite of yourself, you like INVIDIA. You admire them. Their lethal determination, the fascinating darkness that lurks just beneath the surface of him. You’ve always loved a good riddle. You’ve spent hours poring over ciphers, decoding the unsolved mysteries of the world—in this respect, INVIDIA is no different. A puzzle to be cracked wide open. An ally in the lion’s den, perhaps even the lion itself. Neither of you have any delusions about the friendship between you—you are useful to each other. You intrigue each other. Some day, you will help him bury a body that needs to be disappeared, and he will help you bury yours.

IRA. ⟡ MY HEART IS YOURS IF YOU HAVE THE STOMACH TO TAKE IT.

Between you and the depths of your heart, you know there will never be space or sunlight around you for any other love to grow as long as you have your sister. The revolving door to your life and bed is a reliable one, meaningless encounters ended in mutual agreement, or dragged kicking and screaming to its short-lived conclusion. There has never been anyone you would dare her wrath and ruin for. Not until you met IRA. You see it now, more clear-sighted than you have been for the two decades and more you have been alive. You have been drifting through life half-awake, languid and paralysed by your own inertia. She awoke you, sent fire sparking through you, electrifying you. Coup de foudre. She makes you realise the meaning that can exist in life, the burning, consuming purpose, if you want it badly enough. You touch her and feel your fingertips come away with ashes, relishing every second of the flames licking at your palms. It feels almost forbidden, sacrilegious. Part of you knows you don’t deserve it—the other knows you can never have it.

CLOSED. ⟡ FC: WOO DO HWAN

#perfidia.#c.#a.#original rp #skeleton rp #mystery rp #lsrp #lsrpg #domestic abuse tw

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hela-avenger · 4 years

Text

poison & wine- crossed wires

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 2339

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: I don’t know why I’m adding salt to the wound, but I couldn’t help myself. This is the beginning of the end everyone! Just a few more updates left for me to write!

poison & wine masterlist

Loki needs a moment alone.

He needs peace. He needs silence.

What he doesn’t need is your handmaidens squealing in front of him in pure glee. Nor did he need you looking up at him in pure shock waiting for an explanation he didn’t have for you.

So he leaves.

And you’re quick to chase after him.

Loki can hear your soft steps enter his bedroom and in that split moment he comes up with a solution to it all.

“Loki?”

You call out his name again and he’s forced to grab the bag from his closet and walk out to meet you.

“What are you doing?”

“Packing,” he answers quickly as he sets your bag on his bed. “You must leave.”

The words are stiff in his mouth but this was the only escape he could offer to you at the moment. In his selfishness, he had dragged you into an engagement, a future union of marriage with him. And though it was never a part of his plan, Loki could not get the idea out of his mind now.

Of you, dressed and regaled in Asgardian royal fashion, walking down the aisle to him. To devote yourself to Asgard and most importantly to him and he would have the utmost honor to devote himself to you alone. The future King of Asgard on his knees for you.

If only he was still selfish enough to think of himself first, he would make that dream into a reality, but you didn’t deserve that. You deserved more which was why you had to make an escape now rather than later.

Loki attempts to reenter the closet to grab your belongings but you block him from entering.

“What’s going on with you?” you ask him. “You’re giving up so easily.”

The way you looked up at him immediately broke the mask he was wearing. Your eyes were laced with concern and worry, but not because of the current situation you were in, but because of him.

“What am I to do?” Loki can’t help himself but exclaim. “Odin has won. I will happily admit defeat. I will confess to everything. I… I should have never dragged you into this in the first place. Courting is quite simple but a royal engagement, a wedding…”

He has to stop himself from continuing.

After a royal marriage, it was standard to attempt to have an heir and the thought of you with his child was certainly a far fetched but beautiful dream.

Just a dream though. Nothing that could ever be real.

Loki tries to move past you but you won’t allow him. You shove him back as gently and gracefully as one is able to do. Your hand is warm and strong against his chest. That fire that attracted him from the instance he was met with it was back. Burning bright and steady in your eyes as you faced him now.

“I’m not leaving,” you state. “I’m not going to run away.”

“Do you not understand what would occur if we stayed?!” Loki exclaims.

“I understand well enough!” you exclaim in return. “This is a very unique situation but how is my departure going to help? Running away will reflect poorly on you and me. We just need some time to think of a solution so just… just stop.”

Loki lets out a sigh at your response. He had been so consumed as to what he was feeling that he had overlooked the toll it was taking on you. You were as panicked as he was, perhaps even more so.

“I… so how is this possible?” you ask him. “How are we suddenly engaged? Why are we just finding out about this now?”

Loki has to refrain from growling at the thought of Odin. This was another one of his tests. The ultimate test. One made to force him to yield which Loki was more than willing to do for the sake of saving you.

“It’s the Allfather,” Loki mutters, unable to hide his annoyance. “Odin can do whatever he pleases and when you agreed to a courtship with me, you agreed to a potential union in marriage. Odin has merely made the final arrangement which I never expected of him. He’s been fighting this courtship this whole time. I have no idea what could have possibly changed his mind.”

You turn away from him and he knows the severity of the situation was finally settling on you. You were pulling yourself away from him trying to ease his heartbreak without even knowing it.

How was he meant to tell you now that he was in love with you? Without making it seem that he had cornered you into an engagement behind your back?

“For whatever reason it may be, he’s certainly caught us off guard,” you whisper. “So we need to find a solution and quickly.”

“You can’t actually be considering going through with the engagement?” Loki asks as you turn back to face him.

“I mean… what do you suggest we do?” you ask him. “Break it off on the day of our engagement? That won’t go well!”

“Neither is us getting married, Y/N!”

Lok instantly regrets raising his voice at you. He can see the pain so clearly on your face at his automatic response.

“I uh… I didn’t realize how awful it would be for you to lower yourself to marry the half-breed,” you grit out at him. “A prince marrying a half-mortal! Oh, how the royals will surely talk. I’m sure you were hoping for an exotic princess or high-class lady, not some…”

It pained him that this was what you could possibly think of him.

You were wrong. Completely wrong.

“Some what?” Loki interrupts trying to calm your sudden ire. “A strong, stubborn, free-willed demi-god whose beauty I can’t even begin to put into words?”

Your anger is suddenly gone replaced by a shocked silence as you took in his honest words. Loki was amused and he couldn’t help but smile at you. A smile reserved only for you, not that you knew that.

“I should be so lucky to have you be my wife,” he whispers as he stands in front of you.

He can’t help himself now. The mask to protect his own emotions from showing is useless against you. Especially when you look up at him with pure unfiltered trust and a hint of admiration too. Loki wonders if you could potentially love him in return. That after all this time together, you had fallen for him too.

“You have to promise me, you won’t fall in love with me.”

Your voice rings so clearly in his mind that he’s shocked that such a memory would return so vividly to remind him of a rule you had made him agree to. It was as if you knew how easily people could fall under your spell and he had been a fool for having fallen for it too.

And why would you love him? Why would you choose him?

You open your mouth to speak but Loki is quick to prevent your rejection. He clears his throat and looks away.

“Of course, you deserve someone better than I,” Loki continues. “Someone who can love you in the manner that you deserved to be loved.”

Someone who isn’t too afraid to admit what he feels. Someone who wouldn’t make up excuses to prevent himself from doing so.

“You deserve that too, Loki,” you respond. “Someone to love you unconditionally.”

He can’t help himself. He laughs bitterly at your hopeful outlook in life.

“What’s so funny?”

“I...Well I,” Loki turns back to face you with a sad smile on his lips. He clears his throat, unable to meet your eyes and settling to watch your wringing hands. “As a royal prince, I had settled some time ago that I would marry someone for a higher standing in court. The idea of a marriage based on love was never in the cards for me.”

“You deserve to love and be loved, Loki,” you tell him and before he knows it, you’re holding him in your embrace.

You feel warm against his chest as you stand on the tip of your toes to reach his shoulders. He melts into your arms unable to resist settling his face into the crook of your neck. He breathes you in and has to restrain himself from pressing a kiss on your soft skin.

This felt right.

The way your bodies somehow manage to fit one another like lost puzzle pieces reunited once more.

By the Norns, he loves you.

The emotion scares him beyond everything he’s ever suffered through. Just the mere thought of losing you took him back to a dark place he vowed he would never return to.

But you weren’t his to have.

You, as he had, vowed to not fall for each other in the duration of your fake courtship. You, unlike him, had a lover waiting for your return.

Like he said earlier, you deserved better than him.

“That soldier of yours is one lucky man,” Loki whispers. “To love and be loved by you.”

You tense under his hold and he wonders if you knew about how he felt about you and If he even stood a chance.

“I’m sorry.”

That answers his question, but he overlooks his own heartbreak at the thought of your own happiness. You deserved it. After everything you’ve been through, you more than earned your happy ending.

It just wasn’t meant to be with him.

“Bucky Barnes,” he mutters bitterly as he removes himself from your hold. “The Winter Soldier...”

He turns away from you knowing full well that his heartbreak would be so clear on his face. He didn’t want you to have to deal with his emotions on top of everything else.

“...A lucky man, indeed, to have the chance of showering you with the love and affection you so deserve. If only it could have been me...”

You don’t seem to have heard him as you mutter your waiting Midgardian lover’s name in fondness.

“Bucky…”

Loki closes his eyes and tries to ignore the blooming pain that was spreading across his chest.

“I won’t judge you if you wish to leave,” Loki states as he forces himself to look at you. He steels his emotions away under his mask again hoping you would let him be this time. That you won’t ask him to reveal what he’s hiding. “I can deal with the engagement aftermath here. You don’t have to stay. You can return to your lover and forget all that’s happened here.”

You are quick to shake your head and Loki catches it. You don’t hide under a mask like he was. He could see a storm of emotions in your eyes. Loki just didn’t know what they could possibly mean.

“I want to help you, Loki,” you whisper to him. “All I want to do is help. Don’t make me leave.”

Loki takes in the conflicted features that ran across your face. The wrinkles on your forehead, the firm press of your lips… You were mesmerizing to watch as you thought through a solution.

“Look, Loki,” you call out his name. “You kept your side of the deal, it’s time for me to keep mine.”

“Y/N, you can’t actually be considering…”

“And what if I am?” you interrupt him. “It’s just an engagement, Loki.”

“Which will eventually lead to a marriage,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you answer. “But what if we just remain engaged? At least, until your coronation.”

“That can be centuries from now.”

“Lucky for you, I’ve got a couple of those left.”

“But Y/N… this is too much for me to ask of you.”

“You don’t have to ask,” you tell him. “I want to do this for you.”

“But why?” Loki asks.

Why would you do this for him? What kind of kindness in your heart would offer this kind of loyalty to him from you?

“Because one of us should get what they want,” you answer. Your hand comes to caress his cheek and he can’t help himself but warmly lean into your palm. “And you deserve to be king, Loki.”

He sighs into your palm craving to press a kiss there but quickly refrains as he turns away from it. He thinks over what you’ve said. The selfish side of him wanting to agree to it knowing it would keep you at his side for just a bit longer. But he couldn’t let himself be drawn to that, you deserve better from him.

“There’s a risk,” he comments. “A risk in which Odin will request that we marry before handing over the crown.”

“A risk we will have to take,” you state and Loki scowls at the simple negligence in your part. You’re quick to notice as you come to your own defense, “It’s better than the alternative, Loki. If we remain engaged, not only will Odin have to deliver on his word, but you won’t need to… I mean you won’t need to court someone for the sake of it. You can… you can take your time and fall in love with someone. If we remain engaged, we can have more time.”

More time.

More time with you.

Perhaps a chance to have you fall for him for a change.

He’s silent again. Thinking over if such a chance is even possible.

You’re watching him again and Loki can feel your hopeful eyes on him once more, begging him to just agree.

“Fine, alright,” Loki concedes. “Let’s remain engaged for now.”

Loki takes a deep breath and starts to organize his thoughts and emotions.

Perhaps, centuries from now, you could be his to have and love. He would just have to let you go for now, allow you to chase your happiness with a mortal, before he could have a chance with you himself.

“We do need more time. More time to resolve this permanently.”

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff @your-local-abyss @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rogerrhqpsody @imsad420@pandacookieowo @justnerdystuffs @hanoi15 @oneprolificqueen @nikki-who-likes-coffee @fandomrelative @nikki419ninja @onedollarduck @help-i-need-a-social-life @ephemeraljade @catsladen @amwolowicz @captainmarvelnerd @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-njorddottir @aoirohi @defunctcherrybomb

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @moonlightprime

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