#and i.. just by being her daughter.. have perpetuated so much of what disgusts me about women and society onto her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scuttling · 3 years

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Happy Accidents

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,300 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Art, Neighbor Hotch, Shy and Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, It's soo sappy I'm sorry, Oral sex, Unprotected sex Summary: Aaron's new neighbor is out of his league for so many reasons: she's young, beautiful, artistic, unique, free-spirited, the kind of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. It's no wonder he ends up falling in love with her. *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! Against all of his better judgement, Aaron is kind of creeping on his new next door neighbor.

He is absolutely the type of man, any other time, to approach a woman he’s interested in and introduce himself, look for a way to connect, some common ground, but this is no ordinary woman.

She is out of his league in so many ways: young, beautiful, unique, free-spirited, the type of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. There’s not a chance in hell she would look twice at an old, stuffy, monotone suit with a seven year old son and perpetual bags under his eyes. That’s not him feeling bad about himself, it’s just the way the world works.

The first time he saw her, she was getting on the elevator while he was getting off of it, and they’d bumped into each other; she was wearing a short, flowy dress, and she’d smiled at him, apologized, eyes sparkling, smelling like she’d spent all day in the sunshine. It was the only time since Haley he’d ever entertained the idea of love at first sight.

She keeps to herself most of the time, gives off the air of being really cool and mysterious; their paths have crossed a few times since then—at the bank of mailboxes downstairs, in the hallway they share, once during a false alarm fire alarm—but he enjoys watching her paint more than anything.

They have balconies next to each other, and one night when he was tending to his herb garden—Jack enjoys watching the plants grow, and picking the herbs, Aaron likes to eat them—he spotted her standing on hers, facing away from him, in cut off jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt, barefoot. She’d been painting the city, the sky, with the sunset glowing behind her like she was the work of art, and he actually felt an ache in his chest, the feeling of missing someone he’s never really met.

Since that night, he’s started taking his work outside in the evenings after Jack goes to bed, and sitting in near silence while she paints, hums—sometimes songs he knows, sometimes songs he doesn’t. The first time he goes out before she does, she says hello when she drags her easel out, so he starts to say hello to her when she beats him there, too, but that’s pretty much the extent of their interaction. One evening when Aaron and Jack are getting home from dinner, she is lugging a canvas bigger than she is through the hallway and Jack almost runs headfirst into it; when he looks up, he exclaims about how big it is, and pretty—it’s covered with colors, something abstract and cheerful, and even if he’d seen it on the side of the road, he would have just known that she painted it. (That may be a good indicator that he’s getting in a little too deep.)

“Wow, that’s the biggest painting I’ve ever seen! And so many colors,” Jack says, awed. Aaron puts his hands on his shoulders to keep him out of her way; they’re already bothering her enough, when she’s clearly trying to get that giant thing home.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it? I carry bigger pieces around at my studio, believe it or not,” she says to him, poking her head around the side to look at him.

“You have a studio?” His eyes are wide with interest; his favorite subject has always been art, as evidenced by their refrigerator, which is covered in drawings. She offers him an even brighter smile.

“I do! It’s not far from here; it’s called Live in Color. There’s a big rainbow painted on the side.”

“That’s so cool; it must be awesome to have your own studio.” Aaron loves that Jack seems to be so passionate about this, but the way they are obviously holding her up has him feeling awkward; he tugs gently on Jack’s backpack.

“That is really cool, bud, but we should let her go. I’m sure that’s heavy.” She smiles, shrugs.

“It’s no trouble. Hey, actually, we have some children’s art classes at the studio, and you look like you’d fit right in with the Green group—ages 7-9?” She looks up at Aaron, who nods. “Maybe we can talk dad into bringing you down sometime. We do painting, drawing, and crafts, it’s really fun.” She’s still looking right at Aaron, gives him a little wink, and he swears to god he gets butterflies in his stomach.

He’s a grown man. A federal agent. With butterflies. It’s insane.

“Oh man, dad, please? Can I take classes at her studio pleeease?” Jack tugs on the sleeve of his suit, and he nods, smiles down at him.

“Yeah, absolutely, Jack. We’ll go down and get more information tomorrow?” he offers, to both placate him and finally free the poor girl from the conversation; he nods excitedly, and she smiles, looks sweet, genuinely happy Jack is so excited to take the class.

“Cool, I look forward to seeing you guys there. Actually, if you give me one sec, I can grab my card for you.” She passes them, carrying the canvas and looking effortless while she does it; she props it up against the wall to get her keys out, unlocks her door and heads in, pops back out with a business card in a vivid watercolor yellow. “It has the address and phone number for the studio on the front, and I put my cell on the back; I figured it couldn’t hurt, considering we live next door to each other. Now you know who to call if you ever have an art emergency.”

He takes the card from her fingers, flips it over just to see the handwritten name and number; he knew her script would be lovely, and it is, easy and flowing and natural. It suits her. He tries not to grin, or flush, or otherwise be awkward about the fact that she just gave him her phone number, however innocently.

“Thank you. We’ll see you tomorrow.” They turn to head for their apartment, and she clears her throat; he smiles a little, turns back, and she’s leaning casually up against the canvas with her arms crossed.

“You know my name now. What’s yours?” She’s just being polite, but he gets the goddamn butterflies again.

“Aaron.” She smiles, something beautiful and a little wild.

“Okay, Aaron. See you outside.” From then on, most of their free time, be it evenings or weekends, is spent at the studio. Aaron isn’t the only parent who sticks around—it’s an art class, not a daycare, he doesn’t feel right just dropping Jack off and leaving him there—and he’s also not the only parent, it seems, who is aware of his beautiful young neighbor.

“She’s incredible, right?” another dad says to him one evening, over by the coffee. Aaron looks him over briefly—it’s a job hazard, he sizes up everyone, but he already has a weird feeling about this guy. “I’ve been bringing my kid here for a month just to look at that little ass running around. My wife just thinks our daughter is just really into art.” He says it with a laugh, like that’s a ridiculous concept. Aaron feels himself start to boil.

“You shouldn’t be disrespectful. She’s doing a great thing here, for the children; she’s not doing it for you to ogle her.” He feels a little hypocritical, because he is also looking, but not like this guy. He knows guys like this. He puts away guys like this.

He glances over at Aaron, looking a little taken aback that someone actually commented on his behavior, then rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t need you to defend her honor, buddy. She wouldn’t run around here in those overalls if she didn’t want us looking. It’s job security.” She’s wearing the overalls tonight, denim shorts with one of the straps unhooked, a t-shirt underneath, but it’s not as if she’s performing a striptease. She just looks like an artist, covered in drips of paint, smiling as she looks at the kids’ pictures over their shoulders. Aaron really, really hates this guy.

“In my experience, women usually dress for themselves; they probably have pockets, easier to keep things at hand that she may need, and it’s warm in here, so she’s likely dressing for comfort. She’s certainly not dressing for you.”

As if she can sense the tension, she looks over at them, flicks her eyes over Aaron, then the other guy, and walks over with a soft smile on her face.

“Hey, Aaron, Jack really wanted you to see what he’s working on.” She reaches out a hand, wraps it around his wrist and guides him over to Jack’s table. “I figured I’d save you,” she says when they’re out of earshot. “That guy sucks. He’s always saying creepy things to me and Alaina.”

“You should ask him to leave if he makes you uncomfortable,” he says, looking down at her with worry. “I can do it.” She shrugs.

“I would, but his daughter really does enjoy the class, and it’s not fair to her that her dad’s disgusting. It’s nothing we can’t handle.” She squeezes his wrist lightly. “Thanks, though. Hey Jack, show dad your project.” He peers over his shoulder, and it’s a pink and orange skyline, much like the one he saw her painting that first time on the balcony. “I asked the kids to paint my favorite thing today, and that’s sunset.”

“I saw you painting this one night,” he says, and then he feels abruptly like an idiot. She just smiles at him though, nods.

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for a beautiful sunset. It makes you feel like, just because the day ends, it doesn’t have to mean things are over; it’s just one of life’s beautiful natural transitions. And the colors are to die for: peach, coral, jasmine, rose, tiger’s eye.” He finds himself unexpectedly touched by her description, smiles softly to shake himself of the emotions.

“The way you see the world is extraordinary. To me it’s just kind of… orange.” She returns his expression, but softer, and squeezes his wrist again; he didn’t even realize she was still holding it.

“Sounds like you need some art in your heart. I give lessons for adults, too; you could even come over and paint with me on my balcony, some time. Special neighbor privileges.”

The thought of being with her on her balcony while she paints is almost overwhelming, which he finds funny, considering he currently sits no more than twenty feet away. There is an intimacy about it, while they both do their work in the cool, quiet breeze, but standing like this, close enough to touch, with the late day sun on her face while she talks about colors… he’s not sure he could handle it without falling in love.

She pats him on the back, moves on to another child, and he tells Jack what a great job he’s doing; his face is lit up, so happy, and regardless of the neighbor, he’s glad they stumbled upon this hobby.

When they pack up to leave, the jerk from earlier comes up to him, leans in to speak in a hushed voice. “You should have just told me you were fucking her. I would have backed off.” He blinks, but the guy and his daughter are walking out the door before he finds himself able to do more than that. About a week later, he goes over for that lesson almost by accident. Jack is at Jessica’s for the night at his request, and Aaron was planning to order takeout and have a paperwork cramming session, but when goes out onto the balcony, phone in hand to place an order, his neighbor is standing on hers like she’s waiting for him.

“Hey. I saw you don’t have Jack; I made some pasta with vodka sauce, if you’re hungry. I always prepare too much.” He sets his phone on the table, walks over to the railing to get a little closer.

“Uh. Sure. I have fresh basil growing here; trade?” She smiles, nods.

“Yeah, sounds delicious. I’ll be right back.” She ducks inside, returns a few moments later with two dishes of steaming, saucy pasta, sets one down on her table and gets right up against her railing, hands the other over to him across his. “That one’s for you,” she says, handing him an orange plate, and he sets it down, picks a few good looking leaves from his basil plant and tears them up, drops them on top. “And this one’s for me.” She reaches, holds a green plate over the gap between their porches, and he adds some basil to it before she pulls it back, takes a deep sniff. “God, it smells so good and fresh. Thank you, Aaron.”

“Thank you, it looks great.” He goes to sit at his table with it, but she scoots her chair closer to the railing, closer to his balcony, so he does the same. They make easy small talk while they eat, mostly about Jack, a little about her studio and his work.

“FBI, huh? I can definitely see that, with your suits, and your… neutrals.” She cringes when she says it, and it makes him laugh.

“I’m sorry I can’t wear paint covered overalls to the office,” he teases, and she shoots him a playfully affronted look, grins.

“You love my paint covered overalls—and for the record, you’d look great in them. You should find a pair. Preferably not black.” He flushes a little at that, but she doesn’t notice, just finishes up her pasta with a sigh of contentment. “That was so good, thanks again for the basil.”

“You’re welcome; thanks for feeding me something other than the takeout I planned to have.” He stands up, gestures to his apartment. “I’ll wash the plate and then hand it back over.”

“Why don’t you just bring it over and come paint with me for a little while? If you want,” she tacks on, and for the first time she seems a little nervous. “I’m not trying to be pushy, I just think it would be fun.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to; it would be amazing to watch her paint up close and personal. He’s just also afraid he’ll pass the point of no return if he does it, and he can’t handle any more heartache. He only very recently got to a place where just waking up in the morning no longer causes him agony.

It’s the look on her face, though, soft and sweet and open, that makes his decision for him.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” She grins.

“I’ll unlock the door.”

She’s dragging out her easel when he walks through the door; her apartment is stark white walls with vibrant furniture, artwork, canvases propped up against every bare spot along the wall, paints and brushes and charcoal and pencils on every surface. It’s exactly what he would have expected, warm and lived-in and comforting, very unlike the mostly black and gray interior of his own apartment. She smiles when she sees him.

“Hey! Can you grab that tray of paint on your way out?” she asks, and he picks up what looks kind of like an ice cube tray filled with many different colors, carries it out to the balcony with him. She has a canvas propped up, a little larger than a computer monitor, and she’s gotten started, but he can’t tell what it’s going to be just yet. When he hands her the paint she looks down at it, peers around the edge of the canvas like she’s comparing something. He’s so intrigued, curious about the way her mind works, what she’s thinking.

“What are you painting?” he asks when she picks up a brush, sets it down, picks up another. She smiles at him.

“Well, we’re painting that.” She points to the street, where there’s a rusty, pale blue antique car parked—he says that loosely, because it looks broken down—in the alley. Aaron chuckles softly.

“We’re going to paint that? It’s a little… grim.”

“Yes. It’s part of a series I just decided to create: ‘Beauty in the Ordinary.’” She sighs, and he’s surprised to see that her eyes are a little wet. She wipes the back of her hand over her eyes. “You know Bob Ross, right? Everyone knows Bob Ross.” He nods.

“Yes; the guy who paints the happy trees on PBS.”

“Right. I used to watch him growing up, and I vividly remember something he said once, about needing both darkness and light in life and in painting. ‘You have to have a little sadness once in a while to know when the good times come. I’m waiting on the good times now.’” She sniffles, exhales softly. “I’m waiting on the good times too. Sometimes looking at things like this car, and forcing myself to find something beautiful in it, is the easiest way to get through the day. Does that make sense?” He swallows hard when she looks up at him, because aside from Jack, she has been the lightest part of his life since the first time they passed each other on the elevator.

“Yeah, it really does.” She shoots him a soft, slightly sadder smile, and then explains about the paints a little, shows him the difference in the brushes, lets him feel the weight of them, the textures of the bristles.

She starts painting the car—the background is mostly finished—and he’s more than happy to watch, to hear her talk about her process. She asks if she can use his forearm to mix paints, and he turns it over, wrist up, tries not to smile too hard when she puts some dark blue on him, then white, mixing them and then comparing them to the car on the street. He looks down at her, the concentration on her face, the softness in her eyes, and is met with the sudden desire to brush a line of paint over her nose and make her laugh and kiss her breathless.

“Okay, your turn,” she says when she’s about halfway done with the car. She puts her hands on the backs of his arms, pulls him in front of the canvas so she’s between him and the railing. “You’ve been watching me, so you know what to do.” He has been watching her, but not necessarily for her technique, so he’s a little nervous; he dips the brush in the blue paint but hesitates to make a stroke. “I have faith in you, Aaron. Here.”

She wraps her fingers around his hand, guides him toward the canvas, and together they make a wide, curved line, rounding out the bumper. It doesn’t look half bad.

“It gets easier once you understand the relationship between specific paint, specific brushes, and your hands,” she says softly, and she helps him paint another line. “Are you having fun? You look stressed,” she teases, and he makes it a point to relax his face.

“I’m having a lot of fun,” he says, looking down at her; they make eye contact for a long moment, and she leans a little closer, and he leans a little closer, and then he accidentally dabs a blob of blue onto the canvas. He pulls back, grimaces, deflates. “I made a mistake. You can’t erase paint, right?” She laughs softly, takes the brush from his hand.

“No, you can’t erase paint, but as Mr. Ross would say, ‘There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.’” She gets her fingers close to the tip of the brush, makes a few quick movements, then grabs another brush, dips it in green. When she pulls back, there is a little blue flower growing out of a patch of grass where his blob used to be. He exhales, a little amazed.

“If only the mistakes we make in life were that easy to fix,” he says, and she nods.

“Yeah, that would be nice, but a lot of the time we find a way to turn them into beautiful things eventually. Are you willing to give it another shot?” He says yes, and she guides his hand for a while, then just hovers near it, then just instructs him on what to do. It’s dark before their painting is finished, and she carries it inside to dry, then takes him to the kitchen sink to scrub the paint off of his arm.

“Thanks for having me over; I had a really good time,” he murmurs as she dries his clean skin. She looks up, smiles softly, nods her head.

“I had a really good time too. I’m glad you came over; you’re welcome to join me any time.”

He says goodbye, heads home, looks at his stack of work with a groan, and brews a pot of coffee. He’s in for a long night, but he wouldn’t change his evening for anything. Life is much the same for the next few weeks: school and work, Jack’s art class at the studio a couple times a week, painting on the balcony on the weekend, with and without Jack. When Jack joins them for the first time, she pulls out a big box of markers and thick sheets of paper and he draws elaborate scenes while they talk and paint together. When Aaron makes mistakes, she’s never upset, just turns them into perfect little details that end up being his favorite parts of the paintings.

“What ever happened with your ‘Beauty in the Ordinary’ series?” he asks one evening while they’re painting some ocean waves. “Did I cause you enough trouble with the car to give up?” She looks down at the ground, looks a little shy, then shakes her head and smiles.

“No, you didn’t make me want to give up. I’ve been working on it at the studio. You’ll see it when it’s all done, I plan to hang them there.”

“Looking forward to it,” he tells her, and then Jack tugs on her shorts, shows them the picture he drew of the ocean, too.

Later that week, the team takes a case, and on the day he’s set to come home, Jessica drops Jack off at the studio with the plan that Aaron will pick him up when his flight lands. Due to some weather between where the team is and home, they get a little delayed; he doesn’t want to make Jessica head back out that way almost immediately after dropping him off, but he’s not sure who else he could ask to pick Jack up. It’s almost a stupid length of time before it dawns on him to call the studio.

“Life in Color, this is Alaina.”

“Alaina, hi, this is Jack’s dad—” He has his whole spiel prepared, but she cuts him off.

“Oh, sure, hang on a sec, she’s right here. It’s Jack’s dad,” she says, but it sounds further away, like she’s trying to cover the receiver. After a moment, his neighbor picks up.

“Aaron, hi. Jack said you were working.”

“Yeah, I was, and I’m supposed to pick him up after class, but our flight was delayed.” He doesn’t know how to ask for help with Jack; even with all the time they’ve been spending together, she still makes him a little nervous. Luckily, he doesn’t have to figure that part out on his own.

“Hey, that’s no problem. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just take him home with me. I’ll order pizza, we’ll draw, and you can just stop by when you’re home and pick him up.” He breathes a sigh of relief, runs a hand over the back of his head.

“That would be perfect. Thank you—I’ll owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Hanging out with your mini me is reward enough; he’s painting something special for you today, won’t let me see it.” That makes him smile, and he feels so warm at the prospect of picking him up from her bright apartment, seeing his artwork, her smile. After a long, draining day like this one, it’s exactly what he needs.

“I’ll have to remain in suspense until tonight, I guess. Can you let him know I said hi? And thank you, I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Of course. We’ll see you then.”

It’s late, after nine, by the time he makes it home. He doesn’t even take his bags inside, just drops them outside his door and knocks softly on hers. She answers with a smile, ushers him in, asks him if he’d like a drink and gets them each a beer.

Jack is in her room, asleep, so they have a little time to chat; she asks about his flight, his case, and he asks about the studio, and she gets a little shy when it comes to that topic, clears her throat.

“Um. I have Jack’s secret project, if you want to see it. He said I could show you.” He’s not sure why that would make her nervous—at least, until he sees it.

The background is all watercolors, a gradient of rainbow colors starting with pink at the top and ending with a soft purple at the bottom. Over that, in black marker, he’s drawn the three of them, with a big heart around them.

“Tonight’s theme was the thing that makes you the happiest, and he said he’s the happiest when the three of us are on the balcony together. It was… really, really sweet.” She looks up at him, brushes a hand over the crown of her head. “If I’m being honest, that’s when I’m the happiest, too.” He takes the picture from her hands, runs his fingers over it, and smiles, feeling a warm ache in his chest—not like before, not like losing someone he’s never really met, but like finding something he never really planned on.

“That’s when I’m the happiest, too,” he agrees, and when he looks up, she looks determined, like she does when trying to find just the right shade of paint. She takes Jack’s picture out of his hand, sets it on the counter, and then pulls him down by the lapels of his suit, kisses him long and slow. His hands move to her waist, keeping her close, and eventually she pauses for breath, looks at him again, and then wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him some more.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first time I saw you—tall and dark and serious, striding out of the elevator. So intriguing, mysterious,” she breathes when they separate again. “I wanted to know everything about you.”

“Are you kidding?” he asks, huffing a laugh. “I’m boring, but you are so vibrant, so full of life; I felt like you were everything I wasn’t, and I wanted to know you so badly.”

“You know me now; would you like to keep getting to know me?” It’s one of the easiest questions he’s ever been asked; he nods, and she beams, and he lifts her into his arms and carries her to the couch, drapes himself over her while she leans back against the cushions, pulling him closer.

They make out like neither of them have a care in the world—god, how long has it been since he’s made out with someone?—her fingers scraping through his hair, his hands on her bare waist when her shirt rides up, and she’s in the process of pushing his jacket off his shoulders when they hear a sound from the other room that startles them apart. Jack.

“I’ll go check on him,” Aaron says, and when he goes into her room Jack is still snuggled up on her bed sound asleep. It looks like some canvases fell over, though, and he stoops to pick them up, then spots the car they painted together. He turns and she’s right behind him, skids to a stop. “I thought you said these were at the studio?”

“They were,” she says, and she looks nervous again. “But I changed my mind about hanging them there. They felt too personal.” He runs his hand over the car and sees where she’s coming from; this one feels personal to him, too.

“Can I see the rest?” he asks. “Only if you want to show me them.”

“You’re the only one I want to show them to,” she says with a soft smile, and she grabs a few more canvases, carries them into the light of the living room. “Beauty in the ordinary, remember.” He remembers, could never forget.

She turns one over, and it’s a kitchen sink, and in the kitchen sink is an orange plate with a fork resting on it—like the plate she’d given him with the pasta on it. She turns one over and it’s a man’s hand, holding a paintbrush, with pale blue paint on his forearm. The next one is a little herb garden on a balcony; the next one is a view from above, of a sandy haired boy with markers all around him. The last one is an open elevator—ripe with possibilities.

When he looks up at her, she’s got tears in her eyes, and one slips down her cheek.

“So, I think I’ve found my good times.” She smiles through her tears, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses the salt from her lips. “I love you,” she says when he pulls back to wipe her face with his sleeve, and he kisses her softly, again and again, and tells her he loves her, too. The next weekend, Jack is at Jessica’s for a sleepover, and Aaron has been enlisted to help with an art project. He walks next door, knocks lightly, and enters the living room; he is met with a very deep, passionate kiss and a smile, and instructions to help move the furniture out of the way.

“I’m really curious what kind of art requires this much floor space,” he says, shoving her couch back against the wall, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, a move he has been unable to resist since she did it the first time they had sex. She knows it’s a weakness, exploits it, and he loves every minute of it.

“You’ll see, but I promise you’re going to like it.” When they clear the floor, she grabs a large, rolled-up fabric canvas and lays it out in the middle of the room, then drops three bottles of paint—one is yellow (jasmine), one is orange (peach), and one is kind of pink (coral? He’s still not sure.)—onto it. “You can obviously say no if you want, but I wanted something over my bed with the sunset colors, and I found this…” She steps closer to him, runs her hands down his chest, guides him down for a kiss so delicious he loses his train of thought. “It’s sex art; we put the paint on the canvas, and on ourselves, and… you know, go at it. What do you think?”

He thinks he really, really loves art now, even more than he thought possible.

“So we have paint-covered sex and then you just hang it on the wall? Like regular art?”

“Yep, I got the supplies I’ll need to hang it; letting it dry will probably take the longest. I figured we could shower while it’s drying, maybe go for round two, if you’re up for it.” She moves her hand to his waist, slips it inside his shorts, and he pulls her closer to his body. “Are you up for it, Aaron?”

That is an understatement.

Undressing happens extremely fast, because this is really sexy and they’re kind of in a phase where they can’t keep their hands off of each other anyway. She pulls her hair up onto the top of her head to try to minimize the amount of paint in it, and then she pours paint on the canvas, turns around and drizzles some on his back and tells him to lay down.

“I think we should probably change positions often so we get a lot of motion on the canvas; I apologize to your old knees in advance,” she teases, but she soothes the sting of her words by pouring paint on herself and then laying between his legs and licking at his dick. “Do some stuff with your hands; I want to see those big handprints on my wall,” she murmurs, and he groans, puts his palms down in the paint and drags them through it.

She leans up a little, sliding her knees through some yellow paint, sucks him fully, deeply into her mouth for couple of minutes, and then stretches forward and puts an orange hand right in the middle of his chest; the look in her eyes is playful, and he reaches out with one finger, hooks it under her chin, and guides her off and up so they can kiss.

“Your turn,” he says with a smirk, and then he gets her onto her back and ducks between her legs, hopes she doesn’t grab for his hair like she usually does. He rubs his pointed tongue over her clit, waits for the mmm it always elicits, and looks up at her, covers each of her breasts with a paint-covered palm and squeezes. “Leave handprints for me,” he leans up and reminds her, kissing her stomach, and she plants her hands, then presses up and grabs his shoulder, smearing pink down his back. “Oh, you wanted more of that?”

“Don’t tease me, the paint will dry,” she whines, and he spreads her thighs wider with his elbows and licks her pussy quickly, until she’s squirming against the canvas and panting for more. “Come here, come here.”

He’s not ready for that, though, paint or not, wants her to come from this; he takes his hands off of her, dips them in the paint again and presses down, then puts his hands under her ass and brings her closer so he can fuck her with his tongue, quick and deep and slick.

“Aaron, Aaron, god.” She slides her hands down his arms, over his neck, digs her nails in when she comes moaning like music.

While she catches her breath, so gorgeous, she sticks her arms out like she’s making a snow angel, and he catches her while she’s off guard and turns her onto her stomach, puts his hands on the smears of paint he’s already left on her ass, and slides inside.

“Oh my god; I was trying to impress you with this sexy art project, but you’re rocking my world.” She’s breathless, pressing back into his thrusts and painting with her entire body. God, he loves her mind.

“You know I always take your projects very seriously,” he says, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, and she groans, laughs.

“Yes you do. From the side? Let’s lay diagonally.” They shift, and he hooks his chin over her shoulder, kisses her neck and huffs hot against her hair. “Hmm, love it like this,” she sighs, and she reaches back to press her hand to his hip, holding him while he moves inside her. “I love you.”

“Love you. I want you to finish on top of me,” he instructs with a wet kiss to her throat, and she nods against his lips.

“Yeah, next; I’m getting close.” A few more strokes and she gets up onto her knees, lets him lay back, propped up on his arms, and climbs on top of him; she kisses him slow and dirty and then runs her hands over him, sits back on his dick and glides up and down. “You wanna come like this too? I owe you a little world rocking,” she says with a flick of her tongue over his bottom lip, and he nods, squeezes her thigh.

“It’s the least you can do after making me move all the heavy furniture.” She rolls her eyes but kisses his chin, down his throat, and bounces harder on him, all delicious eye contact and moans. “Mmm. Just like that, baby, come for me.”

“Fuck. I will, I will.” She wraps a hand around the back of his neck, kisses him kind of rough and with lots of tongue, and then tips her head back and climaxes, clenches, wrings his orgasm out of him so quickly it’s almost jarring. “Oh, yes Aaron. So good,” she mumbles, and then he lays back, out of breath, and she slides out of his lap and lays beside him, out of breath too.

After a moment, she looks over at him, smiles, and swipes a pink fingertip over his cheek.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done with anyone. I’m glad I got to do it with you.” He rolls on top of her, presses a kiss to her nose, and nods.

“Me too. You know,” he adds after a moment, “my bedroom could use some artwork, too.” She grins, wraps her arms around him and squeezes tight.

“You’re right; I think we should do yours in blue: liberty, that’s dark blue; periwinkle, that’s light blue; maybe steel gray, too.”

“You’re the expert. I’m just your paintbrush.” Her hands smooth up his back, and contentment washes over him like a warm breeze.

“Hmm. I like the sound of that. Want to get cleaned up?”

Cleaning up is almost as fun as making the mess, because they’re well and truly covered, and when the canvas dries, the sunset colors are almost as beautiful as the ones she used the first time he ever saw her paint. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts.

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[ Author’s Note : 物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I wrapped the white wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. The night was still chilly and the and smelt faintly of impending rain. Why they would plan a party outside while it rained, was beyond me.

After my little skirmish with Jungkook, I had found Namjoon quickly only to be told that we couldn’t leave for another hour at least because there was a certain investor who wanted to meet Namjoon . The guy was running late and he had to wait for him. So here I stood, shivering lightly, all while keeping an eye on my husband as he got progressively drunk.

Namjoon’s words made me sigh a little.

“You can’t decide what someone else’s normal is, Namjoon. Especially when it comes to grief. But the drinking is an issue. And you’re right about the therapist. I know she’s doing her best but I’m not sure if she has the right answers for him. Or even the right tools to help him.”

“I’ve been searching up on therapists who specialize with alphas. There’s one in Itaewon , his name is Kim Taehyung. I really think he could help. He’s an alpha himself.”

“That sounds good. Betas may not fully understand alpha mating bonds or what it’s like when one of them dies. Taehyung may have a better understanding of what Jungkook’s going through.” I nodded, a little hopeful.

Therapy with the beta lady the hospital had recommended wasn’t really helping Jungkook the way it ought to.

Namjoon hesitated.

“Would you be willing to go with him? Taehyung insists a family member stay in the waiting room just in case...” he asked gently. I turned back to look at my husband, leaning on the mahogany countertop of the bar, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey.

“And I’m the one you want to consider for that? That’s ridiculous. Jungkook hates me.” Did I really have remind him of this salient fact?

“I’ve offered to, before. He doesn’t want me there." I sighed as Jungkook threw the drink back with ease.

“That was three months ago though. Things have changed now right?” Namjoon prodded.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not between us they haven’t. He’s spending more time with Mina and he isn’t throwing stuff around but he still loathes me.”

“He loathes what you represent: his own shortcomings and failures. Your father wasn’t kind in his approach and you are a reminder of all the things he can’t control.”

How fucking unfair, I thought playing with the tiny ring on my finger ( or should i say handcuff really? ), my wedding ring , the platinum band engraved with my husband’s name, a drop of his blood embossed into the metal.

An archaic tradition, that carried no meaning in modern Seoul but the idea of it was still alive and well. The idea that what we had was a blood bond, imbued in our veins now. An alpha’s connection with a beta or an alpha mate was usually quite fragile. But an alpha and omega mate bond. That was supposed to be powerful.

Unless the alpha was still phantom bonded to a dead wife , that is. It was odd thing. Mate bonds had to be mutual to work. So there was no bond between Jungkook and I . We didn’t have any feelings for each other of course. But wearing someone’s blood on yourself changed that . it forced a bond that wasn’t there. It was ancient magic and it worked on my kind. Not on his.

How fucking unfair because it wasn’t like I could control any of this either?

I grimaced. I had thought of taking the ring off

“Ouch.” I said with a smile. Namjoon waved off my self pity with an eye roll.

“You know what I mean. Even for an Alpha, Jungkook has always held on to his pride. Losing his wife and his company all in the same week probably left him feeling incredibly helpless and your father browbeat him into this whole thing. Of course he isn’t going to be eager to share heart to heart talks with you. ”

I held my hand up.

“I know all that Namjoon. I was there, remember? And I’m not blaming him for any of that. Trauma makes you do shitty things and I understand that . I also understand that if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t behave the way he does now. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t change his mind for him. If he doesn’t want to get help, I’m kind of helpless myself, you know?”

Namjoon reached out and squeezed my hand.

“I’m just asking you this because , he does listen to you at times. I’ve noticed it. He doesn’t outwardly agree with you but he takes your opinions into consideration. And, Heejin you live with him and you’re the one who managed to convince him to start scenting Mina. ”

And God, how exhausting that had been. I had kept at it because Mina was so young and she needed her father’s scent to grow. And while i could be persistent when necessary, I couldn’t work miracles.

“Namjoon oppa, “ I said softly, trying to explain myself without sounding like a horrible human, “ I don’t hate Jungkook. Far from it. I want him to get the help he needs and I’m here for him. If you can convince him to go see Taehyung and he’s okay with me coming along, I won’t say no. Mina needs him and there’s nothing I would like more than for him to get better. ” i smiled a little, “ But he’s still going to have to be the one to make that choice. i can’t make it for him.”

Namjoon nodded.

“ Fair enough. Well, I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll set something up. Thank you for not refusing Heejinah. I know it can’t be easy for you either.

I opened my mouth to respond but out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of someone, staring intently right at me.

I turned sharply, eyes locking with those of Kim Yugyeom and I stiffened, stepping closer to Namjoon on instinct. Yugyeom smirked, winking at me.

I shuddered in disgust.

Creep.

Namjoon followed my line of vision and swore.

“This motherfucker.” He made to move towards him. and I grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. The last thing i wanted to witness was an alpha alpha showdown in the middle of a party with me in the middle.

“Please, no. Don’t make a scene. It’s what he wants.”

“Jungkook has the shittiest friends on the planet.” Namjoon shook his head and I couldn’t agree more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mina’s appointment with the doctor went about as expected. She was right on time with her milestones and I sat in the waiting office for a mere twenty minutes before being called in. The doctor, an alpha named Min Yoongi gave me a small smile of recognition before flipping through the pages of her file.

“ Jungkook didn’t come along?” He asked casually, grabbing a pen and making a note of her weight and length before plotting it on the small graph. She was a little on the smaller side but she was growing well.

“He’s busy...” i said with a shrug, “ So I still keep giving her the polyvisol supplements?”

Yoongi nodded, “ The nurse will fill in the prescription for you. Are you sure he’s busy? He called me last night and told me he wanted to come see me?”

I blinked.

“He did ? “ I couldn’t quite process this.

“He wanted to talk about how she’s doing and I told him he could come in for her appointment today.”

I imagined a world where Jungkook actually spoke to me, instead of forcing me to navigate stormy waters on rotten plywood. Nine more months, i told myself firmly, already digging for my phone. Nine more months and I would be out of this living hell I’d gotten trapped in.

“Can I try calling him? He’s probably forgotten. I think he might regret missing out.” I begged and Yoongi gave me a small smile, waving me off.

“Of course you can Heejin-ah and tell him that if he wants I can drop by at the office and talk to him as well.”

I nodded quickly , moving out to the waiting area while the nurses held Mina, soothing her before getting her ready for her shots. I tried calling him and not surprisingly he didn’t pick up. I called his office next and Jungkook’s secretary picked up the phone .

The woman hated me.

“He’s busy.” She said curtly.” He’s specifically asked me not to bother him with stuff that isn’t important.”

Her whiny voice grated on my ears and i bit my lips to keep the irritation in.

“Since when does his daughter make that list, Ms Lee?” I said calmly and she hesitated.

“He’s in a meeting right now and-”

“I’m in the hospital with his daughter. I hope you’re willing to take the heat when he finds out that you wouldn’t let me get through to him. “ I said casually.

It was a twisted version of the truth for sure. Meant to imply that Mina was hurt in some way. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it much. I had enough on my plate without dealing with twenty year old secretaries who fancied themselves in love with their hot boss.

“I... just a moment, Mrs. Jeon.”

I loathed the name. It wasn’t mine. It was hers and I felt like a thief every time someone addressed me that way.

After two minutes, Jungkook’s familiarly low and perpetually exhausted voice came out ,

“Hello? Heejin?” He sounded listless and his voice just a little slurred and i groaned.

“Please tell me you aren’t drunk.” I whispered.

“I’m not. “ He said shortly. “ What’s wrong? What happened? Is Mina alright? ”

“Did you tell Yoongi that you were going to meet him today?”

He was quiet for a second.

“i’ll talk to him.”

He hung up and I stared at the phone. I realized that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. Should have asked Yoongi to call him himself. What was wrong with me? Even a few syllables exchanged with Jungkook felt like staring into an abyss .

I moved back to the clinic , just as Mina plaintive wail filled the room. The shots were done. It took us another thirty five minutes to finish filling her prescriptions and for Yoongi to finish examining her. She was already dozing off and I wasn’t supposed to feed her for another thirty minutes so perhaps the nap would do her good. I had just finished settling her into her Bjorn carrier when Jungkook’s voice came from the entryway.

“Is this the way to Dr. Min’s office?”

I glanced back to watch him . He looked ridiculously handsome in a three piece suit, jacket thrown over his arm and hair lightly damp from the misty drizzle outside. I saw the secretary’s mouth actually drop open and stay agape as she tried to process his questions. i could see the way his beauty had rendered her entirely witless and as someone who had experienced it first hand , i could sympathize,

But Jungkook was beginning to look annoyed from the lack of response and i decided to give the poor girl a break.

“He’s waiting for you.” I called out and Jungkook startled. He glanced up at me and for some reason he looked surprised. He always looked surprised when he saw me. As if i was just some monster out of his worst nightmares turning up in odd places . As if he couldn’t quite believe that i did exist in his life now. Unwelcome but impossible to avoid.

“You’re here.” He said blankly.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Yes, i am. I’ve been here for three months now. “ i said shortly, before i could stop myself, “ Mina’s fine. She just had her shots. I’m going to drive home and put her down for a nap. Do you want me to come with you ?” I pointed at the clinic.

He hesitated before shaking his head.

It was all according to script then. Jungkook would never include me in a single thing. Even if i was smack damn in the middle of the room with nowhere else to go.

“Alright. i’ll see you after work.”

“We’ll have guests for dinner today. ” He said suddenly.

I stared at him, confused.

“For dinner??”

“ Sooah’s parents.”

Oh, God.

Wary of the extra nurses suddenly filling the room, the little whispers and the curious glances, i kept my smile even.

“Of course. ” I bowed a little before turning on my heel and walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sooah’s parents were, for lack of a better word, selfish .

They had lost a daughter, so of course i could understand with their need to keep their daughter’s memory alive. But the way they chose to do it was unhealthy and borderline vindictive.

" She’s growing well.” Mrs. Kim had the same statuesque figure as her model daughter and she held her grandchild with a slightly unsure grip and Mina felt the uncertainty in her grip, breaking out into cries at once. I stayed still, my throat dry from disuse. I hadn’t said a word since they came in.

We were seated at the table, dinner was done.

Jungkook sat next to me, staring straight ahead while his father in law tried to engage him in conversation.

With Jungkook, the grief came in waves. Some days, the waves were small and gentle, like the ones that lapped at your feet on the shore of a tranquil lake. on those days e went about his day as usual, spoke to his friends and signed deals. And somedays they were big, behemoths carrying guilt and accusation, crashing over his head with a vengeance.

On those days , he looked like he’d been run over by a two ton truck.

Today was just one of those days and i could sense it.

The man was going on an on about some charity that Sooah had been involved in as a young girl... Could Jungkook make a contribution in her name?. Could Jungkook pay for a concert of her favorite singer in her hometown..? Could Jungkook possibly consider contributing to opening a foundation in her name?

I could feel the urge to scream, grow by the minute.

Each syllable that spilled out of her father’s mouth was aggravating, the sentences began and ended with her name, over and over over again and It felt terribly like she was standing right next to me, ice cold and dead but real and relentless at the same time. He spoke of her like she was still alive and i couldn’t fathom how that was healthy. How that was going to help Jungkook move on.

If anything it made it harder for him to move on.

And in a moment of chilling clarity, i realized that this is what they wanted.

They didn’t want Jungkook to move on from her. They wanted him to be consumed by her. In the wake of that realization , i felt anger surge.

There was just enough hurt and heartbreak and pain and grief in this room without these idiots adding to it.

“Jungkook is tired tonight, uncle.. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” I said finally, unable to bear it any more.

The man gave me a glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you girl.” He said sharply. I frowned.

“We’re trying to help Jungkook. “ The woman said sharply. “ Unlike you and your father we do not prey on the weak. “

Jungkook shifted at the phrase and I glared at her.

“He isn’t weak. “ I snapped, resisting the urge to add on a you bitch , “He’s grieving . And what he needs is space to process his grief. Not you people trying to shove your daughter into his throat with every sentence. “

“Don’t you dare talk about our daughter!” Mrs. Kim snarled and i felt a headache come on.

“I thought that was why you were here? To talk about her? Or should I say use her as an excuse to get money out of him?? What you’re doing is unfair and awful!! . Jungkook isn’t ready to talk about this and one look at his face should tell you that, if you even bothered looking at anything except his wallet.” I shouted.

“Heejin, that’s enough.” Jungkook said hoarsely and i bit my lips.

Of course he wasn’t going to support me even if we were on the same side. Defending him, protecting him was exhausting and it was such a thankless job. i wanted it to end.

“I think we should call this a night. please, just leave” I said sharply, standing up and reaching for Mina. She glared at me but handed the baby over.

“You don’t get to make that decision. My son in law is who I’m here to see. You’re just the parasite that’s attached herself to him. You sit there in my daughter’s place and you dare disrespect me this way. ” The woman snapped.

“Its still my house. “ I gritted out. “ I’m married to Jungkook whether you like it or not and so i have the right to ask you to get out of my house.”

“Heejin, stop.” Jungkook’s voice only made me angrier. He sounded drained and empty and still these leeches wanted to suck him dry. And he was too blind to see it.

“I’m done with this” I stood up moving to the small pack and play that sat in the corner of the living room. i placed Mina in and watcher her eyes flutter shut gently.

i turned back to stare at Mrs. Kim.

“i want the pair of you to leave. Get out before I call security.”

She gaped at me.

“you had a wedding... that doesn’t make it a fucking marriage. “ she sneered. “ Its probably not even legal until you consummate it. So go ahead, call the cops right now. You think i wouldn’t take you to court. ??!! ”

She was spouting absolute nonsense, probably driven by her own grief but i wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight.

“Why don’t you ask your son in law that? Ask him if the marriage was consummated or not...” I smirked.

She faltered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“No. You’re lying ...he wouldn’t.” She turned to Jungkook who looked at me with fury in his eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said sharply and I scoffed.

“With me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots that they think they can come here and ask you to sign a fucking cheque when you’re still out here grieving for their daughter?!”

“You don’t know shit about them or her...”

“I don’t have to. I don’t have to and i don’t care to either. All I know is that i married you and you’re my husband and whether you meant those vows or not, i did. I swore in front of my God and my family and I’m going to keep those promises. I’m going to protect you because I love your daughter . I’m going to protect you because you need to fucking live to be able to care for her. “

i turned to stare at his in-laws. They were staring at me, some of the fire dying out and in the span of a few minutes they somehow looked older .

“You don’t deserve to be here.” Mr. Kim said finally, voice cracking and i exhaled.

“And yet, here I am. And I’m not leaving. you are.” I said calmly.

They stared at me for one more second before standing up and moving out of the dining space and into the hallways leading out.

“We’ll call you later Jungkook-ah...” The man said before walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him.

The silence between us grew heavier as the seconds ticked.

“We can’t decide how people grieve.” Jungkook said softly.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re telling me that , Jungkook? Or did you forget all the times I indulged you when the only way you could grieve was apparently by forcing yourself on me.” i snapped.

His eyes widened , just a fraction before going blank again.

He took a deep breath and went on.

“They lost their daughter and they’re hurting. We can’t tell them they aren’t allowed to honor her memory...They’re clearly in pain...”

“Not more than you!” i snapped. “ You’re the one in pain here Jungkook. Your pain is so much more than theirs ..... Or may be it isn’t i don’t know.. But i do know that I can’t sit here and watch them bleed all over you when you’re cut just as deep as them.”

“You don’t know shit about e!” He roared. “ Don’t you fucking dare talk about my grief like you can understand it...like you actually know what its like to lose the woman who had your fucking heart, because if you did you wouldn’t have agreed to this fucking marriage...you wouldn’t be here in this room with me, intruding on my grief and my pain... “

The sound of his voice made my entire body freeze in fear. I stayed perfectly still, jumping when he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my face, fingers curling around my jaw.

“ You want to know how i wanted to grieve? I wanted to grieve in solitude!!! I wanted to grieve without some fucking stranger hovering over my shoulder like a fucking plague!”

I exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as i reached up to hold his wrist, my entire jaw throbbing with how hard his grip was.

“It’s the price you pay for getting your company back. Jeon Jungkook. “ I choked out.” Or did you forget that marrying me is the reason you aren’t homeless on the streets “

He laughed a little yanking me closer and wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You’ve learned to talk back these days...” He muttered , “ I think I preferred the girl who hid in the nursery for the first three weeks of our wedding.”

“I wasn’t hiding . I was avoiding you. Because your misery was contagious and i didn’t want any of it on me.” I snapped and his hold on my waist tightened.

“Are you trying to make me angry? ” He snapped, fingers curling on my waist and I swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened.

“Maybe i am... Maybe anything is better than watching you walk around this house like a corpse. You’re alive so I don’t see why you act like you died with her.”

He growled at that, eyes blazing as he stepped back enough to stare into my face.

“You’re right... I didn’t die with her. Although i wanted to...Maybe if i wasn’t such a fucking coward, i would have gone through with it. .” He laughed and I felt my heart go ice cold at the very thought of it.

“You didn’t die... So why don’t you get some help. There’s no shame in getting help... Taehyung...”

“I don’t need help. i need to be alone.” He snarled. “ I need to be allowed to cry and mourn my wife the way I want to but you and your father made sure that i couldn’t.”

I sighed, looking away in defeat.

“Fucking look at me!” He snarled, hands grabbing both my arms and yanking me forward. “ Why won’t you look at me huh? is the guilt finally catching up?”

“No. No guilt. Just loathing and resentment.” I snapped back and he laughed again.

“Well too bad. Because you know what? You’re right. I paid for my company with my right to grieve and you...you paid for my name with your right to say no . “

I swallowed as he yanked me away from the table, dragging me to the couch in the side.

“ I never refused you a thing.” I choked out, breathing ragged as he shoved me into the soft leather surface, crawling on top of me at once. “ I only said no when you were drunk out of your mind. When you thought it was okay to fuck me and call me by her name.”

He made swift work of the buttons of my blouse and I stayed still, arms lying by my side.

“ Are you telling me you want this ? You expect me to believe you want my hands on your body?” He sneered, fingers moving up to grip my hair. “You don’t want this and you don’t want me....Just like i don’t want you either. i’ll never want you. ”

“You don’t want me.??.. You have a funny way of showing it..” I scoffed , staring right into his eyes rolling my hips up into his , greeted by the hard press of his length against my thigh. “ And to be honest i don’t give a damn if you’re still in love with her , all I want is my name on your lips if you want to get off with me. Because I’m not just a toy you can use to replace your dead wife. I have a name and you should remember it. "

He growled again, fingers squeezing hard against the back of my head till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“I hate you. “ He said clearly. “ I hate you and everything you’ve done to me.”

“Everything I’ve done to you? Oh you mean save your life? Taek care of your baby girl like she was my own? Give you the chance to rebuild your entire career.? Turn you into multi millionaire again? Good. Hate me. The feelings mutual. “ I snapped. “Now if you hate me so much why are you still here? Get off me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, wife.” He sneered. “ Because like you said, I’ve paid for this.” He drawled, reaching down and squeezing between my legs. “And I’d be a pretty bad businessman if i don’t collect from my investments.”

Before I could retort, he pulled back, just enough to grab me by the waist and flip me over on my front. I flinched when he grabbed my arms, yanking them back and trapping my wrists together in his fist at the base of my spine. My cheeks pressed into the leather couch, sticky and uncomfortable.

i heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt buckle.

Coward.

I shivered when he pushed my skirt up.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, yeah?” I snapped, “ You hate me remember?”

“Easy enough to forget its you when I don’t have to look at you.” he retorted.

He slipped one arm under my waist, lifting me up just enough for him to yank my panties down.

“Just remember , you don’t get to blame the alcohol for this .” I sneered. “ You’re sober and clear headed and you’re hard for me. “

Somehow that seemed to bother him.

He stopped .

I could feel the hesitation in his limbs.

It made me laugh.

“You know Jungkook, i took you for lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them.”

“What the fuck does that mean huh? I should put you in your fucking place for how insolent you are with me... ” he pressed down on me and i gasped when I felt his chest pressing into my back, his face inches from my own. I flinched when he sank his teeth into the mating mark on my neck.

“it means that if you’re going to do this, if you’re going to talk big about putting me in my place like the big bad alpha that you are, at least own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. ”

“ You forget your fucking place, omega.” he hissed, voice sharp and furious against my ear. “ Another word out of that mouth and i won’t be responsible for what i do.” I gritted my teeth when he curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh, parting my legs and settling in between.

He pushed into me in one strong thrust and my eyes flew open in shock.

“Fuck.... why are you so fucking tight...” He groaned and my shoulders began to throb as he fucked into me, setting a punishing speed that left both of us panting . We were too fucking would up for it to last any longer than a few minutes and yet, i could feel pleasure swell inside me, wetness seeping out of me and onto the leather couch beneath us.

I wondered just how fucked up this whole thing was. Just how much damage were we doing to each other?? But it was hard to care too much about it, because even if though it was a terrible way to talk things out at least he had talked. It was nothing new....nothing earth shatteringly enlightening but he had said it all out loud and that made a difference.

“You think you can come into my life and dictate how i fucking live.” He grunted against my ear, fingers tightening on my hair. “ it pisses me off.”

“Everyone dies, Jungkook. People die and they leave loved ones behind but Life goes on. It has to go on. You can’t just pause life to grieve. Mina needs you.” I felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, the adrenaline from the argument fading and my body threatening to go limp as he drove into me at the same punishing pace.

He didn’t respond, fingers closing around my throat and squeezing lightly instead.

“Save your platitudes before i decide that the warmth of your body isn’t worth the grate of your voice on my ear.” He snapped and I whimpered when he stilled, spilling into me.

He stayed pressed up against me. breathing harshly against my ear and i waited till both our breaths evened out.

“It’s not selfish to move on Jungkook. You aren’t insulting your wife’s memory by wanting to move on. “ I said softly. ” Someday your heart and mind will agree with me. Whether you like it or not. That’s just how pain works, Jungkook. One day it’ll pack itself up and walk out of your heart in the middle of the night. You just have to hold on till then.”

He didn’t reply, merely drawing himself up and off me.

Once i heard the door to his bedroom slam shut i dragged myself up , thighs shaking and sticky. I grimaced at the mess on the couch. I stared at the packet of baby wipes on the table nearby and shuddered. That just felt wrong.

I’d just have to go grab a washcloth from the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On that weekend, we had another dinner to attend, this time with a few investors from out of the country or so Namjoon told me.

Although we didn’t talk about what happened and he didn’t try to touch me again, things were subtly different.

Something had changed in the way Jungkook behaved with me. There was a little less of the usual zombie like indifference and he actually seemed to be avoiding alcohol actively. It was a welcome change. But to make up for it, Mina went into a growth spurt. Which meant ten minute naps every hours or so with wailing sobs in between.

i was exhausted.

So much so that Jungkook told me that he didn’t want to pick Mina up from Seokjin’s place till the next day.

It was a little past one in the morning when I finally trudged into the apartment. Jungkook wasn’t black out drunk but he was definitely a little loose limbed, eyes just a shade more glassy than usual.

“Tonight went well. I’m thinking the guy from Macau is definitely going to consider investing.” He muttered, gripping the door frame and taking off his shoes.

I toed my own heels off, feeling upset and bereft.

“Why would you tell Jin oppa that we’ll get Mina in the morning? She’s not used to being away the whole night.” I complained, feeling jittery and nervous because the house felt so empty and strange .

I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Jungkook without the buffer of his daughter between us. The house felt foreign, the walls seemingly closer together , the space to cramped.

Jungkook dropped his keys in the bowl and tugged on his tie, watching me carefully.

“It’s too late and Jin hyung said she was already asleep. He’ll drop her off in the morning. Just relax. Would you like a drink?”

I stared at him.

What now?

He looked nervous and a tad worried.

Swallowing , I shook my head, turning on my heel.

“I’m going to bed.” I was almost at the door to the nursery when he grabbed my arm, seemingly moving faster than I could breathe.

“Wait, Heejin… “ He stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth before sighing, “I… I need to say something..” He finished and I exhaled sharply.

I tugged on my arm but he wouldn’t let go.

“Jungkook , let me go.” I said sharply. “ I’m not in the mood tonight . You aren’t drunk now and I’m running out of reasons to excuse your actions.”

His hold on my arm relaxed but he didn’t let go.

“Namjoon hyung told me about that new therapist.... Kim Taehyung?? . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said roughly.

I sighed, defeated. It was expected and yet it stung. I wondered if perhaps I was just beating a dead horse at this point. But Mina deserved to have a father who loved her with all his heart and Jungkook’s heart was so filled with grief it had no place for his daughter. If there was any chance I could help change that, I would take it.

I tugged my arm away again and this time he let go.

I tried to smile encouragingly. it was hard because i was all out of comfort, my own exhaustion too overwhelming at the moment.

So I took a deep breath and reached out to lightly touch his arm.

“Listen, no one’s asking you to make a decision tonight, Jungkook.” I tried to smile a bit more widely but it probably came out as a grimace, “ Just sleep on it and think about why you think it isn’t a good idea. Taehyung’s an alpha and he may understand you better. Think about it and you can let Namjoon know later.”

He didn’t reply, merely staring at me till I began to feel a little hot around the collar.

“Well, Good night then.” I made to turn away but he grabbed me again, this time by my wrist.

“Wait.”

Patience wearing just a little thin, I stared at him, waiting as he requested.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night. At the party last week. About you not being her mother. I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was the first time he had apologized for anything.

It took me a second to even remember what he was talking about.

“Alright. I’m not mad. And I understand why you said it. Its fine. And you’re right. I’m not her mother and I should be more careful. ”

He nodded and then stepped back.

“ I’m sorry. For a lot of things. ” He bowed awkwardly and I could only stare at him, shaking my head. The apologies were somehow both welcome and abhorrent to me.

They were the kind of apology you would offer a stranger. And that made them insincere because I wasn’t a stranger. I’d been through too much these past few months, to be treated that way.

For now I could only accept them at face value.

“ Its alright. Just go to bed Jungkook. And listen to Namjoon oppa . I know you don’t trust me but you should trust him. He only wants what’s best for you. ”

I sounded twenty years older than I actually was and grimaced.

"There’s one more thing. Can I... I need... “ He stopped and stared at the floor.

I felt a huge sense of foreboding rise up at that.

“Are you going to pull the i paid for your body card? “ I said bitterly. “ You made it very clear that i can’t say no. I don’t see why you’re bothering to-”

“You can say no.” He said softly. “ You can say no.”

And then he looked up at with limpid doe eyes, shining with all the stars in the galaxy and I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all.

“ And if I say no, where will you go? To a brothel? you’ll come back smelling like another beta or omega and you can’t come near your daughter till it fades. Which is what? A week? “

Jungkook didn’t say anything and I felt helpless.

“Is that why you sent her away tonight?” I demanded and he looked genuinely surprised.

“What? No. Of course not . i just...You looked exhausted. I thought you’d like a night off. And just... I don’t want to have sex. Can you just sleep with me. I just... I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“What’s so special about tonight?” i rolled my eyes already moving to his bedroom instead of the nursery.

He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes empty in the dark of the hallway.

I waited a whole minute before sighing. This was excruciating and my heels hurt from wearing heels all evening. i wanted to curl into the air mattress on the floor of the nursery , possibly lie sleepless till dawn and then drive down to pick Mina up from Jin’s place.

“Jungkook , let’s just go to bed and forget-”

“Its her birthday.”

I barely heard him, his lips barely moved and his voice was so low.

I stared at him. Not sure if I’d misheard.

“What?”

“Its her birthday. “ He repeated.

“You can say her name.” i said calmly. “ You’re not betraying her by saying her name out loud in front of me.”

He went a little stiff at that and i wanted to kick myself for the remark. What a hypocrite I was. I’d reprimanded Namjoon for trying to dictate Jungkook’s grief and here I was , doing the exact same thing.

“I’m sorry. God, Jungkook... I’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that. i didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.. I... of course you don’t have to be alone. Should i call Namjoon oppa? Or Jimin?” I asked gently.

“It’s Sooah’s birthday.” He was still staring at the floor, apparently he hadn’t heard a word I’d said.

I had a sudden flash of memory, remembering that Jungkook used to sing. He had sung at his wedding seven years ago. Serenaded his wife as she walked down the aisle. I had been young then but i remembered thinking how evident his love was in every syllable sung .

Something i could hear even now, in the way he said her name.

“Okay. What would you like to do? I... I can make seaweed soup.” I said softly. “ We can go see her if you like?”

He stared at me.

“I want to go alone.” He said finally.

I hesitated.

“I’ll drive you. i’ll stay in the car. You can’t drive.” I reminded him.

Jungkook’s driver’s license had been suspended after one too many traffic violations. I drove him around often .

He didn’t reply, staring out of the huge bay windows and i sighed.

“Alright... Why don’t you go change into something more comfortable yeah? i’ll get the soup going and we, “ i bit my lips, “ , I’m sorry, And you can go see her. “ I smiled, before moving to the kitchen and grabbing the dried seaweed. I soaked it in cold water, before getting the beef, garlic, soy sauce, salt and pepper and the sesame oil from the cupboards.

Ten minutes later, the soup was boiling away and I peered out at the door leading to his bedroom. I was still wearing the cocktail gown and my head was beginning to throb. I oved to the nursery and stripped quickly, slipping on my white t shirt and a pair of pink corduroy shorts.

I would be in the car anyway. By the time i finished taking off all my make up, the soup was done and Jungkook was slumped over the counter. He looked drained, more so than usual . In fact he looked notably worse than how he was ten minutes ago.

Torn between the urge to draw him into my arms and the helpless knowledge that he would absolutely hate me touching him , i merely hovered near the stove, pouring the stove into a small airtight container.

On a whim I moved to the cupboard in the corner that housed all the crockery and threw it open.

“What was her favorite bowl?” I said casually, staring at him.

He blinked, staring at me like i was speaking a foreign tongue.

“Her favorite bowl , Jungkook The one she always drank or ate from?”

He swallowed but leaned his palms down on the granite countertop, levering himself off the tall stool of the kitchen island and making his way over to me. I stepped back, giving him space to peer into the depths of the black marble shelves.

He finally stuck a hand in and drew out a pale yellow and mauve bowl , a little worn but intact.

He held it carefully, running his fingers gently over the bowl, savoring the surface his wife had once caressed with her own fingers. I watched as his lips curved, a pale pale imitation of a smile but a smile nonetheless and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

This was probably the first time he’d smiled in the three months i’d known him.

My heart began to pound, a steady staccato that began rising in volume and i willed myself to stay calm.

“I..uh.. I can wash it for you.” I said softly .

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and he stared at my outstretched hand like it was a snake .

Face almost eerily blank he cleared his throat.

“I’ll do it.”

i watched as he moved to wash the bowl under the spray from the faucet and finished clearing up the kitchen. i grabbed a small bag to keep the sea wood soup in and held the bag open when Jungkook finished washing the bowls. He grabbed a fresh kitchen towel and carefully wiped down the moisture before wrapping the bowl in the towel and keeping it inside the bag, carefully.

I smiled and zipped the bag shut.

“Lets go shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat waiting in the car, staring out into the darkness of the parking lot, while the rain poured torrents outside the glass windows of the car. I felt unaccountably alone, like I was the only human being left on the planet.

It had been a little past an hour since Jungkook had disappeared into the building that held his wife’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if i should give him a call. Had he fallen asleep in there.

I told myself I would wait another hour and if he didn’t come out, I would go check on him.

I dozed lightly against the window, exhaustion beginning to creep in. I wanted to sob at how tired i was. I could have gotten a full nights sleep, something i hadn’t had since the day I took Mina into my arms.

But then, i remembered the tiny smile that had sprung up on his face and i grinned despite myself. That was progress wasn’t it? It definitely was. I was sure that if only Jungkook could be convinced to go meet Taehyung , the alpha therapist, things could get so much better for him. I wanted to have him at least halfway to being ..... capable of handling his own daughter, before i left him. if not the worry alone would eat me alive.

I was just getting ready to perhaps climb over the console and nap in the backseat when my phone rang.

I glanced at the dashboard, frowning. it was two thirty in the morning.

Who?

I grabbed my phone from the bag and my heart leapt to my throat.

“Jin? What’s wrong? What happened to her?” I could feel my heart threatening to give out, any number of terrible possibilities running through my head in a vicious loop.

“nothing happened, Heejin , take a deep breath... She’s just running a fever. it was quite low earlier but its hitting 101 now and I’m getting a little worried. I’ve given her cold baths and kept a wet towel on her but it doesn’t seem to be coming down.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes! “ i said quickly.

“I’m sorry, Heejinah, i don’t have any experience with babies and-”

“it’s alright...thank you for calling me oppa!” i hung up , already fumbling with the door and stepping out into the rain. i was soaked through in three second flat. What a day to wear a white t shirt.

I ran quickly, stumbling a little on the gravel pathway and hoping to God i was going the right way. I ran into the foyer, the poor security guard falling asleep over his desk glancing up at me in sympathy.

“there was a man here earlier?”

“Second floor third room.” He said casually.

I nodded, already rushing for the steps. I climbed the four flights of stair in two minutes, my heart threatening to give out. I found Jungkook in the room , kneeling on the floor and he looked at me in shock that swiftly turned to anger.

“Jungkook-” i gasped because the run up had robbed me of my breath.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He moved so quickly I could barely blink before he was right up in front of me.

“Jungkook, I... We need...” I tried to draw a breath in but before I could form the words he grabbed my arm, so hard that I whimpered in pain.

“I told you i wanted to be alone, what the fuck is your fucking problem?!” He snarled.

“Jungkook-” Before i could finish, he yanked me just a bit closer to him before shoving me out of the room with his wife’s portraits and the small ornate vase that held her ashes.

it wasn’t that hard.

He didn’t push me in a very brutal way.

In fact it was probably with lesser force than what anyone slamming a door would use.

But,

Jungkook was six feet two. He weighed a 170 pounds.

I was a hundred pounds wet and barely came up to his shoulders.

And it was just my luck that the wall opposite to the door had a large concrete and granite horse figurine placed right in front of it.

I crashed into the torso of the equine, my bones rattling inside me and I whimpered when my wrist made contact with the hard surface, bending a bit out of place.

I slid to the floor in a wet lump, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.

Jungkook stood frozen by the door horrified as he stared at his hands, as thought he couldn’t quite fathom what he had just done.

A sharp burning pain began in my sides and I gasped out.

“Oh, fuck.” I swore.

Jungkook moved to help me up but i was already crawling away from him, scrambling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my side.

“I’m sorry.” I said softly, holding both my hands up. “ It’s Mina...she’s running a fever. We need to go get her.”

“Heejin-ah, I’m...”

One more apology and i would officially lose it, i thought slightly hysterically.

“its my fault.” I said sharply, “ I should have probably tried calling you from the car instead of barging in like this but Jin called and i got worried...I wasn’t thinking straight so I’m sorry about that... I think we should go get her as soon as we can.”

“Did i hurt you?” He demanded , reaching out for me again and I nearly fell again trying to move away from his touch.

“No.. No I’m fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure, we don’t have to go the doctor.? “ He asked nervously, watching me carefully wipe down her body with the slightly damp wet cloth. I nodded, carefully squeezing the water out before dipping the towel in water again.

“She’ll be fine. Her fever’s come down and with babies this young, its safer to care for them at home than to take them to a hospital.” I said casually,

“I wasn’t talking about her.” He said stiltedly.

I blinked, staring up at him in surprise.

“What?”

“I think we should go to the doctor. You fell hard. ”

“Jungkook what are you even on about?” I said crossly, steadfastly ignoring the pain in my sides. It was sharp and unbearable with every breath I took in but I was too terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I’d cracked my rib or something.

Partly because that would be so inconvenient.

Partly because Jungkook would probably go back to being a guilt ridden shadow of himself if that happened.

“I’m going to call Yoongi hyung.”

Before I could protests some more he was already on his feet, moving to the living room.

Yoongi arrived thirty minutes later , annoyed and sleepy, dressed in a soft white t shirt and stone wash jeans.

“It’s four thirty in the morning , she better be dying Jungkook..” He rasped out near the front door and i flinched at the murderous tone to his voice.

Suddenly , i hoped desperately that my ribs had cracked.

Yoongi stepped in , staring at me . He took in the mess of quilts i sat on and sighed.

“Come here and take your shirt off.” He said gruffly.

I blinked, feeling blood rush to my face. Was he always this handsome? Hating the very unwelcome flutter of nerves, I moved to stand in front of him, grabbing the hem of my t shirt .

But the movement jolted my rib and pain sharp and lancing shot through my side. I yelped and dropped my hand again breathing harshly which only seemed to make things worse.

I swallowed and Yoongi blinked, reaching out to gently grip my elbows.

“Hey...relax ... “ He said gently.

I felt the press of a warm chest at my back.

“Let me help hyung.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through my body, his chin brushing the top of my head and he bent over me from the back, fingers gripping the hem of my shirt and carefully lifting it up to just above the curve of my breasts.

Yoongi was staring at Jungkook over my shoulders expression unreadable.

“So you do know how to act after all.” He commented drily and I heard Jungkook inhale sharply behind me.

“Hyung...” He said sharply, and Yoongi merely rolled his eyes.

“How did this happen?” He ran slender fingers all over my skin, feeling each dent and dip carefully.

“I ..uh.. I sort of fell into a statue? It was made of concrete and quite heavy.”

His face shifted into a frown.

“Jungkook , tell me you didn’t push her.” He said sharply and I jumped a bit.

“No...he didn’t.” i said sharply and Yoongi ignored me , staring right at the alpha behind me.

“I didn’t mean to.” He said finally.

“You broke her rib, kid.”

I groaned in defeat. Behind me Jungkook stiffened.

“It was an accident.” I said sharply and Yoongi gave me an unimpressed look.

“If i had a won for every wife that told me that.”

“It was my fault and-” I shut my mouth. I did sound like the poster child for abused wife in denial.

“Relax... I’m not going to send your handsome husband to prison.” He chuckled. “ This time.” He added, giving Jungkook another glare.

“It won’t happen again. ever. “ Jungkook’s voice shook a little.

I sighed, already imagining the self flagellation that was probably going on inside the alpha’s head.

Yoongi’s voice drew me out of my head.

“Its not a break. It looks like a crack which is easier to heal. But i still want you to come in tomorrow. We’ll get it x rayed. Its going to take a couple of months to heal.”

I gaped.

“Months?”

“As long as you take it easy you’ll be fine. Now where’s the little one?”

Yoongi dropped off a small bottle of pediatric paracetamol and told me to keep an eye on her temperature before bidding us goodbye.

Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook turned to me , eyes wide and lips parted.

“If you apologize , I’m going to throw this at your face.” i said calmly, fingers closing over the neck of the ceramic vase on the table.

Jungkook blinked.

“I’m sorry. “ He said nonetheless and I sighed, pulling my hands away.

How fitting. Neither of us could act out of character.

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything under the sun.

I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt him in any way.

“Just go to bed , Jungkook. I’ll be fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : As always the pain is here and probably going to get worse. But Jungkook seems to be turning mildly human so let’s see if he can keep that up. Also handsome pediatric doctor Yoongi as second lead because i like to torture myself.

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#bts smut #bts smut fic #bts fanfic #bts fics #jungkook fics #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook alpha #alpha jungkook #jungkook abo #bts abo fic #bts abo au

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scenefox2003 · 3 years

Text

No, Camila is not a good mother. And here’s why.

Yes, this sounds like a very harsh statement, but hear me out. Camila, on the surface, seems like a decent and loving mother, especially when compared to say, the Blights, who are much more obviously and stereotypically terrible. But from the very beginning she displays some VERY toxic and harmful behaviors towards her daughter Luz. Her sort of parenting, even though she has good intentions, can do some horrifying and long lasting damage to the mental health and self esteem of a child. How do I know? My mother was exactly like Camila. And like Luz, I still loved her. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t do some serious harm. And those same things are happening to Luz right now.

First up, let’s state the obvious. Luz is neurodivergent. This isn’t even just coding, either. Dana Terrace has outright stated this is her intention. And like many neurodivergent kids and teens, she often gets in trouble in school without realizing why. The things she does are still bad, of course, and she still needs to face the consequences of her actions and learn why they’re not okay. The first two things she does (going a bit too far in the school play and doing that freaky eye thing at cheer tryouts) aren’t even that bad, but her bringing spiders, snakes, and fireworks to school are obviously huge issues. Those last three are obviously cartoonishly crazy acts that have been played up by the writers for humor and to get the idea across, but even if we take this all at face value Camila’s handling of the situation is STILL HORRIBLE. Notice what she criticizes here. Not the fact that her daughter brought dangerous animals and explosives to school, but her love of fantasy. Yes, they’re related, but Luz’s love of fantasy can still exist without her breaking school rules. Not only that, but taking Luz’s neurodivergency into account here, The Good Witch Azura and other fantasy tales are clearly a special interest or hyperfixation of hers. Her love of Azura goes much farther than that of a normal neurotypical fangirl, she uses this character to help navigate through her life. She chooses to stay on the boiling aisles because Eda and King remind her of characters from the book. She chooses to take the risk and try to befriend her rival, Amity, because that’s what Azura did. Even in season two, when she’s talking about her future, she states Eda and Azura as her role models. Not to infantilize Luz (trust me, that’s the last thing I want to do) but this level of connection to a fictional character is unusual for a fourteen year old who just really likes something. Luz clearly uses this character as guidance in a world she doesn’t understand (which funny enough, is both the boiling aisles and earth) and what does Camila do?

She forces her to LITERALLY throw it away. Right before she has to go to a scary and uncomfortable place for THREE MONTHS, that SHE FORCED HER TO GO TO. That’s the time when Luz would need that special interest the most. It isn’t just a book she loves. It’s a coping mechanism, a genuinely harmless and positive part of her life, that she is shamed for. Being shamed for an interest or hyperfixation is such a terrible feeling I can’t even begin to describe it. But if you’re neurodivergent, you know what I’m talking about. What makes it even worse is that Luz literally cannot control what she loves. She can’t just find a new hobby, not that she should even have to, because when you have a special interest or hyperfixation, that thing becomes such a huge part of your life. And most of the time, it’s such an amazing and wonderful thing. And for Luz, it clearly is. Azura LITERALLY LED HER TO FORMING THE STRONGEST RELATIONSHIPS IN HER LIFE, with Eda, King, and Amity. That’s huge, considering Luz clearly has a lot of trouble forming friendships back in the human world. Luz’s love of fantasy is not a problem. Her “weirdness” is not a problem. But that’s what Camila sends her to camp for. To change her interests, her personality, not her actions. That, and for something even worse.

This line hurts my soul. I don’t even have to explain why this is an awful thing for a mother to say to her daughter, it speaks for itself. But I’m gonna explain anyway. Luz doesn’t have any friends. But that’s clearly not her fault. Just look at what happens when she goes to the boiling aisles and FINALLY meets like minded people. She makes tons of friends without changing at all, because Luz is a genuinely good person with a great personality. She’s kind, excitable, and always eager to help others. This is INCLUDED with her “weirdness”, and often directly related to it. Luz is not the only weird person that exists, even in the human world. I had pretty much no close friends as a kid, then I switched to a school full of open minded (and many queer and neurodivergent) people, and now I have TONS of friends who are just like me, who like the same things, that I didn’t have to change myself at all for. This is how real healthy friendships work. And the sad thing is, Luz wouldn’t even HAVE to go to the boiling aisles for this to happen! If Camila really wanted Luz to make friends, all she would have to do is send her to some sort of fantasy or roleplaying camp full of people like her who share her interests. But instead of blaming the judgy bullies for why Luz doesn’t have any friends, she blames Luz for just. Being herself and liking some unconventional stuff. This is so, SO disgusting and harmful. It can lead to so many problems, destroy yourself esteem, and ironically enough it makes it HARDER TO MAKE FRIENDS. Forcing yourself to be someone else to make someone you’re not really compatible with like you just doesn’t work. Believe me, I’ve tried. This is LITERALLY HAPPENING TO LUZ RIGHT NOW. IN THE MOST RECENT EPISODE SHE NEARLY RUINED HER CHANCE WITH AMITY BECAUSE PEOPLE HAD MADE HER FEEL WEIRD ABOUT HER INTERESTS AND PERSONALITY IN THE PAST. That’s why I’m making this post, even though I’ve thought this for a long time. The damage the human world has done to Luz is starting to show. Even after all these months of being loved for being herself and proudly being an advocate for being weird, that instinct is still there. And it lasts. For years. I’m eighteen years old, I’ve been in a supportive environment for six years now, and my parents have been fully supportive of me and my interests and quirks for two. But that instinct doesn’t go away. The deep rooted shame whenever you do something harmless that’s outside the norm, something you were directly told not to by the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally doesn’t go away. And Camila, the only person Luz truly cares about, perpetuated that. And that’s truly awful. I get it. Parents aren’t always perfect. But this is beyond imperfect. It reminds me of a line from Gwendolyn in Keeping Up A-fear-ances. “Your curse is a part of you, and I love every part of you.” Camila clearly loves Luz, but she doesn’t love every part of Luz. And in order to truly love someone, you must fully love them, quirks and all. I hope we get to see Camila learn this before the show ends, but most of all I hope that the show openly states that her parenting is awful. It could save so many kids from so many years of pain and an inferiority complex.

#the owl house #toh luz #camila toh #toh season 2 #cartoon #neurodivergent

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fandom-blackhole · 3 years

Note

*claps happily* Could I please get a 50 & a 81 with Din? Oh this is so fuuunnn~ Thank you so much!

Ngl anon I had to play with this mash-up for a bit, but I think I have a winner 😉

Sorry it took so long, but I wrote some of this on my way home from uni for the weekend and finished it today. I hope you like it!

Words: ?? (I'll check later if I remember)

Pairing: Manda'lor!Din Djarin x F!Reader

50. Arranged Marriage

81. The Missus and the Ex

Send me Aus/Tropes??

Din had given up on marriage a long time ago. It was a dream of his youth, one he'd envisioned over and over to the point he could almost see the faces of his children running around in his dreams. But with age and as life went on that wish faded and with every new situation he just, well gave up that dream.

Then Grogu happened, and he may not have had a partner but he had his kid and he loved him. His life had felt like it had been dragging, nothing really new, just getting bounty after bounty and taking the money back to the tribe, but Grogu changed that. Suddenly he had a purpose, to protect the small child in his care, and he did with everything he had in him. He fought tooth and nail to keep the kid away from the stormtroopers, away from Gideon and had succeeded until he hadn't, but he didn't give up. He did more, gathered his resources and fought everything and everyone in his way to get Grogu, to get his son back, and then he had him again. But he also had the darksaber and the events following all bit blurred together. Before he knew it he his son had been taken by the jedi to train him, he'd broken his creed only to be crowned manda'lor of his people, and swept away to Mandalore with a fuming Bo Katan.

Months later he still hadn't wrapped his head around his new life nor the responsibilities he now held, but he did what he could and he did what he knew to be right. He ruled fairly and for the people, making decisions that he knew his advisors may not like but he knew would benefit his people.

Then his advisors were blindsided him with the news that a marriage had been arranged for him and the daughter of an influential mandalorian tribe who was well liked by the general public and had neutral if not slightly positive opinion of the new republic. Din was floored. An arranged marriage? He didn't really know how to react, but it made sense, marrying this woman would gain some of the favor of the higher more influential clans and tribes that had yet to sway in his favor. At the same time his heart twinged and mourned the marriage and family had dreamed and wished for so long ago, now fading to never be as he solemnly agreed to the marriage.

The marriage was a very public affair, much to Din's chagrin. But he was also relieved when he learned that he would have the week leading up to the wedding to get to know his soon to be wife. The wedding had been taken over by his advisors at this point after they soon realized Din could care less about flower arrangements and what specifically color of red or black he would be wearing, so that meant he could take his time and really get a feel for how he felt about the woman he was marrying. And he had to say, he did like you. You were smart, sharp witted and pleasant to be around. You had no qualms with your beliefs, and even what the two of you disagreed on you both stayed cordial and just agreeded to disagree. You were kind, and cared for the mandalorian people and rebuilding Mandalore much the same way Din did,, and had even given him praise on some of his accomplishments and things he had implemented to help the people. So when the week was over, and as Din laid in bed the night before the wedding, Din could tell, that he liked you, and given time, he maybe able to even love you.

Much like he had assumed, the day of the wedding was all but chaos. He was woken up at an ungodly hour to start getting ready, and make a few last minute decisions on things he really did not care about, and the entire time, all he could think was that he hoped your morning was much more calm and less hectic than his own. The wedding itself passed quickly it seemed. Din was escorted onto a balcony first, his armor freshly shined, his beskar spear in one hand and the darksaber hanging on his belt, and his newly made red cape sat neatly on his shoulders. His people cheered and waved when they saw him, and cheered louder when he felt someone come to stand beside him. When he looked over, his breath was taken from him when he saw just how beautiful you looked. You looked every part the queen you were about to be, regal and powerful in your golden armor that was distinctly opposite of his own, but paired together your armors felt like they matched like two sides of the same coin. Even your cape was opposite his own, a striking green color that he felt was perfect for you.

You both swapped the mandalorian marriage vows, and Din's head advisor stepped forward declaring you to be the new queen, and as the crowd cheered, both you and him were ushered away back into the walls of the palace. Din didn't even get to say a word to you, before once again he was pulled away and you were escorted back to your rooms, now that the marriage was finalized, the ball was to start and Din once more was taken to "change", even though it was more of just switching to a more intricately embroidered cape with furs lining the inside. Then he was taken to the thrown room where he got the pleasure to sit and and listen to people talk to him all the while he waited....and waited....and waited... and...why were you still not here? It had been over two hours, the lunch was supposed to begin soon and yet he still had not seen you. Something panged in his chest, worry that something was wrong and his gut telling him he needed to check on you.

So, without even waiting or caring about what the person talking to him was saying, he stood and marched from the throne room, immediately heading to where he knew your room was situated. The closer he got, the more his stomach churned, screaming at him that something was wrong, something wasn't right, and when he found your hall and a dead guard with a single throwing knife in his throat, his heart stopped and he starting running. When he got to your door, he heard muffled talking, and he wasted no time bursting in and pointing his spear. What he found had his heart dropping, there you were hair not fully finished being done, but dressed in a beautiful gown that made you look like a goddess sent by the maker himself, but you were being held with a knife to your throat even as you fought and scowled, though relief flashed through your eyes when Din made eye contact with you. You're assailant though, only laughed an all to familiar high pitched cackle that had Din's face warping in disgust.

"Oh look pet, big ole Mandalore is coming to save his bride. You know, he's not all that scary, we used to work together you know, back when he was still just Mando."

Clenching his teeth, Din took a step forward, lowly growling out, "Let her go, Xi'an. Why are you here?"

"Why, how could I miss your wedding?! You know hun, Mando and I used to have a thing, and let me tell you he is great in b-"

"Enough! Why. Are. You. Here," Din interrupted as he stepped forward again, only to have Xi'an step back dragging you with her and digging her knife into your neck causing a drip of blood to fall painting your neck.

"Well, if you must know. You, my dear Mando, have had a hit place on your head, and I thought I'd try and cash in and see you again," she giggled out. Something in Din snapped, and before he knew what he was doing he charged Xi'an managing to surprise her enough to knock her hand away and pull you behind him, before headbutting Xi'an right as she was coming out of her shock, disorienting her enough for Din to slip behind her and lock the handle of his spear along her neck. After he had her pinned, Din's guards came in not long after and arrested her dragging her away as Xi'an threw a fit.

As soon as the two of you were alone, Din approached you and cupped your face, with his hand, his voice low and he asked, "Are you okay, mesh'la?"

You just nodded, so slowly Din reached up and took off his helmet, looking you in the eyes he softly he gently ran hi thumb over the spot on your throat where Xi'an had nicked you, "Are you sure?"

Again you nodded, bumping your forehead to his before grinning widely and looking him in the eyes. "So you think I'm beautiful?"

Everything Tags: @mysticalgalaxysalad @phoenixhalliwell @moodsare @perpetual-fangirl900 @night-snows00 @dumbass-simp-for-fredweasley @stargazingthenightaway @meabravo @just-here-for-the-moment @masteracewindu @litakino

Din Tags: @elinedjarin @shellyc9 @spideysimpossiblegirl @sydthekid1518 @phrog-seeds @pintsizemama @blackmarketmummy @badbatch-simp24 @startrekkingaroundasgard @djarin-junk @mindidjarin @hmarsattacks @littlemisspascal @pixierox101 @moodsare

Pedro Boys: @blackmarketmummy @djarin-junk @littlemisspascal

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#din djarin x reader #din x reader #manda'lor din x reader #au tropes asks #50. Arranged Marriage #81. The Missus and the Ex

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steves-on-a-plane · 3 years

Text

I'll Be There For You

For @star-spangled-bingo 2021

Pairing: None Cast Of Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers & Rogers Daughter!Reader Warnings: Mild swearing, bit of teenaged angst from Reader Words: 2399 Squares Filled: Dad/Daughter Dance Summary: Reader is Steve Rogers' twelve year old daughter who has been left in the care of her two "Uncles" Sam and Bucky. Reader confesses to Sam & Bucky that she feels like she plays second figure to "Captain America" on her dad's priority list. Her uncles do their best to assure her this isn't the case and of course Steve Rogers swoops in at the last minute to save the day.

You opened the window, closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. You didn’t care that the wind swirling around outside was causing small pools of water on the sill as fat droplets made their way in side. You didn’t care that the air was thick and the sky was a chalky grey. It was raining and you loved the rain. Rain was cleansing. Rain meant that old things were being washed away and new things would grow in their place. Rain was comforting.

The apartment you lived in with your father was the opposite. The building was old and every other floorboard seemed to creak or crack. The windows rattled and no matter how much the two of tried to keep things clean, there seemed to be a perpetual layer of dust that settled over everything. It was somehow stuff and drafty at the same time. You want to be outside where the rain was, not stuck inside with your two babysitters.

“[Y/N], what the hell are you doing?” Your Uncle Bucky demanded as he entered the living room. He pulled down the sash, effectively closing the window and keeping the beautiful rain scents out.

“Buck, you shouldn’t say hell to kids. You shouldn’t swear at kids. Steve would have a fit if he heard you.” Uncle Same chastised as he followed into the room.

“[Y/n]’s not a kid, she’s twelve. That’s practically thirteen. She’s basically a teenager.” Bucky pointed out. “Besides it’s not like hell is a gateway swear. You think if she hears me say hell then it’s a matter of time before she moves on to some real swear like…"

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Sam interrupted. “I don’t see a scenario where that sentence doesn’t end in a word Steve is comfortable with [Y/N] hearing.”

“Uncle Sam you do know that I’ve been around Tony Stark before, right?” You asked. “And believe it or not the Avenger who swears the most is Dr. Banner.”

“That still doesn’t mean your Uncle Bucky needs to help you pick up any bad habits.” Sam then noticed the water on the windowsill dripping down onto Steve’s hardwood floor. “Where did all that water come from?”

“Little Rogers had the window open.” Bucky nodded at you. “She had half her torso sticking out a fifth floor window.” He shook his head. “I’ll go get a towel.”

“Were you really hanging out the window?” Sam asked as Bucky stepped out into the hall. He knew Uncle Bucky had the tendency to overreact. Not that he could blame the guy, you were the only kid Bucky ever spent more than five minutes with.

“No.” You answered, but the truth was you couldn’t be certain. “I don’t know, maybe.” You added.

“YES!” Bucky shouted from the linen closet, still out of sight.

“You know that’s dangerous, don’t you [Y/N]?” Sam reminded you.

“Yeah, but…” You tried to defend yourself.

“Yeah but do you think Uncle Sam or I want to have to call your Dad and tell him that you fell out the window when we were supposed to be taking care of you?” Bucky handed you the towel and motioned for you to start moping up your mess.

“Weren’t you the one who was just saying I’m practically a teenager?” You sighed. You then mumbled to yourself, “Besides, maybe if I fell out of the window he’d actually pay attention to me.” Sam and Bucky exchanged a look of confusion behind your back.

“What do you mean by that?” Sam probed. He wasn’t accusatory. His tone was soft, he waited for you to answer.

“He’s not here right now is he?” You tossed the sopping towel in your hands to the ground and turned to face them. “Lots of kids have parents who go away for work so I know I’m not that special okay? But I can’t help but wish he was home more. Even when he’s not away on missions he’s still in his office taking calls or filing reports or zoom meetings! It sucks!” You threw yourself down into a nearby armchair. You ignored the smirk from Bucky and the incredulous look from Sam as you swore. “Even when he tries to do things with me…Like last week, he wanted to take me out for ice cream. We didn’t even make it a block from the apartment before he was getting hounded for photos and autographs. I love my dad, but I hate Captain America.”

Sam and Bucky exchange another look. This time both their expressions seemed to say, “What do we do now?”

“It’s okay, you can say it.” You sighed, looking down at your feet rather than at either of them.

“Say what, Kid?” Bucky used the most affectionate nickname he could muster and he sat beside you on the couch.

“That it’s a really selfish thing to say and that Captain America does a lot of good and sharing dad with the Greater Good is a sacrifice I should be happy to make. You can’t think any worse of me then I already do.” You assured them, still not daring to make eye contact with either one of them.

“I don’t think that at all.” Bucky told you. You certainly weren’t expect that. You looked over at him. “I hate Captain America too sometimes.”

“You do?” You felt your eyebrows knit together. Uncle Bucky had been your dad’s best friend practically their entire lives.

“Of course. Steve Rogers is my best friend.” Bucky said. “But Steve Rogers is a skinny little thing who’s allergic to everything under the sun, and couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.” His description brought forward in your mind pictures you’d seen of you dad before the serum. Seeimg him like that always made you giggle. “Now Captain America, He’s a big beefy guy, he likes running and motocyles, thinks he’s so cool.” Bucky wrinkled his face in disgust. “You know what helps me, on my days when I’m really ticked off at Captain America?”

“What?” You inched a little closer to Bucky as if he were whispering a secret.

“I have to remind myself that some days, your dad hates Captain America too.” You opened your mouth to disagree, but Sam jumped in. He sat on the other end of the couch, joining the conversation.

“Remember that story you were telling us during dinner, that one friend you have…?” Sam reminded you.

“Jennifer.” You supplied.

“Right.” Sam nodded. “Remember how you said Jennifer’s mom told her that drawing is a waste of time so now even though Jennifer really loves to paint and draw she doesn’t bring her projects home from art class any more? This is kind of like that.”

“Riiight.” Bucky agreed unsure if your friend’s interest in art was the same as the point he was trying to make, but he’d give Wilson an A for effort.

“It’s the same thing.” Sam insisted. “Jennifer is comfortable sharing her art work with you, because she knows you support her. There are thinks your dad with share with us that Captain America might not share with the world.”

“Right.” Bucky nodded enthusiastically this time. “Like that magazine that published an Apple Pie recipe last month as ‘Captain America’s Signature Apple Pie.’ You and I both know your dad’s never made an apple pie in his life. He doesn’t even like apple pie that much.” You smiled again remembering the rant Uncle Bucky had gone on when he saw the magazine in the grocery store.

“You said your cat could probably make a better pie that dad.” You reminded him.

“And I still think that.” Buck assured you. “Our point, [Y/N], is that it’s okay to not be okay all of the time. It’s okay to feel like your dad and Captain America are two different people sometimes. But you have to talk about you are feeling. You have to tell your dad, Uncle Sam, me or someone else , because if you don’t you’re never going to feel better about it.”

“I mean I guess I feel a little better already.” You shrugged. “But I’m afraid to bother any one with my stuff. You guys are busy. Let me guess this is the part where you both say you’re never too busy for me?” You rolled your eyes. “Dad says that all the time, but he’s on a mission and not at the father daughter dance with me tonight. I’m sorry about the window.” You said getting to your feet. You picked up the towel from where you’d discarded it earlier.

“Father daughter dance?” Bucky mouthed to Sam behind your back. Sam shrugged in response. “Fix it!” Bucky replied.

“How?” Sam mouthed back. It was Bucky’s turn to shrug.

“I think I got most of the water.” You said, facing them again. “I’ll throw this thing in the hamper and then I think I’ll call it a night. Thanks for listening to me b-complain for a bit.” You decided not to chance swearing again in front of Uncle Sam.

“Bed?” Bucky jumped to his feet. “It’s not even five yet.” He glanced at his watch to confirm. “We should do something…”

“That’s fine, I think I just want to be alone for now. I’m sure dad will still be gone tomorrow. We can do something then.” You and your dripping wet towel started to make your way towards your bedroom.

“[Y/N], wait.” Sam also got to his feet. “Maybe Uncle Bucky and I could take you to your father daughter dance. I know it’s not the same because we’re not your dad, but other kids probably go with uncles or…”

“Jennifer’s moms are both taking her.” You smirked. “And I am the only one of my friends who wasn’t going. It could be fun.”

“What time’s the dance start?” Bucky asked. “Seven? Eight?”

“Seven, but I don’t have anything to wear. Everyone else was planning on dressing up.” You pointed out.

“If we leave now, I’m sure we can still find you something nice.” Sam suggested. “Maybe we can find a salon to do your hair.” He remembered how much his sister used to love getting her hair done special for dances when they were younger.

“What about the rain?” You bit your lip. You could tell they were really trying to make this work.

“You were about to climb out that window before I got in the room.” Bucky laughed. “I didn’t think a little rain would slow you down.”

“Okay.” You agreed. “Okay. Father-Daughter-Uncle Dance it is.”

“I’ll get my car keys. You put your shoes on and get a jacket. Last thing I need is you getting sick.” Sam instructed.

Two and a half hours later, Sam parked his car in the parking lot of your school. The dance was being held in the gymnasium. Miraculously, he had found a hair salon that was still open and willing to style your hair for the event. Apparently, a lot of parents in the neighborhood were taking their kids for cuts or styles in preparation of the big event. While you were in the salon, Bucky darted in and out of shops trying to find the right dress. He was on video chat with you or Sam the entire time and eventually the three of you settled on a pale pink dress with layers and layers of tule for the skirt. It had a shimmering silk sash that Uncle Bucky had tied into a perfect pink bow and the sleeves were flowy but not heavy. You felt like a princess.

“We’re late.” You frowned. “Do you think that matters?”

“Haven’t you ever been fashionably late before?” Bucky asked, opening the car door for you. He held a large umbrella in his hands so that neither of you would get wet. You noticed the rain had slowed down considerably since earlier.

Bucky and Sam had done their best to look put together for you. Uncle Bucky borrowed a pair of your dad’s old khaki pants and a charcoal grey button up shirt he hardly ever wore. You didn’t know where he’d found suspenders, but suspected they were your fathers too. Uncle Sam went for a more casual look wearing his cleanest pair of jeans and a maroon polo. When you entered the school gym, your homeroom teacher Mr. Jenson was selling and collecting tickets.

“Ah, [Y/N] Rogers. Who are your escorts this evening?” He asked while Sam paid for the tickets.

“These are my two Uncles.” You introduced them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.” Mr. Jenson smiled. “Enjoy the dance.”

For the most part you did. There were all sorts of desserts available. Bucky helped you taste test every single one before you both agreed the chocolate cupcakes were the best. You felt a sense of pride when one of the boys in your class tried asking Sam about his Falcon costume and he explained he was at the dance on official Uncle business. They’d have to save the Falcon talk for another time. You introduced them to all of your friends and told everyone how amazing it was that they’d put everything together so last minute for you. Both Sam and Bucky took turns making sure you got in as many dances as possible. What had started as a boring afternoon had turned into a pretty good night.

“I think I’m ready for bed.” You yawned as you sat down next to Sam. The night had begun to wind down and you were getting tired.

“One more dance and then we’ll head up.” Bucky told you.

“Uncle Bucky I don’t know if I’ve got one more dance in me.” You yawned again.

“Too tired to dance with your old man even?” A familiar voice asked from behind you. You pivoted in your seat to see your dad standing behind you. He was dressed in his best suit, your favorite navy blue one, and held a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand.

“Dad!” You jumped to your feet and hugged him.

“You didn’t think I’d miss the chance to dance with my best girl, did ya?” You Dad asked. You took the flowers he offer you and placed them on the table between Sam and Bucky.

“Thank you.” You whispered to both of them before following your dad out to the dance floor.

#Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Rogers!Reader #Rogers Daughter!Reader #Uncle!Sam Wilson #Uncle!Bucky Barnes #Dad!Steve Rogers #Fan Fiction #Fan Fic #FF #SSB2021 #StarSpangledBingo

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slashy-ashy · 3 years

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I love dickkory, dickkory is my favorite ship because those two were literally my first ship. I grew up with watching the Teen Titans and I instantly fell in love with them. It sucks that comic writers did what they did too Dick and Kory, I mean it pisses me off so badly, I hate how they made Dick sleep with Bab’s right before getting married with Kory to perpetuate this idea of theirs that Dick is a ladies man that can’t be chained down to one woman even though he loves the idea of having a family and the fact that Dick loves Kory so unconditionally it isn’t even fucking funny, and Kory loves Dick so unconditionally back too and the fact that she was the one who helped Dick be more open about his feelings and to be more loving towards himself and she’s basically the reason on why the fandom writes him as this mother hen, happy go lucky guy. Kory was the one to bring him out of his shell, along with the Titans because they helped out A LOT with bringing Dick out of his shell because depending on which retcon you want to go with Bruce is definitely not an entirely open guy especially when dealing with his emotions, I hate that when Dick was raped by Mirage (because they did have dubious sex, one party of the duo didn’t know that the other was a shapeshifter who turned into the love of his life and slept with him then turned back into their original form and laughed in his face when she revealed her so called master plan) they had the team, the team of SUPERHEROES WHO DEAL WITH THIS SITUATION IN ONE WAY OR ANOTHER POSSIBLY ON THE DAILY VICTIM AND SLUT SHAME DICK, and it says a lot when the fans actually agree with the teammates who slut shame and disrespect their leader and not bat an eye at the fact that the literal SHAPESHIFTER is practically jumping with joy after emotionally manipulating and raping their leader, and people are so quick to say that after seeing Kory yelling and blaming Dick say how in character that is but don’t talk about how in a different issue Kory fucking attacks (as 👏🏾she 👏🏾 should👏🏾) Mirage because “how dare you sleep with Dick” and they don’t site how truly THAT is in character because it is in the character of her. She loves that man so fucking much she really does, and Dick is so fucking gone on her too it isn’t even funny, and I have nothing against DickBabs I love their dynamic too but I didn’t grow up with them and I wasn’t as introduced with them as I am with Dickkory in a sense and I truly just enjoy Dickkory more than Dickbab in my opinion but it’s mostly due to the writers and how they just fucking wrote Barbra like I just feel like if they took the time to rebuild their friendship, and to stop and look at her characterization over the years and learn to write her properly then yeah I would love DickBab’s but as it stands I’m hesitant to follow canon DickBabs and I honestly will accept fanon DickBabs more than likely.

Dickkory is such a wonderful ship because they have so much history with each other and honestly at this point most of my ships for Dick are just him with the fab five, I love DickRoy, I love DickWally, I love DickGarth and I love them even if they’re romantic or platonic, outside of the fab five I will say that I like DickJoey but only for the reason that I don’t really know Joey.

One gripe I have will be the fact that due to how writers have written and mistreated canon, people believe all of what I said up above to be canon behavior for Dick, I hate how hyper sexualized he is and I hate how it comes to a point that it becomes this running gag of “I wonder what I can get away with” and by that I mean the in canon instances of people touching Dick without his consent but it ends up being laughed off because the predator is just so good looking that it makes it okay, or how people will just say how good his ass looks, or even wonder out loud how good in bed he probably is and some old flame will just come out of the wood works with a smirk on their face being all “well ladies I can say that he is fantastic in bed” while Dick just stands there while listening to this all go down and being so used to this but he still will get flack if he says anything to show how uncomfortable he is with the situation because he “asked for it” or something else as disgusting and ridiculous, and after a while it just gets so old like honestly just find a new gag okay, it’s not that hard.

And finally J**Kory , J**Roy and J**KoryRoy are not my favorite ships whatsoever ever. They’re not even my favorite friendships to be honest, because I legit cannot see a world where like my older sibs friends would ever just decide to hang out with me and spend so much time with me and I would just be okay with that. No, no, no,no,no,NO! It just boggles my mind on why DC decided that Jason can’t possibly make friends with people himself and it irks the hell out of me that they nerfed Kory and Roy that hard it isn’t even funny.

Like it kind of is funny when you think about it because if they weren’t then I doubt I really doubt that those two would have just been like “ yep, I’m just going to hang out with the love of my life’s little brother” like I can see, just them from time to time just going to check in sometimes with Dick and him just being like “hey you guys want to come with me while I check in with Jason” and they could be like “yeah sure, I haven’t heard from him in a while” but for the most part no I just don’t see them realistically just deciding to just hang out with Jason because Kory has a planet to run and Roy has a daughter that he needs to parent and Jason has a lot of trauma and anger to get through in a responsible and reasonable way that doesn’t include running a drug empire, killing people, trying to kill his family, and just constantly blaming his actions on his trauma because I don’t want to sound too critical of him but at the same time it’s like when are you going to let go of all of this anger and just try to start healing because you keep taking the easy route of things and you decide to walk away from the problems eating you up inside and you just default to distancing himself away from his problems and family but when are you going to do the most important and difficult step, of beginning the process of healing and coming to terms with your actions and on how they don’t just affect you but also the people around you? If I saw an issue like that than I would most definitely pick up an red hood book but as it stands no. It’s a no from me y’all.

And DickKoryRoy is honestly where it’s at. They have DECADES of content and storylines that you can just be like “hmm, I want to write/draw about the Brother blood arc or I want to write/draw about how Dick went to save Lian and how this affected Roy” the content is there it really is.

I love how this post just devolved into me talking about my love for Dickkory, my hesitance towards DickBabs, me talking about the ships I love and like, how I hate how they (the writers) mishandled Dick and how they mishandled real problems that people go through in real life, how Jason with Kory and/or Roy is my first and ultimate NOTP, and how Dickkory and/or Roy is elite in my opinion.

#dick grayson #nightwing #dc comics #teen titans #kory anders #Star fire #Jason Todd critical #Jayroy critical #jaykory critical #jayroykory critical #DickBabs #Dickkory #the first thing I post in a while on here and it’s this lol #DickWally #DickGarth #dickjoey #Jason Todd

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transpat · 2 years

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the player ep 1 liveblog

wow that was a pretty dramatic starter and wow are women hot.

give her best actress award already please

TAAAAAAAAAAAYYYY!! i missed him.

he's still a 6 in acting but a 10 in face so. also he's just v endearing

dont know why she's always angry but its kind of attractive

ew joss's character is disgusting. please not this step sibling shit its gross thank god giwi's a normal person

the way his dad talks reminds me of that hag from after dark

god i hate seeing joss so much idek why i hate this dude i just hate him

oof the chemistry !!

when is gmmtv going to realize most of their best actors are their women and they should really start making more women centered stories that aren't about women ripping each other apart...also a gl...like c'mon all this chemistry just going to waste on het plots why are men allowed to be gay why do women have to settle for a man's stinky pussy when they can do better why is gmmtv so misogynistic

astop these two are sooo cute. tay/kapook would be so powerful but ofc they're gonna hook her up w joss 🤢 and then kill her.

namtan's fits in this are all 💯💯💯 honestly that's the only reason i'm watching this show i get to see my favorite women in hot clothes. also giwi being a little bitch is hot i'm so into her

ok so my final verdict for ep 1: 3.5/10 (generous). its bland, boring, generic, predictable and all of those synonyms. does v little to involve the audience in the actual plotline besides namtan's performance. she single-handedly saved the pilot.

its only the first ep so i'm not going to make a judgement on the entire show, but i think what falls flat w dramas like these is how u can sympathize w none of these characters. whether its the goody-two shoes, or the greedy, pompous villain, there's no visible depth in their character, and i think that'll change as the eps go bc obv this is only ep1 but i wish they'd at least hinted to smth so i had a reason to go on. besides namtan's acting.

i think we should really get rid of the bad step mother/sister thing bc its so pointless, misogynist, perpetuates horrible untrue lessons for drama and is just. bad. like, even if a woman did marry into a family for money, she doesn't have to be a bad, greedy woman. even if the mother was someone who seduced a married man, the daughter doesn't have to follow her mother's footsteps. also. stepsiblings are siblings can they stop w the pseudo incest already its gross.

also the idea of girlboss in these shows just being ass women is so?? i love flawed women and i love villainous, bastard women, but i really, really hope they aren't glorified or justified for being women, they are assholes. i get why giwi wants that man but she's sabotaging someone else, another woman, for what she wants and its just. nah.

anyway, the best things out of this ep? namtan's acting, namtan's fits, namtan. jane's two second screen time where she out-acts the rest of the cast (not including namtan). kapook's acting improved a lot i'm proud of her. chimon!! in the preview!! icb we're getting chimon/namtan!!

the only things i'm interested in, is to see what fucked up plot they cooked to turn mim into that. and i wanna see more of jane. also. obv. namtan's acting.

immaculate. incredible. showstopping.

#i hate it honestly #but its only ep 1 and ik these kind of shows get better #sometimes they dont #im worried this might be that #i have absolutely no motivation to watch this except the cast honestly #like its such an overused plot #every character is a predictable stereotype #idk idk #the player the series #myra liveblogs

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thebmatt · 3 years

Text

FFXIV Write Day 2

Aberrant - departing from an accepted standard OR diverging from the normal type.

CONTENT WARNING: asshole parents denigrating their child with sexually charged language

"Master? A letter arrived for you."

Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn looked up from the stack of documents with an irritated expression at the servant who'd interrupted him, a hyuran male of fair skin and hair. "Well, boy? Who is it from then? Twelve save you if this isn't worth interrupting my very important work!"

The man went even paler. "I....I don't know, master. The envelope was not signed. The post markings indicate that it originated in Eorzea, but otherwise the only marking is that of a small green axe. I don't know..."

Ahldblaet's eyes, normally perpetually narrowed due to being deep set in his face, widened in shock. "Give that here!" he shouted. "And be gone with you!"

The servant scurried over to Ahldblaet's massive desk and practically dropped the envelope on the nearest corner before fleeing with all haste, as though for his life. Ahldblaet immediately snatched it from the stack of parchment it had fallen on and inspected the markings that the servant had mentioned.

"Husband?" a voice called from the side door that led from his office further into the home. Said door opened and a shorter Roegadyn woman stepped through, her ash-colored skin in marked contrast to the sea-blue dress she wore. Her dark grey hair framed a face that wore an annoyed expression. "What is all this bellowing about? You are disturbing my guests. It is...unseemly."

Ahldblaet turned his severe gaze upon the new entrant. He was tall and exceptionally broad, a picture of strength in his youth, but his body had taken on a measure of fat in his older age and more sedentary work. Despite this, and his balding head of hair, his steely eyed expression still cowed many of the people he dealt with on a day to day basis. "It would seem, wife, that the enormous investment we have paid into those mercenaries we dispatched to Eorzea may have finally borne fruit. This is a missive their leader sent me. After our last communication I told him, in no uncertain terms, not to contact me until he had something of note to report. Unless he has foolishly ignored my orders, this would mean he has something."

The woman was not cowed, having long becoming immune to her husband's glares. Impatiently she gestured to the envelope. "Well, open it then, you great oaf! Maybe we will finally learn where our daughter vanished to!"

Ahldblaet tore the envelope and removed the missive inside. He began to read aloud, knowing from prior experience if he did not, his wife would snatch the paper from his hands mid-sentence. She was not a patient one.

"Masters Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn and Lady Usynwyda Holaszirnwyn,

I am please to report that after much time and hard work on the part of the Emerald Marauders, we have located your wayward daughter. Furthermore, we have determined the reasoning as to why she evaded both us and every previous mercenary company your lordship sent to retrieve her

First, your daughter is no longer using her given name of Syhrwyda Ahldblaetwyn. Asking after that name yielded no results, aside from the merchants who recognized it only as pertaining to you. By sheer luck, we eventually stumbled across a Roegadyn language scholar who knew the translation of her first name and directed us to an adventurer known as 'Fearless Willow', one of the Warriors of Light.

I am hoping the story of the Warriors of Light does not require an explanation for your lordship, but I will remind you that these people are slayers of godlike beings who regularly enslave the minds of mortals around them, have engaged massive numbers of Garlean soldiers and magitek armor, defeated Imperial Legatuses in single combat (including the Crown Prince), and decisively ended a thousand-year war between a dragon horde and the nation of Ishgard.

From there, we set out to determine if this woman and your daughter are one and the same. It is well known that one of the Warriors of Light is in fact a Roegadyn woman, but we needed to be certain. Adventurers are often well traveled and thanks to the Aetheryte network, difficult to track. Your descriptions were also primarily of the physical sort, which did not help, as appearances are easy enough to change.

We caught a break in speaking to one of the mercenary crews you'd previously hired. Many of them had been either entirely wiped or or reduced in numbers to the degree that they'd disbanded. What few remained refused to speak with us once it became clear who we were tracking. One particular mercenary of an Ala Mhigan band (known as the Graybear Den, which if you recall abruptly returned your payment and refused the contract) however, let slip some valuable information after our agents plied him with enough drink. Once he realized who we were speaking of, he grew agitated and swore he would never help us find 'the Warrior o' Light". It would seem the Graybears believe they owed a measure of loyalty to the Warriors of LIght for their instrumental parts in liberating their homeland.

It was, however, enough. Once we determined that your daughter and this Warrior of Light were in fact one and the same, we began looking for ways to isolate her and take her prisoner. Unfortunately this has proven extremely difficult. As they are involved in affairs that affect the entirety of the star, the Warriors of Light are often on the move, moreso than normal adventurers. Furthermore, as I have mentioned, they are peerless warriors, often in each other's company or those of their fellow Scions of the Seventh Dawn. If you don't know the order, suffice to say they are Warriors and Scholars both who labor on behalf of all peoples to defend the world against tyranny and false gods. They are exceptionally successful in this regard. The Scions often meet and collaborate with the leaders of various powers on this continent, who are often accompanied by their own soldiers or bodyguards.

We have remained patient however, and managed to catch a glimpse of her. As I mentioned was likely, she has extensively changed her appearance. Her hair is now of a longer cut and nearly all black, with only highlights of the teal you had mentioned remaining. She has also taken to wearing dark makeup.

We have also determined that unlike her fellow Warriors of Light, she does not dwell in the Scion's headquarters. Instead, she has taken to living in the Hingashi port city of Kugane, where she has a modest home in the district of the city reserved for foreigners.

Finally, and you may wish to brace her ladyship for this part, she does not live there alone. Our spies have reported that her home is occupied by two other women, and their observations of them interacting within the city indicates that the three of them are lovers

We believe that this is our best shot at capturing her, but the price for her return to you has just doubled.

You are doubtless shaking with rage, but you hired us to retrieve a woman that you led us to believe would provide minimal resistance. Even isolated from the other Scions in Kugane, we believe we will face extreme resistance in this job. For starters, your daughter has mastered several forms of combat, including the ways of the Hingashi samurai, the axe-masters of Abalathia's Spine, and the art of thaumaturgy. She is also known to wield the Sharlayan art of Astrology, and has mastered a form of dance from Radz-at-Han that wields circular blades with deadly precision.

Furthermore, Fearless Willow is a known and loved name within the borders of Kugane, despite being a foreigner in a city that remains neutral to all concerns beyond their borders. She was instrumental in aiding their geomancers in repelling an attack from a fox-like beast known as 'Kinko' and she also trained alongside the Sekiseigumi (the samurai order that enforces the laws of the city, brutally so) and helped them put down a rebellion from within their own ranks. One of her lovers is a high ranking member of the Sekiseigumi. The other is a member of her dance troupe who is on an extended tour in the city. She is every bit as deadly in the art as Fearless is.

The point is that, even isolated from the other Scions, many people will rush to her aid. We expect heavy resistance and significant losses. The original reward will not suffice to cover this.

We will not move forward with this operation until we have your confirmation of acceptance of the new price. And we suggest you hurry, as events brewing suggest your daughter will soon be called back to the fight, at which point it is impossible to tell when we will have another opportunity

Cmdr Guji Pokiji Chief Executive, Emerald Marauders

Ahldblaet set the letter on his desk, shaking with rage as he looked to his wife."How DARE that miniscule INSECT think to extort us?? A Warrior of Light, indeed. As if our useless fool of a daughter has the brains to take on even one sort of combat discipline, much less five! How gullible does he THINK us to be?"

Usynwyda nodded, a disgusted sneer on her face. "The NERVE of her, to merely toss aside the name we chose for her, only to refer to herself in the....ugh...common tongue! Still, the name cannot be a coincidence. Whatever other lies that little gnat undoubtedly told, this is the best lead we have had on Syhrwyda since she ran away."

"It is. And if they are not all lies, then it is all the more imperative we retrieve her before word of any of this gets out among our enemies. The very idea that she would toss aside the husband we painstakingly chose for her after careful selection and delicate negotiation in favor of laying with another woman, much less two! I worried she would do stupid things, but this level of degeneracy, of abberance? It is unconscionable!"

Usynwyda shuddered. "We cannot let this get out. I can never face any of the ladies if they should learn my daughter has become no better than some...common whore. We must marry her off to the Greinmyrgan boy with all haste before she does any further damage to us, to the company."

Ahldblaet scribbled furiously. "I am already writing orders to have our ship made ready and for our elite guards to prepare for a journey. We will find her and we end this nonsense."

Far away, in Kugane, the Warrior of Light known as Fearless Willow shuddered as she prepared to fall asleep. She had no ping from the Echo, no signal from her finely honed danger sense to explain it, but she definitely felt as if trouble was heading her way, and no idea what it might be.

#FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Final Fantasy XIV #Fearless Willow #God her parents are the worst #Hopefully I get to write about Rheika's mom at some point so I can have some good parent balance

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bloodfromthethorn · 3 years

Text

Broken Trust

Even now, hours later, he couldn’t shake the memory of Jack’s shoulder driving into his sternum, a too-tight grip on his bicep forcing him sideways as the man he trusted more than anyone else in the world physically moved through him rather than listen to what he had to say.

Tag to 2x02. Mac didn't walk away from his encounter with Jack as unscathed as he might wish to appear.

Also on AO3

Mac knew he was being stupid.

Yes, Jack threatening him with violence was no small matter and he was certainly justified in his surprise and betrayal, but he knew that he shouldn’t read any further into it. Jack had just been worried about Riley and hadn’t been thinking straight and in all likelihood, that was absolutely all it was. There was no deeper meaning, no hidden message. He shouldn’t be dwelling on it. He definitely shouldn’t be sitting on his deck at 3:30 in the morning contemplating all the times Jack had promised to have his back, to keep him safe, only to immediately turn on him when Mac put himself between his Overwatch and someone Jack cared about more.

It wasn’t like he didn’t get it: Jack had technically known Riley for far longer than he’d known Mac and he’d cared for her when she’d been a child – of course he was going to feel paternal. Mac had never been under any illusion that the relationship he had with Jack would outweigh that and he wouldn’t want it to, but he’d kind of thought that he still at least ranked somewhere near the top. Was that being presumptuous? A few days ago he wouldn’t have doubted it for a second, but now he couldn’t help but think maybe he’d been projecting his own feelings onto Jack and the reality of the situation was actually nothing like he’d thought it was.

But, then again, that was just a little overly dramatic, no? Jack had proven willing to go to the mat for Mac time and again, and this was the first time since their ill-fated meeting that the man had ever seemed willing to come to blows with him. They’d rib and tease each other, but he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times there’d been true animosity between them. Mac’s quiet crisis of faith was surely nothing more than an overactive imagination and a history of being second choice to the people he loved.

And even if he wasn’t imagining anything, Jack had apologised for all of it – or at least he’d tried to. In the end, despite having waited to hear it, Mac had found that he just couldn’t stomach the thought of listening to Jack try to justify himself, to directly tell him that his loyalty to the woman who was basically his daughter was more important to him than his loyalty to Mac. Instead he’d shut down the apology before it could reach the light of day, brushing off Jack’s concern with a shrug and an easy smile. Better to let everyone think that it really was no big deal and was easily put behind them, no matter how far that might be from the truth. If Jack had had any notion of how badly Mac had been flying to pieces inside his own head, he hadn’t shown it.

So far as Mac could tell, everyone had mutually agreed that the whole thing had been a bizarre incident of heightened emotions with no deeper meaning and they could all quite happily sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened. If only things were so simple for him.

It shouldn’t matter, he knew that. Jack had been going out of his mind with worry and Mac knew better than anyone how much he could overreact if someone he cared about was in trouble but at the same time… He’d put Mac in trouble. Mac wasn't in any doubt that if Riley hadn’t chosen that particular moment to convince Bedlam to trust her, he would be nursing a black eye – or worse – by now.

Worse still was that Bozer had also been in the unfortunate position of having to get between Jack and Riley that very same day and he’d managed to walk away entirely clean. Mac was unendingly grateful for that of course and he’d never wish any harm on his friend, but he couldn’t deny that it stung to know Jack wouldn’t raise a hand against Boze when he’d been perfectly happy to against Mac barely an hour earlier.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair for the hundredth time, huffing out a heavy breath as he battled to get his thoughts under control. This was normally what Jack was good at, helping him to get out of his own head and see the truth of things so he could work through the problem, but even if it hadn’t been the early hours, Mac wasn’t about to disturb him with this. Either he was wrong and being paranoid and there really wasn’t anything to worry about, or he was right and asking about it would mean having to hear one of his worst fears realised.

He wasn’t really up to confronting either outcome tonight.

Instead he was stuck out here, unable to sleep but too tied up in knots to try doing anything productive. The best he could manage was sitting beside the unlit firepit with a beer he hadn’t touched once. Letting himself go and getting drunk was distantly tempting, but work tomorrow was going to be tough enough as it was without throwing a hangover into the mix. Besides, if he did that, then people were going to ask questions and there really was no unembarrassing way of saying ‘I’ve been having a bit of a breakdown because a man I considered a brother nearly punched me in the face and I’m having to rethink a decade-long relationship.’

Mac’s usual approach to emotional problems had always been resorting to logic – with mixed results. It was all well and good to explain his childhood dog’s perpetual escape attempts as animal instinct rather than personal dislike, but it became a lot more complicated when he tried to pinpoint the reason a man would abandon his only son and never look back. Unfortunately, this problem looked like it was going to fall into the latter category.

The facts were thus: Jack loved Riley like a daughter; Riley had been in imminent, but not certain, danger; Mac had put himself between the two; Jack had chosen to disregard what Mac was saying in favour of physically moving him aside so he could reach Riley.

There was no logic in the world that could explain that away without demeaning Mac’s relationship with Jack in a way that was deeply hurtful.

It wasn’t a competition and even thinking of it in those terms left Mac swallowing down guilt and disgust at his own neediness. Jack cared loudly and widely; he was in possession of a heart so large, Mac was quite certain he could love a hundred people equally without breaking a sweat. It was no great stretch or challenge to accept that Jack was capable of loving both Riley and Mac, and that those two things had absolutely nothing to do with each other. There was nothing unreasonable about that.

So it wasn’t a competition, but if it had been then Mac had very definitely lost.

God, he needed to get it together. He was self-aware enough to realise that the only real path forward here was to forgive Jack the minor transgression and move on, accepting it for what it had been without trying to place any excess baggage onto it. If he really couldn’t manage that alone, Jack would no doubt be willing to offer the apology he’d tried to give earlier, should Mac reveal his concerns. Nothing anyone said or did would take back what had happened, and wishing otherwise was childish. He just needed to put it behind him.

Then again, that evidently wasn’t going to happen tonight.

He’d ended up out on the deck sometime around midnight, waiting sleeplessly in his bed until Bozer was well and truly unconscious before sneaking out, driven by a vague desire for air and a need to see the stars. He was only one for two on that – a heavy blanket of cloud had managed to erase the few bright night sparks that usually managed to make it past the light pollution – but that wasn’t such a bad score. At the very least, the still quiet made a nice contrasting balm to his inner turmoil.

The quiet didn’t last however – the hour hand on Mac’s watch had just started creeping past 4 when he heard the purr of a familiar engine pulling up outside and he breathed a long sigh. He had no idea what had drawn Jack there – he’d often joked about having a sixth sense when Mac was in trouble, but he couldn’t possibly have known about this – and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out. He toyed with the idea of slipping back into his bedroom before Jack had a chance to make it into the house, but he was sufficiently torn that he was still contemplating that course of action when he heard the door unlatch.

There were a few moments of quiet footsteps tracing through the house, first checking on the bedrooms and then, after presumably finding Mac’s empty, more hurried movement until the door to the deck squeaked open and Jack’s boots appeared in the corner of Mac’s vision. Exhausted and frankly too tired to even try to pretend otherwise, Mac didn’t look up.

“What are you doing here?” He asked quietly. His whole evening had felt fragile and a superstitious part of him he’d never been able to ditch warned that it was in danger of shattering if he didn’t speak softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” was the equally gentle reply. “You?”

“It’s been a long few days.” The words sounded heavy, containing too much meaning. He took an unenthusiastic swig of beer to cover it. “There’s more in the fridge if you want one,” he added, shaking the bottle a little.

“Little early to start drinking, isn't it?”

“To be fair, it was late when I started.”

“…I think that might make it worse hoss.”

He snorted indelicately and took another pull. Now that he’d started drinking it, he found himself vaguely comforted by the familiar flavour. There wasn’t enough alcohol in it to do more than warm him, but the sensation wasn’t unwelcome.

Jack seemed to sigh, then his boots disappeared as he worked his way around behind Mac to sit beside him on the lip of the firepit. Now on the same level, Mac couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze. He looked as tired as Mac felt, so he said as much.

His Overwatch offered an unconvincing smile. “I’ll have you know that I look good no matter what,” he replied, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it. “Truth be told, I feel like I’ve been kicked by a horse.”

That raised concern. “Are you getting ill? I think I’ve still got some of those antipyretics in the cupboard-”

He made a jerking motion to get to his feet, but Jack waved him back down before he could go anywhere. “Nah, it’s nothing man, don’t worry about it. It’s just like you said – been a long few days. Think I’m still working through it all.”

Mac felt his heart sink in his chest. Of all the conversations he didn’t want to have right that second. “I know how much you didn’t want Riley out there. I can’t imagine how stressful this has all been,” he said, aiming for compassionate and just barely hitting the mark. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

Jack, weirdly, looked sheepish. “You and me both kid, but that’s not exactly what I meant.”

There was a pause as Mac processed that and came up empty. “Oh?”

Despite the fact that whatever was going on in Jack’s head had been fierce enough to drive him all the way to Mac’s house in the middle of the night, he suddenly looked tremendously uncertain. One hand snaked up to rub at the back of his neck, dragging his head down so that he didn’t have to maintain eye contact. Mac half expected him to start shifting in his seat.

“Jack? What’s going on?”

He sighed gustily, apparently rooting around for his courage, and met Mac’s gaze again. “Look, I know you brushed it off before and I appreciate your understanding and all that but-” He hesitated ever so briefly, then the rest came pouring out of him like he couldn’t stop it. “Man, I was way out of line yesterday. Like so far past the line I couldn’t even see it any more. Yeah I was stressed about Riley and I ain’t ever going to be sorry for looking out for her, but that doesn’t change the fact that for a split second I was willing to go through you to do it. There’s nothing that could ever make that right and I need you to know how fucking sorry I am.”

He broke his gaze away again, bringing up his other hand to bury his face in his palms in pained desperation. Mac blinked at him in surprise, utterly stunned.

“And it’s stupid anyway because I know how much you care about Riley and me, and I know that you were trying to stop me to protect us both – I should have just seen-” He bit himself off, grumbled, pressed on more calmly: “I was so focused on my own inability to see what Riley could do that I lost sight of her, the mission, and you. It’s my job to keep you safe – that’s my only job – and I was so far out of my own head that I put you in danger because of my own stupidity. There is nothing about that that’s okay and even if you don’t need me to say it, I had to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m not expecting forgiveness because shit, I really messed it up this time, but for whatever it’s worth, I swear I’ll never do that again.”

Mac forced himself to swallow, desperately willing his exhausted brain to kick itself into gear and process everything Jack had just dumped on him. When he’d considered asking for an apology after all, this hadn’t been quite what he had in mind. In response to it, all he could manage was a sort of stunned silence.

Jack rubbed at his face one last time, then pulled himself upright again and forcefully met Mac’s eyes. He looked as though he was bracing for a hit, but he didn’t flinch. Mac, for his part, had absolutely no idea what he was possibly supposed to say.

A part of him desperately wanted to grasp the lifeline he was being offered, accept the explanation as the reassurance it was evidently meant to be, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. After a lifetime of those he cared about proving that Mac was a very easy person to leave, some self-preservation instinct was finally picking up its head and warning him not to trust so blindly. A few days ago he had been utterly certain that Jack would never willingly hurt him – now, he knew what it was to hear his Overwatch’s voice dip low and threatening, warning him that if he didn’t step aside, he was going to get hurt. He knew what it was to go cold at the humiliation he’d felt when faced with a thoroughly dismissive, ‘Boy, get out of my face.’ He knew what it was to have Jack look at him and see nothing but an obstacle in his way.

Hours too late and in the worst possible moment, Mac suddenly realised that the anger he’d been quietly cultivating wasn’t really anger at all.

As he always seemingly managed to do, Jack chose that same moment to pick up on the fact that something had gone wrong with his partner, because his earnestness immediately dropped away behind guilty concern. He hesitated for several heartbeats, absorbing whatever was going on in Mac’s expression, then tilted his head consideringly. “When you stopped me apologising earlier,” he said very slowly, “You didn’t mean it when you said it was fine, did you?”

Mac forced himself to shrug, trying to shake looseness into limbs that had frozen in place. “Like I said, Riley’s lucky to have you. You were just watching out for her.”

“Yeah, and throwing you under the bus in the process. God, I almost- I could have hurt you Mac.”

Now was probably a very bad time to reveal that he had hurt him. At least the bruises were in places easy to hide.

“You didn’t,” he lied instead, running his eyes over the skyline rather than let Jack see the mistruth in them. “I appreciate the apology, I really do, but I understand. Riley’s family, Jack, of course you’re going to do everything you can to defend her.”

Jack let out a humourless snort. “You say that like you’re not every bit as much my family as she is.”

There was a sudden, telling silence. Jack blinked. Mac’s gaze stayed fixed on the horizon.

“You- You do know that… right?” Jack said haltingly, his voice so quiet as to be almost unheard even in the silence. When there was no immediate response, it turned more forceful. “Mac, tell me you know that.”

He swallowed hard. In the face of such honest concern, Mac couldn’t bring himself to lie or to brush it off, but at the same time he had no idea how to explain the tangle of thorns in his head without sounding as stupid as he was afraid he was being.

“Jack,” he started carefully, weighing up the words as he went, “We’ve been partners for years now. I know how important that is and I’m grateful for it every day, but… But you knew Riley when she was just a kid.” He twitched his hands in a vague attempt at encompassing the sheer scale of their relationship. “I get that things have been kind of weird between the two of you, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s basically your daughter. I should never have tried to get in the middle of that.”

“If you hadn’t gotten in the middle of it, I would have gotten her killed,” Jack shot back immediately. “You did everything right Mac. I’m the one who fucked up here.”

There wasn’t a lot Mac could really say to that since it was technically accurate, but he was spared the effort by Jack refusing to take the bait of his deflection.

“And besides,” he continued firmly, “That’s not even slightly the point here. You- You really don’t think that I see you as family?”

Goddamn it he sounded hurt and that was so not what Mac had been going for. He sucked in a breath and cursed himself when it shook. “That’s not- That wasn’t what I was trying to say,” he managed lamely, wanting to reassure but deeply unwilling to make any presumptions. That was precisely what had gotten him into this mess.

Jack’s eyes were dark and sad and knowing. Mac could scarcely stand to look at them. “Maybe not, but it’s what you’re thinking, right? You’ve got it in your head that everything that happened was because Riley’s more important to me than you?”

Hearing the words said aloud in such a level, careful tone sent a rush of blazing shame right through him. It sounded so pathetic when put so simply. This time the anger that burned hot on its heels was genuine, though aimed more at himself than anyone else. He shook his head sharply as though to rid himself of the feeling but he still couldn’t quite meet Jack’s eyes when he said, “No. I know it doesn’t work like that. I’m not some kid in need of coddling Jack. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You’re tired because you’re sitting on your deck at four in the morning instead of sleeping, and I’ve known you long enough to know that happens when you can’t get something out of your head. So, if I’m wrong, what is it? Because it has been a shitty few days but somehow I get the feeling this isn’t about a missing EMP or you having to figure us a way out of a crashing plane with no chutes.” His expression was complicated; some combination of worried and open, like he was pleading with Mac to just speak with him. “C’mon Mac. Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Mac shook his head slowly, too many thoughts crowding in at once to make sense of anything. “Jack-”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. Mac-” Jack bit off whatever he was about to say in frustration, shaking himself. “God I really fucked up. Should’ve known you’d come to the worst possible conclusion. Never did know your own worth.” He ran a tired hand over his face, then drew himself upright and faced Mac head on, a rare seriousness shining in his eyes. “Okay, this is something I clearly should be saying more often since you still don’t seem to believe it but, you’re my brother Mac. You’re every bit as much my family as Ri is and I know that I made you doubt that, but it never for one second stopped being true. You hear me? I’m so sorry for what I did outside that warehouse – you didn’t deserve it one bit and I should never have done it. But it didn’t mean what you’re thinking it did.”

“I’m not thinking anything Jack,” he said quietly, even while his brain raced away from him. He wanted so, so badly to believe what he was hearing and Jack had sworn long ago to always be honest with him. To Mac’s knowledge he’d never once broken that promise…

But it was also exactly what Mac wanted to hear. Of course he was going to be inclined to believe it.

“That’s never once been true and you know it,” Jack shot back, not losing an ounce of his seriousness.

Mac didn’t rise to the implied joke. A sudden swell of frustration at Jack’s presumption climbed his throat and he was scoffing before he could help himself. “Tell me then,” he said sharply. “What exactly is it I’m thinking?”

Jack flinched lightly at the acid in his tone, but he held Mac’s gaze steadily like he was prepared to take any blow he threw his way. “I’ve never tried to pretend I can follow everything that goes through your head hoss. I don’t have near the IQ for that. But I think even you’d agree that I’ve gotten pretty good at following you.”

Mac’s face tried to twitch into a scowl but he forced it down with a will of iron.

His partner continued without interruption. “Now maybe I’m overstepping here, but I’m gonna bet that right now you’re feeling angry and hurt because you trusted me and I let you down. I let you down real bad.” There, he did hesitate very slightly, before deciding to voice what they both already knew. “I know I’m not the first person to do that, not by a long shot. You’ve had to deal with all kinds of shit you never deserved, but betrayal isn’t something anyone gets used to.”

Burgeoning anger aside, that felt like a step too far. Mac shook his head sharply. “You didn’t betray anyone-”

“Yes, I did,” he cut in firmly. “I betrayed your trust. I promised to protect you, but I got so caught up in my own bullshit hang-ups that I broke that promise. You’ve got every reason to be pissed as all hell about that Mac, don’t let anyone tell you you don’t.”

“You were just trying to help Riley,” Mac said again, sounding weak to his own ears. Everything Jack was saying was everything he’d thought he’d needed to hear, but now that it was all laid out so plainly before him, the only sensation he could summon was bittersweet resignation. Jack wasn’t wrong - he felt betrayed.

“Yeah, maybe. That’s not an excuse.”

There was a long, still pause. “No,” he finally admitted quietly. “It isn’t.”

The corners of Jack’s eyes were damp when he nodded, accepting and agreeing with that in equal measure. He looked crushed. “And you deserve every apology I can give you for that. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to take a swing at me.”

Mac shot him a dark look, irritated by the joke, but he found only seriousness in Jack’s face; he’d meant it. “I’m not going to hit you,” he said, offended at the implication.

“I know you won’t,” Jack soothed carefully. “I’m just trying to say - very badly - that I do know how badly I’ve fucked this up. I broke a promise to you that I swore my life on and you know I don’t take that sort of thing lightly. I can’t ever explain how sorry I am for it, but I can spend every moment you let me trying to make up for it.”

They let that sit between them for a long few minutes. Mac felt torn; even with the anger and hurt and fucking devastation rocking around in his chest he could admit that Jack was saying everything right. The real question then was whether or not Mac could trust it when Jack had already blindsided him once.

His Overwatch’s smile was bleak and pained. “I can see that brain of yours whirring away,” he said at length. “Trying to work out if I’m telling the truth, huh?”

As he said it, his façade crumbled ever so slightly and for just a moment, he looked deeply, unbearably sad. Like he knew he’d earned every inch of that mistrust and was regretting it with every fibre of his being. In all their time together, Mac had seen Jack wear that expression exactly once: a thousand years ago in an Italian hospital room as he told a barely conscious Mac that Nikki hadn’t made it. The context might have been different, but those eyes- their grief was the same.

That- that Mac could believe. No one who looked like Jack did in that moment could be insincere. Jack was a hell of a good liar when he needed to be – requirement of the job, really – but the raw, honest heartbreak in that expression was not something even he could fake. For the first time since Jack walked towards him with violence in his eyes, Mac found that he could trust this, if nothing else.

No matter what had happened between them, how readily Jack had been willing to throw away every promise he’d ever made to Mac, he could see the evidence of his regret right in front of him. It didn’t undo what he’d done, not by a long shot, but it was… something.

Something important.

Maybe something so important it was really the only thing that actually mattered.

There was no amount of words that could entirely mend the hurt that Jack had wrought that day, but perhaps they were enough to start the process. Jack was right here, swearing to do better, and despite a lifetime of reasons not to trust an offer like that, Mac couldn’t help but hear the ring of truth. For now, perhaps that had to be enough. Healing always came with time and with Jack willing to make amends, Mac had a feeling that they’d get there together in the end.

He sucked in a hard breath, and finally, finally forced himself to let his anger and hurt go. They would do nothing for him now.

“I believe you,” he said, and meant it. He caught Jack’s eye. “And I accept your apology. My own messed up head aside, I do know that you were only trying to protect Riley.”

“Hey now, your head’s doing just fine. I’m the one tying it up in knots, even when I should know better. You’ve been given plenty of reason to think the worst of people in your life Mac. That it’s not your first response is- well. Incredible, I guess. I don’t blame you a bit for not trusting me after… Everything.”

Mac’s eyes dropped to the floor again, feeling oddly self-conscious about how easily Jack was able to see through him. It was always easy to forget how little time they had really known each other when Jack could look at him and immediately see the heart of whatever was bothering him. Bozer might have known him for longer, but Jack had still been the one who got to see the darker sides of him born in desert heat and sandy plains. That was exactly why this whole mess had hurt as much as it had.

“I always trust you Jack,” he said honestly. “You caught me off guard, but nothing is about to change that.”

Jack blinked hard, swallowing as he processed that. “After everything that happened this week, I know that I don’t deserve that but you don’t know how good that is to hear, man.” He rubbed at his face, pulling his emotions back in line. “And just so you know, while I appreciate you accepting my apology and all, I know I’m nowhere near done earning your forgiveness. What I did was-”

His eyes suddenly turned distant, and whatever strength had bled back into his frame drained in a rush. He looked… fragile.

“Jack, you don’t need to earn anything,” Mac said, suddenly feeling vaguely guilty for taking it all so badly while at the same time desperately trying to throttle that sensation. He wanted to forgive Jack – already had, if he was honest with himself – but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been right to be upset in the first place. “I’m glad you apologised, no matter what I told you before. That’s all I needed.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Well, that and for you to talk some sense into me, maybe.”

“That’s my job, remember?” Jack said with a shrug of his own. “Keeping your head on straight is half the battle.” He winced in the same instant as he said it, apparently realising the irony in him being the one to throw Mac off this time. He visibly forced himself to straighten out, trying to accept the truth of Mac’s forgiveness. “Well, lesson learned, I guess. Just wish I didn’t do it by hurting you.”

Mac snorted softly, even though his heart wasn’t really it in. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“That is one hundred percent true,” Jack agreed without hesitation, “But it doesn’t change the fact that I was a dick and you caught the worst of it. Which would be bad enough at the best of times, but in this case you were only doing what you could to protect me and Riley, which is like, I don’t know, a double dick move on my part?” He broke off momentarily with a frown as if trying to work out the maths of that specific scenario, then shook himself like a dog shaking off water. “Whatever, the point is-” A pause. “What was my point again?”

Despite himself, Mac snickered. “I think it was something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry I was an ass, I won’t do it again’. That about sum it up?”

Jack grinned in that knowing way he did when he’d succeeded in pulling Mac out of his own head without him realising. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.” He sobered, catching Mac’s gaze. “And I mean it. I’m not ever going to take a swing at you man, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you never have to feel like I might again.”

Mac’s first instinct was to brush the reassurance off once more, remind Jack that he already had his trust, but he caught himself before he could. He was determined not to punish himself for reacting badly to something he had every reason to react badly to, and besides, it seemed like Jack needed to say it just as much as Mac needed to hear it. After everything that had happened that day, it felt good to hear that promise put into words. “Thank you,” he said at length, letting truth settle into his tone.

He went to say more, but the words were lost as a jaw-cracking yawn forced its way up his throat. Jack chuckled quietly at him.

“Yeah, I feel that,” he said, dispensing with his heavy tone for something lighter, something healing. “Think it might be past time we got you to bed, man. You look knackered.”

“I am,” he admitted. There was very little point pretending otherwise; he knew what he looked like. “You’ve got to be exhausted too.”

Jack shrugged easily. “Yeah, but I’ll get out of your hair. I knew you weren’t exactly expecting visitors when I decided to turn up unannounced at four in the morning.”

“That’s literally never stopped you,” he said, rolling his eyes. Truthfully, he was glad Jack had shown up when he did - it was only thanks to it that he thought he might actually be able to get some honest to god sleep before he had to show up at work tomorrow- or, well, later today. “You’re not driving home this late. Just sleep here.”

“I didn’t exactly bring a go-bag with me.”

“Unless you’ve changed dramatically in size in the last two months, I’m pretty sure the clothes you left in my dresser are still going to fit you.”

Jack looked like he was bending, wanting to give in to the comfort readily being offered, but something dark and wary in his eyes was holding him back. That line of guilt that ran rigid along the back of his shoulders had eased slightly during the course of their conversation, but it still lingered on even now. Mac had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to lose it for a long time.

“I don’t want to impose,” he said after a strained moment of silence. His gaze dropped to his lap. “I think I’ve disturbed your sleep enough tonight to last a lifetime, bud.”

“In case it wasn’t abundantly obvious, you weren’t disturbing anything.”

“Just ‘cause I wasn’t here, doesn’t mean it wasn’t my fault.”

Mac couldn’t help but roll his eyes again. “C’mon man, it’s done. We’re all good, remember? But if you keep arguing about driving home at four AM when you look like you’re going to fall asleep at the wheel, then you are going to keep me up when I would much rather be sleeping. Matty’s already going to be mad as it is; we don’t need to pile sleep deprivation on top.”

His Overwatched hissed, pulling on a peeved frown. “You’re too sneaky for your own good, you know that?”

Mac released what felt like his first genuine laugh in days and drained the rest of his beer, easing himself carefully to his feet. “Someone might have mentioned it in the past. Come on, big guy. I’m not carrying you inside if you pass out here.”

“You could just wake me up.”

“And give up the opportunity to listen to you griping about that bad back you pretend you don’t have? Ooh, that’s a tough call.”

“You’re an ass.”

Mac’s laugh chased them into the darkened house.

#macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic #fanfiction #angus macgyver #jack dalton #s02e02 muscle car + paperclip #muscle car + paperclip

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12tardis · 4 years

Text

A Million Little Battles That I’m Never Gonna Win (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Warnings: minor violence, mentions of bullying, mentions of anxiety, and a pretty trash toxic masculine antagonist Requested: YES! My first ever request. Lovely anon asked: ‘could you write a fic set in hogwarts where newt and the reader has some sort of a huge argument from a misunderstanding, leading to him ignoring or snapping the reader while she (desperately) tries to explain? just a little angst with a happy ending “ Here ya go anon! I hope you like it. Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader Summary: Newt overhears another student ask you to the Yule Ball after you’ve already agreed to go with him. ANGST and lots of fluff to make up for it. Featuring angsty/hurt!Newt , protective!reader , mild mentions of anxiety and includes little Scamander babies! I’ll try and link my angsty song inspo too if anyone cares. A/N: Thank you so much for the request anon! I wasn’t expecting to have this done so fast but I really enjoyed writing it. Sorry if I went a little overboard with the angst. Please send me more requests. Hope you enjoy x

Words: 6,131

It was a slow and sunny morning in the Scamander household. Y/N was preparing breakfast while Newt was attempting to help, occasionally flipping the pancakes or stirring the odd pot. Though for the most part he was just taking the opportunity to cuddle his wife from behind.

She moved away from him to lay the food on the dining table, but Newt was close behind her, finally noticing the presence of his children at the table. How long had you two been sitting there?

“Mum, did you go to the Yule ball?”, your daughter called out when she saw the two of you had finally remembered that you weren’t alone in the kitchen. Her older brother was sat across from her at the table, turning to look at both of his parents expectantly. Usually he would make a fuss of being disgusted by his parents’ public displays of affection but even he was curious when he saw the way your eyes lit up in response.

“Oh yes! I think I know where the photos are stashed away”, you said excitedly, disappearing into the next room for a few moments and reappearing with a small pile of photos that you handed to your daughter. You smiled and ruffled your sons curls when he moved closer to look at the photos too.

“Wait, you went together?”

“You two were already together back then?”

“Mum, you look so beautiful!”

“WHAT happened to your hand?”

Your kids asked in rapid succession and you could only blink in response as Newt chuckled “she punched someone that’s what happened”, he said, only laughing harder at the incredulous looks your kids both shot you then.

“He DESERVED it!”, you huffed, folding your arms when your children continued to stare at you wanting answers. “It’s a miracle that dance ever happened. Your father can be incredibly stubborn, did you know that?”, you nodded at the photo of Newt spinning you around the great hall, standing behind where your now husband was sat at the table and looping your arms around his shoulders.

“I can’t believe you actually had the gall to ask Mum to go with you, Dad”, your son jested teasingly to which Newt rolled his eyes, laying his hands over the top of yours.

“I didn’t. She asked me first.”

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

Newt had a smile plastered on his face as he wandered through the corridors of Hogwarts in search of you since you’d left your textbooks behind at lunch again. He couldn’t help but smile fondly as he set out to make sure you got them back in time for your next class. He’d had a perpetual smile plastered on his face all week really since he’d finally garnered the courage to ask you to go to the Yule Ball with him and you’d said yes without a moment’s hesitation.

In truth the ball hadn’t even crossed his mind until you’d asked him to go with you the week prior and Newt had laughed in response, stating it really wasn’t his scene and that he’d rather let one of his mother’s Hippogriffs peck his eyes out. You had nodded in response and tried to laugh it off, but Newt had known immediately that he’d hurt your feelings and he instantly regretted his words. He knew he had to make it up to you.

So he set about, gathering you all of your favourite sweets from Hogsmead and your favourite flowers before he’d asked you to the ball himself, making a show of wooing you like he felt you deserved and he was relieved beyond measure when you agreed.

So yeah, he hadn’t stopped smiling since. That was until he heard the unmistakable voice of one Derick Drysdale, the tall and buff Gryffindor beater in the year above that had made it his life mission to torture Newt at any chance he got. Newt spun around on his heel to head the other way, freezing when he heard your voice.

“Oh h-hi Derick,”, you stuttered slightly when the boy in question stalked over to you, standing over you with his huge frame completely overshadowing you.

You despised Derick and you’d made the mistake of standing up to him once before which had only resulted in Newt copping a particularly nasty beating from him, so you’d resolved to keep your mouth shut rather than provoke him in future.

“Hi there, little lady”, Derick murmured lowly, in what was meant to be a seductive tone but came across as more threatening in your ears “I was wondering if you would go to the ball with me?” Though the way he said it barely sounded like a question, more a demand.

Newt’s interest was suddenly spiked, and he peeked around the corner curiously at the chance to see his high school bully rejected in some sort of poetic justice, expecting to see you turn Derick down. But Newt only frowned when all he could see was the boys hulking frame, with you backed against the wall of the corridor.

Newt waited to hear you tell Derick no, but you were frozen in place, imagining the torrent of abuse Derick would hurl at Newt if you told him the truth.

Derick raised his eyebrows at you and tutted his tongue impatiently when you were just gaping at him stupidly “what, did somebody already ask you?”, he asked, his voice rising slightly with a clear edge to it. Most of the other girls would be swooning over him right now.

“No!”, you barked out quickly with wide eyes, panicking as you recalled every taunt and every shoulder barge Newt had been on the receiving end of. “Nobody’s asked me yet. Nobody at all.”

And just like that Newt felt his heart shatter, hearing you deny his existence with such ease. You were clearly ashamed to be seen with him and Newt felt bile rise in the back of his throat as he watched Derick lift his hand to your face to brush a strand of your hair back.

You were the one person he trusted and allowed himself to open up to. Y/N, his best friend since first year and the very same girl he’d been head over heels for since second year. You were the one person he’d trusted with his heart and now it seemed you’d shattered it beyond repair with one statement.

Newt didn’t see the way you dodged Derick’s touch with a flinch. He only saw the blush you had on your cheeks when Derick pulled away from you, hearing one of his friends call for him and Newt took that as evidence enough that you were charmed by Derick’s looks just like everyone else.

“We’ll continue this later, little lady”, Derick winked at you before he left in the other direction and Newt was so stunned that he didn’t even notice you had turned the corner towards him until you had crashed right into him, sending all of the books in his arms crashing to the ground.

“Oh Newt!”, you gasped, pausing as you took in the foreign expression he wore on his face which you recognised to be sheer anger and betrayal within a split second.

“Newt, I can explain!”, you breathed, reaching for his shoulders and sucking in a breath when he stepped back from you quickly, shaking his head.

“No, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear, Y/N”, Newt spat out, his eyes glassy yet somehow full of rage.

You almost recoiled at the look of disgust he shot you, but you tried to reach for him again “No Newt, it wasn’t what it looked like. Please you’ve got to understand!”

Newt turned away from you, violently snatching up your textbooks once more, “Oh I understand completely Y/N. I’m freak,” he snapped, turning back to face you, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the books in his hands.

In his distressed state he could only conjure up every memory where you had dragged him off to hang out in your usual hide away and every time you would hide your face in shame whenever someone would tease you for being glued to Newt’s side. It didn’t occur to him that you were hiding your blush every time.

He was so hurt that he couldn’t even recall that you’d been the first one to ask him to the ball or that you’d already knocked back a handful of boys who had asked you to go with them. You stood there feeling helpless as you could practically feel the walls Newt was throwing back up, his face setting into a steely expression you had never seen before, but you absolutely hated already.

“You’re so ashamed to be seen with me that you couldn’t even tell him the truth. Well I can be nobody to you that’s fine”, he spat your own words back in your face as he thrust your textbooks at you, barely waiting for you to grab them before he pulled away from you once again “enjoy the ball with Drysdale, Y/N,” he said coldly, walking away from you swiftly and ignoring you when you called out after him.

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

You tried desperately to speak to Newt and explain why you’d said what you’d said several times over the course of the following three days but he just kept scurrying away from you, without so much as a single look in your direction.

You’d written him numerous letters trying to explain yourself, but your heart sunk when you only found them all scrunched up and discarded in the common room trash bin.

You had no idea Newt could be so completely stubborn and cold, it was shocking. The boy who used to make you blush and fill with warmth from a single crooked smile now had you feeling cold and invisible. You were gutted because you knew he was clearly hurting and all over a misunderstanding. And you couldn’t even fix it because he wouldn’t let you!

You were running late for potions class because you had once again misplaced your textbooks having gotten so used to Newt carrying them for you everywhere you went. You ran into the classroom, panting heavily and blushing darkly when everyone turned around to stare at you.

“Ah Miss L/N, how lovely of you to join us. You will see me after class,” the professor said sternly as you looked over at the desk you usually shared with Newt, letting out a sigh when you saw him sitting at one of the group cauldrons instead, leaving you to sit with another boy you barely knew.

Newt had seen your books that you’d left behind at the library and he’d rolled his eyes as he ignored them and made his way to the classroom. He now felt slightly guilty for the briefest moment when he saw you stumble into the classroom late, fiddling with your robes like you always did when you were feeling anxious, but when your eyes met his all he could picture was you and Derick.

You sat down with a slump when Newt looked away from you, hardly focusing in the class because your falling out with Newt was now also starting to impact your sleep.

Newt avoided you again for the rest of the day, growing increasingly more frustrated when you kept appearing everywhere he went, trying to talk to him. He tensed when you had finally corned him in one of the corridors later that day, reaching out for him again but pausing when you heard Derick and his friends in the distance.

You’d been avoiding Derick ever since your run in the other day and you’d been doing a pretty good job of it. But now froze when you heard him in the background just as you finally had Newt in front of you with nowhere to run because of course Derick would appear now.

Newt scoffed in response, with nothing but pure anger in his veins as he stared at you. How dare you stand there and look upset! He looked at you with that same steely gaze before he nodded in the direction of Derick “I think you’ll be perfect together.”, he said flatly and you reeled back in response like he’d slapped you.

“Newt wha-“ but he cut you off, crossing his arms with the same disinterested expression “a bully and a selfish liar. A match made in heaven”, he said letting his emotions get the better of him before he could stop the words leaving his mouth.

He regretted what he’d said immediately, his hands twitching by his sides when he saw your face crumple in response before you turned away from him and ran off, determined not to let him see you cry.

He felt guilty again as he watched you run away from him, every instinct in his body fighting to chase after you and apologise but when Derick shouldered him a moment later it was like being doused with a bucket of icy cold water and reminded him of why he was angry with you in the first place.

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

A few more days wore on and now the ball was only a day away and you had no intentions of leaving your dorm that night. You were both now avoiding each other and the other Hufflepuffs could feel the tension in the air. It was bizarre to see the power-not-quite-couple avoiding each other like the plague when it was obvious they were still drawn towards each other like opposite magnets.

Newt was mostly just bitter now and still set on being stubborn but now you were hurt and feeling lost. You didn’t think you could handle seeing him stare at you with that blank and steely expression again so you avoided looking at him all together, sticking with your girlfriends from your dorm who were growing exasperated with the whole situation.

You were sitting at your shared desk in Defense Against the Dark Arts together, the both of you sitting as far away from each other as you could physically manage, staring down at your notes in silence while all the other students spoke amongst themselves.

You were supposed to be working on your partnered group project together, but you’d been wringing your hands in your lap anxiously for 20 minutes now while Newt had been doodling in his notebook, completely oblivious to your rising anxiety.

Usually he would take your hand when you were like this, making sure you knew you were cared for and safe but now he was so focused on ignoring your presence completely that he hadn’t even noticed your fidgeting or the way your chest was starting to heave with your increased breathing.

That was until Professor Dumbledore was crouching in front of your shared desk, looking up at you “Miss Y/N, go and wait for me in my office please.” he said gently, and Newt whipped his head to the right to look at you, his mouth dropping open slightly when he took you in , seeing the tears welling in your eyes and watching as you scrambled to gather your things.

The Professor lightly touched your hand, shaking his head “Leave your things. I‘ll be with you shortly.” He said calmly, glad the rest of the students were too preoccupied with their discussions to take notice of you and the state you were in.

Newt opened his mouth to talk to you, but you’d already left the room and he was left to stare at his notes in confusion, wondering what the hell had just happened. Sure, he might have been upset with you but that didn’t stop him from caring about you and worrying the entire rest of the lesson when you never came back, even after Professor Dumbledore had returned to the classroom.

Newt frowned when you still hadn’t returned at the end of the lesson and gathered up your things from the desk as the rest of the students piled out of the classroom.

“Newt, would you care to tell me why you’re ignoring Miss L/N?”, Professor Dumbledore asked, sitting on the desk in front of where Newt was, raising his eyebrows at the young man.

Newt looked back at the Professor, feeling suddenly flustered when all he wanted to do was ask where you were and if you were okay but when the Professor gave him that look he held up his hands.

“Well she’s ignoring me too! I am merely...ignoring her because- because she doesn’t care about my feelings so why should I care about hers?” He said quickly in defense, folding his arms across his chest stubbornly.

“Yes, she doesn’t care about you at all.” Dumbledore said sarcastically, shooting Newt a withering look “that is exactly why she just spent 20 minutes balling her eyes out to me over you. Because she thinks she’s lost her best friend for good.”

Newt shrunk back in his chair at the Professors words, feeling a flood of remorse as he looked away from the older man and down at your belongings piled neatly in front of him.

Dumbledore sighed when Newt didn’t speak so he pulled a chair around to the other side of him, sitting down to be eye level with him.

“Newt. You know Y/N. You know what she is really like and you know she would never say anything, or rather not say something with the intention of hurting you. You’re acting from a place of fear and hurt, and I think it’s time for you to be brave and put it behind you. You need to talk to her and let her explain herself.”

Newt cringed because he knew the Professor was right, but he still shook his head anyway. “No there’s no way she’ll talk to me now! After the things I’ve said, the way I’ve treated her,” he said sadly.

“Nonsense. Stop making excuses. Take it from me when I tell you it is not often that you meet someone who matches and compliments you on a such a level. You know I generally like to stay out of my students’ relations but I would hate to see you throw away this friendship. A once in a lifetime relationship, Newt.” Dumbledore said honestly, pausing a moment to look at Newt before he continued.

“The ball is tomorrow, Newt. You need to go and make up with Y/N and treat that young lady to the dance of her life.” Dumbledore smiled, getting to his feet and pushing your things into Newt’s arms for him to return to you.

“But I don’t even have any dress robes!”, Newt panicked, looking back at the Professor when he was in the doorway.

Dumbledore snorted in response, moving to his desk to start grading the papers he had sat there “I will organise something, now go.” He said, waving his hand dismissively at the young man.

Newt wandered around the grounds in search of you, growing increasingly worried and impatient when he couldn’t find you anywhere.

Eventually he spotted you across the courtyard and he wanted to scream when Derick was there yet again, standing over you and basically demanding to know why you wouldn’t go to the ball with him.

“I would rather go with my boggart, Drysdale! No! I would rather go with a dementor!”, you finally snapped at the older boy, stepping into his space as the students gathered around you started to laugh.

You turned to leave when Derick grabbed your arm, causing one of your close friends and dorm mates Sarah to push him away “Oh shove off Derick! She’s going with Newt, would you just leave her alone?!” she said as you kept walking away from the boy who was now laughing cruelly.

“Oh! OH! It all makes sense now. You’re going with that freak Salamander. Even you know he’s such a loser, you didn’t even have the guts to tell me.” He sneered and you froze, already halfway across the courtyard away from him.

Newt pressed himself into the corner, hiding out of sight and ignoring the stab of hurt he felt in his stomach as Derick continued to make fun of him for all the other students to hear.

“I can’t really blame you though Y/N I would be embarrassed to go with him too”, Derick said, opening his mouth to continue his tirade and crying out when you flew back towards him and socked him in the mouth before he could continue.

He looked back at you in shock, gripping his face in pain as the other students gasped and Sarah tried to drag you away before a teacher came but you were having none of it as you shrugged the girl off and stood over Derick menacingly, your chest heaving as you glared down at him.

“You’re a scum bag and a bully, Drysdale and I’m sick of you tearing people down and getting away with it just because you’re good at Quidditch!” you shouted angrily, jabbing your finger into his chest, causing the boy to back up. Meanwhile Newt was gaping at you with his eyes about to bug out of his head.

“Even if I wasn’t going with Newt I still wouldn’t go with someone as foul as YOU! The only reason I didn’t tell you about Newt was because I knew you would bully him at any chance you got because you’re a pathetic and horrible cruel person!” you were screaming and livid now as more students gathered around to watch the commotion.

“He is ten times the man you will ever be, and you should be ASHAMED of yourself for ever laying a finger on him or anyone else for that matter. Why are you so insecure in yourself that you feel the need to torture others? Do you have any idea how many people despise you? How many people fear you? Do you WANT to be the reason that some students can’t sleep at night?”

Derick had curled in on himself by now, his face fallen in realisation as he took in your words, hearing the whispers and laughter from the other students. He raised his hand towards you and Newt nearly bolted for you thinking he was going to hurt you but he realised Derick was only trying to offer a signal of peace.

You stared back at Derick’s outstretched hand and gave him one last incredulous look “oh PISS OFF!” you shouted and you stormed off before anyone else could talk to you and Newt scrambled once again to chase after you.

Newt found you sitting outside, looking over the lake while you tore at the grass beneath you like it had personally affronted you. He walked over to you slowly, like he would a wounded creature seeing how everything about you was screaming tension. He sat down next to you silently and set your things from class down in front of him.

“If you’re here about the project I’ve already finished it.” you said flatly, not bothering to look up at him.

Newt winced slightly at your cold greeting, sitting beside you in silence for about a minute, just wanting to flee and avoid the tense interaction but he knew he owed it to you to persevere and fix the situation. He reached over and lay his hand on your knee “Y/N, I’m sorry”, he murmured gently, looking over at you and wishing you’d look back at him.

He bit his lip when you showed absolutely no response, still ripping at the grass below you. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I didn’t give you a chance to explain. But I’m here now and I’d still love to go to the ball with you tomorrow”, he said timidly, his voice growing quieter with each word when you still refused to look at him.

“I’m not going to the stupid ball,” you muttered grumpily, shoving his hand off your knee and turning your back to him, hugging your knees to your chest and shivering involuntarily when the wind picked up.

Newt sighed quietly to himself as he stared at your back, but he heard the slightest change in your tone that told him you were calming down. Slightly.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I was...I was reacting from a place of hurt and I never should have reacted the way I did without giving you a chance to explain yourself. I still want to take you to the ball. I don’t even mind if you still want to be mad at me after it. I’ll even let you jinx me if you want. I’m just asking you to not hate me for one day.”

He spoke slowly and calmly, at some point shrugging off his robes and setting them on your shoulders, smiling slightly when he saw you tighten them around yourself and snuggle into the warmth. “I still don’t wanna go”, you mumbled, your voice muffled from you pressing your face into his robes.

Newt smiled even more when he saw you discreetly breathe in his scent on the still warm material and he noticed how your body gradually relaxed. He took that as his cue to move in next to you, gently tipping your chin upwards until he could look into your eyes “and why’s that?”, he hummed, the amusement dancing in his eyes because he knew full well that you had been dreaming of the ball for months.

You didn’t even realise you were pouting now when you saw the teasing look on Newt’s face. You huffed in annoyance, pushing his hand from your face, “you didn’t even want to go! I don’t want to go with someone who doesn’t want to be there.” You huffed, a light blush slowly starting to work its way up your neck from his simple touch and proximity.

Newt softened again at your response because he could tell you were feeling genuinely insecure about the whole thing. He caught your hand in his own before you could pull away again, taking your other hand in his and holding them both firmly. “I didn’t THINK I wanted to go at first. But then you mentioned it and now I can’t think of anything better than getting dressed up and dancing with my amazing best friend all night. I mean it,” he said, smiling adoringly at you when he saw your own lips pulling up into a small smile.

“I know you must hate me right now and I deserve it, but I promise to make sure you have the best night of your life tomorrow.” Newt murmured, letting out a small ‘oomph’ sound when you suddenly flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him and tucking your face into his shoulder.

“Oh, Newt I could never hate you! I was never going to go with him, I just didn’t want to tell him I was going with you yet because I didn’t want him to hurt you” you murmured, your voice muffled this time into the fabric of his jumper.

Newt nodded in response and chuckled lightly when he could feel your voice against his shoulder. And he wrapped his arms around you in return, gently rubbing your back and hoping you couldn’t hear how his heart was wildly thumping in his chest.

“I saw you earlier with Derick. I’m so sorry I lashed out at you. I can’t believe I ever thought you would do such a thing” Newt said after a while, when you’d both settled back down on the grass, you with your legs sprawled over his lap “I’m sorry I’ve been such a rotten friend to you this week.” He murmured, looking down at his knees in shame.

You shook your head quickly, this time taking his hands in your own “it’s okay Newt, it was just a misunderstanding. You were hurting and you felt betrayed. I probably would have been the same in your place.” You said understandingly, squeezing his hands in your own.

Newt smiled thankfully at you, the swelling bruises on your hand catching his eye and he gently brushed his thumb over your knuckles “does that hurt?”, he murmured, watching you as you flinched slightly and nodded.

“Just a bit”, you whispered back, the blush returning to your cheeks as you watched him lift your hand to his mouth, pressing gentle kisses to each bruise as he held your gaze.

Merlin, he was going to be the death of you.

He paused with his lips against your skin, his face cracking into a wide grin as he laughed, “God I can’t believe you punched Derick Drysdale. In the face.” He smiled, recognising the slight look of guilt in your expression until you recalled what he’d said about Newt and your face darkened again.

“He deserved it.” you grumbled and Newt laughed again, gently helping you to your feet after casting a quick healing charm on your hand. He kept his hold of your hand with your textbooks hoisted up in his other arm as he lead you both back to the Hufflepuff common room, noticing the relieved sighs that came from your dorm friends when they saw that you two had clearly made up.

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

The next evening Newt was waiting nervously at the bottom of the grand staircase, watching all the other students arrive and wander into the decked-out hall arm in arm.

He fidgeted with the collar of the dress robes Dumbledore had managed to get him. He had looked at his reflection and decided he looked surprisingly okay, his unruly hair was slightly more tamed a top his head and the robes fit him well. He just hoped you’d like the corsage he’d painstakingly crafted for you.

He’d spent the day out foraging for the perfect combination of your favourite flowers, even pinning a small matching one to his lapel. His eyes widened when you appeared on the staircase, carefully making your way down to him.

“Merlin’s beard”, he whispered to himself, taking in the way the silky fabric of your dress draped over your body and trailed behind you. He blinked a few times, seriously wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven because you simply had to be an angel.

The way the light fell upon you and the way your hair was pinned back with pieces falling around you face had him flushing warm as he kicked himself out of his stupor and rushed to meet you at the bottom of the stair case, offering you his arm.

You gripped his arm as you moved from the last step, turning to him with a bright smile, both of you reaching for the other at the same time “Newt, you look so handsome!”, you said, gripping his hands in your own as you vaguely noticed the flash of a camera in the distance.

Newt was staring at you stupidly again as he took in the way your eyes shimmered, highlighted by the elegant make up you wore and how kissable your lips looked painted like that. He was shaken from his thoughts again when you squeezed his hands and he grinned back at you, his cheeks pleasantly flushed.

“Y/N, you look so ridiculously incredible”, he said honestly.

It was your turn to blush now as you ducked your head slightly with a bashful giggle and Newt took the chance to take the corsage out from his jacket pocket, gently working it over your hand and onto your wrist. You stared down at the small floral arrangement, your own stomach flipping as you could tell he’d obviously put it together himself as it was all of your favourite flowers. “Oh, Newt thank you, it’s perfect! You could have just bought one like everyone else, I wouldn’t have been upset”, you murmured and pecked a quick kiss to his cheek.

Newt bit his lip and felt his skin tingle where your lips had just been, shaking his head at you as he wrapped his arm around yours and lead you into the hall “only the best for you” he murmured into your ear, feeling slightly intimidated by the way the students from your year were staring at you both.

But as the night wore on his worries washed away and he focused on enjoying the night with you, spinning you around the dance floor and making sure you knew how beautiful you were. He sat down by one of the ice sculptures later that night to rest his feet for a moment, tensing when Derick Drysdale suddenly appeared in front of him.

You leapt to your feet quickly, immediately taking a defensive stance in front of Newt and Newt grabbed your arm, trying to soothe you “Y/N it’s okay”, he murmured quietly for only you to hear, squeezing your hand in his own.

Derick held his hands up quickly in surrender “no I just came to apologise please don’t hit me again” he murmured, his nose swollen and purple in the middle of his face. You only raised an eyebrow at the boy in response, narrowing your eyes at him as he turned to face Newt.

“Newt, I came to apologise. I...I realise Y/N was right and I’ve been a bully when you’ve done nothing at all to deserve it. I know it’s not my right to ask for forgiveness and I can’t expect you to ever grant me that, but I just wanted you to know I am truly sorry for anything I’ve ever said or done to you. I don’t have any excuses for myself I’m sorry.” he said, looking down at his shoes in shame and Newt looked at him in surprise, seeing the genuine remorse on his features.

“And Y/N I’m sorry for harassing you and making you uncomfortable this last week. You’re uh...you’re a really strong and admirable person.” He said awkwardly as you continued to stare at him. “But yeah, I’m really sorry for everything, Newt. I won’t bother you again.”

But you were still not convinced and Newt squeezed your hand again when he saw you about to give Derick a peace of your mind again “thank you Derick”, Newt cut in smoothly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles again and mentally willing you to calm down. “I appreciate the apology, it takes a lot of courage to admit your wrong doings. We can put this behind us.” He nodded, waiting until Derick eventually left before he tugged on your hand, which landed you in his lap rather clumsily.

He chuckled softly and caught you in his arms, smiling fondly up at you “you are so feisty sometimes I swear you’re really a Gryffindor”, he said as you looped your arms around his shoulders and smiled back down at him sheepishly.

“Only when it comes to you”, you murmured, lightly sweeping his hair from his eyes as you relaxed on his lap, not caring in the slightest about the people that were beginning to stare at you.

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

Newt smiled softly at the memories, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand as your children continued looking through the photos.

“And no, we weren’t together. We were just friends then.” you said eventually and your son barked out a laugh, motioning to the photo of you and Newt seeing each other at the staircase for the first time that evening, your hands intertwined and matching smiles on your faces “just friends my ass! You two look like this right now!”, he exclaimed.

His sister nodded furiously in agreement, looking at the next photo that showed you sat in Newt’s lap by a huge ice sculpture with a smile of awe “you look so in love” she cooed, watching the way young Newt tugged on your hand, sending you falling into his lap as you both laughed. The photo had captured Newt catching you in his arms, his arm coming to wrap around your waist as you slung your arms around his shoulders, the two of you lost in each other’s eyes.

“Well yes. I was in love”, Newt hummed, peering over his youngest’ shoulder to see the photograph before he tugged on your hand, pulling you into his lap just like in the photograph, the both of you giggling before you pecked him on the lips softly.

“That right there, was when I vowed to one day marry your mother.” Newt hummed, squeezing your hip when you blushed in response. “And I was just thinking about how your father had the most incredible eyes I’d ever seen.” you countered, and Newt reached out to flick your son across the head when he made dramatic gagging sounds in response.

“You’re the one that asked!” you both exclaimed together.

PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS!

***TITLE: I Am Easy To Find - The National makes me fall apart EVERY. TIME. I MEAN MATT’S VOICE IN THE FINAL CHORUS I’m still standing in the same place Where you left me standing …. There’s a million little battles that I’m never gonna win, anyway I’m still waiting for you every night with ticker tape *** -MASTERLIST HERE-

#newt x reader #newt scamander x reader #newt x y/n #newt scamander #newt scamander x y/n #Newton Artemis Fido Scamander #fantastic beasts and where to find them

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foxofthedesert · 3 years

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So I just finished my 3rd watch thru of Merlin, and yet again am brokenhearted. Not only by Arthur's death and Merlin's grief, but by Morgana's tragic descent into madness. Though I loathed the choice, I always understood why the writers went the direction they did with Morgana. What I did not understand was the way they handled her relationship with Gwen. It just never made any sense to me that Morgana could be so cruel to someone she clearly loved very deeply - even if only in the platonic sense. To me, it seemed like the Morgana that existed at the end of season 2 was replaced by a totally different, inexplicably cruel and insufferably smirky one by the start of season 3.

Still, prophecies need fulfilled and such, and after all it is a fantasy series based on a complicated mythology where Morgana sometimes is portrayed as evil. I just wish it was handled better.

Be that as it may, as a writer I tend to gravitate toward the untold stories within canon. That being the case, Gwen and Morgana's relationship is a natural attraction. I adore their chemistry, which makes them so easy to pair up. Since I am also not necessarily beholden to canon, that means I can imagine whatever the hell I want for them. Such an AU where their potential is realized before Morgause enters the picture to warp Morgana into her father's daughter.

This little piece is part of that. I may or may not add more entries in the future.

As a side note, this was initially supposed to be much shorter, but my fingers wouldn't stop typing words. Silly digits.

Ficlet below the line!

Morgana awoke giggling in an entirely unrefined manner. Her uncharacteristic bubbly mirth, she discovered, was due to a gentle tickling sensation all across her face. Once the wispy haze of sleep was blinked out of her blurry eyes, a familiar shape resolved into an entirely too handsome face wearing such a love-sick expression that her chest reflexively suffused with an affectionate warmth that quickly seeped into her very bones.

“What time is it?” she asked to the person hovering above her, voice still gravelly and slightly slurred from having been roused out of such a deep, blessedly dreamless repose. The pleasant tickling sensation began anew immediately after her half-slurred inquiry, and when she lifted her gaze she was greeted by rich brown eyes she would swear on her life she could live and die in.

“Just after dawn.” The utterly enchanting creature paying her such lovely attention continued to delicately and reverently brush calloused fingertips across the expanse of her jaw. “Sorry I woke you. I meant to let you sleep in a bit longer, I just really couldn’t help myself.”

A pause allowed a full, dusky lip to be pulled rather invitingly between pearly white teeth before her beloved added, “It seems I never can where you are concerned.”

Morgana smiled. A genuine smile, too. Nothing like the false ones she graced her guardian with, full of barely suppressed loathing and rage. Lately she had been consumed by disgust for the man who so many times proclaimed to cherish her, a man who would see her burnt at the stake if he knew who she truly was. Uther Pendragon claimed to be a fair and just king, yet he waged unlawful wars against territories that dared stand up against his brutish rule and relentlessly persecuted innocents whose only crime was to be born different. People like her. People with magic.

Coming to terms with her gifts had cost Morgana both countless nights spent in wakeful torment over horrific visions that plagued her dreams and untold days spent wrestling with throat-clogging anxiety over the possibility of discovery. There were many occasions during that frightening period in which she felt as though tottering precariously over a dark, abyssal chasm at the bottom of which lie only inescapable madness. Every second spent at court was an exhausting exercise in choking down a nauseating terror of the tyrant who held the power of life and death over her and would surely decide upon the latter should he learn the truth about her magic. Meals were a unique form of torture due to the perpetual knot residing in her stomach and every event she would normally revel in was transformed into a dreaded affair during which she could scarcely breathe for the crushing weight resting upon her chest.

Frankly, if it hadn’t been for Guinevere and Merlin she is sure she would have already plummeted headlong into those foreboding depths, right into the waiting arms of a hatred no human heart could withstand without incurring irreparable damage.

If Merlin hadn’t told her the truth about his magic as he lead her to Aglain’s druid camp, the pervasive sense of isolation and desperation worming insidiously through her mind would have inevitably forced her into drastic choices. Even before her magic manifested she had silently nursed treasonous thoughts toward Camelot’s cruel monarch. What might she have done if the walls closed in so tightly on her she felt there was no avenue of escape outside of acting upon those unsavory impulses? It hardly bears thinking about for risk of inviting such evil desires back in to her heart when of all her attributes, it is her heart which makes her most special – or at least that is what Guinevere insists to be the case.

Thankfully, finding a steadfast friend and ally in Merlin had done much to ameliorate the suffocating feeling of helplessness she felt as a member of the court harboring so deadly a secret. With much diligence and patience he was teaching her to control her powers, to harness them for good, and to have faith that better days were ahead for their kind. It was also mostly due to the Merlin’s deceptive wisdom and boundless optimism – and to be fair what reasonable person could resist that impish, dimpled smile? – that she began to view Arthur through a fresh lens.

If she bothered to look deeply, as Merlin insisted, to ignore the chauvinistic bravado and infuriating superiority complex, it was not difficult to recognize Arthur’s innate nobility and compassion that existed despite his monstrous father. And seeing as Merlin was as stubborn as he was convincing, it did not take long for Morgana to accept with a cautiously hopeful heart that with the aid of loyal friends, Arthur had it in him to become to the greatest sovereign Camelot had ever seen, a king who might actually prove himself worthy of the people both common and magical to whom he would be sworn to serve. Of course, she and Arthur still had their mundane squabbles and butted heads frequently over political and legal matters, but in the months since Merlin began her training, Morgana had acquired a new appreciation for the young man who was to her as good as a sibling.

As much as Merlin had done for her, however, it paled in comparison to Gwen’s contributions to her health and happiness.

For as long as Morgana had known Gwen she had held the blacksmith’s daughter in esteem far higher than any Lady should their maidservant. What started out as mutual respect born from shared grief over the loss of a parent soon flowered into genuine friendship. For many years they were the best of friends, each providing for the other a refuge from the storms of life and a confidante more reliable and wise and loyal than could be hired with all of Midas’ gold.

By the time Morgana entered womanhood, her fondness for Gwen had only swelled to become boundless as it was profound. In her eyes, Gwen was the most wonderful person in all the world; none could hope to be her equal in breathtaking beauty, charitable kindness, seemingly endless stores of patience, altogether praiseworthy meekness, a silent strength surpassing steel, or in nearly saintly levels of graciousness. Gwen was the unfailing light to Morgana’s rapidly encroaching darkness, the quickening sun to her deathly pale moon, the Aurora to her Luna. She neither trusted any more deeply as she did Gwen, nor did she desire the company of another so keenly. As a result, they were rarely parted until retiring for bed, and then only by necessity of station. So inextricably attached were they Gwen’s friends often jested that she must have accidentally stitched herself to her lady’s garments at the hip. The noblewomen were not nearly so kind. Some of the more prominent Ladies in the castle questioned the innocence of their arrangement, going so far as to exchange idle speculation which painted them as clandestine devotees of Sappho.

If Morgana could be bothered to care about the rumors, she would have confronted the useless busybodies long ago. But quite frankly, their opinions on her relationship with Gwen mattered for naught seeing as Arthur dismissed them as absurd upon reaching his ears and, beyond even that, Morgana would rather die than provide the snide gossipers ammunition that might serve as tacit confirmation that their unwelcome conjecture was not without merit – which was in fact the case.

All the same, though, she took great pains to prevent them from reaching the ears of the king. Uther already disapproved of their unusual bond and reminded her of such every time she treated Gwen with an ounce of basic human dignity while in his presence. Rather than censure the prejudice as she might have no long ago, Morgana now bore the chastisement with pride. Were it required, she would gladly wear forty stripes upon her skin if that be the price of Gwen’s love. The haughty bigotry of her guardian could never dissuade her from the path her heart had chosen to travel. Gwen was far too precious to ever surrender without a fight, to death if she must.

For what felt like ages, Morgana had believed her feelings would never be reciprocated. And that was perfectly acceptable to her, so long as Gwen remained an integral part of her life. The constant yearning that caused her chest to ache, sometimes almost painfully, was something she could endure so long as Gwen was happy.

That perspective radically transformed the night Gwen’s father died.

The midnight bells sounded in the citadel as Morgana slipped out into the upper town. Her intentions were pure at the time. She had only meant to visit her friend and offer what support she could, no matter the reckless impropriety of her visiting the her maidservant’s home so late at night. Instead, one glimpse of Gwen’s devastation over the pointless tragedy reignited her rage. All too quickly it boiled over, allowing those old, bitter feelings to spill out as impetuous threats of vengeance, and not only on Gwen’s behalf but for all those wronged by the merciless hand of Uther Pendragon. For what felt like hours she railed, heedless of the effect her malicious speech was having on the distraught girl she was supposed to be comforting.

It was only when Gwen – sweet Gwen, kind and thoughtful and selfless to a fault – had been pushed to her limits that Morgana’s perilous vitriol was interrupted.

Casting aside station, Gwen grasped her by the face and made her swear to never utter such dangerous words again.

“My brother has already abandoned me and now both my parents are dead,” Gwen had said, lips quivering and cheeks stained by tears. “I can’t lose you, too. I can’t. I won’t survive it.”

“Of course you would, Gwen. You’re the strongest person I know,” Morgana had replied, grasping reflexively at lean wrists, Gwen’s hands having migrated to the back of Morgana’s neck, thumbs cupped round the front of her ears. It was the first time she had been embraced so intimately, and if it weren’t for her anger she most certainly would have shivered with excitement at the surprisingly welcome contact.

“I’m not,” Gwen had half-sobbed, voice hoarse from hours surrendered to grief. “I’m only standing at all right now because the person I love most in all the world is here with me.”

Morgana hadn’t understood the nature of that declaration at first. Not until Gwen tucked her lip between her teeth, her nostrils flared with what could not be misinterpreted as anything but raw want, and her eyes went impossibly dark. A sharp gasp of realization was all Morgana could manage as a response, so stunned was she that her most secretive and treasured wish was being fulfilled.

But when Gwen nodded, chest heaving with emotion, despair and fear warring with adoration in her eyes, Morgana could no longer contain herself. Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle fused together, revealing the explanation as to why a simple smile from Gwen was able to chase away the storm clouds gathering above her head, or why Gwen’s chiming laughter kicked up butterflies in her stomach and a captivating warmth in her chest, or why even the most airy of touches from Gwen left a wake of goose-flesh in her skin. It wasn’t just love. It was destiny.

In retrospect, Morgana probably should have been as if not more terrified of crossing that final, socially forbidden line between mistress and servant, friend and lover, than she was of being magical. The thing of it was, the only relevant factors in that moment was Gwen willingly offering of herself more than she probably should and Morgana being selfish enough to accept.

They made love that night beneath Gwen’s threadbare sheets, and it was glorious, just as Morgana had imagined it would be.

All of their sorrows and anxieties and animosities drifted away like dandelion seeds upon a crisp summer breeze. Cliches regarding such unions suddenly made sense. Somewhere along the journey that began by laving the stiffened peak of a pert breast then languidly progressed into nestling her face into the delicate, aromatic flower situated between smooth bronze legs, she lost all sense of self. It was as if with each bruising kiss, playful nibble, and greedy draw with open mouth, she and Gwen were merging into one being. Gwen’s throaty noises and keening pleas reverberated through her every muscle fiber, down even into the very marrow of her bones. Gwen’s intoxicating flavor permeated her senses until it was all she could taste or smell. And Gwen’s gratification became hers as her hand slipped beneath her ridiculously extravagant undergarments to relieve the desperate pressure upon a mound so slick with arousal that the sound of her feverish rubbing was positively obscene.

Mere heartbeats after Gwen went taut with a silent scream, stars exploded behind Morgana’s eyes as the most exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain engulfed her mind and set her nether regions aflame. Spent and unable to control her trembling limbs, she collapsed across Gwen’s heaving chest. Strong arms immediately wrapped around underneath her arms to pull her in tight, and as she buried her nose in the damp curls at Gwen’s neck, all she could do was weep, utterly overcome by an unspeakable joy she understood without needing to ask was fully mutual. They fell asleep like that, Morgana stretched across Gwen, encased in an embrace that felt like a subconscious announcement of a claim upon her, heart and soul and body, something she not only welcomed but reveled in.

Wonderful thoughts about publicly belonging to Gwen lulled Morgana into a peaceful sleep that went markedly undisturbed.

In the pale light of morning she was still so drunken upon pure, heady, all consuming bliss to realize she would be missed if she did make an appearance in the castle. Had Gwen not pointed that out, she would have been more than glad to spend the entire day wrapped around her new lover, discovering every last spot that made Gwen’s toes curl ‘til the girl was too exhausted to move the tiniest muscle.

Alas, the constraints of reality marshaled both of them to action, and so once they had dressed, they sneaked carefully into the castle by auxiliary corridors during the changing of the guard. By only the slimmest of margins, they slipped into her chambers just as the fresh patrol rounded the corner in their direction. Once inside, the thrill of the close call and euphoria over their consummated love invigorated Morgana into a passion she could not ignore. Overcome by a need – more like an almost maddening hunger really – to touch, smell, and taste every delicious inch of the skin she had feasted upon last night, she unceremoniously dragged a breathless, ruddy cheeked Gwen straight over to her bed.

After that thorough christening, they lingered together in a tangle of limbs, both sated and happy. At least until the sound of Camelot’s awakening resounded through the chambers from the courtyard below and with it the first doubts crept in. Morgana could recall the subsequent conversation as though it had just happened.

***************

“I should see to my duties directly,” Gwen had said, immediately rustling to exit the bed upon hearing Arthur’s booming voice rattle down the hallway, clearly a response to the latest in an endless string of mistakes by his loyal yet tragically clumsy manservant.

Morgana hadn’t wanted to turn loose quite yet, so she tightened hold around Gwen’s waist, halting the undesired escape.

“They can wait,” she replied between leisurely kisses trailed up a shapely arm. “The laundry isn’t going anywhere, nor is the evening gown that needs mending. Stay with me a while longer.” She paused to nuzzle into Gwen’s shoulder. “Stay with me forever.”

Rather than struggle, Gwen melted the embrace. “You know that is all I wish for. I love you, Morgana. More than anything. But…”

“But what?”

“What if someone catches us?”

Morgana scoffed, having missed the long term nature of the question in addition to the concern pouring off of Gwen in waves she should not have missed. It was not her finest moment. She hadn’t meant to be insensitive, though. The idea had just seemed so preposterous at the time because she had thought Gwen was only speaking about the present.

“Who would be so bold as to enter my chambers without permission?” she had said. “Not even Uther at his most disrespectful would dare venture such a trespass. We are entirely safe here. No need to worry your pretty head.”

Gwen shifted in Morgana’s arms then so that they were face to face. “I do, though. Worry that is. And I have to ask: why aren’t you?”

“Why should I be? For that matter why should you be?” Morgana replied. And then she met Gwen’s eyes. Large, and impossibly dark, and unmistakably upset.

All of the sudden it was impossible for Morgana to ignore how frightened Gwen really was. In response, her stomach twisted almost painfully and her heart fell as the happy bubble she had been floating in abruptly burst.

What in all the world, she wondered in a moment of regrettable obliviousness, had Gwen afraid of them being caught? Her brow furrowed as deeply as it ever had as she mulled around potential causes.

Certainly they were going to have to be careful in the future to avoid exposure, she reckoned, but Gwen was as fully cognizant that there were more perilous secrets both were currently keeping. Morgana’s ability to pull the wool over Uther’s eyes was well established, and no one else besides the two of them had unfettered access to her chambers. Besides all that, Morgana knew every nook and cranny of the citadel and was able to slip out and into the upper town undetected at will, of which Gwen was also very well aware. So there had to be more to it. But what?

Only one other possibility occurred to her, and it was the one she least wanted to entertain. And yet...

“Unless you regret what has transpired between us?” she asked at length, unable to disguise her own fear, which manifested through a faint trembling in her voice. “No!” Shaking her head fervently, Gwen grasped Morgana’s face much as she did the night before. “Not even for a second. I’ve lost so much, and I have much to regret, but not this. This is the best thing to ever happen to me. I just…”

Again Gwen trailed off, her hands retreating to clasp together against her mouth. And although Morgana’s anxiety had quieted with Gwen’s reassurance, there was clearly something still bothering her.

“Just what?” Morgana prompted, then reached out to stroke Gwen’s hair. “I hate seeing you so twisted up. Tell me. Please.”

A single, contrite nibble of a kiss-stung lip later, Gwen averted her eyes and gave her answer, “Don’t you wonder, even just for a second in the back of your mind, if what we did was wrong?”

Morgana very nearly sighed in relief. This was a problem she could easily remedy, as it was a one she had wrestled with for years only for Merlin’s simple yet profound worldview to unexpectedly resolve.

During the incident where Gwen was accused of using sorcery to heal her father, he had stumbled upon Morgana beside herself after a visit to Gwen’s cell. In her anxiety and grief she had confessed to having feelings for her handmaiden that although unseemly nonetheless had taken hold of her. Where she had expected disgust, she was instead given only understanding and compassion. In that endearingly provincial way of his, Merlin ensured her that love – if true and pure and unselfish, which he insisted hers for Gwen surely was – could never be wrong.

Morgana had felt something turn loose inside her at Merlin’s easy acceptance, as if her heart had been tied into a knot being slowly and perpetually tightened. Breathing became a relief once again. And as she learned to accept herself the way Merlin did, she began to hope that perhaps one day in the future a door would open for her to act upon her feelings without destroying what she and Gwen already shared. She could not have anticipated Tom’s death being the impetus for her to do so. Yet as awful as his tragic death was, it birthed something so infinitely precious that Morgana would never cease being grateful. And if only for the memory of that kind, thoughtful, patient man, she would never stop fighting for the love she shared with her beloved Guinevere.

“Gwen,” she had said, unsuccessfully vying for her conflicted love’s attention. Twice more she called Gwen’s name, and after receiving no response pushed up slightly on her elbow. “Look at me, Guinevere.” When large, uncertain eyes, brimming with tears, met hers, she leaned over so that she could press her forehead against Gwen’s. “We have done nothing wrong. Do you hear me? If you trust me, if you love me as you assert to, believe me when I say this. Something so wonderful and beautiful and perfect could never be anything less than rightly divine.”

***************

That phrase that swiftly became Morgana’s favorite answer to Gwen’s occasional concerns. The world at large, and most definitely those housed within the vaunted halls of Camelot’s citadel, would most certainly view their relationship as wicked and immoral and perverse. If that was indeed the case, Morgana did not believe she ever wanted to be either innocent or righteous. Their love was wonderful, and beautiful, and perfectly divine; an immutable fact which Morgana was determined to never allow either of them to forget.

No doubt lurked within Gwen’s eyes this morning, however, only unadulterated affection. And that made Morgana exceedingly joyful indeed.

“I understand what you mean,” Morgana at last said after escaping that precious memory. She sighed contentedly and shuttered her eyelids as yet another reverent brush of fingers smoothed along the crest of her chin. And while the diligent attention felt incredible, she grew increasingly curious why Gwen’s focus appeared to have narrowly fixated on that one specific region of her face.

“What’s the matter?” Gwen said after a bit of easy silence.

“What makes you think something’s the matter?” Morgana replied, still basking in the glow of Gwen’s magical touch.

“You have that telltale crease between your brow which means something is bothering you.”

This time Morgana opened her eyes. “I’m not bothered, merely at a loss as to why you suddenly find my chin so hypnotizing.”

Gwen sucked at her lip momentarily as if weighing whether to answer before a crooked smile bloomed across her handsome features.

“Well, not just your chin, but if you must know it’s all these little hairs…” And then she stroked Morgana’s chin again, this time allowing her fingers to feather over said hairs all the way down her jawline.

“Are you saying my face is hairy, Gwen?” Morgana asked, frowning as a thread of hurt pulled taut.

As should be obvious, she didn’t appreciate it pointed out that her alabaster skin failed to conceal what otherwise would have been a nearly invisible coat of fine hairs that covered all humans male and female alike. Arthur teased her about it relentlessly when she was a blossoming teenager, and even now some of the noble ladies who envied her would snidely comment upon how it clearly indicated that she was a witch destined for a life of barren unhappiness.

Up til now, Gwen had made no mention of that peculiar feature and Morgana would be lying if she claimed she wasn’t wounded that it would be brought up only now that they were in an intimate situation.

“No!” Gwen’s eyes went wide as the full moon. “No, not at all! I mean...well, yes, it sort of is.” A huffed breath of remorse followed Morgana’s gasp of offense. “Not that it’s a bad thing! I swear I meant no insult. I have some too, after all. It’s just less visible because of my skin tone probably. And don’t worry! It’s nothing like Lady Johanna’s fledgling beard. Not even close. On the contrary, they’re so tiny and delicate and wispy and soft, and I really am utterly obsessed with them because they are part of you and you are perfect, so they are also perfect by extension, and I just can’t get over how adorable they are, and I am currently babbling like a lunatic with zero manners. I am so sorry, milady.”

At the end of that adorable ramble, Gwen’s shoulders hunched in as her cheeks darkened and she yet again sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Any insult Morgana felt evaporated as quickly as it formed. How could she be upset with such an enchanting creature?

Reaching across Gwen’s waist, she pulled her abashed lover down until they were flush, skin to skin from shoulders to hips.

“Oh, Gwen, there is nothing to be sorry for,” she said, legs instinctively parting as Gwen’s familiar weight settled against her. “My reaction is habit, I’m afraid, due to Arthur’s derisive mocking. It’s actually quite nice to hear a compliment for a change.”

“Are you sure you’re not cross with me? I’d understand if you were…”

No one with a functioning soul could be cross with those doe eyes staring at them, Morgana decided. She danced her fingers with lighthearted mirth across Gwen’s cheeks and over the ridge of her nose.

“Nonsense, sweetling. It’s no different than me admiring your freckles.”

Gwen’s features relaxed into a flattered smile. “You like my freckles?”

“Like them? I love them! How could I not? It’s like you said, they are a part of you, and you are perfect, therefore they are perfect by extension.”

In response, Gwen gave her an appreciative little smile before arresting her hand to place a kiss upon the inside of her wrist.

“So you won’t mind to be awakened like that again should I fail to curb my weird fascination?”

“Only if you won’t should I wake you by mapping the stars written across your cheeks,” Morgana said, then returned Gwen’s tactile affection with some of her own by again acting out her words with her own fingers. She was pleased when Gwen leaned in to the touch.

“I promise I won’t. I think I’d quite fancy that, actually.”

“Then I promise, too. And if you’re a good girl today, perhaps I will indulge your fancy tomorrow morning.”

“Well, then, I’d better get to work, hadn’t I?”

Eyes flashing with eager anticipation, Gwen threw the covers aside and made to get out of bed – a development Morgana was not prepared to authorize. Not only was she of a mind to lounge abed and cuddle away another hour or two, all of Camelot was blanketed in snow and she was loathe to be deprived of Gwen’s heavenly body...heat.

“Now, now,” Morgana tugged at Gwen, almost desperate with a need to curl right back into Gwen’s warmth and never move again while hoping she sounded at least somewhat the dignified noblewoman she was supposed to be. “Don’t be so hasty. Have you forgotten yourself and your duties to your lady? I haven’t yet had my good morning kiss.”

Gwen tumbled back into bed giggling merrily. “For shame! I have failed my lady most unforgivably. I shall rectify the trespass immediately.”

“See that you do, Guinevere, and promptly,” Morgana said, her eyes twinkling as her own merriment curved her lips into a smile. “As you know, your lady does not appreciate being made to wait.”

After a deliberately silly half-curtsy, Gwen draped herself across Morgana’s body, and once settled whispered her reply against Morgana’s already tingling lips.

“My lady’s wish is my command.”

The brief peck that followed was not enough for Morgana. Fingers winding into dark curls, she pulled Gwen into a much more passionate kiss, which lead to another, and another, until the embrace quickly evolved into tangling tongues and undulating hips. Soon enough, Gwen’s head was disappearing beneath the sheets and Morgana was having to recall how to breathe due to the magnificently excruciating pleasure coursing through her loins.

And that was how she came to be late for her first appointment of the morning, where she was relentlessly lectured about the importance of punctuality over manchet, eggs, sausage, and apples sprinkled with cinnamon. It was worth it, though. Her giddy grin throughout breakfast only made Arthur more bewildered and Uther more angry.

#bbc merlin #gwen #morgana #morgwen

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