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where-dreamers-go · 10 months

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"Emotions Ignite" Dick Grayson x Reader

(A/N: And we’re back to the 1960s Dick Grayson soulmate au. This is Part 3 after Part 1: Emotions Read and Part 2: Scattered Emotions. We get to see what else is happening in their lives when they want to keep things private. Also what happens when Reader is ready to tell their guardian the news.

Warnings: Angst. Reader has social anxiety. Dick Grayson is the sweetest person ever. Fluff. Use of (Y/N), (Y/L/N), (mx).

Word Count: 6,914 words)

~~~

A night in Gotham City could bring the unexpected. Some unwanted and some thought provoking.

Standing quietly, Dick Grayson’s cheeks grew warm.

On the other side of the door, he knew you were there feeling the same incredibly soft emotion that made him want to embrace you just one more time. Spend another moment in complete peace.

How could visiting you to share good news turn so tender and sweet?

Holy soulmates.

✧ ✧ ✧

A light rain sprinkled over Gotham City and its inhabitants. Pattering of rain struck the window as you sat in the study.

For once, you were home. No events or studying in sight. What a sweet relief.

It only took a whole week.

You had already visited the manor for a homework session and was immediately pulled into an hug by Mrs. Cooper. Most of your time spent there involved being cooed at by Mrs. Cooper and linking pinky fingers with Dick atop of the couch cushion. An extra sense of comfort. Surely it helped with the fluttering and zapping of emotions you had no right name for that zipped between you two.

Each time he had smiled, you tried not to think about the spontaneous kiss you gave him on the cheek. It was a sweet gesture. A ‘thank you’ of sorts. You only wished you had asked first. That or thought before you acted.

Continuing to listen to the rain, you enjoyed your solitude. Some amount of uninterrupted peace.

On the outside at least.

You had been avoiding the inevitable. Your guardian still didn’t know about the soulmate discovery. Hiding what was becoming a major part of your life was going to tire you out. Plus, you never knew if it could get you out of a social outing in the future. It was good to think ahead. Well, sometimes.

You sighed.

I really need to tell them. It’s been over a month. You thought. It might look obvious at some point. Maybe. Who knows.

Some where indoors your guardian went about their day.

There were no physical obstacles preventing you from speaking with them that day. Only yourself.

You took another breath.

Perhaps an amount of motivation was in order.

Tiptoeing your way over to the desk, you sat down and grabbed the telephone.

I’ve never used this so much in my life.

You rung up the Wayne Manor. A number you made sure to memorize.

Alfred answered the phone. Polite as always.

“Hi, Alfred. It’s (Y/N). How are you?”

“Hello, (mx) (Y/N). I am well today. Thank you. And yourself?”

“Honestly…a little nervous because I want to talk to my guardian about you-know-what.”

“Ah, yes.”

“So, I was hoping to hear any amount of encouragement if anyone was willing….because I’m really nervous.”

“Ah. If I may? You mustn’t hold back from sharing such wonderful news when there is nothing to suggest an ill outcome.” Alfred said softly. “No matter what happens, good or otherwise, please know that we are here for you.”

“No matter what happens?” You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“We will be here,” he repeated.

“Thank you, Alfred. Seriously.”

“You are most welcome.”

“Now I just have to say it when they’re not busy. Wish me luck?”

“I wish you all the luck in the world, (mx) (Y/N).”

“Thank you. I’ll call once I tell them. Don’t know when, but definitely today.”

“Then I shall await your call.”

“I hope you have a great day, Alfred.”

“And to you as well.”

“Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

You hung up the phone and exhaled.

I can do this.

It was the day to be brave and proud. To share what made you happy. So incredibly joyful each morning when you remembered him. Your friend and soulmate.

If anything, pretend you’re ripping off a bandage. We’re doing this. Maybe we can have him over for a real visit.

✧ ✧ ✧

Later that evening, practically night, Dick Grayson sat alone in the Wayne Manor. A book in hand and his patience high.

He waited for your inevitable call.

Well, he waited as patient as he could manage given his need to know how everything went ever since Alfred told him what you were planning.

It was good then that he and Bruce had been out of the manor most of the afternoon. He wasn’t so sure what to make of your emotions. They were almost tangled together, unreadable. Layered by nerves.

Sitting in Bruce Waynes’s office gave enough quiet. Dick was reading a fiction novel you gave him. Something that kept most of his attention.

He would trust any book recommendations from you from that point on. At least give any a try.

Judging a book by its cover was something he was still working to do less of.

If I would had judged (Y/N) on first glance, I never would have guessed they were so fun to be around. Or so smart and kind! Dick thought as he held the novel over his knee. I wonder what it’ll be like going to an event with them. Like an exhibition opening or something. Hopefully more fun.

Once more, the story caught his attention. His mind creating images of daring landscapes. That was until Alfred’s voice and presence caused him to drop the book and speed out of the room.

Holding the phone to his ear, Dick practically shouted into the mouth piece. He could feel his excitement near yours.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hey, you. Guess what I finally did?”

“You drew a picture of Pluto?” He joked, much too giddy.

“What? No,” you laughed. “I told my guardian that you and I are soulmates.”

“What did they say?”

“It was positive, but quick story first.”

“Okay.”

This’ll be good. They’re relieved.

“So, obviously, I had to wait because they were doing paperwork and bills and an important phone call. Dinner too because what if they choked or something?”

“Right.”

“But I made sure we were both sitting down calmly with no distractions and I told them plain and simple: ‘Dick Grayson and I are soulmates’. And they squealed so loud, that I fell on the floor.”

“You fell?”

“Yeah. To be fair, they startled me. I didn’t expect that.”

He chuckled lightly.

“So I asked, ‘Is that good?’ Just to be sure and they were all: ‘I can’t believe it!’ Their voice was higher as they clapped. Actually clapping and said, ‘It happened!’ Meanwhile, mind you, I was still on the floor and covering my ears. They eventually noticed and continued to say random things.”

“But they’re happy,” Dick added in.

“Yes. Everything’s fine. And I asked them not to tell anyone. Obviously.”

“Good. I’m really happy you were able to tell them.”

“Me too. One less thing in the back of my mind.”

He heard movement on your end and figured you were in the study.

“But how have you been?” You asked, cheerful. “I couldn’t really tell what your emotions were.”

“I’ve been well. Nothing too exciting. Aunt Harriet was helping me practice to play the piano, I had plenty of homework this week, I lifted weights at school, and Aunt Harriet prepared shrimp the other day. It was delicious.”

“You lift weights?”

“I do. The coach is there to spot me.”

“Huh.” You paused for a moment. “Piano isn’t a surprise. But I pictured you as a runner. A climber maybe.”

“You did?”

“You’re always so busy. How else do you get everything done?”

Goodness, did he know you had a point. Dick was always doing something. It was rare for him to do otherwise.

“Do you run?” Dick asked.

“If the occasion calls for me to run. Yes,” you laughed lightly. “Or when the timer on the oven goes off.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“I have to save the cookies.”

A chuckle rumbled out of him. He could imagine you scrambling around furniture to reach the kitchen. The image was only missing comedic sound effects.

“Burnt cookies are very…hard to miss.”

“Do you bake?” He questioned; interested in learning more about you. Any hobbies.

“If we have the ingredients.”

“True.” He nodded.

What kind of cookies have they made? The cookies must be great!

“Would you like to bake something one day? In the future, with me?”

Your question was unexpected to the youth. Yet it was nowhere near unwanted.

“It would be a learning experience, but I would have fun with you,” he said. “I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Uh. I guess…it’s just a first reaction. I like making sure regardless. I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t lie like that.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Dick scrunched up his face. He wondered who in the past had lied to you about how they felt or how they wanted to spend time with you. It made him a little crestfallen.

Who would do such a thing to you? To someone?

“I really like spending time with you,” Dick said in earnest.

“Me too—with you—spending time with you is my favorite part of the day. I mean, when we’re together. But the phone counts too.”

The speed of which you spoke sent Dick leaning against the wall. A soft smile on his lips. He could imagine your own smile and your eyes looking anywhere except at him.

“What was your second favorite part of your day?”

“The Pluto cartoon.” You answered without hesitation.

“Pluto? So he was involved with your day.”

“Yeah. He found another wild animal that wants to be his friend. It’s cute and I love the colors they use. It’s my little break from the world.”

“You deserve a break.”

“Thank you. Finally someone who sees that.”

Lowering his voice, Dick muttered, “I would know either way.” He took a breath. “I’ve felt it for years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologize for emotions. Golly, (Y/N), being able to feel your emotions means you’re there.”

And I need that.

Both lines were quiet. Words hung in the air.

The youth was bold enough to formulate his feelings into words. Having you know even an ounce of how much you meant to him was unavoidable. An empowered choice.

Dick Grayson had heard you apologize numerous times for little things. Apologizing for feeling should not be one of them. It was a part of life.

“I apologize for a lot of stupid stuff.” You murmured.

“It’s not stupid,” Dick chided. “You care for a lot of things. That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Your response was timid, but receptive.

“I wish more people were like you.”

No response.

Without visuals to assist, the ward turned his attention inwards.

An emotion radiated from the chest to the very tips of toes, fingers, and everywhere between. Your springing happiness brought another smile to Dick’s face.

A relief and a delight for certain.

“What am I suppose to say to that?”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“Goodness.”

He made note of how you reacted to his openness. A part of him considered doing so more often, if only to sense your happiness.

From your end of the call, Dick could barely make out a voice.

“Okay. Hey, Dick, I gotta go.” You announced disappointedly.

“Alright. I hope you have a good day at school tomorrow.”

“You too. And hey, don’t strain yourself lifting weights.”

“I won’t. Don’t tire yourself out studying.”

“Nah. I think I’ll go to the library and lift books. I’m sure the librarian would love that.”

He shook his head, amazed again by your humor and spin of words.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight and sweet dreams,” you said.

Soft fireworks fizzed in his chest. A wide smile spread across his face as he replied, “Sweet dreams.”

Dick Grayson hung up the phone. The space around him was quiet for the night. The opposite of his mind.

With the smile still present, he sighed audibly. He wished he could talk to you every day.

In person, Dick thought, would be best.

✧ ✧ ✧

Dawn approached and Gotham City prepared for another fruitful day.

After the night’s phone call, you had woken up in an exceptionally good mood. An emotion that was reflected by your soulmate.

You had imagined Dick somewhere in the manor smiling to himself and brushing his hair in just the right style. Not a hair out of place.

With high hopes for the day ahead, you had a bounce in your step. There were no quizzes, tests, nor essays to be minded. A smooth day would be nothing short of appreciated.

Yet not all days go as expected. Something was off. Something that could very well change your day for the worse.

Each hurried step brought you closer to your next class. If only the time would tick faster.

At school, you weren’t oblivious to the change.

People, both students and staff, were looking at you. No short glances.

It made you on alert and your skin crawl.

You could not wait to be home. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to eat lunch.

Just make it through English and find a quiet spot for lunch. One thing at a time. That’s all, you thought. Maybe it’s ink on my face.

Sitting at your desk, you kept to yourself.

The day’s lesson would start soon. However, not soon enough.

“Is it true?” A student asked from the desk to the left of yours.

“What?” You asked and opened a notebook.

“That Bruce Wayne’s ward is your soulmate.”

Someone knew! How could that be?

No words left you. How were you supposed to respond when the room grew increasingly warm?

“Hello?”

“I—…. Where did you hear that?” You questioned, watching them closely.

“My boyfriend’s friend overheard the science teachers talking about you and how you found out the ward is your soulmate.” They grinned and asked further. “How’d you know? Did you bump into him at some gala or something?”

“No…”

Technically, you hadn’t been at a gala nor did you physically run into Dick Grayson.

How could you slip out of the conversation? It was too late to turn back. Another two students were listening in.

“How’d you know it was him?” A student sitting in front of you asked.

“He’s my friend,” you muttered.

“Before or after?”

Your arms tensed. “Why is anyone asking?”

“(Y/N)’s trying to avoid answering,” someone added in.

“It’s fine. Half the school probably knows by now.” They shrugged as the bell rang.

Half the school.

Eyes and attention turned elsewhere. The teacher headed to the front of the classroom.

You wanted to seek shelter underneath a blanket.

A month should be good, you thought.

No one else was supposed to know.

You refrained from conjuring up scenarios in your mind of all the ways you could leave early. It would only add to your distress.

You wanted to cry. Simply hide and run through emotions for as long as you needed.

I wanna go home. You curled in to yourself.

✧ ✧ ✧

Just outside of Gotham City, inside of the Wayne Manor, young Dick Grayson was not having much luck in his day either. Word traveled further than one school.

Dark shoes crossed the cream colored carpet as Dick restarted his pacing.

Dick had returned from school. His mind going a mile a minute. He was sure that steam could be coming out of his ears.

Word had gotten out that Dick Grayson found his soulmate.

While at school, he overheard students gossiping how they were surprised he found his and teased how he probably didn’t even spend time with his soulmate because he was always studying. They spoke of you without even knowing your name. Without a care if their words were true.

It’s not fair, Dick thought. It’s none of their business. I can’t even imagine what (Y/N)’s heard at school.

Dick knew you were having just as bad a day as he was with people spreading the news. Every jolt of fear and crumbling piece of dread, he felt it all through your bond.

If he could had hid you both in the manor’s couch, he would. Surround yourselves with books, cookies, pillows, and good music. Keep you close and safe. Away from prying eyes and unwanted opinions. Only two. A secluded place of peace.

Stopping in the middle of the room, Dick clenched his fists.

“This is exactly whey we didn’t want anyone else knowing. People make up stories about what soulmates do without even thinking.” Dick frowned. “It’s not that rare for someone to find their soulmate, is it?”

From where Bruce Wayne sat on the coffee table, he remained calm and level-headed.

“It’s not normally spoken openly for us to know a direct answer. That is also why having the knowledge of soulmates knowing they found one another spread quickly, such as in your case, is uncommon.”

“Great,” Dick groaned sarcastically.

“People are interested for now. It will not be long before something else catches their attention.”

“And what do we do until then? Wait? It’ll be the only thing we’ll be thinking about.”

“I am sorry you have to face this alone at school. I wish there was something I could do.”

“Gosh, it’s not your fault.”

The youth’s shoulders dropped. His hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

What was there for young Dick Grayson to do?

Deep in thought, Bruce Wayne tapped his finger on his chin.

“Regardless of how people found out; you and (Y/N) should see each other soon.”

“And hide from everyone?”

“Preferably not. Unless you two wish to stay out of range from more gossip.”

Blowing out hot air, Dick looked elsewhere in the room.

Who would tell so many people? Dick wondered. (Y/N) must hate every second of this. Golly, I hope they don’t decide to stop visiting or answering the phone. They hardly like the phone to begin with.

“Master Dick.” Alfred stood beside the youth with a tray. “For contemplation.”

What? Dick glanced over curiously.

A tall glass of ice cream piled high. One long dessert spoon waiting.

“Oh.” He took the items gratefully.

Smiling in hopes that the young man could ease some of his negative emotions, the loyal butler nodded.

“Thanks, Alfred.” Dick sat down on the couch to eat.

“You’re welcome, Master Dick.” Alfred held the tray under his arm. “There is still no word on the origin of this preposterous gossip. I’m sad to report.”

“It’s quite alright, Alfred, thank you. Answers have a way of showing themselves.” Mister Wayne said.

Hopefully sooner.

Alfred walked out quietly.

Relishing in the taste of ice cream cooled down the ward. A perfect treat for a disgusting school day.

(Y/N) should be home or close to it. They might have figured out who blabbed. Or found out. He thought between spoonfuls of deliciousness. (Y/N) will want to stay in their room because of this.

Concern for his soulmate kept Dick thinking ahead.

“Is there anything else we could do? (Y/N) and I. Something fun.”

Anything besides homework.

Admitting to the truth in what other students were saying left Dick Grayson fuming inside. Yes, he mainly did something educational with you. There were no parties or trips. Not even a purchase of fries. Nothing too personal.

“There are plenty of activities the pair of you could partake in. Whether here or in the city; you have the choice.”

“Holy headache. There are so many options.”

To remain in the manor or venture out in Gotham City again with you. What choices indeed.

“How about you start with milkshakes? That way you can enjoy one another’s company, talk, and get to know one another more. Have fun together.”

Heels clicked across the floor before a huff announced Aunt Harriet’s entrance.

“When I find out who started this, they’ll hear from me.”

Bruce and Dick shared a look of slight intimidation.

✧ ✧ ✧

Late afternoon heat still clung to you as you shut the front door.

You let out a huge sigh of relief.

Finally. Home, you thought and walked further inside.

“Did you have a good day at school?” Your guardian questioned over the pages of a magazine.

“No.”

They inched their magazine down and asked, “How come?”

“Because everyone at school knows Dick Grayson and I are soulmates. They were—.”

Dropping the magazine down, your guardian growled, “That big mouth.”

Heat surged through your body. Eyes narrowing in on the only other person.

“Did you tell?” Your tone teetered between surprised and angered.

They looked at you as if you suddenly asked their opinion on penguins.

“Did you tell someone I found my soulmate?”

“I only told my cousin. They were talking all about how their niece is traveling Europe and about all the photographs she’s sent. So I told them you’re soulmates with Bruce Wayne’s war—.”

“Why would you do that?”

They brushed the magazine aside. “I don’t appreciate the tone you’re giving me. Knock it off.”

“You promised not to tell. Why would you tell anyone?”

“They’re my cousin. Lower your voice.”

“And I had the whole school staring at me all day and asking questions and interested in what I’m doing. I felt like people were coming after me! No one would leave me alone!” You cried. “I didn’t want to be there. I’ve been sick to my stomach all day. I don’t want to go back—.”

“You’re going to school tomorrow.” They stated firmly. “And I’m not the one who spread the news and had it go all to your school. Now, drop it.”

“You still broke your promise.” You started towards your bedroom.

I shouldn’t have told them, you thought.

✧ ✧ ✧

Back in Wayne Manor, young Dick Grayson answered the telephone in a rush.

“Hello?”

“Dick Grayson, you are the best person in my life right now and I need to vent.” You murmured into the phone.

“Oh, okay. Are you alright?”

He figured you were in the study again. Some place quiet.

“No. My day still stinks.” You announced. “My guardian told their cousin and now most of Gotham City knows we’re soulmates.”

“They told?” Dick’s voice raised in alarm.

How could they?

His chest tightened as he heard you sniffling.

“It’s been less than forty-eight hours. There’s no excuse for what they did. They promise.” You exhaled. “I shouldn’t have forced myself to tell them. Deep down, I probably knew.”

“It’s not your fault,” he reminded you.

Inside, he could still feel your emotions tearing you apart.

“Yeah, but my friends dumped question after question at lunch. They felt left out, I guess. But they’re determined to get others to leave me alone.” You informed him. “One was shouting in the hall.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, how many times do people have to ask or say ‘Bruce Wayne’s ward’? You have a name.”

“I don’t really care what they call me.”

“I do.”

“I know,” he said softly.

At least their friends are supportive, he thought in relief. (Y/N) needs a break.

Dick Grayson stood taller with the phone in hand. Ready to start changing their relationship—adding to it. Fun.

“Are you busy Saturday?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so,” you answered. “Why?”

“Would you like to go have milkshakes with me? There’s a place in town.”

“Yeah. That sounds great.” You voice had perked up. “Too bad Saturday isn’t tomorrow.” A drop of sorrow yanked it all down again.

“Do you need anything?” He asked.

You sighed and answered, “Time away from this chaos. Dinner is going to be tense.”

“Your guardian knows you’re upset with them?”

“Yes, but more so that I raised my voice.”

“You’re in trouble?” He asked, shocked.

“Yup.”

“That’s not right!”

“I know. Can’t do anything about it,” you muttered. “Can’t wait until Saturday.”

“Me either.”

It was to be more than an outing away from schoolwork. Meaningful. Time needed to get away from stressors. Away from people who saw you through a different lens, discolored and unclear.

“I miss you,” you whispered.

Air caught in his throat. A constricting sadness as he stood miles from you.

“I miss you too.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Please call if you need anything. Even to talk. I’m—we’re here.”

“Okay.” You sniffled again. “I might just make something quick for dinner and be officially done with the day.”

“Alright. Take care.”

“You too.”

“Sweet dreams,” Dick added. “I’ll see you Saturday. I’ll call you beforehand.”

“Sweet dreams of Saturday.”

“I hope so. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Dick Grayson hung up the phone in a dispirited state.

For one; he knew who opened their mouth about soulmates. Knowing it was your guardian and there was no apology in sight lit a fire in him.

A promise broken. Trust possibly misplaced. Gotham City knew one of Dick Grayson’s secrets.

What could happen next?

Surely, your guardian wouldn’t keep you from seeing your soulmate for being upset.

Only time would tell.

✧ ✧ ✧

A quiet Saturday morning inside your bedroom and all was well. No alarms at early hours. Just you.

The school week had dragged on for what seemed like a month. Even homework appeared to had doubled. It was not much of a distraction to anyone, including yourself.

For the better part of the week, you spent it avoiding the news on television, sitting in your room, and walking to class alone. Eventually, the staring toned down.

Everything else feels like it’s moving fast, you thought. Piles of assignments due next week. My guardian said something about going somewhere. Don’t remember. Hope I’m not going. Dick still hasn’t called yet.

Quietly, you sat on your bed. Vinyl albums were lined up by the wall down by the nightstand. Your sketchpad underneath your clock.

How long has it been since I last saw him? You held up your fingers. Over a week? That’s not bad. Barely a week.

“We’re having fun though,” you said softly.

Your only audience: a blue bunny stuffed animal. Never judgmental and always there. That was Sir Hopps. He knew all about your soulmate before anyone else.

Scrunching up your face, you focused for a moment feeling annoyance.

What am I annoyed for? You thought and grabbed the bunny’s paw.

“Wait, no, that’s not me.”

No now any way.

Glancing over to the shoes you picked out, you ignored the sounds coming from beyond your door.

I hope he calls soon. I didn’t even completely tell my guardian…that may or may not backfire. But they want me out with people like them. You sighed. Wait, is anyone going to be with us? Is it just us?

Your questions left you perplexed with more.

However fast your thoughts raced, you were again distracted by a wave of Dick’s emotions. Ever active and changing since late at night.

I hope he’s alright.

Knowing The Boy Wonder’s identity was not an easy weight to bear. You worried for his safety. There was no way to know for sure in the moment.

But one thing was certain: You were going to see Dick Grayson. There was nothing your guardian could say or do to change that.

✧ ✧ ✧

Police Headquarters of Gotham City held victorious congratulations and nods of thanks.

Batman and Robin had spent all night on a case.

Between being captured and solving clues, Robin was ready for sleep.

But it was Saturday morning!

The sooner we wrap up the case here, the sooner I can see (Y/N), thought The Boy Wonder.

“—an excellent start of the weekend,” said Commissioner Gordon. “So much news this week. I even heard from a reliable source that, the millionaire, Bruce Wayne’s ward found his soulmate. Miraculous, isn’t it?”

Robin just about burst.

“Holy connected metropolis!” Robin hit his open palm. “Can’t people let private lives be private?”

Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara shared quizzical expressions.

Thankfully, Batman stepped in.

“It’s a wonder how news can travel by word, isn’t it?”

“It is quite impressive, Batman,” said the Commissioner.

“Too bad the youth are left at the forefront of gossip. It’s challenging enough for teenagers to navigate social lives while preparing for their academic future.” Batman shook his head solemnly.

“I didn’t think of it that way,” said Chief O’Hara as he hung his head.

“That’s alright, Chief O’Hara. Anyone can be swept up in the excitement of soulmates meeting, but we must not forget they are people too.”

Excitement, indeed!

The very emotion that zapped through Robin as they left.

After returning to the manor, Dick raced to get ready. His mood greatly lifted. He was actually going to see you. No schoolwork allowed. He might even have time for a quick nap.

✧ ✧ ✧

Afternoon light shone over Gotham City bringing endless possibilities.

While fast-walking along the sidewalk, you kept your eyes open for the shop Dick mentioned over the phone. You could hardly wait to get there.

Before you could read the next sign, there was a burst of joy in your chest.

Dick. Where—?

Out in front of the shop was your smiling soulmate. A beaming light of happiness as ever.

You sped up to reach him.

“Hey,” you greeted.

The moment you were close enough, you both embraced. Curling in to each other. Problems of the week fading into the background.

“I’m glad you made it.” Dick gave you one last squeeze and stepped back.

“Me too. I never left home so fast.”

He chuckled and quickly proceeded to cover his mouth for a long moment.

Is he yawning? You thought and checked his eyes.

“Are you feeling alright?” You asked and smoothed the pad of your thumb under his eye.

Closing his eyes for only as long as your touch lingered, he answered, “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Awh.”

Crime fighting business. Goodness. Poor thing.

Without thinking on it, you grabbed his hand.

“Well, come on. You can relax inside.”

Smile returning, his hand clasped yours firmly.

“We both need it.” Dick declared before opening the door and following you in.

Waiting for two milkshakes wasn’t too torturous. Fighting back a brain freeze while sitting in a quiet corner of the shop was, however.

“That’ll wake you up,” you joked and stopped scrunching up your nose.

“Not on purpose.” Dick took another sip from his milkshake.

“Mmhmm.” You reached over the short distance to his glass and drew a smiley face within the condensation.

From underneath the small table, Dick bumped your shoe with his own.

The goof strikes back, you thought and tried hiding your smile behind the straw. Him and his pretty blue eyes. Tired blue eyes.

“I’m surprised you’re here alone.” You said. “No offense or anything. I’m not used to it.”

“Aunt Harriet might be jealous I get to see you.”

“Oh, no.” You snickered. “What are you gonna do?”

“Drink my milkshake and keep you smiling as much as possible.”

Grinning came so easily. Not a second of time could hold it back as a starburst of happiness emerged from within.

However tired your soulmate appeared, he was determined to make your day memorable—lighter. Every ounce better than the entirety of the school week.

“That’s a good plan.” You said and drew another smiley face on his glass. “I like it.”

“Thanks.”

Dick’s eyes were downcast. Attention elsewhere, but not far.

“Have you read anything new?”

“No,” you pouted. “Too much homework. You?”

“No. Just homework.”

Always with the homework. Someone’s going to think it’s a hobby.

Across the shop, laughter and chatter erupted. It settled down almost as soon as it started. Chairs scuffed the floor.

Ignoring the other customers would had been simple if not for the strange itching feeling of being watched.

An attempt to write it off as your imagination failed. Your lack of attention almost caused you another brain freeze from your treat. Almost being key.

Discreetly, you inspected the group from the corner of your eye.

Great, you thought sarcastically.

A student you recognized from school. A double date by the look of it.

You gazed hard at your milkshake.

Why do they have to look at us for? Ignore me! You have your own milkshakes. You thought. If I hear ‘ward’…. They just better not.

A hand covered your own and your irritated thoughts begun melting away.

“What’s wrong?” Dick inquired as he leaned across the table.

“People from school are here. They keep looking,” you whispered.

He surveyed the tables, searching until he saw multiple sets of eyes on him.

Setting on a professional, calm smile and holding their gazes did the trick. No more long and overly curious staring from the group.

How’s he do that?

Dick returned all his attention to you.

“What if they come over?”

“I doubt it.” Dick had more of his milkshake.

“Okay…”

Slight movement and his shake was next to yours. Next, Dick pushed back his chair before setting it as close to yours as he could. Only then did he sit back down.

The corner of the table was then a meeting spot for your arm and his. Deliberately close.

“There.”

“Here.” You said.

“Where I should be.”

A wave of light flutters sailed over your already uplifting emotions.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Any time.”

Why was he so wonderful? How, really. You thought.

Reflexively, you returned to drinking the milkshake. Probably too delicious for its own good.

Time went by with an unknown speed.

You were living too close to a dreamlike state to care.

Noise and talking in the shop had long since turned into white noise. Lighting was not harsh or irritating. It was a nice public space.

Comfort hand gestures morphed into playful movements.

Milkshakes were about half finished or more.

Perhaps this was cloud nine?

There was no desperate need to think of anything to say. No anxious thoughts to question your actions.

Why break a comfortable silence?

Delicately and slowly, his fingertips brushed across your hand.

You watched quietly.

Unsure of what exactly you were feeling kept your mind minutely occupied.

It’s different when he does it, you thought. Or…it isn’t.

Dick’s finger traced around your thumb. All with a featherlike touch. Like it was all new actions. Unsure, but wanting to tell you something.

Blinking, you inhaled suddenly. You weren’t sure if you had been breathing properly.

Another sip of the melting milkshake could help.

You weren’t nervous. Starting to question yourself, perhaps, or the world itself.

“Can I ask you a weird question?” You voice did not sound as confident as you’d wish.

“Sure.”

Oh goodness, you thought as you sought out procrastination by your fingers memorizing the tiny curves of his hand.

Your gaze held your milkshake instead of him.

Just ask. We are literally touching hands. Why? I don’t really know. Just because?

“Do you, uh, do you think we’d still pick each other as friends…and be in each other’s lives without the whole soulmate thing?”

Shoot. It’s a terrible question. I shouldn’t—

“I think we would,” Dick answered thoughtfully.

“Really?” You chanced a look and were greeted by honest blue eyes.

“I think we were meant to meet regardless. It just turns out we’re soulmates, which,” he smiled, “is a pretty good bonus.”

Covering half your face with your free hand, you sputtered a laugh at his words. Your face warm.

“I wasn’t prepared for you to compete against a sweet milkshake, but here we are.”

Dick chuckled and took another sip.

I’m glad he doesn’t hide it. Being nice is in his nature. Sweet since day one?

The mention of ‘day one’ had your mind picturing the charity event. Another day one.

“But…um.” You swallowed. “Can I ask you about what happened at the book charity dinner? If that’s okay?” Your fingers had paused their movements. Eyes, again, focused on your drink.

“What about?”

You weren’t sure how to ask. Thinking about that day still gave you mixed feelings. Both about your guardian and Dick Grayson.

“What happened after Batgirl lift? My guardian wasn’t big on details.”

You felt his gaze on you as yours hadn’t moved.

“We were still on the floor. Bruce was beside me. Checking on us. Um. Your guardian was…shaken up and the Commissioner was trying to get them to talk until more help arrived. Then they took you home. There was a lot of waiting around.”

“They were scared?”

“Probably. You were knocked out.”

“But you helped me.”

“I’ll always help you. I mean…I’ll do what I can.”

“I know. I just… No one told me that. You were with me the whole time?”

“I couldn’t leave you on the floor alone.”

“Thank you. For all of it.” You said. “I actually wanted to thank you when you first invited me over, but uh… You had other news.”

“Oh. You’re very welcome.”

Your lips curved upwards.

“Can I ask you a question?” Dick inquired. He begun tracing the lines of your palm.

“Yeah.”

Question about what? That night? When I woke up?

“What would be your ideal day?”

Oh.

“Like Saturday or what I’d do?” You looked up at him.

“How would you spend the day?”

“If I could do anything?” You hummed to yourself.

Spend it with you for sure, you thought.

“Nothing to do with school. Hmmm. Listening to my favorite vinyls. Sometimes the radio doesn’t play what I want to hear or I want to listen to the same song.” You took another sip of your disappearing milkshake. “Read a bit, obviously. Oh! Write, draw, or create a little picnic area with everything I’d want to do and I wouldn’t have to get up.”

“That sounds relaxing and very you.”

You laughed and added, “Me and a dance party with Sir Hopps.”

Dick crinkled his nose in confusion. “Who’s that?”

“My stuffed animal. He’s a blue bunny.”

“Oh. That makes more sense.”

Were you a bit too entertained by Dick’s reaction to your toy companion’s name? Absolutely not. Dick’s expression was gold.

Good to know he’s always paying attention. And curious.

Milkshakes became mere drops. Straws only making loud slurps. A signal that your time at the shop was at an end.

“We could go to a bookstore or a local library,” Dick suggested as you both walked outside.

Paces were slow. Hands close to touching once more.

“I would, but I think you’d be asleep in twenty minutes of absolute quiet.”

Glancing over, you could almost imagine the thoughts swimming behind his eyes. Tables definitely involved.

Before you could suggest for him to go home for proper sleep, he spoke up.

“I drove here and…maybe you could come with me to make sure I get home.”

Oh, you thought, he dug deep for that one. A little.

“And Aunt Harriet really wants to see you—but she’s out for a while. I don’t know when she’ll be back.

More time with him. And he’s not that tired. I hope.

“Can’t argue with that logic.” You smiled. “And I’ll make sure you don’t get sleepy.”

“Really?”

His eyes lit up.

“Yes.” You bumped his arm. “I’ll always help you too.”

“Gee.”

Sparks of what was seeming to be endless joy reignited in your chest. Something you both had in common.

To be in one another’s company while sharing emotions remained a curious delight. Like communicating secrets in silence. Knowing your soulmate made it all the more special. Personal.

✧ ✧ ✧

Back at the stately Wayne Manor, Dick Grayson and his soulmate arrived safely. Thank goodness.

A ride filled with laughter and a game of ‘I Spy’ kept the youthful ward well awake.

It might not had been foiling criminal schemes, but it was still exciting.

More than a rush, Dick thought. We were so happy. Are.

Blue eyes locked the image of your content expression deep into his memories. As with every moment since seeing you arrive to the shop for milkshakes. Each second was arguably better than the last. Just you and him together. Your captivating presence pulling him in.

Never in his days did he think of wanting so much to hold onto someone’s hand. It made his heart swell.

Was this what happened to other soulmates?

At that moment, he was glad to have you at the manor and not just for your sake. There was no guarantee what would come out of his mouth if he was face to face with your guardian. Or Aunt Harriet seeing your guardian, for that matter!

You had yet to forgive them and he wasn’t eager to either. It was information he inquired on the drive over.

They’re happy here. Dick thought as he watched Bruce welcome you back.

For all the joy and break from academics, there was one problem that eluded the pair of you.

“What are your plans?” Bruce asked politely.

Oh, uh…

Dick turned to you and you to him.

“I don’t know.” An amused smile curved his lips.

You shrugged and also answered, “I’m used to doing homework here.”

Bruce chuckled at the two of you.

“I’m sure we will think of something.” Bruce encouraged.

“Thanks, Bruce.” Dick beamed and slipped his fingers between yours.

Grateful for much in his life, Dick Grayson was ever more glad to have you by his side.

Rain, gossip, studying, and criminal schemes couldn’t keep you a part forever.

Being soulmates and sensing the other’s emotions meant you were together in a way. No matter how far. That, perhaps, was a thought to hold onto for the future.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

Part 4 -> "Emotions And Realizations"

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

coffee

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

Video

dailymotion

It’s heeeeere! Another summasalt, this time with nearly twice the length of the first one!

(Turns out that not having caffeine doesn’t help me talk any slower.)

Script below:

Anonymous asked:

Thoughts on Rocketear?

Can you Rocketear the newest episode apart with your salt, my beloved Salt Queen?

Penny for your thoughts on Rocketear?

Aw, anon! You can have that for free! I'm a generous goddess.

"Rocketear" begins with Chat Noir and Carapace - just Carapace, really - holding back a pack of what I presume to be the physical manifestation of the writing staff's age, or at least a representation of how behind the times the writing seems.

Just as the dinosaurs break through Shellter. Ladybug shows up with the scientist who revived the dinosaurs in the first place and said scientist uses a whistle to calm the dinosaurs down. There's also a line from Bob Roth about putting the dinosaurs in a theme park to make money and I know what it's referencing but it's so incredibly random that it doesn't really come off as a proper joke.

Carapace was notably sad right after battle, but insisted that he was fine when Ladybug asked. Rena, sporting a... - I would like to say "new design" but it's a recolor in every sense of the word - is hiding behind part of a building and smiles after the heroes before walking off. Ladybug takes Nino's miraculous back but sees that he's still upset and asks him again what's wrong. Nino asks where Alya was and Ladybug claims that she only needed Carapace for the job, which cheers him up but only until Ladybug is already gone.

Mm, I guess Nino and Adrien relate in heroism not being enough for them unless they have their respective love interest to flirt with.

Also, I know this is an obvious set-up, but the show can't tell me that Ladybug just always brought Nino and Alya whenever she needed one of them. Season 3 required her to go to Master Fu to get the miraculouses, and unless she already knew that Nino and Alya would be in the same location - which, okay, the show does basically shove the two of them together whenever Nino is onscreen, fair, if two characters are in a relationship in this show then it's weird for them to NOT be with that person - but it just seems like a gamble, not to mention proof to Shadow Moth that the two are close if Ladybug constantly brings both of them.

Anyway, Ladybug goes into the sewer and asks Rena if she's seen any sign of Shadow Moth or his traps. Rena didn't see anything and they de-transform. Marinette is about to leave when she thinks of something, but Alya assumes it's about her new look, which was apparently not voluntary on her part and the suit automatically adapted to Alya's new role as Rena Furtive, which she has now named it as.

Marinette reminds her that this is supposed to be a secret and that they agreed that the fox has no owner. When Alya is evasive about whether she told Nino that she won't be Rena anymore, Marinette stresses that everyone needs to believe that Alya won't be using a miraculous anymore so that she can remain an undercover spy.

What's the point in changing the look if you're not going to show yourself anyway? I mean, insurance, I guess, but still.

Alya, exasperated, parrots what Marinette has apparently told her before: that she helps Ladybug with Mirage in case Shadow Moth tries to follow her so Rena can follow him instead. Marinette stresses the situation again and Alya tries to get Marinette to agree on her telling Nino that she's Rena Furtive, but Marinette refuses.

At Marinette's house, Alya talks further and explains that she doesn't know if she can lie to Nino since they don't keep any secrets--Alya, babe, you kept Rena Rouge from him and didn't tell him that you knew he was Carapace until Ladybug was forced to give you your miraculouses at the same time. I don't wanna hear it.

Marinette states that it's too late for that and also not technically a lie, but Alya gets upset and says that Nino will never trust her again if he finds out that she kept something from him. Marinette brings up how she had to keep secrets from Alya too, but they're interrupted by Tom appearing and wanting to play games with them. Marinette makes an excuse about homework that she's repeated many times, as Tom comments that the teachers give her too much. After Tom is kicked out - hang on, lemme just... - Marinette uses the moment to show Alya that she's lied to her family a lot and hasn't played games with her father in months. She states that there's no other option as they have to protect their identities, and Alya agrees to talk to Nino.

In Alya's room - I just presume at this point that Nino's house doesn't exist and Chris is an illusion - Alya tells Nino that they need to talk, but stammers and states that it's hard to talk about. Nino thinks that she wants to break up with him, but Alya assures that she loves him. She finally gets to the cover story that Rena herself made up in "Sentibubbler" and Nino understands, sad that she won't be around anymore but agreeing if it's what Ladybug thinks is best.

Is it weird that Nino respects Ladybug's wishes more than Alya does?

Nino hugs her and is confused by why Alya was nervous to tell him, as she can tell him anything and nothing will change their relationship. Alya feels guilty and hugs back, murmuring about how they don't have any secrets; that's not what Nino said, but sure, push this plot to its already predictable conclusion. I mean, I thought it was vaguely sweet that Nino switched to seriousness immediately when Alya said that she wanted to talk, but how am I supposed to be invested in this couple when their dynamic boils down to "STRONG, INDEPENDANT WOMAN who wears the pants in the relationship because her boyfriend is portrayed as a wimpy coward"? Like, the show constantly dragged Nino down to make Alya look "powerful" by comparison, and then when it comes to characters like Marinette, we get a girl who works very well outside of her relationship with her endgame love interest.

It's the fakest form of "girl power," dragging guys down to raise girls up or actually making a strong girl character but having her love interest be a weakness that creates flaws in her that weren't there originally and having that love interest be who she's "destined for."

I'm rambling, sorry.

In class, Marinette assures Alya that she did the right thing and Alya agrees. As they're leaving school, Marinette talks about how their "night walks" start soon, and Alya non-subtly talks about how Rena Furtive will be on the lookout while Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol. She stops, however, as gets excited about some pictures she took of herself as Rena Furtive, which has a lot of details that Marinette hasn't seen. I don't know whether to groan at what I just heard or remind everyone that Rena Furtive is literally just a recolor and therefore this is the writers patting themselves on the back for this design, so let's just move on.

Alya then shows Marinette her phone--AUGH, MY EYES--and suggests making a poll on her Ladyblog so people can vote for their favorite Rena design. Marinette has to stress again that Rena Furtive is supposed to be a spy and thus invisible, which Alya admits that she forgot about.

Okay, I've been holding off on talking about this, but now seems like the best time to bring it up. Alya has been a trash friend as well as a trash confidant, and her role as Rena Rouge boiled down to, "it was convenient for her to be the fox at the time it was needed." She's not particularly stealthy like one would expect of a fox, and she was easily one of the worst candidates to be told Marinette's big secret. I'll get more into this later, but I have to stress that Alya has treated Marinette no differently since learning of Marinette's identity and has already gone against Marinette's orders once before at the time of this episode airing. Episodes are constantly torn between validating their decision to have Marinette tell Alya, having Marinette be worried about the decision while the show considers her to be ridiculous for it, and then having Alya either consider or make choices that clearly don't gel well with what's good for her role. Much like Marinette, she lacks a sense of self-control and--wow, a female character who's impulsive, never seen that stereotype before.

Point being, "Sentibubbler" stressed over and over that Alya was the right choice and deserved to be both the permanent fox and the understudy for guardian, but then we have "Rocketear" here where Alya is making basic emotionally-driven errors that I'm not even remotely sympathetic to when Marinette has gone through so much worse over the course of three+ seasons.

*sigh*

Alya laments that it's hard to find new content for the Ladyblog - ah, yes, tell me more about your struggles, Alya - but figures that at least she can post stuff about Chat Noir instead of--I don't know--making fake Ladybug theories to lead people off Marinette's trail. Marinette says that it's a great idea, though Alya still doesn't look too happy. The scene then rewinds to a little bit to show a different point of view, this time with Adrien and Nino. Wait, this feels familiar, wasn't there another episode that did something like--ohhhh no, this is going to hurt.

After saying good-bye to Adrien - something I wish I could do every time he's mentioned or on-screen - Nino catches the bit of conversation where Alya talks about the Ladyblog. Nino talks as if Marinette isn't there and asks Alya out to the movies because Marinette is chopped liver and this is about Alya and how sad she is, guys.

Wow, she's turning into Adrien faster and faster.

Alya hesitates, but Marinette assures her that there's still time. Alya excitedly runs off with Nino and they watch what I presume are previews given the narrator, featuring recycled footage from the Ladybug PV. Nino is upset because Rena is mentioned but not Carapace, and the preview features Rena telling Chat Noir to forget Ladybug because it's Chat and Rena herself who are trulu made for each other.

I don't know what's funnier; the complete lack of self-awareness or the suggestion that a biracial couple would exist in this show outside of a special that gives them maybe a minute of screentime and acts more like suggestive canon anyway. I think I might've been too generous with that line about dinosaurs.

Nino is offended by the preview and Alya brushes off his comments, stating that it's just a cartoon and it's made to entertain people, though Nino himself is certainly not entertained. Can't say I entirely blame him considering that Alya doesn't really try to say anything substantial or even agree with him. No cuddling or reassuring kisses, she just gets slightly sad and turns to her phone for a bit.

After the movie, Nino is cheered back up again until he catches Alya on her phone once more. He offers to take her home, but she's distracted, and he comments that what she showed to Marinette looked pretty nice; I don't know because they didn't show it. Nino asks what it was and Alya evades the question, stating that her battery is running out. Nino is suspicious, but spots Andre's ice cream cart and the two head over there. Andre calls them his favorite couple and asks what they want, but Alya sees Ladybug gesturing for her and has to run off, giving Nino a cheek kiss as she goes which feels like too little too late at this point.

Nino catches some conveniently-placed kids arguing over who Chat Noir loves, but they settle on the fact that girls in general love Chat Noir. Nino is then seen at the Seine watching the Ladyblog's latest video, where Alya is talking up how amazing Chat Noir is. I hate to stop every five seconds to complain - okay, actually I don't - but I presume this video must've been made after the movie since Nino seems like the type who would actively follow his girlfriend's blog, yet not only is this video perfectly set up to echo the kids and the movie preview, but Alya - despite apparently caring about her boyfriend soooo much that she kept trying to convince Marinette to bend the rules - didn't even try to warn Nino or text him so he doesn't take it too seriously. It's like "Sentibubbler" with the conflicting messages about identity rules; Alya cares about her boyfriend but both isn't thinking about how he'll take the things she says and apparently doesn't know him well enough to realize that he wouldn't be mad over her keeping a secret that she was told to keep. I already talked about how they play up Nino to be the emotionally weaker one of the relationship, but then they don't have Alya try to cover or make up for that. She's been acting very much not like Alya - you know, the one who in "Sapotis" practically bragged about how great she'd be at covering for Ladybug - with her stutters and weak excuses, so I can't completely blame Nino for being upset after everything that's happened when he sees the writers projecting onto Alya as she talks about how Chat Noir is brave and funny and cute and showing all these images of him as well. I don't agree with all of his actions, but--oh yeah, speaking of which--

Nino calls Adrien and is talking to him about how Alya must be in love with someone else. Adrien dismisses the idea, as Alya and Nino are together basically all the time, and asks who she could possibly be in love with. When Nino suggests that it's Chat Noir, Adrien laughs and jokes about it being Fang instead. Nino points out the video but Adrien did see it but is overall unphased and convinced that it means nothing. Nino says that he'll find proof and hangs up, but Adrien is certain he'll find nothing. Plagg comments that Nino will find someone because Plagg's charisma has definitely contaminated Adrien.

Ugh.

Adrien expresses concern that he put on the cat's charm too much and accidentally made Alya fall for him, and decides to visit Alya as Chat Noir to be sure.

Meanwhile, we get a reference to film noirs as Nino narrates. That's the second blatant reference this episode and now I feel like they wrote this script while doing a movie marathon.

Chat Noir arrives at Alya's house and Trixx hides before Alya opens the curtains to reveal her surprise guest. Nino is nearby watching the scene with his phone as Alya wonders aloud if something's wrong. Chat assures that everything's fine, but brings up the video she posted. He insists that it made him happy, but points out that she's been following him and Ladybug since the beginning and that they know each other much better due to everything that's happened. He has some conveniently-worded dialog as he starts to say that he hopes something's just an illusion and Alya gets worried that he's about to bring up Rena. Chat continues and clarifies that he wonders if she started to feel something for him, though adds that he understands because just look at him.

UGGGGH.

Chat clarifies by making a heart with his hands, which Nino sees. Alya laughs at this gesture and states that she has a boyfriend, doing the same heart gesture and suggesting that her love for Nino is even more than that. Chat Noir apologizes - hm, I didn't know he had the capacity to do that - and hugs Alya, saying that he was just confused.

An absolutely unnecessary hug for two people who, at least in terms of their current selves, have had very little screentime together, but this is also the show where making eye contact basically means your friends and it's all just to push the plot along so Nino inteprets that Alya is in love with Chat Noir, so whatever I guess.

Alya states that Nino is far more irresistable than Chat, then adds that she doesn't even know his secret identity, and she'd never fall in love with someone she doesn't know. Nino then runs away upset and the scene cuts away to the next day where--

Wait, wait, wait, hang on a second. Two things right off the bat there.

First off, we're just gonna sidle past that "wouldn't fall in love with someone you don't know the identity of" while ignoring the existence of the love square? Not even Chat thinking about how he doesn't know Ladybug's identity and trying to excuse that he doesn't have to? This guy is that certain of their relationship?

Secondly, Nino is practically sobbing and Shadow Moth doesn't take this as his opportunity? Same guy who akumatized Mr. Pigeon 72 times and has akumatized Gigantitan more than once? What is this pacing???

But--alright, so Adrien comes into school and sees Nino, still dressed up in his detective gear, which gets ignored completely as Adrien goes to tell him about Chat Noir and Alya. Because the show doesn't know how Adrien would convey this within reason, Nino interrupts him, taking him down into the lower part of the school where he has a desk and chairs set up. Adrien goes to ask when Nino had time to do this, but Nino slams his hand on the desk to cut him off. Nino presents the evidence he took and they go back and forth, likewise with Adrien turning off the background music while Nino turns it back on. Adrien insists that it's a misunderstanding, but pleads innocent when Nino asks how he knows. Adrien states that Alya is just a superhero fan and that she and Chat Noir have nothing in common.

Again, the complete lack of self-awareness is astonishing.

Adrien repeats what Alya said about secret identities and how she wouldn't fall for someone she doesn't know - they're really ignoring this, aren't they? - and continues hitting Nino's soft spots about how unlikely it is until Nino decides to tell Adrien something he's not supposed to.

He tells Adrien, not only that Alya is Rena Rouge, but that he's Carapace. Adrien goes through a range of emotions beyond sAD for once, shocked at the fact that they know each other's identities. Nino states that they don't keep secrets from each other, except now Alya is with Chat Noir. Adrien still doesn't understand and brings up how secret identities have to be protected, or else Nino wouldn't have told him because Ladybug wouldn't agree to it.

Oh, here we go. So that's why they waited.

Nino states that it was Ladybug herself who gave them their miraculouses at the same time; not giving the reason why, of course, nor pointing out that they're temporary heroes so there's understandably some leeway. Adrien is having a moment, but manages to bring the subject back to Alya and Chat Noir, who he still doesn't think are a thing. Nino argues that it's because Adrien doesn't know Chat Noir, but he does because he's Carapace and knows how Chat Noir acts. He says that it's all flowers and confessions when Ladybug appears, but he gets rejected because Ladybug thinks that he's annoying, and she's right. He adds that Chat flirts with Rena Rouge and that's all that needs to happen, with Chat stepping in on the first mission Carapace lost in. Nino laments the loss of the love of his life and wishes to shut Chat Noir up forever; we all do, Nino, we all do. Shadow Moth finally steps in with - oh, less than eight minutes left in the episode, yikes - and Nino is akumatized into Rocketear.

Rocketear rejects Adrien's pleas to stop, insisting that Chat Noir is who he's after, not Adrien, and Adrien transforms in sad fashion despite Plagg's reminder of who Rocketear is after. Alya, meanwhile, is in the art club with Marinette - wait, since when was Alya in the art club - telling Marinette about how Chat Noir thought she was into him due to the video, which Marinette groans at. There's an earthquake and they peek outside to see Rocketear firing his tears at Chat Noir, shouting that he stole Alya from him. Chat Noir tries to tell him otherwise, but Rocketear won't listen.

Alya groans at Nino doing this, then she and Marinette set off to find a place to transform. They conveniently go to the same place Adrien and Nino were, so they see the desk that Nino had set up.

Genuine question, how seriously does this episode want me to take itself, because now when I recount all the unnecessary love square drama in my head - because you know that's where this is going - I'm going to have to think, "Nino, dressed in a detective outfit, ripped off his fake mustache and told Adrien both his and Rena's identities, and also that Ladybug was totally cool with it and thinks that Chat Noir is annoying."

Gettin' two completely different vibes here. The episode clearly wants to be important but it doesn't take itself seriously either, which it totally could while including enough jokes to keep things light. Instead, I'm just left scratching my head and wondering what tone they're going for.

Marinette finds Nino's phone on the desk - I'm calling continuity error on that one because he at no point put it on the desk, at least not on-screen - and she questions Alya on the video she sees. Alya insists that nothing happened, apparently completely unphased by her boyfriend having spied on her, and says that he wouldn't have misunderstood if he'd heard the actual conversation.

The two transform and Ladybug immediately uses Lucky Charm, receiving a projector. Ladybug is clueless and Rena Furtive suggests creating an imaginary movie like Nino. Ladybug gets an idea, remembering Alya's earlier comments, and Rena confirms that she remembers every word of it.

Aaaaand, just like that, all of the tension has been completely sucked away. You know, "Backwarder" was a trash episode, but at least when Ladybug was showing every step of her plan, she didn't tell us what it was.

Meanwhile, Rocketear and Chat Noir are still arguing--I started zoning out at hearing the same thing over and over again at this point, so I just presume they were fighting over who does stuff behind their love interest's backs better; I don't think they came to an agreement but they're both losers anyway.

Chat Noir says that he'll prove his innocence, tossing his baton aside to show him giving up, but Rocketear points out that it proves nothing and strikes Chat Noir with his tears.

Our endgame love interest, everyone. Straight As yet about as smart as a sack of bricks, and that at least won't flirt with anyone non-consensually.

Chat Noir makes a point that he doesn't want to hurt Rocketear, and Shadow Moth tells Rocketear to take his miraculous before finishing him. Chat Noir can only weakly tell him not to before Ladybug snags Rocketear's wrist and diverts the shot. Ladybug explains to Rocketear about the projector and how it'll let him hear the audio of the recording he took. She adds that she doesn't know what Chat said, but she trusts him.

Marinette, I'm sorry, I feel so bad for you.

Ladybug turns on the projector and Rocketear relaxes at actually hearing what was going on. Rena then de-transforms and hurries out to meet with Rocketear, hugging him as Rocketear apologizes for doubting her. Alya also kinda sorta apologizes in a way I don't understand and Rocketear then breaks his akumatization, very casually, all on his own.

Yeah, just--casually, in a matter of seconds in fact. You know, it's really sad when people resisting akumatizations are more tense and emotionally compelling than them breaking them. This is twice in one season now and has zero impact considering that Nino's reason for being akumatized was already taken care of so he had no reason to stay akumatized anyway. Him breaking his own object to release the akuma would've at least been different, but instead it's just a repeat of what Alya went through with even less tension considering that Alya's wasn't even that good in the first place, relying on her relationship to Ladybug rather than who she knew to be her best friend.

Moving on, Ladybug captures the akuma and uses Miraculous Ladybug to bring everything back to normal. Shadow Moth monologues about how love and secrets don't go well together and he's sure that she has a lot and I'll talk about this later.

Ladybug hands over the magical charm, which Nino takes but insists that he won't need it, as he'll never let Shadow Moth use his love to manipulate him again. Plenty of other things to get akumatized over, but they gave the supposedly ace character a robot to help him stick out and also gave the supposedly aro character a miraculous back in season one to give her more importance. If characters aren't in love then they need something to ceompensate for it.

Nino apologizes to Chat Noir for being wrong and Chat Noir assures him that everyone has doubts, even him. He gets sad and Ladybug asks him what's wrong, but he insists that he's fine - officially throwing away his right to be upset at her later as far as I'm concerned - and they do their usual fist buuuuu--

...Really?

Everyone then splits up and Chat Noir sulks by himself instead of--you know, talking to Ladybug, or asking her anything, or making any sort of excuse for her because that would mean he actually has faith in her and understands that their partnership is different from temporary heroes, even if the excuse was as basic as her wanting to protect him more than the others because he would be that egotistical if they didn't want to stretch out this unnecessary drama.

Later on, Adrien is staring at a picture on the Ladyblog that might be a metaphor for the show considering how "in the foreground" Chat Noir and Rena are.

Adrien vents about Ladybug giving miraculouses to Alya and Nino, but Plagg states that she's the guardian. Adrien clarifies that he's referring to Alya and Nino knowing each other's identities, but Plagg doesn't see the issue. Adrien gets huffy and asks why the rule exists for LadyNoir but not Ninya, but Plagg again points out that she's the guardian, so she makes the rules, though obviously he uses cheese metaphors to convey it.

Okay, Plagg is only, like--half-right because he doesn't have all the information. If you don't mind me rambling for a bit, I'm on the fence here because, on one hand--yes, I agree that Marinette should be allowed to make her own rules, and I often do that in my writing because I think she should be permitted leeway in order to let herself be happy, but on the other hand, it's not technically her rule, as she had to let Alya and Nino in on their identities back in the Season 2 finale, so Fu was still around for a season. She wasn't even guardian yet!

Now, presumably so the fandom could blame Marinette if anything happened, Marinette never discussed this with Fu on-screen, so I can't say whether or not Fu knew, but I feel like he must've since Marinette had to have told him the heroes' identities off-screen, given "Party Crasher," and thus I imagine that Marinette would tell Fu everything that happened, which is consistent with what she does on-screen even if she'd keep things from him for a little while.

"Furious Fu" had also established that not even Master Fu followed rules completely, meaning that Marinette is in this awkward spot of mostly following what Fu taught her, which aren't all guardian rules anyway, and having to break the rules on occasion for various purposes. I can't say what Fu approved of and what he didn't, because episodes spend so much time on the love square that they forget about Marinette as a person and how she interacts with everyone else. From an emotional standpoint, I can't blame Marinette for not revoking the miraculouses of people whose identities get discovered because of her, as I imagine she feels guilty and it probably doesn't seem fair to force them into another miraculous or have them be entirely without one because of a mistake that she made, meaning that someone needs to be throwing a lot of red flags for Marinette to be through with them.

Though obviously, from the show's standpoint, it's just an excuse to not make new models, but I complained about that enough in "Sentibubbler" and this episode even went out of its way to design a detective model for Nino while spraypainting Alya's bodysuit in the same breath, so this is the world we live in.

Anyway, Marinette is essentially in this position where she still has Fu's rules hovering over her, but she's also trying to step out on her own and make her own decisions to varying degrees of success or failure depending on your point of view. Tikki--wait, no, bad idea--Su-Han then, could easily give input on these things, perhaps with Marinette discussing a modern day set of rules for someone her age and going back and forth with Su-Han on what the right choices to make are, finding something that's comfortable but within a realm of predictable control. Su-Han was okay with some rules being broken after seeing how Ladybug handled them and they could've easily made this episode about that instead, but instead, we get rules being set and then being broken on a writer's whim.

Which now brings us to the end of the episode, where Marinette is on the phone with Alya and apologizes for causing trouble between her and Nino. Alya tells her not to worry and she'll fix things - you know, those things that, to Marinette's knowledge, have already been fixed - and asks if Marinette trusts her. Marinette does, and Alya hangs up in order to face Nino.

Yeah, that feeling of dread in your stomach? That means you know how predictable the writing is and what's about to happen, good for you.

Alya explains that she has to tell Nino something and he's worried, this time trying to sheepishly break the tension. She explains that she's still Rena Rouge, much to Nino's shock, and adds that she's in hiding, which is why Ladybug didn't want her to tell anyone. Nino asks why she's telling him if she's not supposed to tell anyone - proving my point from a while back that he wouldn't have been upset had she kept it a secret - then asks if Ladybug agreed with it.

I want to give him a pat on the back for considering Ladybug, but he didn't even tell her when he had the chance that Adrien knows his identity now, so I'm just beaten down at this point.

Instead of answering the question directly, Alya says that she can't hide her identity from him because she loves him and they don't have secrets.

You know, like Nino telling Adrien about Rena's identity, or Alya saying specifically that she's a permanent holder, which I'm sure both of them will confess to since they said that they don't have--aaaaand the episode ends on happy triumphant music, okay.

I mean, I guess Alya at least didn't tell him that Marinette was Ladybug, but that is such a low bar and not even remotely worthy of congratulations when Alya told Nino the specific thing that Marinette told Alya not to tell; the thing that they had agreed on.

Nino wasn't upset anymore. He won't be getting akumatized either. Alya endured the supposed hardship of being a permanent fox holder for four episodes before breaking down and telling her boyfriend. Even her excuse doesn't hold any water because, again, they're both still technically keeping a secret, particularly Alya who knows Marinette's identity as Ladybug. The episode also apparently forgets that Alya and Marinette's friendship must not be as strong by her logic of telling Nino specifically everything, as Alya kept Rena Rouge a secret from Marinette for all of Season 3, but tells Nino about continuing to be Rena Rouge in Season 4. Boyfriends before BFFs without explicitly saying it, or to be more specific, whatever screws Marinette over the most, because that's what this comes down to, made worse by "Optigami" where Marinette told Alya that she'd tell her everything and I guess that doesn't go both ways.

"Sentibubbler" had Alya stress that no one would ever know. She promised Marinette and told Marinette to trust her, and the episode spent its entire running time talking her up and assuring Marinette that she was the right choice, even considering Marinette ridiculous for worrying when Alya had done something without Marinette's permission the episode right before it. Then, three episodes after "Sentibubbler," when Marinette is finally comfortable and trusts Alya completely, Alya betrays that trust. Nino betrayed that trust, knowing he wasn't supposed to do so but telling Adrien his and Rena's identity anyway, because he was losing an argument and needed to PROVE something.

Marinette gives them an inch and they take a mile. Marinette bent the rules so that they could continue to have the miraculous they'd started with and they disrespected her because it was hard for like a day.

And if this bites them back, it won't reflect poorly on them, it'll reflect poorly on Marinette.

It's not like Alya just overrode Marinette. She didn't go, "Hey, I'm telling Nino, I'm sorry," or tried her hardest to go back and forth with Marinette until they both agreed. No, she did what she told Marinette she wouldn't do without saying a word to her, because LOVE and SEEEECRETS.

And this only applies to her, of course, because don't think I didn't notice the parallels between this episode and "Truth," because WOW.

Episode begins with Marinette hoping for something and it blows up in her face? A date at the cinema that ends on a sour note? Plot-centric couple trying to get Andre's ice cream and the female with a secret needing to leave in a hurry? Boyfriend character getting akumatized over their girlfriend's secret? Boyfriend assumes/suggests that the girlfriend's secret involves Aaaaaadrien - or his alter-ego in "Rocketear"'s case - and the episode hints as much to him even though he's completely wrong? Akuma's colors are blue and black? THE BRIDGE?

But, ahhh, little difference, here and there, y'know, like how Marinette was forced to break up with her boyfriend while Alya got to keep hers, and Nino got to have long talks with Alya while Luka got little to nothing with Marinette.

Because do note that Alya, while trying to convince Marinette and talk to Nino about not keeping secrets, at no point suggests that Marinette deserves to be happy and deserves to have a boyfriend and that Marinette should be allowed to tell Luka her secret so they can get back together, so you have Alya here selfishly prioritizing her relationship with Nino while making no comment about Marinette's relationship, essentially asking Marinette to allow her what Marinette herself didn't have the luxury of, and Alya knows this because Marinette told her. It is both incredibly insensitive of Alya and incredibly insulting of the show to make so many parallels between this episode and "Truth" just to have everything crash down for Marinette because she's Marinette while everything goes well for Alya and Nino because they're not Marinette.

We've talked before about the formulas that are literally baked into the show, and one of those is how Marinette makes a mistake in every episode and has to learn from it. What that mistake is in this episode, I don't know, but considering that she apologizes for Alya and Nino's problems, I guess the show blames her for what they themselves had taught her.

Point being, there's a clear karma system in place, but it only applies to Marinette, and forcing her to mess up in every episode means that she is literally not allowed to be with Luka because had she been able to clear things up between them, he would've eagerly accepted her and they could've been happy. It'd be too difficult for her to mess up when Luka doesn't put mountains of pressure and expectations on her like everyone else. Factor that in with how she can be herself around him and it leads to situation that are too difficult for her to screw up in because her mistakes - more often than not - center around Adrien or her role as guardian.

And because another rule in the show is to bring up Adrien so they don't "lose him for too long," she can't avoid bringing him up either. If he's not in the plot, he has to be mentioned, leaving Marinette in a lose-lose situation that she'll never be free from.

So, let me just get this straight then:

The guy who spied on his girlfriend instead of talking to her about his assumptions gets to keep his girlfriend, not because he realized it was wrong regardless of whether he was correct or not, but because the situation had been cleared up for him, yet the guy who actively resisted his akumatization, saddened by his girlfriend's secrets but wanting her to share them when she was ready, gets broken up with and tossed to the wayside because he's not a rich blond boy who got a miraculous because he happened to be within the twenty meters of space where Fu was searching for new holders?

Meanwhile, the girlfriend who has gone against the wishes and insistence of her best friend - guardian of the miraculouses, by the way, so she calls the shots, something that Alya herself said in "Optigami" BEFORE GOING ON TO DO HER OWN THING IN THE SAME EPISODE AND BEING REWARDED FOR IT - is allowed to go against the wishes and insistence of her best friend again for the sake of "all love, no secrets" with her boyfriend and so she can have the happy ending she wants, yet the girl who was chosen for a miraculous without her consent, forced to screw up and talk about a random boy who doesn't even go out of his way to spend time with her, treated like absolute trash by writers who find humor in her misery, and is the only one to receive overly harsh and long-lasting consequences for her actions while also covering up and forgiving the actions of others within the episode where they do it...

doesn't get her happy ending, and won't ever get her happy ending. That thing Shadow Moth said about love and secrets not going well together? Yeah, only goes as far as the writers want it to, because both Nino and Alya still have secrets, and some of the ones they did tell each other were forced by someone else and kept until that very moment. This idea that people in love have to tell each other everything and that it makes a relationship stronger makes me immensely uncomfortable, and that lesson is also in "Guiltrip."

People should be allowed their secrets, and obviously there are exceptions for things that are being hidden with malicious intent, but being essentially forced to share everything or risk not having a "full and complete" relationship is stifling and sounds like it'd only cause stress.

This episode sucks. It furthers and confirms everything I've already thought about the show, Nino's screentime continues to be dependent on Adrien, Alya, or both, there are pointless references that completely take me out of the experience, and the utter betrayal from Alya and supposed message of the episode just reminds me that Marinette is inevitably going to be stuck with a guy who didn't even DO anything in this episode and is going to let himself stew instead of asking for any sort of clarifications from someone he apparently trusts so much.

So the takeaway is that Marinette's life is awful, she'll be forced to apologize for rules that she didn't even come up with herself, her best friend will walk all over her for the sake of her relationship with a guy - not even for the sake, really, they were going to be fine, it was more for HER personal comfort if anything - and the guy who actually makes Marinette happy and could've known her identity instead BECAUSE HE AT LEAST DIDN'T HAVE A TRACK RECORD OF SPILLING HER SECRETS gets treated in the exact same way that she does; like nothing, just something to abuse unfairly.

What a waste of an episode.

#MC's Videos #category: episode summaries #category: salt #salt: adrien agreste #salt: chat noir #salt: alya cesaire #salt: nino lahiffe #video: critique #MC's Renders #render: persona #episode: Rocketear #((I would usually apologize for rambling but you guys seem to like it lol.))#((I could still afford to trim down the summary probably and repeat myself/ramble a BIT less but yeah.))#((I'm also feeling a little more comfortable this time around))#((which might come off in my inflections.))

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eldritchcreatureofwords · 2 years

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I would just like to have a rant--and a thought experiment. Play along with me. Because not enough people realize just how badly Vi has been traumatized. I don't really know what to call this; it's not a 'fanfic', exactly. More like a...story-scussion.

Yes, what happened to Powder/Jinx was fucking horrific. It was the worst fucking thing, it was devastating, and my heart breaks for Powder. For Jinx. For her mental health, for the way she thinks of herself, for the horrible missteps that lead to a baby, bitty child thinking she had been abandoned and forgotten after she very accidentally did something unspeakable. But what I don't think gets enough notice is that Vi is still living in that day, six years ago, has never gotten to catch her fucking breath, and frankly, got the shittier end of the stick that entire night while Jinx got the chance to go to sleep-metaphorically.

What do I mean? Let's take a blow by blow here. First, let's put ourselves in Vi's shoes. Imagine with me for a minute- settle in. This is gonna get long. You are Vi.

You did something bad. Something reckless and stupid and despite the best attempts of both yourself and your guardian figure(s), it's not getting better. You slowly start to realize that, as a person in charge of others, you have the responsibility here, and that even though you are only fourteen/fifteen years old, you know what you have to do. You have to take ownership of the mess you made. Otherwise, people you're supposed to protect, people you love, will be hurt. So you make your peace. You say your good-byes because you don't know what will happen next. You could never see them again. You could see them in a week, a year, a month. You want them to remember you gently, lovingly, as you are right now. And then you leave. You send your confession to the right people, and you wait where you told them to meet you, and you have nothing to do but sit on this. Wondering- will they hurt me? Will they kill me? Where will they take me? What will happen? Will I ever get to go home? Will I ever see my family again? Your leg jitters with anxiety. You clench and unclench your fists. You can't breathe.

Your entire world is changing. And remember; you are a child. And then you hear it. Footsteps. You take a deep breath, stand up, ready to take your lumps, when in walks- -your father. Dad. He loves you, he's raised you, he's protected and cared for and fought for your and taught you to fight for yourself your entire life. And now he's here, and he's frantic. He's scared. You've never seen him scared before. He tells you he loves you. He tells you, in his way, that he's proud of you, that you have a good heart. And you know, in the back of your mind, that he's doing what you did, but you don't want to face it, even as he bodily backs you into another room, even as he slams the door in your face and locks it. And no matter how much you pound, and yell, and call out, you can't do anything. You can't stop anything, you can't change anything. You are trapped and forced to watch as the person you love takes your chains from you and wraps them around his own arms. And as if this wasn't bad enough, the world turns upside down when, inches from you, people start dying horrifically. The adults that you know, that you love, even people you don't care about but are supposed to be strong and in control, they start dropping like flies. And it's due to something you've never seen before, something you can't even understand. And you can do nothing. You can do nothing but watch as your father's friends die, as blood smears the walls and suddenly the man who has been untouchable, invulnerable, invincible your entire life weeps, and falls, and then drops. Dead or unconscious, you don't know. And you are trapped and forced to watch. And then they're gone. They're gone, and for God knows how long you're stuck in there, trapped in there, sobbing, wailing, screaming because how could you let this happen, how did you get found out, how could you be so stupid, if you had just listened, if you had been better, been stronger, been faster, been smarter, maybe this wouldn't have happened. You are fifteen. And you sit on this. For minutes, or hours. You can't scream anymore. You don't have the energy. You weep into your knees and you wonder if you're just going to be trapped here, forever. But no. Of course not. Because one of the people who died out there, your friend, your father's friend, was a father, too. And his son is here, and his son is sobbing, and now you must push aside your guilt, your fear, your sorrow and pain because they need you. They need you. You have to be strong for them. So you slam down on it. You swallow the tears, you don't let him see because if he sees you crying it's just going to be worse for him. And then he tells you he saw it happen. He's ten, maybe eleven, and he saw all of that happen. It breaks your heart, and also it's a heavy weight, because he's yours now too, and you'll have to take care of him, keep him safe, and there's already three people you have to do that for. (Oh, yeah, and you have to tell them that their friends are dead, how the hell are you going to do that, let alone that Dad is dead, that they're on their own now, that you're all alone except for each other? ) But then he tells you that your dad might not be dead. That, in fact, he's probably alive, he's been taken somewhere. And he knows where.

And now you really don't have time to mourn. You are fifteen. You don't know anyone else to turn to. Everyone who could help you is dead. You have to be the leader. You have to make a plan. You have to keep them safe and get your dad back and keep them calm. So you shove it down harder. You push it away and you start thinking, start taking charge, getting events in motion.

And the entire time you are telling your friends what happened, the entire time you're planning and thinking, all you can remember is that last time you were in charge things literally blew up. (You don't know what the words 'recursive function' mean but if you did you'd probably laugh or cry.) And you can't break down. You can't cry, you can't curl into a ball and sob, you don't have a chest you can collapse on and weep for the people you lost. You can't take a minute to breathe, to process. You have to think about your gang, your kids, who are insisting on helping.

You have to think about how you're going to get your dad back, and keep them alive, and keep something from going horribly wrong, and what to do if something goes horribly wrong anyway. You have to think about your little sister, who wants to come, wants to help. But she's the last person you have. Your baby sister, the person you have to protect, and take care of and keep safe. You have to tell her she can't, she has to stay here, to stay safe. Your little sister, who you've been working with and working with the make her stronger, braver, to teach her to trust herself and trust you and she got so close to it and she's so ready to throw herself into the fire for you, for your dad, she's so brave and so scared and you have to crush that. After working for it for so long, you have to tell her she's not ready. You have to treat her like a child again and you can see how much it destroys her but this is the choice you have to make. Do you let her come with you, knowing you'll be distracted with fear and worry, knowing she's half the age of everyone else in your group and prone to bad choices? Or do you break down all you've worked for, strike a blow in her confidence and hope that if this goes well, if you do good, that you can build her back up again later? Hope that you can find a way to let her have been a part of this so that she doesn't think she is useless, worthless, a jinx? You are a child. And you have to make these choices, these calls, because no one else can. So now she is heartbroken, and you can hear her sobbing as you leave the place you've called home for so long with your family behind you, looking up to you, trusting you, respecting you and ready to do whatever you tell them. Whatever happens next is on your shoulders. You get to carry that thought the entire way to your father. You get to think if they die it's on me. If they get hurt it's on me. If this goes wrong, it's on me. You get to imagine scenarios over and over in your head- worst case, best case. You get to wonder if he's already dead. You get to jump at shadows, expecting someone to attack you at any moment. Expecting that thing to be roaming the streets, stalking them, looking for it's next victim.

And the whole time you have to pretend you're not scared shitless. Now you get there. You get your people in. Everything goes perfectly. Flawlessly. Too perfectly. You've been trapped. So now, while desperately worried about your father, who is alive but trapped and beaten, weak and hurting, you have to stay in control. You have to stay calm.

So even though you are scared out of your mind, you shove it down, you pull on your dad's gauntlets, and you turn to face down the man who caused all this to happen. And you start fighting, while your friends are trying to free your father. You are painfully aware you're on display as you take on all comers- desperately trying to stall, to keep them at bay, to protect your brothers, your father, but you are getting tired. You're fifteen. You have been running on adrenaline and fear for several hours now. Silco isn't kind or fair and you have been tackled, cut, held and hit, fought one on one, two on one, three on one for what feels like hours now even if it's only been minutes. You're in pain, you're exhausted, you're getting sloppy. The gauntlets are heavy. Getting up is harder every time. And the man who ordered your friend's father killed, who kidnapped your dad, is watching you with an infuriating smirk. And then, as you finally, finally beat down the last of the bodies he has to throw at you, and stand, heaving, panting, victorious, you hear the screaming, and you know with terrible, disheartened certainty that it was all for nothing. And not only that, but you finally see what it is that ripped apart your father's friends; and it's something that used to be human. Used to be a boy, only a year or two older then you. Used to be someone you knew, if only a little. He's a monster now. He's screaming, disfigured, his muscles and bones moving in ways muscles and bones aren't supposed to move, drooling and dripping purple, veined in purple, and getting bigger. And bigger. And bigger. He used to be human. You are exhausted. You're fighting to stay on your feet, you're fighting for air. But you have to keep going. So you do. But you don't stand a chance, and despite your best attempt, despite throwing everything into an attack on this thing, he catches you by the neck like you are a fly to be swatted. You black out for a minute from the force of it, and when you come to again, you can't breathe. You can't breathe, and you know, in one horrifying moment, that if this thing decides to it can kill you without trying. You are fifteen, and you are staring death directly in the face. There is nothing you can do. There is no way you can free yourself. You are going to die here. But you don't. Not because of anything you do, but because for some reason it lets you go- it toys with you, stalks you like an animal playing with prey, lets you crawl away desperately because it knows you can not get away from it. You are so scared. You are so scared but you're not allowed to be. You have to think. You have to plan. You manage to get back to your family and lock the monster outside of the room, and you know it won't hold for long but maybe, maybe, you have bought them some time. Your dad is halfway free. Your brother has nearly found a second exit. Maybe you'll be ok. "You did good." Your father says, and for a moment, just an instant, you can breathe. He sounds calmer. Better. Things will be ok. You just have to hold. This. Door. He's up. The doorframe shakes. It cracks. The monster is breaking the doorframe loose. One, maybe two more blows and it's going to go. You're fifteen. You're a child. You do not have the strength or size to stop him. But still, you push back, with all your strength, all your will. Hold. This. Door. He's up. Your brother has gotten another exit secured. He is free. You've done it. You did it!

And then the world explodes in heat and fire. When you come around, there is nothing but pain, pain, pain. You are trapped. You can't move, you can barely breathe, and the agony washes through you in waves. You can feel intense heat on your face, and everything blazes with pain and you can hear, from a million miles away, a fight. You open your eyes to see your father standing between you and the monster. Your father, defending you against monsters. He is a big man dwarfed by the beast in front of him but he's not scared. He attacks, viciously, and for a moment he looks like he might run the monster off. But then the monster throws him around like a child. As your vision comes back, you can see everything more clearly and you wish, oh how you wish you didn't. You can see your brother's arm, sticking out from under the ruble of the roof. You strain, not wanting to see but needing to see. They are completely crushed by the roof. Unmoving. Limp. They're dead. They're dead.

Your brothers, alive and well just moments ago, victorious and proud just moments ago, are dead.

They'd given you smiles.

They'd beamed with pride.

Just seconds ago you'd been about to make a smart ass comment to them, you'd been thinking how proud you were, and now your little brothers are both dead. In seconds. And you could do nothing. The sorrow breaks out of you without your permission. You want to wail, to howl with it, but even that is denied you because you can't get a full breath. Because it hurts too badly to cry. But you can't stop the tears, either. You want your dad. You want to go home. You want to go back and undo all of this. You want to die. And what's worse is your eyes land on something so familiar. So painfully familiar. Your little sister's weapon, laying inches from you. Her explosive weapon. You don't have time to process it, because even as you watch, your father picks himself up again, starts the fight again. Protecting you. Defending you. Standing between you and the danger. Fighting for you. He roars defiance, and then- -and then the man who brought you all here steps up, and stabs him. First in the back, then in the stomach. And your father falls. Dead. And you can't do anything. You can't stop it. All you can do is struggle. All you can do is desperately try to free yourself before the monster comes for you.

You are in agony, you are exhausted, and you are trapped. But you can't stay down. Your sister needs you. Your father might, somehow, still be alive. So you try. You try to pull yourself free, you strain with your 'free' arm to push yourself out, to get leverage, to do anything, but God, it hurts, and God, you are so tired. But you have to. You have to. She needs you. So you try again. And again, harder each time. But even trying your hardest, your strength has long since failed, and you make no progress, And as you work up the strength and the will to keep struggling, as you feel yourself getting the energy to keep trying, you hear the worst noise you could ever hear. Footsteps. The monster finds you. And for the second time in one night, you are totally at the mercy of someone- something- else. You have no more strength. You have no more energy. You look up into his face, and you see, for a moment, the boy only a year or two older then you. You make eye contact. You see him, and he sees you. Please, you think, please. And for a moment, he looks almost sad. Almost like he hears you. But then he snarls and the boy slips away again behind the monster. He advances. You are going to die. But you don't.

You don't, because the monster that is your father charges in and grabs him, rips him away from you, slams him up against the wall. It is not your father. It is deformed, twice as big as the first monster, twice as hideous, roaring and screaming and you listen as the two fight, like huge, ancient animals. The first monster doesn't stand a chance, though. Your father, the monster, snaps it's neck. Your father- your gentle, kind father who hated violence and never lifted a hand in anger and had a warm laugh and soft hands and big, smothering bear hugs- snaps the neck of a monster that used to be a boy. One handed.

It's not your father any more. And then he comes for you. You loved this man. You trusted this man. You adored him, and loved him. But this isn't him. This isn't your father. And the sorrow and pain in his eyes when he sees the fear and disgust in yours is palpable. He turns from you, making noises like a wounded animal, and while he's distracted going after the men outside you take the opening to try and scramble away. You can hear the thing that used to be your father roaring a name. You can feel the heat of the fire, the creak of the building.

But you can't make it to your feet. You have nothing left. You're on the edge of giving up when he comes back, the thing that used to be your father; but when you look up, all you see is your father, and you reach for him, needy, exhausted. Dad. And he scoops you up, and he flings both of you out the window- as the Goddamn building explodes. If your brothers were still alive, there is no way they are now. You hit the ground. When you come back around, a second time in less then an hour, you find your father already almost dead. He rasps out a last message, and it is nothing like the warm, loving words from before-what feels like years ago but was only hours, only this afternoon. He tells you to take care of your sister- and then he dies. No words of love. No words of affirmation. He leaves you with the responsibility you already knew you had and then he dies, there, under your hands. Now you howl. But even then, it is short, and broken, and weak compared to what you want. You're in too much pain. You're too tired. Everyone is dead. You came to save him and everyone is dead. You are alone. Your father is dead, your brothers are dead, your uncle...the only people you have left in this whole world is a little boy and your sister. You'll have to care for them. Protect them. Raise them. All alone. All by yourself. For the second time in your life, you are surrounded by destruction and fire and sobbing over the body of a dead parent. Well. At least now you have a minute, finally, finally you have a minute to breathe, to grieve. You can mourn them. You can let yourself feel the pain, work through it, rest and gather your strength. Think of what to do, what to say. Except- you don't. Because here comes your little sister.

#arcane #we all know what happens next #and vi never gets to cool down #or stop #or rest #for the next six years she is in survival mode #fighting for her life every day #and then the events of the show happen #vi has never #not once #gotten a chance to catch her fucking breath #tw:death #vi #vander #claggor #mylo #fanfic sorta?#character study sorta?#idk what to call this

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byunbaekby · 3 years

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title — the things i know pairing — soccerplayer!jisung x female reader genres — angst, fluff, high school au, strangers to lovers au, first love au, long distance relationship, hurt and comfort, coming of age overall warnings — underage drinking, cancer, character death, language, mentions of hickeys, fainting, mentions and descriptions of hospitals, soccer inaccuracies, lots of angst (you’ve been warned!) word count — 14.8k summary — jisung has never been keen on growing up, or even understanding what adulting means. at seventeen, all he knows is: he loves soccer (and he’s damn gifted at it), and girls are very pretty but also plenty scary. then he met you, his first love who turned his life upside down and made his stomach roll like the soccer balls he loved to kick around the field. but when your cancer comes back after years in remission, jisung thinks, he doesn’t really want to grow up anymore. playlist — falling, harry styles ; your guardian angel, red jumpsuit apparatus ; my first and last, nct dream ; bye my first, nct dream ; orchid, jeremy zucker

additional — for the heartbreak hotel collab hosted by @nct-writers. my concept in the five stages of grief was “acceptance and hope.” thank you to my babes @suh-insane and @astroboy-lele for proof-reading!

The thing about knowledge is that you never know when or what you’re going to learn. There’s no way for you to predict what will be of your mind when you fall into bed that night, surrendering to the moon. In the morning, there’s no telling what knowledge your brain will choose to store away for remembrance over the course of the night, and what your brain will decide is unnecessary. What you decide not to remember is a memory you can’t even miss.

When you wake up every morning, you don’t know if you’ll go to bed having met someone who will change your life forever.

At seventeen, there are two things that Park Jisung knows. One, he loves playing soccer (and he’s damn good at it, the way his long legs carry him across the field in what seems to onlookers like seconds). Two, girls are very pretty but plenty scary as well.

The day starts out normally, like any other away game that the team plays.

He wakes up at six o’clock on the dot, and eats a large breakfast to hold him over for the game, then packs a few granola bars into his soccer bag and lets his sister know he’s leaving before he jogs the way to the park where the bus is waiting for his team. The ride is normally an hour long, so he either tucks his earbuds into his ears and tries to get in a short nap or he converses with his teammates.

Today though, the bus ride is three hours long. Crossing his hoodie-clad arms across his chest to act against the cold air of the bus, he focuses his gaze outside and watches as the town goes by.

“Yo, Jisung, check this out!”

At the sound of his name he turns his head, blinking when he sees a number of his teammates in the surrounding area nudging him closer. A few of them are leaning in towards a particular teammate, who displays a proud expression. “What’s up,” asks Jisung as he too leans forward toward his team member, curiosity slightly piqued.

Jaemin, the teammate in question, tugs the collar of his jersey down to reveal his skin. On the milky white curve of Jaemin’s collarbone, he sports a dark purple bruise, surrounded by a perimeter of yellow where the skin seems to be healing. There’s no question as to where that mark came from, and it definitely wasn’t from soccer.

“Ew, man, that looks sick!” comes from Donghyuck, along with a few comments from others, either approving or disturbed.

“Where’d that come from?”

Renjun slaps Mark on the chest, eyebrows furrowed at him. “Obviously, it was from Anne! Didn’t you see the way they were all over each other at last week’s game?” Jaemin grins, eyes going lovesick at the thought of his girlfriend.

Jisung’s expression contorts into one of disgust. “That’s disgusting, man,” he comments, nose still scrunched in distaste as he leans back into his original spot on the bus seat. Another thing he’ll never understand is why people are so desperate to grow up, as if giving hickeys and sneaking vodka into their Hydro flasks makes them somehow more adult.

He slips his earbuds into his ears, playing some light muzak to lull him to sleep with his head leaned rather uncomfortably against the cold window.

Jisung doesn’t think that he’s exceptionally smart; he’s gotten passing to above average grades his entire life. He’s not musically talented, nor is he particularly a smooth talker.

But hearing people call him gifted is a feeling he relishes every time.

With his long legs and strangely large and spacious lungs, soccer called the boy’s name from the time he could run. He dominated the peewee league, then the club teams until this point, at the ripe age of seventeen waiting to be scouted for college teams.

He wasn’t usually one to brag but today, he had shot the winning goal.

Everyone has their thing, the one thing that they excel at. For Picasso it was painting, for Yiruma it was piano, for Renjun it’s spending four hours every night researching alien conspiracy theories. For Jisung, it’s soccer. But he’s never been exceptionally good at speaking to people.

“What’s your name?” He hears a voice, cheery and upbeat, behind him as he’s grabbing his bag on the side of the field. The game is over, and the crowd begins to dissipate while the team members are gathering their things to return to the bus. Turning over his shoulder he sees you, wearing a bright smile. Cautiously he responds, “Jisung Park.”

“Oh, so you’re Korean then. I’m gonna write that down, okay? How long have you been playing soccer?” You ask next, and now Jisung’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Write what down?” He asks, trying to keep his tone as polite as possible. Even so, how is he supposed to react to a random person at a game suddenly appearing to ask him questions? As he wipes his forehead with his towel he adds, “Who even are you?”

Quickly you say, “I write in the high school newspaper, and wanted to get a close-up of today’s star.” It’s then that Jisung realizes the camera slung around your neck and the notepad in your hands.

“Why are you writing about me? I don’t even go here.”

“Because,” you say, a slight sigh creeping into your voice now. “Our team sucked today. You straight up stole the show, and no one wants to read about a team that lost. I’d rather give them a peek at the star.”

“14!” His coach yells his number once, causing Jisung to look over his shoulder to the source of the voice, where his teammates are already beginning to pile onto the bus. The boy in question slings his bag over his shoulder and tucks his soccer ball under his right arm before finally getting a good look at you. “Shouldn’t you be writing something to raise your team’s spirit or something? Giving them support, maybe?”

You shrug. “I don’t like underdogs. Don’t like writing about them. I’d rather read about the heroes. So how long have you been playing soccer again?”

“Jisung!” Now it’s Chenle calling after him, and he really needs to go. Eyes flickering to the street where his teammates are gesturing for him to hurry, he looks back to you. Your eyebrow is raised expectantly, right hip popped out as you wait. Before he starts to run off, he manages a small, “I’ve been playing eleven years. Um… bye.”

Then he turns away and his long legs carry him to the bus a few meters away. Even so, behind him he can hear your loud, proud voice yelling after him with the name of your high school: “Check the online newspaper! You’ll see my article!”

What a weirdo, he can’t help but think as the team cheers for their star player getting on the bus back home.

A week later, it’s another Saturday night following a victorious win against another team in the local area when Jisung gets a call from Chenle. “What’s up,” he asks immediately, leaning back in his desk chair to throw his soccer ball up in the air and catch it with one hand.

“Wanna party tonight? Celebrate our win a bit?”

“Where?” asks Jisung. He’d never been big on parties. For one, his long legs that were great for running weren’t exactly skilled in dancing or anything of the like. Secondly, he’d definitely be expected to talk to girls and he’s not really in the mood to make a fool of himself.

“Taeyong’s house. Me, Mark, Hyuck, and Jaemin are going. Renjun’s busy, and Jeno wants to spend time with his cat. What do you say? Wanna join?”

Jisung sighs. He was honestly just exhausted. “Think I’ll pass. My sister’s been getting on me about my bio grade.”

Chenle groans on the other line. “Lame.”

“Next time, promise,” says Jisung.

“Fine. Have fun studying, looooser!” This is the last thing Chenle says before hanging up, leaving his best friend alone to shake his head with a small laugh. Then he remembers something, some words that a stranger had yelled out to him a week before.

Sitting up at his desk, Jisung opens his laptop and types in the name of your high school, along with your town. A few clicks around the website finds him at the online news section, plus a scroll or two past some questionable articles, there it is: a picture of him mid-kick, the winning one if he remembers well enough. His nose is scrunched in concentration and strands of dark hair cling to his forehead.

Soccer Superstar from the opposing team steals the show and the win!

A small scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, trying to humble himself as he reads over the first few paragraphs.

Our school’s boys soccer team faced a devastating loss on Saturday in the face of the opposing team’s ace player (pictured above). The game ended promptly when the superstar player confidently kicked in the final shot, though the result had been clear from the first half of the game.

A short interview with the hotshot player revealed that he has been playing soccer for eleven years! A senior from Neo Culture Prep, it is clear as day that the school is very lucky to have such a prodigy on the team.

Who is this superstar player, you ask?

His name is Jisung Park.

Geez, Jisung thinks. He knew he was good but not that good. The article did a good job of spicing him up, making him look like he was a lot better than he really was. There’s too much fluff; sure, he’s skilled and he knows it, but—he touches his cheeks. They’re warm—the article makes him sound like a soccer god, and it’s beyond embarrassing. Who even are you?

A scroll to the bottom of the page tells him all he needs to know.

Article written by: (Name) (Last Name).

He doesn’t return to your town for almost two months. There’s a tournament today, the hours lurching between games giving him more than enough time to psych himself out about how he’ll play.

It’s noon, the sun shining overhead causing a sheet of sweat to amass on Jisung’s forehead. His team has just won their second match of the day, and in waiting for their next game, his eyes are scanning the bleachers set up for observers on the side of the field. It’s not hard to find you, same camera hanging around your neck.

With his long legs, he jogs over to you towel in hand. You’re not at all focused on him, eyes pressed into the camera’s viewfinder as you attempt to capture a good shot of the current game.

“I don’t like the stuff you said about me in your article.”

His deep voice suddenly intrudes your thoughts, and you jump in your place. As you turn to him and drop your camera from your face, he catches sight of the way your eyes widen at his appearance. A flood of recognition replaces the shock before you tilt your head. “Why? It was all good stuff.”

Patting at his forehead with his towel, Jisung responds, “Yeah, exactly. I’m not that good. I could’ve played better that day.” This brings a small snort from you. “Really! They were narrowing the angle on me, I should have flanked or lofted.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It’s—”

You cut him off before he can explain. “You’re good. Why are you so shy to accept that?”

“Why do you keep trying to paint me as the main character of the team? Everyone works hard together.” He questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“Because you are,” you respond matter-of-factly, focused enough to press your eye into the viewfinder again. A few seconds pass, and Jisung recognizes the click of the camera as you capture something on the field. “You’re clearly the best player on the team by a long shot. You’re the main character, the hero.”

At your response, Jisung shakes his head in disbelief and scrunches his nose. There’s really no getting through to you. “I’m more than the hero you think I am.”

You turn to him, facial features contorted into a mischievous expression. “I’m sure you are.” Jisung realizes then that you’re holding something out to him. Taking it, he observes it. A… business card? With your name and number on it. “(Name). Aspiring journalist.”

“You have a business card? Aren’t you like, seventeen?”

You shrug, smile tugging on your lips. “Never hurts to be prepared. Call me.” It’s the last thing you say before you flitter away on quick feet, leaving to interview the team which has just won their match. He watches you leave, wondering if you know what kind of effect you have on people.

“I don’t know, man. She seems kinda crazy,” says Hyuck from the seat next to him, leaning his head back. However, a sudden bump in the road causes the bus to jump, startling the boy a bit. Jisung had just shared his thoughts about asking you out with his friend, who immediately made a face and shook his head.

“Crazy?” Sure, you’re a bit forward and maybe slightly reckless, but he doesn’t think you’re… crazy. It’s been a few weeks since he last saw you and from the conversations you’ve shared over text and phone… he thinks he likes you. Like, really likes you. It’s goddamn terrifying.

“Yeah, we all saw her article,” Chenle speaks up from the seat behind him. “She’s obsessed with you.”

Jisung rolls her eyes. “It was one article. That doesn’t mean she’s obsessed.”

“I think you should do it. It’d be funny to get on camera in case you fail,” snorts Renjun.

Jaemin pipes in from in front of them. “But if you do ask her out, she lives three hours away. That’s a lot of distance.” He’s the only one in a relationship, so maybe he has the only opinion that Jisung trusts.

“Other people have done more distance.”

Now, it’s Jeno’s turn to pipe in. “But you’re not other people, you’re Jisung Park. You’ve never had a girlfriend.” Should he feel insulted? Chenle also adds, “Jeno’s right. You’re a senior! It’s your year, and you wanna spend it tied down to some girl who lives three hours away?”

But you’re not just some girl. Mark’s the only one who hasn’t spoken, and most of the time, he’s the most level headed. Jisung turns to him with a sincere expression and asks, “What do you think?”

Though he had been trying to stay quiet throughout the conversation, he stretches a bit in his seat before finally saying, “I think you should go for it.”

“I think you should too!” Jaemin says. “But I think you should be prepared for what it means.”

“Whatever you decide to do, we’ll hype you up.”

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” Jisung asks. “If she rejects me, at least she’s three hours away, right?” There’s murmurs of agreement around the seven of them. He tries to sound relaxed, but the thought of asking a girl out for the first time causes his heart to thump loudly in his chest. Oh god… should he do it?

“So?” asks Hyuck after a few seconds of silence, and it’s then that Jisung realizes everyone’s looking at him. “Are you gonna do it?”

He gulps. “... No idea.”

A collective groan emerges from the group of boys. Hyuck, ever the genius, straightens his back with a glint in his eye. “How about this? If we win, you ask her out. You’ll be riding on a winning spree and it’ll give you confidence. If we lose then… there’s more girls back home.”

That… doesn’t sound like a bad idea. But oh god, he doesn’t know which option he wants.

For the first time, Jisung feels like his legs are knotting into each other, tumbling over his feet.

Soccer had always come easily to him, like breathing. But for some unknown reason, he’s totally off his game today. He knows the play, his strengths, and even the weaknesses of his opponents, but he trips over his feet.

No, that’s a lie. He definitely does know the source of his nervousness, and it lives in the form of a girl with a camera and a notepad sitting in the bottom corner bleacher. His breath is frantic as he zips back and forth across the field. The sounds of the game are ringing loud in his ear, and he can hardly even focus on the black and white ball being kicked around, let alone what the coach is screaming at them. They’re so close, one more goal should do it.

He knows what’s going to happen. Jisung Park had always been known for his ending kicks.

But what if he messes it up? What if he fumbles the kick or whiffs it?

Then again, does he even want to win? That’s a dumb quesiton—of course he does—but the question is: is he ready for what comes with the win? He really shouldn’t look, shouldn’t peek for just one look at you, but he does. You’re scribbling in your notepad, and he swears in that millisecond that you look so pretty.

Yeah, he wants it. He really wants it.

He’s ready, and—oh god, Sungchan is passing the ball to him. Suddenly Jisung is on high alert, winding up toward the goal. He captures Sungchan’s ball with ease, no longer tripping over himself as he makes his way to the end goal.

One kick, just nail this one kick.

He winds up, turning his body to the correct angle; he kicks it and…

Please go in, please go in, he’s begging.

The ball flies in straight past the goalkeeper, who jumps toward it but there’s no use. It all happens so quickly, and suddenly his team erupts into celebration when the referee blows his whistle. Still standing there, Jisung catches his breath and stares into the goal.

He won.

That means… He glances at you. You’re wearing a huge smile on your face, and without noticing it himself, Jisung has his own proud smile on his. His momentary peace is interrupted by his friends running toward him, nearly knocking him over in their celebration.

“Yeeahhh, Jisung Park, you’re the man!”

A few minutes later, Jisung tries to calm his nerves after thanking the opposing team for a good game. When he returns to the sidelines where his stuff is, he can barely get some water down his throat before Chenle is pushing a soccer ball into his hand. “Good luck, dude,” he says, and Jisung can feel the others’ eyes on him. Oh no, it’s time.

He steals a glance at you, and—Oh. You’re looking at him too. A bashful smile spreads over your lips and you turn away, focusing back to your conversation with your friend. His heart is beating so loud, but Jisung doesn’t think it’s because of the soccer game. Turning back to his friends, he groans, “I need a pep talk.”

“Okay, uh,” Mark attempts. “You got this, you know you’re the man. Um… if she rejects you, then it’s okay, there’s other fish in the sea!” A groan erupts through the group. “That’s not a pep talk, Mark!”

“Listen,” says Chenle suddenly, grabbing Jisung’s shoulders to stare at him. “She’s not gonna reject you. You’re Jisung freaking Park! The star of the team and my best friend! Go get ‘em, and don’t take no for an answer!” With this, he gives Jisung a small push in the girl’s direction.

“Actually, uh—I think no means no,” pipes in Jisung but everyone cuts him off with a collective, “JUST GO!”

Pink spreads across his cheeks as he slowly walks in your direction. At a good distance away, he places the coveted soccer ball down on the ground and winds himself up for a kick. Okay, he just shot the winning goal of the game. If he can do that, he can do this. Running forward the slightest, Jisung gives himself a silent pep talk as his foot taps the ball. It goes moving from its spot, flying through the air… and that’s when Jisung realizes his mistake. Instead of gently tapping against your ankle like he had planned, the ball flies straight in the air, knocking the side of your head rather harshly.

“Not that hard, genius!” Chenle chastises from behind him, and Jisung has to hold back the desire to actually groan in that moment. He immediately runs toward you, hands out in surprise. “Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, reaching out for you. You’re rubbing the spot on the side of your head where the ball had hit, and he wants to disappear right there.

He never should have done this.

Why was he born again?

“I’m so sorry,” he says again for the nth time, feeling shame and humiliation speed up his spine at the way you wince when you touch the side of your head. “Oh my god, go get me an ice pack,” he demands over his shoulder at his friends.

“No, no I’m okay,” you reassure everyone. Now all the eyes are on the two of you.

A few moments of silence pass as you eye the soccer ball which has rolled some distance away, crouching down to pick it up. Ball in hand, you scan the outside of it… and destroying all of Jisung’s hopes and expectations, you burst into laughter.

You laugh so hard, the boisterous sounds leaving your lips so vehemently that you have to cover your mouth with your hand. Jisung furrows his eyebrows. “I just kicked you in the head and you’re laughing?” Oh god, he must have done more damage than he thought. You don’t answer, the only sounds leaving you are giggles and guffaws. It’s only making him feel worse; geez, he wishes he wasn’t so tall so he could positively disappear right now.

You finally look up at him and meet his gaze, your own eyes crinkled in delight. Flipping the ball over in your hands, you present to him the ball. Written on one of the large white spots reads a firm, “Go out with me?” in black marker.

“This is why you kicked me in the head?” You ask, still chuckling the slightest. Bashfully, Jisung nods. You laugh again. Every time you do that, he feels like getting smaller and smaller. “Of course I’ll go out with you.”

Wait, really?

He says these words aloud, eyes wide at your ease. He hadn’t expected you to actually say yes! “Sure,” you respond with a smile. “Though I could’ve gone without the head injury.”

This brings a laugh from the both of you. He really had been worrying so much about nothing. His frame instantly relaxes, taking the ball back from you. “You sure you don’t need the ice pack?”

“No, I could definitely use an ice pack.”

The first date happens two weeks after that game, and it’s his first real date so he has no idea how to act. Everything goes fine—he takes you to the local arcade in your town, and though he’d deny it to the ends of the earth, you beat him in foosball.

“Ha!” You had screamed. “Superstar soccer player Jisung Park, and you can’t beat me in table soccer?” His cheeks had burned pink at the sound of your voice reverberating around the public arcade, but honestly the mirth in your eyes was worth it.

His cheeks are red but the air is cold on the walk home to your house. He had promised to have you home by nine, and it’s—he checks the time on his phone—8:45.

A look at you, holding the giant stuffed teddy bear that you had won (he hadn’t won it for you, because lord knows he’s horrible at skee-ball), and Jisung can see the air leaving your lips. “Hey, you cold?”

“Nah,” you shake your head, though you scoot closer to him on the sidewalk. His tongue laves over his bottom lip quickly, and he almost wants to hold your hand. But that wouldn’t do much to keep you warm.

He purses his lips, then immediately his hands are working at taking off his hoodie. That’s a cute thing, isn’t it? Boyfriends giving hoodies to their girlfriends? “Here, take this.”

When you take one look at the hoodie in his hands and roll your eyes, Jisung knows he’s in for it. “Seriously? You can’t fool me with some cheesy rom-com moves,” you laugh.

Ouch.

That hurt his pride. He was just trying to be nice, maybe a tad bit romantic, but you clearly weren’t having it. He should have known you would be so tsundere, and maybe he does.

He knows you act strong, like there is no way on the face of the earth that you would ever swoon for his lame attempts at flirting. But when you reach upward on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before you step into your house, he knows you like it just as much as he does.

For the longest time, it’s been just him and his sister Naeun.

His parents passed away shortly after his birth, so they stayed under the custody of their aunt. When his sister became an adult, she became his legal guardian. Since then, it’s been the two of them against the world.

Though kids had sometimes made fun of him for not having a mom or a dad, Jisung never paid those kids much attention. Sure, he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to drive or a mom to attend his parent-teacher conferences, but he had his sister and she was all he’d never need. Naeun gave up everything for him: she didn’t go to college, she traded nights out with her friends to help him with her math homework, she worked two jobs so he could play soccer. She had worked so hard, perhaps sheltered Jisung so much that he had always lived a comfortable life.

It never occurs to him just how much she had struggled until the morning she asks him to get a job.

She sits across the dining table at breakfast, and over his cereal, Jisung notes how shaken and guilty she looks. There must be something on her mind, but that’s how his sister’s always been; she doesn’t like to worry him, and speaks up when she’s ready. When she finally tells him, he blinks, confused.

“I can’t pay the bills alone. Not with soccer getting more expensive, and the landlord raising the rent—that bastard,” she mumbles under her breath, surprising Jisung. She hardly cursed. “It’s… It’ll just be for a short time. I promise.” She has tears in her eyes. Jisung furrows his eyebrows; she must feel guiltier about this than he thought. Immediately he nods in understanding. “It’s fine, Noona. Don’t worry about it. I’ll, uh, go out looking this weekend.”

He takes another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, thinking that the conversation will end there. But it doesn’t, his sister’s quiet voice reaching his ears. “Promise me you’ll go to college, Sung. Promise me you’ll make it. Make it all worth it.”

And it’s in that moment, in the way that his sister’s voice is on the edge of breaking, that it occurs to him just how much his sister has sacrificed for him. How quickly she had to grow up, having become his parent at eighteen, just a few months away from how old he was now. And he was nowhere near as responsible as her.

He swears in that moment that he’ll uphold his promise. He’ll get a scholarship, he’ll help his sister out. He’ll pay back everything she’s given up for him.

Finally, today you’re in town.

It’s the first time you’ve come to visit him in his town, and he’s so excited to show you everything: his school, his favorite ice cream place on the corner of the street from his apartment building, and even the park he grew up kicking soccer balls at. Even after all these years, him and his friends still came here to practice their soccer technique.

Today, the two of you are sitting underneath a tree at said park, his head in your lap. You’re running your hands through his dark hair, and wow, he’d never admit that it feels so good.

There’s a small laugh heard from you as you comb through his locks. “You should dye your hair.”

“Suddenly?” He asks. “I don’t even know what color I’d dye it.”

“You should do like, a blue or something. Oh, purple! Purple would be nice!” Your excitement causes him to roll his eyes promptly, sitting up. “I’ll dye my hair purple if you dye your hair purple,” he retorts to you.

“Maybe I will,” you say, standing onto your feet now that he’s gotten off of you. Wiping the grass from your legs briefly, you nod toward his soccer ball a few feet away. “C’mon, let’s play.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You wanna play soccer.”

“Yeah, is that so surprising?”

“Um, yeah, a little bit considering the fact that you said it’s boring and that you complain having to get up to go to the fridge at two in the morning,” quips Jisung with a laugh. You only roll your eyes in response. “I never said soccer was boring, I just said it’s only interesting when you play. And you’re gonna teach me right now, so stand up,” you say, extending a hand to him.

He takes your hand, rising to his feet before picking up the ball. “Fine,” he relents, a smirk making its way onto his face. “Try to keep up.”

For fifteen minutes, the two of you race up and down the park’s open grass field, chasing the ball in every direction. He evades you, long legs carrying him and the ball while you chase after him.

“Wait,” you say mid-sprint, slowing to a stop. Your chest is heaving, and slowly Jisung stops his running also. “You good?” He asks from a few feet away.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, reaching a hand up to wipe at your forehead. “Just… gimme a sec.” A minute passes of you catching your breath, but Jisung doesn’t pay it much attention—a person who didn’t play soccer and have trained lungs like him would struggle.

“Okay, okay,” you finally say, shaking your head a bit. “Let’s go again.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, worry seeping into his tone.

“Yeah, yes! Just—just go.”

So he does, beginning to kick the ball down field as he chases after it, stopping past center field to pass the ball to you. You’re racing after him, and though the ball is coming your way, you trip over it, falling straight onto the floor.

Your head hangs low, and he immediately rushes over to you.

“Hey, hey! You okay?” He asks, kneeling down but your eyes are closed. He swipes a hand over your forehead, and it’s that moment when he realizes your eyes are closed. Did you pass out? Had he pushed you too far? “(Name)?”

No response. Oh god, what is he supposed to do?

Is he supposed to check if you’re breathing? Where can he check for a pulse again? In his moment of inadequacy, he pulls out his phone and calls his sister.

She’ll know what to do, but it pains him that he doesn’t.

His sister arrives quickly, and immediately takes you to the hospital. According to her, you do have a pulse and you probably just had heat exhaustion. He sure hopes so…

For a few hours he sits in the waiting room as he awaits the arrival of your parents. They rushed over from your town, four hours away, and this definitely was not the impression he wanted to have on them. Head in his hands, he can’t help but worry about you.

You do wake up, eventually but he can’t see you until your parents arrive.

They take you back home. You’re walking and talking again, but as you shoot him a weak smile from over your shoulder, walking down the hall and out of the hospital, Jisung can’t help but feel that something has gone terribly wrong.

He swears he’s never been so tired.

Working at McDonald’s isn’t horrible, per se, it’s just different. But it definitely takes more out of him than soccer ever did. The second he walks into his room Jisung drops his backpack on the bean bag next to the door and almost collapses on his bed. Throwing his work cap on the floor, he runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his phone.

The best thing about coming home from work, is coming home to you.

He immediately fishes for his phone from his pocket and opens it to speed dial. Pressing on your contact, Jisung presses the phone to his ear and waits for his girlfriend’s voice on the other end. The line picks up.

“Hey,” he says, a smile spreading over his lips without him even knowing.

“Hi…”

Something’s wrong. Your voice is missing its signature excitement, the snarkiness he had grown accustomed to. He sits up in bed, eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything okay?”

Yes, you’re supposed to say. Everything’s fine. Everything’s just peachy.

But you don’t. “I got a call from the hospital.”

After you had fainted the other day playing soccer with him, the hospital had run a few tests to make sure you were okay. He knew this, you both did. They were supposed to say that you had been dehydrated, that you hadn’t eaten in a few hours. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Jisung…”

“What, what is it?”

There’s a momentary silence on the other side, then a shaky breath. “When I was ten… I got really sick. I was always having nosebleeds, always tired—some days I didn’t even want to get out of bed. They took me to the doctor and they told me that… I had leukemia.”

Jisung releases a heavy breath, staring into his sheets. No… don’t say it.

“I fought it for two years, and I beat it. God, it was… it was really hard, and I got through it. It’s been five years now but—but the hospital called and…” Please, no. “My cancer came back.”

Jisung’s never felt this way before; like all the air in his lungs have been pulled from his chest, lost to the universe. Not even when he sprinted across the soccer field, not even when he had gotten punched in the chest. All those times, his chest burned with fire, be it anger or passion. But now… his chest feels empty and hollow and numb. He manages to spit out a few words.

It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re supposed to be okay, you’re supposed to go to prom together. Graduate. He’s supposed to get a soccer scholarship, you’re supposed to study journalism at the same school, and the long distance would cease to exist. You were supposed to be happy. “But it’s gonna be okay, right? You’ve fought it before, you can do it again.” Perhaps it was a bit selfish of him to ask for consolation when you were the one with the illness. But you were a journalist, never a liar. Your voice is weak, like you’ve already given up.

“I don’t know.”

“What’s up with you?” Chenle’s voice is almost worried, but Jisung wouldn’t be able to tell because his eyes are focused on the ground. He’s been kicking a soccer ball around with Chenle and Mark for a while now, but there’s clearly something very off about the teenager today.

“Yeah, is something wrong?” Mark asks.

Jisung blows some air into his cheeks. Should he tell them? It’s your private information but technically, you’re his girlfriend right? The news has been troubling him for a few days now, and he’s had no one to talk to. Surely, he can’t talk to his sister about it.

He should just spit it out. “(Name) has cancer.”

It’s like the world stops, his friends taking in his words. “W-What? What did you just say?” Chenle speaks first, then Mark quickly follows. “Did you say (Name) has cancer?”

Keeping his gaze on the ground, Jisung nods and gives the ball a small kick in Mark’s direction. “Yeah. She had leukemia when she was younger, and… the other day she went to the hospital and they said that it came back. Her cancer came back.” When he looks up, both his friends are looking at him with genuine concern etched across their faces.

“Seriously? Cancer? And you’re still dating her?” Mark asks, causing Jisung to raise an eyebrow in confusion. Did he just insinuate what he thinks he did?

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Chenle speaks up next, trying to defuse the sudden tension. “Jisung, you guys have only been dating like, a couple months. It was just like yesterday that you kicked her in the head asking her out!”

“And?” Jisung asks pointedly. Suddenly he’s in front of Chenle, and though he technically towers over the latter in height, Chenle’s chest is straight as he makes his point.

“Is it really worth it to stay on a sinking ship?”

Jisung’s voice reaches a new level of low, erupting from a place deep inside of him that he’s hidden away. It’s a place of rage, of anger sizzling and bubbling in his stomach. Suddenly they’re both chest to chest, unwilling to back down. “Now, I know you’re not talking about my girlfriend.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mark interrupts, hands coming between them to tear the two boys apart. “Calm down. Both of you.”

“He started it,” accuses Jisung quickly, dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “My girlfriend is not a sinking ship. Neither is my relationship, and I don’t need you to comment on it.” He looks to Mark for guidance. Mark had always been the most logical one, the one he would look to for help, and though he thinks that Mark will agree with him, he almost looks guilty.

“But it’s true, Jisung. We’re worried about you. She’s just a girl. Is she really worth hurting yourself over?” He had trusted Mark to be on his side, but now Jisung just releases a scoff. He had been hoping for his friends’ support, but it seems like he’ll be going through this alone, then.

You’ve been avoiding him.

Of course, there’s not much that can be done to avoid him when you live hours away from each other. But you haven’t been responding to his texts, and when you do, they’re mostly short and taut. You’ve been cutting your phone calls short, often saying that you’re tired. Maybe you really are, but it hurts hearing the line cut off, not knowing how you’re really feeling.

Jisung can’t help but feel like he’s failing. He should be doing better.

It’s like your relationship is an hourglass, running out of time with every day that he spends going to school, work, or soccer practice. Like you’re getting further and further away with each short text message.

His entire life has been spent running. Speeding forward center field like a lightning bolt, long legs carrying him far ahead everyone else. But for the first time, Jisung feels like he’s falling behind.

It only takes a three hour bus ride (four, with the added stops) but in Jisung’s mind, it’s all worth it. It won’t be the first time he’s gone over to your house, but it is indeed the first he’s ever showed up unannounced, which is a strange appearance given that he lives three hours away. But with everything happening, he’s willing to give up the day and six hours worth of travel for you.

Sitting on the bus, he pulls out his phone. It’s early, like nine in the morning, but he knows you have a doctor’s appointment in a few hours so you’re definitely awake. He presses the facetime button, but you quickly reject his call. His eyebrows furrow, but lighten with an incoming text from you.

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : jisung, i’m using the bathroom rn. call you back in a bit.

He nearly rolls his eyes, but it’s a sweet one. You’re always so candid.

[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : you act like you’ve never facetimed me on the toilet before.

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : wow, call me out more why don’t you

[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : pick up my call, brat ♡

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : no, You pick up My call :p

Seconds later, his phone is lit up with an incoming facetime screen. A laugh almost leaves him at your tenacity before accepting the call.

The call opens up to the visual of his girlfriend, you in your PJs fixing the phone up against the mirror in the bathroom. He sees himself reflected in the mini screen, hoodie on and earbuds in wearing a boyish grin. “Hey pretty girl. Make sure you wash your hands.”

You roll your eyes at his remarks. “Hey ugly boy. I’m already doing that. What are you doing?”

“Just making sure, because I don’t think you brushed your teeth after you fell asleep on call the other night,” he teases, clicking his tongue as you’re the only person he can tease so easily. “I’m on the bus to practice.” A lie, but a white one at that. “What are you up to?”

You wack your still dry toothbrush in front of the camera, nose scrunching up in the slightest. It’s a habit of his that you’ve picked up. “I’m also doing that right now.” You wet the brush, putting some toothpaste on it. “I thought you didn’t have practice this Friday? Or was that next Friday?”

Your actions bring a low laugh to his lips, and his eyes momentarily focus on the passing landscape outside the bus window as he’s now three hours out of his normal perimeter. “Uh, Coach wanted to add in a practice today. Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment today?”

You nod at his answer, toothbrush in mouth. “I do, I think it’s like, in a hour or something.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies simply as the bus comes to a stop, your house only a short walk away. He stands, gathering his bag. “Gotta go, but I’ll talk to you in a bit, pumpkin honeysuckle,” he snorts, making his way to the front of the bus.

Your brows furrow as you give him a disapproving look through the screen, shaking your head slightly before moving to rinse your mouth. “Talk to you soon, don’t get hurt at practice or I’ll fight you.”

He scoffs as he steps out of the bus, into your neighborhood. “Like you could take me. Later.” You probably could, given your determination, but he gives you a nose scrunch before ending the call. He’s only taken a few steps when his phone rings with a text message.

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : you and i both know i could take you :)

A snort leaves him. Classic (Name).

When he arrives a few minutes later, he hesitates at the door, only praying that the person who opens up is you, not your parents or god forbid, your brother. It only takes a few hard knocks before he hears your voice on the other side, determined to see just who the hell had the nerve to interrupt your laziness this early in the morning. “Who the fu—”

He tsk’s in distaste. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the first words to leave his girlfriend’s mouth are cuss words. “You potty mouth. I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he says, opening his arms.

Jisung’s not quite sure what he expected. For you to jump in his arms? What a delusional boy. You blink for a few seconds, then suddenly you’re throwing yourself at him, fist first to land a deserved punch to his arm. “I thought you had practice? What are you doing here and why do you look so much cuter than when I last saw you?”

“Well, I lied,” he snickers, patting your head. “I’m here to annoy you, obviously. But you look too. For a—” A person dying of cancer, but he can’t say it. He won’t. “—person who barely got up twenty minutes ago.”

Your hand immediately begins rubbing the spot that your fist landed, worried that it might actually bruise in a bit. Jisung asks, “So are you gonna invite me in, or?”

“What are you, a vampire or something? I’m pretty sure you weren’t given permission when you entered my heart so just come in and cuddle me before my appointment.”

Your response catches him off guard so he blinks before entering in silently, sticking his hands back into the loose fitting pocket of his hoodie. Even after six months, he’s still not used to you saying those kinds of things. Hell, he still gets sweaty holding your hand.

“Hey Mom! Dad!” You’re grabbing onto his arm, tugging him into the kitchen. “Jisung’s here!”

After a small breakfast and conversation with your parents, he’s given the permission to go with you to your doctor’s appointment. The two of you take the bus, hands interlaced as you sit, and Jisung smiles awkwardly when an elderly woman compliments the two of you, calling you a cute couple.

He’s never really been in a hospital before.

For an arduous soccer player, he’s lucky enough to never have suffered a pain great enough to warrant a visit to the hospital, nor had he ever been sickly enough to send him there. It’s for that reason that he feels slightly out of place, tucked in his hoodie whilst trying his best not to gaze at the others in the waiting room. Instead, he tries to keep his gaze focused upon his girlfriend as you remain bright despite their surroundings. Your hands intertwined, he feels a comfortable warmth seeping into his veins, gold in color and feeling. Gold like the ring on your finger, and like your heart.

He’s so lucky to have you.

“I don’t really have anything planned,” he says softly, giving your hand a slight squeeze. It’s true that your itinerary is next to nonexistent for this impromptu date, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. If anything, a hospital is a strange starting destination for a date but your relationship is a bit strange. Quietly, he says to you, voice low in the hopes that no one overhears, “Don’t hospitals scare you?”

He knows that you spent a good portion of your time here; surely you must have grown accustomed to it, but Jisung was not. Hospitals were cold… white and bleak and much too quiet.

“Nah, not really,” you answer with a shake of your head. “Except for all the souls wandering around.”

Jisung blinks. “Souls?” He gulps.

“Yup. The souls of the passing.” You click your tongue, along with a wink in his direction now that you’ve successfully managed to creep him out. Do you ever stop making jokes?

The door to the waiting room opens and a medical assistant calls your name. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” you tell him, standing and releasing his arm. He gives a hesitant nod, watching as you leave through the door and disappear down the hall.

When you emerge, some forty-five minutes later, the mirth is gone from your eyes.

He knows right away: you didn’t get good news. His heart is pumping in his chest, like he’s waiting for you to collapse right there. Years could pass, and Jisung swears he’d never be able to erase that memory of you. “Are you—” Okay, he wants to ask. But you just give him a small smile and shake your head. It’s not the time. He cuts himself short, reaching a hand out to you with a small, albeit forced, smile. “Let’s go on our date.”

It’s a long afternoon, spent in the arcade where you had had your first date—this time, for memory’s sake, he gets another ring from the claw machine—then McDonald’s and ice cream. He treats you to lunch, courtesy of his employee discount, and the entire day is filled with laughter and mutual teasing. Everything feels like it’s okay again.

Jisung enjoys these moments the most.

The moments where he doesn’t feel like he has to be anybody: not the star soccer player, not the kind understanding younger brother, or a kid trying to look grown up at an adult party. With him he’s just you, awkwardness and quirks altogether. You’ve never hid yourself from him, and now he doesn’t have to hide himself either.

Now that the day is touching evening, the two of you sit at a park, relaxing mindlessly on the swings next to each other. Now that the romantic buzz is gone, the two of you have fallen into a comfortable silence.

“Thanks for coming this far, Ji. This was… nice.”

A small smile spreads over his lips. “It was nothing. I wanted to do it for a long time.”

“No, really,” you say, turning to him with a thankful smile. Your eyes are serious now, and Jisung feels the sunlight seep into his skin. “I really missed you.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. This moment feels heavy, like he’ll remember it for years to come. “... I missed you too. A lot.” You both turn back to face the sunset, watching the sun fade behind a hill. It’s setting, streaks of gentle reds and soft-spoken oranges staining the empyrean firmament. It’s then that Jisung feels his heart begin to sink, like the sun, into the pit of his stomach.

“Are you scared?”

A moment passes without you saying anything, then you speak up beside him. “Not really. I mean, it’s just the hospital. The only thing that’ll suck is not being able to leave. I never thought I’d say it but, I’m really gonna miss going to school.”

Did you think you were never going to return? “Are your chances good?”

The implications from earlier at the hospital return. What are the chances that things aren’t looking up? “They say so,” you breath out.

That’s not good enough. Anything could happen. Jisung needs clarification, confirmation. He doesn’t want to lose you. “What if you—”

“I might.”

A beat of silence.

Jisung feels like crying. It gathers in the back of his throat. “What would I do without you?”

There it is: the implication that you’ll be gone. That one day, Jisung will have to wake up and face a world without you in it, a world with less happiness and less passion. A world where there isn’t someone who will call him ugly when really they think he’s the cutest to walk to the earth, or where there isn’t someone to make fun of him the way you do. A world with less love.

Your voice is dry as you speak.

“You’d move on.”

“I don’t know if I’d ever love anyone like you,” he finds himself saying.

“L-Love?” You suddenly say, voice the smallest he’s ever heard. You’ve always had the loudest voice, most prominent in his brain, but his words seem to have caught you off guard. “Do you? Love me?”

He doesn’t know what love feels like. He’s just a teenager, what is he supposed to know about love? About loss? Is it all-consuming, like in the movies? Is it meant to hurt? “... I think I do. I think I love you.”

There’s a sniffle next to him, and he turns immediately, alarmed that he may have made you cry. There are tears in your eyes, but they don’t fall. Being a writer, you talk too much. Your words are eloquent and true, though sometimes Jisung has a hard time getting you to stop talking. But this time, you choose to abandon words altogether, instead leaving your swing to stand in front of him. Compelled by nature, he stands too. Instead of speaking, you reach upward on your tiptoes once more. Except this time, you kiss him.

Your lips meet, and everything is golden.

And against the backdrop of the setting sun, it feels like the closing scene of Jisung’s very own romance movie. But this isn’t the end, he knows.

When he walks you home, he offers his sweater again.

This time not out of obligation or the desire to appear more romantic than he is, but because you’re cold. Really cold. You’re shivering, arms wrapped around yourself not giving enough warmth.

“Here,” Jisung says, already beginning to take off his hoodie, but you stop him with a hand and a pointed look, though your chattering teeth cause you to stutter. “S-Still trying to woo me with cheap rom-com tricks?”

You’re stubborn. You’re so stubborn and he hates it.

“Just take it,” he says, pushing it into your arms.

“No,” you argue. “You have a three hour ride home, it’s late and you’ll be cold.”

It’s obvious your illness has made you even more sensitive to the cold, and for that reason, Jisung’s fine facing the biting cold as long as you’re okay. “You’re freezing, please just take it.”

“Jisung, I said no.” Your voice is stern now, and he gets the feeling that he’s upset you. He gives up, gnawing on his bottom lip in deep thought. He just wants to make you feel better, doing what he thinks will help but with you, it never does. You’re so independent, too much so and much too stubborn to admit you need his help… “Fine,” he says before putting his hoodie back on. If you won’t take his warmth, then he’ll give it to you.

He lifts his arm, placing it fully around your shoulders and pulling you to him so your bodies meet. “At least let me hold you,” he mumbles. Your frame freezes in his for a moment, until you wrap your arms around the circumference of his chest.

Burying your face into his side, you relent into him. “Okay, fine.”

And later, he finds that you’re right. When he sits alone on the dimly lit train, he realizes that the warmth he had been feeling earlier, bathing in the sun’s rays with your lips, is long gone. All he feels now, is cold.

“You skipped practice the other day.” Jisung looks up from where he had been sitting on the bleachers, tying his shoes after practice. It had been a tough practice; he had missed quite a few passes and whiffed more than just a couple shots. He can only blame himself. He’s been distracted; alongside his worries about you, he also has a job to attend to and even more, the results for his dream school’s soccer scholarship is supposed to come out soon. His gaze falls on all six of his closest friends, looking down at him.

“Yeah, something came up,” he says easily.

“More like, someone,” retorts Donghyuck easily. “We know you ditched to go see your girlfriend.”

“And what about it?”

“I don’t know what’s happened to you, man. You never want to play ball with us anymore, you don’t want to hang out with us. Whenever you invite you to a party, you raincheck. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” Chenle spits out, arms crossed over his chest.

“Chenle,” says Renjun carefully.

“No,” interrupts the boy in question. Chenle looks straight at Jisung, who stands now to meet the others’ heights. “He needs to hear this. Ever since that girl came around, it’s like you’ve lost your way. You used to be all about soccer and friendship. Now you always have her on your mind, and—did you see the way you played earlier?—she’s messing you up. Your head’s not on straight.”

“Chenle, stop.” Donghyuck speaks up now, voice low as he tries to stop the younger from going off. “You’re not the same Jisung I met in peewee camp, and I don’t know if I like who I’m seeing,” Chenle finishes.

That’s enough for him. His voice comes out before he can stop it.

“You know why I never party with you anymore?” Jisung suddenly says, voice booming and clearly at his limit. “Because I’ve always hated partying. Because I have a job now, and because I don’t want my sister to stay up worrying about me while I’m getting piss drunk. I hate drinking, I hate trying to look cool while actually looking fucking stupid, because I don’t know how I can even think about partying when my girlfriend is fucking dying.”

A hearty scoff leaves his lips, as though he can’t even fathom the words he’s faced today. “You don’t even know me anymore? That’s where you’re wrong, because you never knew me. Not all of me. You only see me as the star player who’s gonna get you your win. She knows me, she knows all of me, and she doesn’t try to change me. Well, sorry that I’m not the same kid you met years ago who let everyone walk all over him. I thought you guys were my friends, but clearly you only want me around for as long as I can play.”

Those are the last fiery words to leave Jisung’s mouth before he turns on his heels, storming off the field and away from everyone else. He just needs to get out of here, away from everything before he ruins it. Mark and Hyuck follow after him, while Jeno and the rest hold Chenle back.

“Don’t listen to him,” Mark says, ever level headed. “We know what you’re going through.”

Though he appreciates their concern, Jisung spits, “No, you don’t.”

Both of them stop walking, no longer chasing after him as Jisung pulls out his phone.

A new email.

He immediately opens it, eyes glazing over the text.

Dear Jisung Park,

Thank you for applying to our university’s soccer scholarship. We reviewed every application with our utmost dedication and attention. Unfortunately, we regret to inform you that we cannot accept your application at this time. Our soccer program is one of the most competitive at this school, however we encourage you to reapp…

What a load of shit.

The past few weeks have been horrid.

Soccer is as tense as ever, though Jisung would be lying if he said that his fight with Chenle didn’t fuel him to work even harder during practice. His job sucks, especially after someone spilled a bucket of old oil on him (it was cold, thank goodness but still gross nonetheless). So far he’s gotten another rejection. Who knew that getting into college would be this hard?

He wishes that he could say his relationship with you is the saving grace, but it’s really not. You’re in the hospital now, and the two of you have been talking less and less. Even now with his feud between his friends, he feels even more alone. Today when he calls, you sound even more tired than usual.

“Hey, chocolate honeycomb bunny,” Jisung says, giving his absolute worst at giving a cringe-worthy nickname. It seems you’re too tired to even give a repulsed response.

“Hey.” You’re quiet for a moment, only your breathing heard across the line. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” sighs Jisung, running a hand through his dark locks. “Just exhausted. My coworker is getting on my last nerve.”

“The same one you talked about last week?”

“Who spilled the dirty oil on me? Yeah,” he responds with a roll of his eyes. “We’ve both been working the same amount of time, I just want to know why he’s so slow to pick it up.”

It’s characteristic of you to agree, seeing as complaining is one of your favorite past times. But you don’t, voice only coming out softly across the call, “Maybe just give him some time.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he sighs. “How about you? Are you feeling better?”

“About the same,” you respond truthfully. God, you sound so tired. He almost feels bad for making you talk to him when you clearly sound exhausted. “Any more results?” You ask, regarding his college acceptances.

“No,” he shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. He’s a good student, he’s done community service. Just what more do they want from him? “You said I was special, but I don’t think the colleges see that.”

He can almost see your small smile in his mind. “You are special. Just ‘cause they don’t see it doesn’t you aren’t.”

“Eh, I don’t know,” Jisung says, playing with a loose thread on his bedsheet.

What you say next catches him off guard. “Maybe we can both be college-less, together.”

“What?” He asks, brows tightening in confusion. “Didn’t you get into the journalism program at that one university?” He’s caught you. You’re silent on the line for a few long seconds, but the quiet is deafening for him.

“I did, but Jisung, I…” You hesitate. “I’m not going.”

“What do you mean you’re not going?” He asks.

“I… I don’t know if I want to.” In a small voice, you continue, “I don’t know that I’ll make it that long.” What are you saying? What are you implying? Heart racing, Jisung tries to decipher these words in his mind. To him, it just sounds like the end.

“You’re giving up already, I hear it in your voice.”

“I’m not,” you say, a broken promise. “I just… want to be prepared for the worst.”

“The worst isn’t coming. You’re going to get through this. You’re going to beat it. I know you are.” It becomes blatantly clear in this moment that the person Jisung is trying to convince, is himself.

His pleas fall upon deaf ears, because you argue back in what seems like the strongest voice you’ve made in months. As though you’ve amassed all your remaining energy for this conversation. “I’m not a hero, Jisung. I’m not cut out for this. The doctors said it’s not looking good.”

“Then prove them wrong. You’re gonna beat it.”

“I don’t want to be the underdog either, Ji. You know I hate them.” What you say next has his blood boiling. “I don’t deserve it anyways, no one would want me to come back.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung raises his voice now, volume growing with each word.

“No one likes me,” you spit out across the line, and he doesn’t need to see you to imagine how incensed you are at the moment. “I’m rude, I’m loud, I cross boundaries and I say things that hurt without caring about who it touches. And before you yell at me that no one thinks of me like that, these are things I’ve heard from other people.” Your voice breaks, as does Jisung’s heart. “If this were a movie, no one would root for me to survive.”

“I do,” Jisung says, voice strong. “I’m rooting for you. Every. Single. Day. And who cares about how other people see you? You’re rude? You’re crass? I like you because of those things, because you’re different from me. Am I not enough?”

“You’re different,” you relent, voice tired. “You’re the only one who matters. But I—“ You choke up. “I’m just tired of fighting. I don’t want to go to sleep every night not knowing if I’ll wake up the next morning. I want to be strong, and I want to face every day knowing that it could be my last… I don’t want to leave anything behind—”

“You’re not leaving,” he cuts in.

“—and I can’t go through every day letting you think that everything is okay, because they’re not. But I’m ready to let go, Ji. Because I’m happy with what I had, with what we had, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Tears are falling down his cheeks now, suiciding off the surface of his face and staining his bed sheets. He doesn’t know if the tears are the result of sadness, anger, or the pain of loving someone the universe would never let him have, yet it hurts all the same. “But I love you! I told you that I loved you.”

“I love you too,” you cry, and the sound is heartbreaking. “But I just wish that were enough.”

A pregnant silence consumes both of you. All that can be heard is the sound of your mutual crying, along with your breathing that Jisung had learned to fall asleep to. When you speak again, your voice is steady. You had always been the stronger one. “I don’t think you should call anymore.” A few sniffles. He can’t even speak. “Goodbye, Jisung.”

Then the line dies.

It’s Christmastime. He knows it’s cold, probably even colder in the hospital where you are.

Now, Jisung knows you don’t want anything from him. You don’t want him around. In the past weeks he must have become someone even he wouldn’t want around. And though he gets the feeling that you’ll never need him again, he figures you could use a sweater. It’s nothing much, and really he thinks it could be better.

A hoodie, not fit to your size but slightly larger because he knew you well enough to know you’d like it like that. On one sleeve, near the wrist, a patch of a soccer ball. He had learned how to sew it on himself. On the other, his initials. JS.

He sends it in the mail, in a box to the hospital with your name and room number on it. There’s no letter, nothing. Just his bare soul in the form of an oversized cotton hoodie. He’d send it himself, appearing at the door to your hospital bed, but something tells him he’s run out of things to say.

His phone rings at three in the morning.

He knows what it means.

February 2nd, at 2:39AM. The world lost you.

It would never be the same again, and neither would he.

Grief is an interesting thing, someone once told him.

He doesn’t quite remember who it was, whether it was his sister comforting him after the death of their goldfish, the guidance counselor at his school giving him a required appointment after the passing of a student, or yourself. But as the hours go by, it feels more and more like a weight in his chest that has been sitting on a hollowed place in his heart.

Grief is indescribable, and Jisung doesn’t know if this is because his limited seventeen year old vocabulary hasn’t collected enough fitting words to even begin to verbalize his emotions, or if because it really is indescribable.

The first few days had been hell.

He had almost become someone that he didn’t know, barely stepping out of bed and perhaps worrying his sister out of her mind. It was his way of ignoring the world, dissociating himself from the irrefutable truth that you weren’t really gone. You were still laying in bed, three hours away as usual, struggling but still fighting. If he could lay in bed, sleeping the days away and ignoring his text message condolences from his friends, he could pretend for some time that things were the way they were, eight months ago.

Eight months before it.

Eight months before he lost you. Before your relationship, a burgeoning dandelion in the nook of spring. But dandelions represent rebirth, the reappearance of hope like a beacon after an arduous winter, and you would never have another spring.

He could not pretend, because every morning the sun rose again, and he would have to reach his head out from the burrow of blankets he had buried himself in. He would need to face it for himself that he woke up, and you didn’t. His friends texted. His sister knocked on his door and begged him to eat, even going as far as to cook his favorite foods as a means to lure him from the darkness of his corner. He ate. But it was never the same.

Messy bedheads, earbuds tucked in with muzak playing gently like the thrum of his heart which beat enough for the both of you, tear-stained pillow cases, knees to the chest, light failing to shine in through the blinds which remained closed, counting the seconds between each breath, dreaming insubordinate dreams.

The first few days went like that. Empty.

Then he was angry.

Angry because the world had given him a love worth changing for, then ripped it from his inexperienced hands. He had never had anything in his life! Not a mother, not a father. Could he not have this one lily, this flower which sought to remind him of the fragility of life? And even more so, he was angry for you. You were a fire—you were a bottle of passion bursting at the seams, a well of untapped potential, a boldness which no one else could emulate—and the universe crushed you beneath its foot.

And suddenly, the emptiness of your hollow space reflected upon him.

He should have been better, should have done more. A soccer ball proposition? A sweater? It was laughable; that was the least he could give? If only he had called, if only he hadn’t listened to you like the meek child he was, things could be better.

And above all, he was sad.

What would he do without you?

Moving on seemed useless. A light at the end of a dark tunnel which stretched for ages. An epiphany that you would never reach.

He just hoped that it was not cold. That you left the world in a ball of light, surrounded in the warmth of family and love, not the rigidness of the unforgiving world. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he hoped that the soccer ball sleeve had been clutched to your chest, and that his hoodie could have provided just a little bit of that warmth.

The walking pattern outside his bedroom door is different from his sister’s. So is the knock on the door; his older sister’s is much more quiet, reserved, as though she was afraid to wake him. This one is harsh, and it reverberates through the room before the door opens.

The air in the room is still for a moment.

“Jisung.”

It’s Chenle. And Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, as well as Jaemin. They all take their seats either on the end of his bed, the floor, or his beanbag, but Jisung doesn’t move from his place underneath the blankets.

“What do you want?” He manages to groan out in a small voice.

Someone places a hand on his leg, a comforting gesture. He thinks it’s Jaemin from the gentle touch. “We’re here for you.”

Donghyuck comments, “You haven’t been to practice this week.” Of course that would be what they would mention first. Jisung scoffs. “I’m kind of going through something.”

“And we’re here.” Mark’s voice.

“We wanted to apologize.” Chenle speaks now, and despite being best friends since they were five, he’s the last person Jisung expected to say sorry. In their decade-long friendship, Chenle was the confident one, the one who charged forward without consequence while Jisung trailed behind, cleaning up his mess. “We’ve been… assholes, simply put.” Had he been in higher spirits, Jisung would have snorted. “We thought we understood what you were going through, and we thought it was dumb. To let yourself get hurt over some random girl… but we were wrong. We didn’t understand your point of view.”

“Not even a little bit,” says Donghyuck, head hanging low.

“Yeah, we’re supposed to be your friends. Your team! We’re supposed to lift you up when you’re down and… well, we haven’t been doing that. And we’re sorry. I’m sorry.” Chenle says. Slowly, Jisung lifts his head from below the blanket to face his friends. They all wear a variety of expressions, all somber. “And we know now… she’s not just some random girl.”

Yeah, they’ve all been assholes, some more than others, and Jisung can’t exactly say that they were any help in his struggle. But perhaps this was something he needed to go through alone. At the time, he needed you. But now… he just really needs his best friends.

Tears sting at his eyes for the nth time.

“Come here, you crybaby,” says Jaemin, opening his arms.

It’s Monday, meaning he has to go back to school today. He’s not ready, how could he be? It hasn’t even been a week since you… left, but he knows he has to go back. His sister, God bless her, had let him take the first few days off but now that the weekend has ended and school has rolled back around, he has no choice.

“You look like shit.”

Donghyuck has always lacked a filter. It would hurt if Jisung didn’t know that Donghyuck meant that in the best way possible. You look like shit, he says. So I’m glad you found it in you to come to school, is what he doesn’t say.

Jisung closes his locker with a sigh. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” snickers his friend, and Jisung turns his head to find Mark and Jaemin approaching. “Morning,” greets Jaemin as he taps the top of Jisung’s head, despite being shorter.

“Hi,” responds Jisung quietly, clutching his chemistry textbook to his chest. The three of them look at him with quiet and somber eyes, but don’t say anything. Mark places a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving it a small rub.

“You got this.”

The truth is, he can’t do this. The world feels quiet and empty, lacking a particular passion that you used to always embody. It could be worse. Thank goodness your relationship was rather private; he doesn’t know how he’d be able to function at school had there been curious eyes on him, if you had gone to the same school as him.

The day goes rather slowly, and Jisung busies himself with catching up on his work that he had missed. He could almost pretend like things are normal. It’s not until fifth period calculus that something strange happens.

An office TA pokes her head in and scrambles over to the teacher, who was in the midst of a very enthralling lecture on integrals that Jisung was definitely not paying great attention to. The TA whispers something into the teacher’s ear, then hands her a piece of paper. Mrs. Huang nods, then suddenly Jisung finds her eyes on him. “Jisung, Mr. Moon wants you in his office.”

Him? Why him of all people?

Mr. Moon is the guidance counselor at their school, and Jisung has a moment of internal panic—had he somehow found out about you? Should he prepare himself for a lecture about grief and moving on?

With a gulp, he nods.

Mr. Moon is a fairly nice man, with a friendly smile and a reputation for being a pushover teacher. Jisung had met with him a few months ago to discuss his desire to pursue a soccer scholarship but he highly doubts that’s the case now.

When Jisung enters Mr. Moon’s office, the first thing he sees isn’t Mr. Moon but a tall man with a stoic expression standing behind his desk. In contrast to the stranger, Mr. Moon wears his trademark smile. “Jisung, good to see you. Still getting a kick out of that old ball?”

Of course, Mr. Moon doesn’t know that Jisung skipped practice all last week to mope in his bed, but Jisung nods politely. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” responds the teacher with a smile. “Take a seat.”

He gestures to the chair in front of his desk, and cautiously does Jisung take a seat. The tall, bruff man is still standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, having not yet said a single word. Somehow the atmosphere is tense, and Jisung’s quite sure he knows what this is about.

“Now, Jisung, I’ve called you in today because—”

“Is this about (Name)?” Perhaps it’s a bit rude of him, but Jisung doesn’t want to be prodded at, at least not by people who think they know him. The last thing he wants is pity.

Mr. Moon’s eyebrow raises just the slightest, and he leans forward on his desk. “Why, yes, it is. How did you know?”

A scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, but it’s much weaker than he would like. “My question is, how did you know? Who told you?” Who was it that shared information on his personal life? Was it his sister? His friends?

“Nobody had to tell me, Jisung. (Name) sent the letter to me herself.”

Wait… what?

Jisung blinks, hands falling slack on his lap. “W-What? What letter?”

Perhaps his staring is a bit too obvious, for Mr. Moon gestures to the stranger in question with a hand. “Jisung, this is Johnny Seo.” Finally, the intimidating stranger has a name. “Johnny is the head coach of the soccer team at Greenwood University—” Wait, Greenwood University? That’s Jisung’s dream school—well, it was his dream school, until they rejected his application for a soccer scholarship. What would they want to do with him? “—and he wants to offer you a full-ride scholarship.”

What?

Jisung’s mouth falls open. What? What the hell? Hadn’t they just rejected him three months ago? His eyes must be bugging out of his face, so he blinks repeatedly, trying to find the words to say.

“W-Wait, what? A… A full ride?” He stammers, unable to find his tongue.

The man named Johnny only nods. “Full ride. Covered tuition, dorming, and soccer costs. All you have to do is keep your grades up and keep scoring those fancy goals of yours I’ve heard about.”

“But—But, you rejected me… why now?”

For the first time, Johnny gives a small smile. “Because of the letter.” There it is, that letter again that Jisung has no idea about. He looks to Mr. Moon for guidance. All the counselor does is open his desk drawer and pull out an envelope, which he slides across his desk. “(Name) (Last Name) wrote a recommendation letter to the university, and honestly, it was stunning. It was enough to make the admissions board… bend a little, to say the least.”

Reaching forward, Jisung grabs the envelope and examines it in his hands. It’s opened, but yes, on the front is your handwriting. He’s cried so much this past week that he doesn’t know how many times tears have touched his eyes, but they sting once more. This time, he doesn’t let them fall.

“She… wrote a letter. For me?”

“That she did,” responds Mr. Moon.

“She’s right,” says Johnny suddenly. “In our work at the university, we’re always looking for the best of the best. We should look deeper, sometimes.” The words sink in the room, and Jisung finds himself staring down at the envelope in his hands. What things had you had to say about him?

Honestly, all he can think about is his failure. How he failed to be there for you, how he cowarded in your presence when you told him to leave you alone. He bites down on his lip.

“So? Will you accept our offer?”

Jisung looks up again, meeting Johnny’s expectant eyes. “I…” His mouth suddenly runs dry. “I don’t know, I… I need to think about it.”

“You’re not graduating for another four months. Take your time.” Slowly, still in glassy-eyed disbelief, Jisung nods. His fingers find the edge of the envelope, tracing its pointed edge. You wrote that for him. From across the desk, Mr. Moon speaks up. “You should read that letter, Jisung, and realize what’s coming for you: good things.”

To Whom It May Concern,

Hello. My name is (Name) (Last Name), and I am a high school student writing this letter to appeal a rejection by your university. Not of my own application, but of an extraordinary person with the name Jisung Park. In my humble opinion, I believe that your institution has made a grave mistake in not offering a scholarship to Jisung. So, I write this letter to appeal such a rejection, and to do something that he hated, though it was what I always did best: write about Jisung.

Now, Jisung is a humble person who never speaks up about his struggles, but the truth is that of all students, I believe he is the most in need of this scholarship. His parents passed when he was young, and he grew up in the care of his older sister who raised him. Their small but strong family made sacrifices, gave up luxuries, and endeavored to survive.

In the midst of this crisis, Jisung found his one savior: soccer.

He is, without a doubt, the best soccer player I have ever seen in my entire life. He can sprint across the field in half a normal player’s time, and I’ve never seen him miss a goal or a pass. But his soccer prowess isn’t what makes him great. Moreover, Jisung is the person you want on a team. He believes in teamwork, but is always striving to be better. He doesn’t want to stand out, but does so anyways. He is never arrogant, nor boastful. If there is one person who deserves this, it’s him.

But, I am sure that you are thinking: why should this letter mean anything to you? I’m not a highly valued individual in the community, nor have I done anything significant for my name to mean anything. I’m only a seventeen year old student, a struggling journalist.

The answer to that question is, I know Jisung Park. You only see his grades, the shallow things on his application. You will never get to see the Jisung Park that I knew and loved.

In my time alive, Jisung Park made an impact on my life that will never be forgotten. Even when life seemed the darkest, not a beam of light in the field's view, Jisung picked me up and made me see the sunset. I know now, the sunset is beautiful, warm, and comforting—everything that Jisung is. He never left my side, and never for a single moment did I ever feel alone in his presence. The world often overplays the saying “a heart of gold,” but the truth is that Jisung has one.

I used to think that love would be red, like the burning of one’s lungs racing down a soccer field, or black and white, made to be simple. But the truth is, love is golden. Golden like the sunset painting streaks against the floor, golden like Jisung. It’s a warmth that covers you from head to toe, relenting into a future that you don’t know.

He is my golden boy, and he can be yours too.

I may not have a future, but if there’s one thing that I know, it’s that Jisung deserves one.

I’m a journalist. I don’t write love letters, but perhaps this is the closest I can ever get. And should Jisung ever read this letter, I hope he knows that with this, I dedicated my last spark of sunlight to him.

Sincerely,

(Name) (Last Name)

Your funeral occurs on February 13th, a week and four days after your passing.

Jisung stands in front of the bathroom mirror, nose scrunched in concentration as he makes a feeble attempt on his necktie. This is surely not as easy as throwing on a soccer jersey. “Ugh,” he groans, fingers getting confused again.

“Need help?”

His sister’s dainty voice calls him from the bathroom door. Dressed in all black, she’s ready too. Turning his head, Jisung sighs. “Please.” She makes his way toward him, fingers coming to work on his tie already with steady hands.

“You’re too tall now,” she says softly, with a chuckle. It’s true; he used to look up to her, physically and figuratively, but now he’s an entire head above her. “You’ve grown up a lot.”

It was his eighteenth birthday just a few days ago but to be quite honest, he hadn’t had the heart to celebrate it. If anything, he had always thought that his eighteenth birthday would be like an epiphany for him. As though he would wake up the morning of, feeling like an adult with all the answers to the world.

The truth is, he’s eighteen now and he still feels like he has no idea what he’s doing.

“I don’t feel any different,” he admits. “I thought eighteen would mean something.”

“You’ll get there, trust me. And anyways, I always told you not to grow up too fast.”

For a moment there’s a silence as his sister swoops the tie in and out, weaving it to form the perfect knot. Feeling something scratch at the back of his throat, Jisung speaks. “... I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for, silly? I was the one who never taught you how to knot a necktie,” she chuckles.

“Not for that,” he says. “For last week. I… probably scared you.”

Suddenly, his sister is wearing that demure smile of hers again. The one that is small and polite, but always seems to carry more weight in it than he can see. “No. It’s okay, I knew you’d be better.”

Naeun finally finishes the knot, tightening it the slightest around Jisung’s neck. “There you go.” He offers her a small thanks as he turns to look in the mirror, and she begins to leave. A sigh leaves him; there’s no avoiding it now, he’s ready to go.

“You know, Jisung,” she suddenly speaks up from the doorway. “I’m glad that you met her. Even if it ended up like this… you’re different. In a good way, and I think she had a lot to do with it. Even if you don’t feel different… you are.”

In the months of your relationship, Jisung had come to learn your insecurities. You were loud and proud, but with that confidence came an unwavering insecurity that you were unliked by those you spilled your tongue to. At the funeral, Jisung sees that that’s not at all true.

People give speeches for you, place flowers on your grave. The school newspaper had even written an article to commemorate your presence on their team, and the president of the club reads it aloud. A number of hospital staff make their appearance.

Even Jisung’s friends show up, despite the clear memory of them calling you crazy early on. Maybe they were right, maybe you were crazy. But he probably was too.

It doesn’t rain a single drop, though it had been pouring for three days before. Instead, the sun peeks through the overcast clouds, gifting sunshine.

Jisung smiles.

He probably looks like an idiot, carrying the soccer ball around the entire funeral but he knows what it means to him, and what it means to you. When he places it on your grave, the grass still fresh, his eyes catch the carefully written words on a singular white spot.

I love you.

He knows that he means it.

At eighteen, there a lot of things that Jisung still doesn’t know. But even so, there are a handful of truths that he can hold onto forever. One, he’s still an incredible soccer player and girls are still very scary. But like soccer, maybe that just takes time and practice.

Two, growing up isn’t about a number. It’s not about partying or drinking, nor is it about rushing into relationships that have little meaning. For years Jisung had wanted to grow up, to face the world with no fears and be able to cruise through. But he knows now that growing up is about being strong in the face of sadness, pain, grief. About waking up every morning even if you feel like you have no reason to.

Love is the same.

Love isn’t about making out on the bleachers after practice or trying to copy the coy clichés seen in romance movies. It’s about the sacrifices, like four hour bus rides. It’s about communication and connection, like a recommendation letter traced in gold. Because of you, he’s moving forward. He can go to college, and the day will never come when he stops being grateful toward you and everything you’ve done. That’s love, and he will spend the rest of his life loving you. Maybe the love will change but it will always be love.

It hurts that you’re gone, it really does. Jisung doesn’t think it’ll ever stop hurting.

But the last thing he knows is that things will be okay.

Life moves on, and he will too.

#neowritingsnet #dreamwritersnet #nct-writers #neohbh #neothestars #park jisung angst #jisung angst #jisung fluff #park jisung fluff #park jisung fanfic #jisung fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct angst #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Merthur soulmate AU where they can always find each other:

Leon fulfils his self-appointed “older brother” role by helping them get away with it, and Morgana decides the son of her new guardian wasn’t so bad after all, if he came with such a great friend.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

This was requested a little while ago, also Homophobia doesn’t exist in this world and maybe that’s unrealistic but I literally don’t care, let me have this.

Everyone has a soulmate. It’s a fact of life.

No one really knows quite how it works, only that it’s something magical, and has been around since before recorded history.

Everyone can find their soulmate. They feel a tug in their heart, that always pulls them in the right direction, no matter what. No matter what obstacles or distance separates them, they may always be united, they may always find their way home.

Soulmate bonds were the one piece of magic that King Uther left untouched when he started his purge, for he was bonded to Arthur’s mother, and despite his cruelty, he could never find it in himself to deprive others of such a feeling.

(Besides, they were so ancient and global, there’s nothing he could’ve done to destroy them; easier to save his pride and leave them be.)

Very rarely, only a few times in a century, a pairing will appear whose bond is so strong, the compass in their hearts works in a slightly different manner.

King Uther’s son, Prince Arthur, and heir to the throne of Camelot, was one half of such a special pairing.

The first time the Prince disappeared, he was five, and meant to be taking a nap.

This meant that his nannies hadn’t even noticed he was gone before he reappeared in his bed, and no one in the castle knew of his little adventure.

To say Hunith was surprised by the appearance of a very young, very blond child in her kitchen was an understatement.

The last thing she was expecting to see when she turned around from laying her three year old down for a nap, was a noble-looking boy, who definitely hadn’t been there moments before.

After she recovers from her shock, she glances over at the front door (still locked) before looking back at the child with concern. She took a step towards him, and crouched down before quietly speaking:

“Hi there sweetie, how did you get in here?”

Child!Arthur ignores her, instead taking a wobbly step towards Toddler!Merlin, and without looking away from him, asks:

“Who’s that?”

Hunith is taken aback at that, and looks more closely at the child. He was clearly in sleep clothes, but they were made from expensive fabrics, and he looked chubby and happy and healthy, not like most young children around these parts.

She steps in front of Arthur again to try and catch his eye:

“Why don’t you tell me your name, and we’ll try to find your mum?”

Arthur looks at her only briefly as he pouts, before side-stepping again and regaining his line of sight to the dark haired toddler (still sleeping):

“Don’t have a mum. And dad’s busy. I wanted to find my person.”

Hunith tilts her head at that, but before she can ask what he means, Arthur finally looks at her properly, and begins speaking again:

“Are you my person? Or is it him? Nanny Marge says everyone has a person, and we can always find them.” he says it with confidence, and a self satisfied nod.

Hunith blinks, she knows all about soulmates, everyone does, but that still didn’t explain how the child had just appeared:

“Well, my name’s Hunith, and that’s my son, Merlin. Where are you from?”

Arthur yawns and stumbles towards Merlin, wrapped in blankets and laid in the corner. Hunith goes to grab him (Merlin was a fussy toddler, and it took forever to get him to sleep and she really didn’t want him to be woken up again.) but relaxes as Arthur sits cross-legged about a foot away from him, not ripping his gaze away for a moment.

He looks back up at Hunith sleepily, obviously starting to feel the effects of not napping:

“Mer-lin. I like that name. Like the birdy. I’m Prince Arthur of Camelot, son of King Uther.” He says the last part like it’s been rehearsed (it has) and Hunith stifles a gasp as she finally realises what’s happened.

Her old love, before he left, had told her of the rare pairings that appeared occasionally. The soulmates whose bond is so strong, they simply have to wish to be in the others presence, and they will appear there.

Truth be told, Hunith thought it was just a story. Soulmates are fairytale enough, but being able to appear at their side whenever you so wished? That was the stuff of love-stories and legend. Yet here stood a child, who claimed to be a Prince from another kingdom, who should be safely locked away in a castle several days journey from here. And all he seemed interested in, was Merlin.

Hunith wasn’t really sure what to do with this revelation. Not that she wasn’t glad her son had a soulmate, but her son’s soulmate was heir to a throne that would order a pyre for Merlin, even as a child. Merlin was floating spoons and lighting candles and knocking over cups before he could even crawl. Camelot was no place for him, at least not right now.

What if he accidentally did magic in front of the Prince? Would Arthur be scared, would he hate his own soulmate? Or would he not yet understand and tell someone accidentally? Would the King order his own son’s soulmate killed, if he found out?

Hunith shook the questions from her mind for now. Merlin was asleep, and she needed to figure out how to persuade Arthur that he needed to go back home:

“Arthur, that’s a lovely name. I know you want to find your person Arthur, but I think it might be best if you go home, before someone starts worrying, don’t you?”

Little Arthur yawns again, but pouts:

“I don’t want to go back. It’s so boring there, no one except Leon lets me play anything, and Leon’s busy.”

Hunith holds in a sigh, she can imagine life is difficult for an heir to the throne, especially with a father like Uther. She crouches down to his level again:

“I know sweetie, but you don’t want anyone worrying, do you?”

Arthur waits a moment before shaking his head forlornly. Hunith hopes she’s persuaded him, the only way he would go back is if he wanted to, she couldn’t force him. And she really didn’t want to have to journey back to Camelot on foot, and have to explain to the King why she had his son:

“No. I like Nanny Marge, and dad is always mean to her when she loses me.” Hunith frowns at that, but before she can say anything, Arthur stands on wobbly legs, and looks at her with determination:

“Ok. Bye-bye-”

He looks to Merlin again, and whispers his next few words, like he didn’t want to wake him:

“Bye Merlin. I promise I’ll come back-”

He looks back to Hunith again:

“Please can I come back? Leon says I should ask permission before going to someone’s home, so can I please please come back?”

Hunith worries her lip with her teeth at that, they were soulmates, she couldn’t exactly say no. But she also didn’t want to encourage the little prince to just disappear whenever he was bored:

“I... of course, Arthur, you’re more than welcome. But not too often, and not for too long, OK?” she tilts her head in question, and smiles when Arthur gives a decisive nod.

She holds in a smile as the Little Prince (what she had affectionately been referring to him as in her head) scrunched his face in concentration, closing his eyes. After a few seconds, he disappears with a pop and a few sparks, and she lets out a breath of relief, hoping that he had returned safely.

She stands still for a moment and blinks, seemingly trying to process all that had happened. She hums thoughtfully, before looking lovingly towards her son, and muttering to herself:

“I have a feeling that your future just got a lot more complicated, my love.”

For the next year, Arthur would pop in and out of Hunith’s house once a month or so. He only ever came when he was meant to be having a nap (the only time he was really unsupervised during the day).

Luckily, it would appear, that he and Merlin shared nap times; Merlin can’t accidentally expose his magic to the Little Prince if he was asleep every time he appeared.

Over the visits, Hunith learnt as much about Arthur as she could. He knew Gaius, which she was definitely relieved at (and sent a letter to him explaining everything the day she found out they knew each other). Someone in the castle knowing where Arthur had disappeared off to, if anyone ever noticed, would help.

She also found out who Leon was, the son of a noble, an aspiring knight-to-be, around twelve years old to Arthur’s six (both he and Merlin had birthdays at some point between visits), and that he seemed to be the only person around who allowed Arthur to have a little fun every once in a while.

After a little coaxing, she found that Arthur didn’t really know anything about his mother, only what Leon could remember, because Uther refused to speak of her (she thought that was a little heartbreaking, but hid it well).

Arthur kept his word, and never stayed for longer than ten minutes, but Hunith worried; she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold Arthur off for very long. He had visited around thirteen times, and Merlin had been asleep for every one of them.

Arthur would want to wake him up eventually, to actually talk to his soulmate, and who knows what Merlin would do.

Eventually, a few months before Merlin’s fifth birthday, Hunith sat him down and told him what had been happening. That he and his soulmate were very special, and that Arthur had been visiting whilst he was asleep.

To say that Merlin was excited was a vast understatement, and Hunith had to quell her panic when he asked if he could visit Arthur where he was:

“No Merlin, I’m sorry, you have to stay here, remember?-”

She frowns sorrowfully at Merlin’s pout and teary eyes, before schooling her face into a smile and continuing:

“But I promise, next time he visits, I’ll wake you up and you can play together, does that sound fun?-”

She chuckles at his excited nod:

“But only if you don’t use your gift sweetheart, Arthur might not be as good at keeping secrets as you or I am, so we’ll have to wait until he’s older, do you understand?” she whispers that, hoping that it would be easier to convince him if he thought of it as a fun game, instead of a life threatening secret.

Merlin thinks for a minute before nodding:

“Yes mama. No magic until he’s older.”

Hunith pats him on the head, taking a deep breath and preparing herself for Merlin to repeatedly ask her how long until Arthur visited.

So that’s how it goes for several years, Arthur visiting Ealdor when no one was paying attention, he and Merlin playing quietly, with no magic, for a while, before Arthur popped back home.

Hunith was grateful for the current simplicity, but she knew it couldn’t last. Merlin had been asking more and more if he could visit Arthur, and it was only a matter of time before he snuck off without telling her.

That, and the magic problem.

Arthur had spoken of his lessons, how according to everyone at home, magic was evil. Merlin always looked so sad at that, and Hunith was grateful for the fact that Arthur didn’t sound so sure. But she also knew that it was only a matter of time before Arthur was convinced by his father’s determined hatred, and she didn’t want to see the heartbreak on Merlin’s face.

The first time The Little Prince spoke of an execution, he was eight, and Merlin had just had his seventh birthday. Merlin cried as Arthur described it, and Hunith had to stop the anger at Arthur growing in her: it wasn’t his fault, and he didn’t exactly sound happy about it at all.

If anything, he seemed almost as upset as Merlin and when Arthur had noticed Merlin’s tears, he stopped talking immediately and bit his lip, looking to Hunith worriedly.

Hunith clenched her jaw before wrapping an arm around each of the children, and speaking to Arthur quietly as Merlin still sniffled:

“Do you think you can keep a secret, Arthur? A really big one, from everyone? Even Leon and your dad?”

He nodded vigorously, and Hunith gives him a weak smile before looking to Merlin, who stared back at her with watery eyes:

“Go on then Merlin, I think he’s old enough to know, don’t you?”

Merlin nodded this time, a little more hesitantly than Arthur, but he looks to his soulmate anyway.

Arthur stared back with wide, worried eyes, and gasped as Merlin all but whispered:

“I was born with magic. I am magic.”

Arthur looks scared for a split second, before he shuffles close to Merlin and taking his pudgy hand in his own. He thinks for a second, before looking at Hunith quickly, and then Merlin. He gives a firm nod as he says:

“I don’t care, and I promise not to tell anyone. If you have magic then it can’t be evil, and when I’m King, I’ll make sure everyone else knows that as well.”

Hunith lets out a sigh of relief, feeling like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders as Arthur’s short arms pull the three of them into a tight hug.

The first time Merlin disappears, is almost a year later. Arthur was nine, and Merlin was only a few days away from being eight.

During Arthur’s last visit, he had told them of a new addition to the castle, a sad, dark haired girl called Morgana, a year older than him.

He explained that something had happened to her parents, and his father had taken her in.

Merlin seemed concerned at that, and Hunith had a feeling that it would only be a matter of time before her son decided he wanted to help her (the boy was dangerously empathetic, he teared up at even the thought of other people suffering).

When she found the scrawled note on the table (Arthur had begun sneaking books with him, and he and Hunith would sit with Merlin, teaching him to read and write as best they could) with backwards letters and misspelt words, she almost panicked.

But she sat herself down and took a deep breath, knowing that Arthur had managed to keep the secret so far, and that Merlin could just reappear if he found himself in danger.

That didn’t stop her from scolding a sheepish Merlin when he returned half an hour later.

Arthur and Merlin had organised it on their previous visit. Arthur would make sure that he was locked safely in his room at a specific time, and Merlin could come to him for a change. Then Arthur could go get Morgana (and maybe Leon) so he could meet them.

Morgana had only been there for a month or so, and she had yet to warm up to Arthur. She was quiet, but had a sharp tongue when she chose to speak, not that that had put Arthur off quite yet.

He was still determined that they would be friends, and Merlin was great! So what better way to get Morgana to like him, than to introduce her to Merlin?

Merlin was overjoyed when he appeared in Arthur’s room, the bedchamber being larger that the footprint of his entire house back in Ealdor. The bed itself was what he found most impressive, it was so huge and soft! And there were so many blankets and pillows! Merlin quietly thought to himself that he should come here more often.

Arthur was nervous. Excited, but nervous. They’d known each other for years now, but this was the first time that Merlin was actually seeing his home. What if he didn’t like it? What if he didn’t want to be soulmates anymore, because he preferred his own home?

(”Although-” The Little Prince started to think, “if Merlin decided he wanted to stay in Ealdor, I think I would just stay with him. ‘Gana can do all my boring King stuff here, and I can go be a farmer with Merlin.”)

Those nerves disappeared the moment he saw the grin on Merlin’s face. Arthur showed Merlin where to hide, just in case, whilst he went to fetch Morgana. He had already told her he had a surprise, so it shouldn’t take too long to persuade her to follow him.

Arthur found her in a flower garden hidden round the back of the castle, she gave in and allowed him to drag her by the hand to his chambers with only minimal grumbling. She did however glare as Arthur pressed a hand over her mouth when she went to question why they were hiding from everyone who passed them in the corridors.

Eventually they were stood outside Arthur’s chambers, but before they enter, Arthur turns to Morgana and whispers conspiratorially:

“This is a secret so you have to promise not to tell anyone, kay? Not even Leon or my dad.”

Before Morgana could reply, she gasps, looking over Arthur’s shoulder with wide eyes.

Arthur turns and bites his lip as he sees Leon (now 15, and well into his initial Knight training) leaning against the wall casually, arms folded on his chest, and an eyebrow raised:

“What is it that no one is meant to be telling me, My Lord?”

Morgana stands in silence, hands folded in front of her, trying to appear as casual as possible as Arthur stutters:

“Oh... err... nothing Leon. I just wanted.... I wanted to show ‘Gana what I learnt on the piano this morning!” He hears Morgana huff behind him, she hated when Arthur called her that, and had said as much to him, but he didn’t seem to care.

Leon raises his eyebrow even further as he begins walking towards the two children:

“Is that so? Well why is that such a big secret? Don’t you want to show me too?”

As Leon stops in front of Arthur, towering over the boy, he puts his serious “I’m-potentially-about-to-tell-you-off-if-you-don’t-start-telling-the-truth” face:

“I... uhh... wanted it to be a secret! Until I get better! Then I can show you and dad!”

Morgana struggles not to mutter complaints at his terrible lying as Leon sighs:

“Arthur, what have we said about lying? It makes communication hard, and makes it difficult for people to trust you, and will only lead to problems later on. Would you like to try again?”

Arthur looks to the floor as he shuffles again, and Morgana feels just a little sorry for him. Not that she would say that.

Leon sighs once more and crouches to his level, forcing Arthur to meet his eyes. He gives the young prince a small smile as he speaks:

“If you don’t want to tell me Arthur, that’s fine. “It’s a secret for me and Morgana” is a perfectly acceptable answer. But lying isn’t. If you promise me that you aren’t doing anything naughty, then I’ll trust you, but I would feel better if another adult did know about it.”

Arthur looks up at him at that, surprised. His father would never accept Arthur keeping secrets from him. He replies quietly:

“It’s a secret for me and Morgana... and an adult does know about it... sort of. And it isn’t bad, I promise! Buuuuut-”

Arthur fiddles with his hands as he looks to his door briefly, before looking back at Leon:

“-if you promise to keep it a secret too, then you can see!-”

Arthur pulls his face into a scowl before continuing:

“-but ONLY if you promise!”

Leon hums exaggeratedly, and rubs his chin:

“Well... I promise to keep it a secret IF it isn’t naughty, or hurting anyone. How does that sound?”

Arthur’s face breaks into a grin and he nods, before opening his door and stepping inside. He quickly waves the others in and shuts and locks the door behind them, taking their hands in his own:

“You can come out now Merls, I’ve bought them!”

Leon and Morgana were astonished when a skinny, semi-grubby, obviously peasant-boy, came crawling out from under Arthur’s bed, and had to hold in gasps.

Merlin stands awkwardly as Arthur grins at him, and waves nervously to the new-comers:

“Hi... I’m Merlin. Me and Arthur are-”

Before he can finish, Arthur excitedly interrupts him:

“He’s my soulmate!”

The room is silent for a while, Merlin getting more nervous by the second, Arthur practically bouncing off the walls with excitement (and being oblivious to the awkwardness), Morgana being marginally surprised but taking it in her stride, and Leon... well... Leon was absolutely freaking out. But you wouldn’t know that from looking at him.

After only about a minute (but it feels like forever for Merlin), Leon stutters some words out:

“Arthur where did you.... why... where did you find this kid??”

Arthur looks to him in confusion as he stops jumping up and down:

“I told you. He’s my soulmate.-”

He puffs up his chest and puts his hand on his hips, looking extremely proud of himself as he continues:

“-I found him all on my own. I’ve been visiting him forever, but I wanted him to come here for once, so he could meet ‘Gana.”

Morgana breaks out her stupor at that, and looks at Arthur incredulously before looking back at Merlin:

“Hi, Merlin.” with a small smile, which Merlin returns.

Leon takes in a deep breath, wondering how the hell he was supposed to deal with this. The Prince had... kidnapped a commoner? Without anyone in the castle noticing?? What??? Nothing in his lessons trained him for this.

He shakes off his confusion and finally looks away from Merlin, and to Arthur:

“Wait... what do you mean you’ve been visiting him? When have you been going? And where?”

Arthur swayed on the spot, trying to look innocent:

“At the beginning I went when I was supposed to be napping. Then I would go when I was meant to be doing self-study. I only go once or month or so, and not for very long. Merlin’s mum is always worried about someone missing me.”

Leon takes another deep breath:

“Arthur... how did you sneak out without anyone noticing? And how did you get Merlin in?”

As much as Leon wanted to solve the problem of “there is a random commoner child in the prince’s room” thing, he was also greatly disturbed by the fact that two children, who hadn’t even hit double digits yet, had been sneaking in and out of what was meant to be a heavily fortified, guarded, castle, for years.

Arthur seems to have a realisation at Leon’s questions:

“OH! Like this!”

With that, he runs out the room, and Leon goes to follow him, but the prince manages to shut the door just before he got there.

Morgana is looking on all of this with mild confusion and shock, not really understanding what was going on, but happy to wait quietly and see what would happen.

Just as Leon goes to open the door, he hears a pop, followed by a voice from behind him:

“See!” Leon freezes and he hears Morgana gasp.

The teen turns around slowly, to see a grinning Arthur stood next to a cheerful looking Merlin:

“Uhh... Arthur, how did you do that?-”

Leon begins panicking, the only thing running through his head is “sorcery!” and whilst he would like to believe that Uther would never harm his own son, with the way he was going with the purge... there was no guarantee.

He rushes forward and grips Arthur’s shoulders:

“I need you to tell me how you did that, right now Arthur, it’s important.”

Arthur frowns as he replies:

“I told you. He’s my soulmate. I just have to want to be with him, and I can be. Merlin’s mum says it’s super rare, and that makes us special.” Morgana once again gasps at that before smiling, and speaking for the first time since she said hello to Merlin:

“I heard about that! Two of the nobles in my old home could do it. It IS rare, but sometimes soulmates can blink and be next to each other, if they wanted that!”

Arthur and Merlin nod enthusiastically at that, and Leon sags with relief, now that his mind and heart weren’t racing so much, he did remember briefly reading something about that during his studies. And if all of this was just soulmate magic... then they should be safe.

Though by the looks of the boy... probably still best not tell Uther about it. He doubts the King would be pleased about his son being bonded with a peasant.

“Ok... ok.-”

Leon turns his attention to Merlin:

“-You said your name was Merlin? Does someone know that you’re here?”

Merlin nods as he replies:

“I left a note for my mum. But I can’t be too long though, or she’ll worry.”

Leon looks surprised at that:

“You can read and write?”

“I taught him!” comes proudly from Arthur.

Leon nods again and re-locks the door behind him, before gesturing at everyone to sit on the soft rug together.

After establishing that Merlin had only arrived just before Arthur went to fetch Morgana, Leon says that they can sit and talk for another 15 minutes or so before Merlin had to go home.

Arthur pouted at that, but a look from Leon stopped him before he actually complained. Morgana and Leon spent the time asking questions about Merlin: where he was from, and how old he was, and about his family.

Merlin was shy at first, but Arthur had been talking about Leon forever, and Morgana seemed nice, even if she did look a bit sad sometimes.

After their time was up, everyone gave Merlin a quick hug, and Arthur promised he’d try to pop over at some point next week (Leon definitely had to stop the momentary panic at that).

Merlin disappeared with a pop, and Arthur made Morgana and Leon promise not to tell once more. Once they promised, they each wondered off Morgana to an afternoon lesson, Leon to s training session, both deep in thought.

Arthur smiled to himself. He didn’t like keeping things from Leon, because he was the only one around who was any fun, and Morgana had definitely seemed happier. So his plan succeeded!

It continued like that for some time. Arthur was the one who went to Merlin’s most often, but occasionally Merlin would go to him.

Morgana slowly started cheering up, recovering from her grief, and the three of them (almost always overseen by an always-worrying Leon) loved spending time together, and playing in the safety of Arthur’s chambers.

Thankfully, Uther never questioned it, happy that his son and his new ward seemed to be getting along finally.

The first time Merlin woke crying from a nightmare that was filled with smoke and fire, he was twelve.

He appeared in Arthur’s room within seconds, wanting nothing but the comfort of having his soulmate next to him, and Arthur woke to the quiet sniffling of a distraught Merlin perched on the end of his bed.

Before he’s even fully awake, he has him wrapped in a hug, and is stroking his hair in an effort to calm him.

There may not be guards stationed outside his rooms during the day, but there were at night, and would be until he turned 18 (still four and a half years away), so they needed to be quiet.

They fall asleep curled up next to each other, clutching hands, and Merlin sleeps through the rest of the night without a problem. (They both wake with a start as a servant knocks on the door the next morning, and after the quickest hug they’ve ever shared, Merlin pops away, back to his own bed.)

That begins to happen more and more often, and after a couple weeks, Merlin is sleeping in Arthur’s bed most nights.

He isn’t quite sure if he sleeps so much better because the bed is worth more than his entire village (it’s so comfy!), or if his magic is more relaxed with Arthur by his side, but either way, the nightmares stop almost entirely.

Hunith realises fairly quickly what’s going on, and does worry briefly if going to the place his nightmares took place in was the best, but Merlin seemed happier, and less tired, and once he promised to always be back before the servants came into Arthur’s room, she was a little more ok with it.

(She also made Merlin and Arthur swear to tell Leon, just in case. She hasn’t met Leon of course, but the boys talk about him and Morgana constantly, and she was grateful that the boys had someone other than Gaius (who hadn’t actually met Merlin yet) to look out for them. At this rate, Leon wouldn’t be surprised if all of this caused him to have a heart attack before he was even officially knighted. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.)

Once Arthur finally persuades Merlin to tell him what his nightmares are about, he’s horrified. It’ll be then that Arthur will begin to be more vocal about his objection to the executions, and ask questions about magic. Uther always punishes him of course, but Arthur just learns to hold his tongue instead.

Merlin cries, Morgana smiles widely, and Leon is speechless, when Arthur tells them that:

“When I’m King, magic will be everywhere! Of course people will have to be careful with it, but in the same way us knights have to be careful with swords. Isn’t that right, Leon?”

Leon goes pale at that, and takes a few moments to respond:

“Right... well. Just.... make sure you do your research Arthur, and that you know all the facts, and do NOT, no matter what, ever tell your father about this. Do you understand?”

Arthur nods glumly. He’s tried to change his father’s mind in the past, and it got him nothing but bruised knuckles and an hour long yelled lecture and extra training hours with the knights.

Leon looks to a sniffling Merlin next, and asks him what’s wrong. Arthur holds in a worried gasp, and Morgana raises an eyebrow (even at 14, she was incredibly observant and smart, she knew what was up).

Merlin grabs Arthur’s hand, but looks up at Leon through thick eyelashes, and mumbles so quietly, Leon barely hears it:

“Promise you won’t get mad? Or hate me?”

Leon has a bad feeling that he knows where this is going, but he puts a gentle hand on Merlin’s shoulder and gives him a soft smile:

“I could never hate you Merlin, promise.”

At that, Merlin bites his lip, and glances at Arthur quickly, before looking to the fire in the hearth. Leon furrows his brow in confusion, and Morgana hides an excited smile as Merlin mumbles under his breath:

“Give me a dragon.”

Leon gasps and takes a step back as the flames flutter, as if blown by a strong wind, before morphing into a miniature dragon.

The royal sorta-siblings look on in wonder as Merlin screws his face in concentration, eyes glowing golden, and Leon stares, speechless.

After a few minutes of the dragon flying around the large fireplace, it fades back into the flames again. Morgana whispers under her breath:

“That was amazing!” and Arthur smiles proudly as Merlin takes in deep breaths. He’d never held it that long before, and it had worn him out slightly.

He looks back to Leon (who is still staring dumbly at the fire) and furrows his brows in worry:

“You did promise... you’re not scared of me are you?” He looks close to tears again, and the tremble in his voice grabs Leon’s attention once again.

The older teen gathers the three of them in a tight hug, before whispering (worried someone would hear, even though they never have before):

“Of course I’m not scared of you, Birdy (an affectionate nickname, started by Morgana, and picked up by everyone else, much to Merlin’s chagrin), you just have to promise to be careful. I promise to try my best, but if someone else finds out I probably won’t be able to protect you, Ok?”

At that he pulls back, but grips Merlin’s shoulders tightly, worry written all over his face. When Merlin only nods infinitesimally, Leon shakes him ever so slightly, and gives him a desperate look:

“OK??” Merlin nods more vigorously, and mutters out an “I understand, Leon.”

Leon lets go and sighs, looking to the floor and fiddling with his hands hidden behind his back (one of the many rules he learnt growing up as a noble: fidgeting is a sign on weakness).

He takes in a fortifying breath and moves his hands to his sides before looking out the window, noticing that it’s almost dusk and looking back to the three children with a smile:

“You best get home Merlin, it’s getting late and I don’t want your mum to worry. Same time next week, ok? Next time we see each other, I’ll be a knight.” He says it with a grin, and smiles light up on the other’s faces as well. They were young, but they knew how much this meant to Leon, especially Arthur, who was about a year into his training.

Merlin gives everyone a quick hug, lingering a little longer on Arthur (like always) before stepping back, and disappearing with a pop.

The secret is revealed when Merlin is 15 (Arthur being 16, Morgana being 17, and Leon being 22).

The four of them had agreed a next meeting time, like normal, though they were having to be far more careful. With Arthur being older, he was being saddled with more and more responsibilities. His training hours and lessons were longer, he was expected to travel away from the city more, and he shadowed The King whilst he undertook his duties for the rest of the day.

Uther had mentioned Arthur’s soulmate in passing a few times (that always incited a hidden smirk from Morgana, and a nervous gulp from Leon, if he was around).

But Arthur always managed to derail the conversation and avoid the topic by saying something along the lines of “Finding my soulmate is important to me father, but not as important as learning to be the best King I can be for the kingdom. I feel the pull everyday, but until I am steadfast in my abilities and duties, it will remain unimportant to me.”

Uther always looked partially sad at that, he had loved Arthur’s mother, his soulmate, very much. But mostly he is proud at Arthur’s confidence and determination and loyalty.

If only he realised that Arthur was lying through his teeth, and had decided when he was incredibly young that he would happily hand all of it over to Morgana, in order to lead a simpler life with Merlin.

Anyway.

The next meeting time had been agreed. But bandits had been sighted causing trouble a few hours outside of the city, and Arthur was called to attend an emergency council meeting.

The page didn’t leave his side for a second, leading him straight to the council-room, meaning that Arthur couldn’t pop away for even two seconds to warn Merlin not to come.

He just had to hope that the meeting was over quick, and he could escape somewhere solitary before the young Warlock came around.

He was so close.

He paid close attention during the meeting, making excellent suggestions and being generally helpful, in an effort to speed things along. This backfired in a way he didn’t quite expect.

The meeting ended, knights sent to deal with the problem in the manner decided, and councilman heading back to whatever it is they did when not in meetings (at this point Arthur still doesn’t know, and is too afraid to ask).

The Prince had almost made it out of the door before Uther called him back in. He halts in the doorway, and Morgana, ahead of him in the hallway, looks back, giving him a fearful look and mouthing “Give him an excuse! Hurry!”

Arthur turns back to the room (now devoid of everyone but The King and himself):

“I apologise father, but I was in the middle of-”

Uther gives him a stern look, and crooks a finger towards himself:

“Come. Here.”

Arthur schools his face, appearing blank, as he re-enters the room and shuts the door behind him. He stands to attention in front of his father, and figures this is just another part of the meeting he would have to hurry along.

He glances at the shadows on the wall quickly, he should have another few minutes, as long as Merlin didn’t get too excited and appear earlier than he’s meant to.

“I wanted to congratulate you today Arthur. You did very well-”

He places a hand on his son’s shoulder and smiles hesitantly:

“-I... I’m proud of you. You’re learning well, picking things up quickly. You understand the workings of court and council near fluently now, and Sirs Kay and Leon tell me that your combat training is going astoundingly.”

Arthur’s resolve crumbles a little at that, and he almost forgets his desperation to leave the room:

“I... thank you, father. I’m trying my best to do you and the kingdom proud.”

Uther nods firmly at that and removes his hand, stepping back, the tender moment over as quickly as it had begun:

“Good. You are dismissed for the day, go back to your studies.”

Arthur struggles to hold in a relieved sigh as he bows briefly before turning around and almost rushing towards the door. He is too late however, and just as he reaches for the doorknob, he hears the tell tale pop sound from behind him. He freezes as he hears:

“Arthur, where the hell-” quickly interrupted by his father roaring:

“WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?! GUARDS!”

Arthur rushes to turn around and grabs Merlin’s hand, pulling him to the side as guards burst through the door he was just stood in front of.

All of them raise swords at the terrified boy that Uther was pointing at, and Arthur quickly positions his body between them and Merlin:

“NO! Don’t hurt him! Please!”

Morgana rushes in just moments after the guards, and spots the boys immediately, stepping around the knights and standing next to Arthur defiantly. Uther looks affronted before yelling, red-faced:

“What is the meaning of this? Explain yourselves this instant, and get away from that beast!”

Morgana tightens her jaw as she takes Merlin’s other hand protectively in her own. She can feel him shaking, but knows he is too scared to just disappear again. She’s secretly grateful for that. If Merlin disappeared now there would be a manhunt and demands of explanations. The King might believe them if they can show him the truth (the same way the boys had shown her and Leon all those years ago).

“Please father, just listen. Merlin is my soulmate, it isn’t sorcery, we simply have a bond stronger than others-”

At Uther’s still-angry snarl, Arthur straightens his back, and takes in a breath, standing still and strong:

“You will NOT harm him. I would lay down my life before you lay a hand on him.” The guards falter a little at that, but still keep their swords raised.

Arthur hears Merlin take in a shaky breath at that, and squeezes his hand slightly. Morgana nods her agreement and Arthur gives her a brief, grateful smile as she says confidently:

“The same goes for me, if you wish to harm Merlin, or separate him from Arthur, you will have to order your guards to strike me down first.”

Uther lets out a growl at that:

“Soulmate or not, he used sorcery to appear out of thin air. That is treachery!”

Arthur huffs before shouting back:

“NO! Just ask Gaius, or Geoffrey. Occasionally, there are soulmates whose bond is stronger than normal, just ask Gaius-”

Arthur gives Uther his own growl as he continues:

“-And like I said. I would challenge you yourself, before I allowed anyone to hurt him.”

Uther slumps slightly and narrows his eyes at his son before telling one of the younger guards to fetch Gaius and Geoffrey immediately. He does however tell the other guards to keep their swords trained on the boy, and Merlin almost takes a frightened step back, only stopped by Arthur and Morgana, who hold him steady.

Arthur and Uther remain in a hard staring contest for the few minutes it takes the guard to return, Gaius and Geoffrey in tow.

Gaius glances at Merlin in surprise, but covers it quickly as he returns his gaze to The King as he growls:

“Tell me all you know of soulmate bonds.”

Geoffrey speaks first, confusion in his tone:

“My Lord?”

Uther levels a glare at him as he yells:

“NOW!”

Geoffrey is taken aback, but replies immediately:

“Well My Lord, everyone on this earth has a soulmate, someone whose soul is bound to your own. The bonds provide a compass of sorts, meaning that one can always tell what direction their soulmate is, and, with practice, roughly how far away they are. No one is certain of how these bonds come about, though centuries of research show that they aren’t harmful in anyway, and other than incredibly rare, extreme, cases, the two whose souls are bonded are a perfect match for each other; bound to fall in love-”

Gaius jumps in here:

“And in even rarer cases, My Lord, a pair may appear whose bond is so strong, they have further... abilities. This pair of souls will be able to appear to each other at will, only needing to wish to be in the other’s presence. They are also able to disappear again, but may only transport themselves to the position they were before. Academics are even more perplexed as to how these bonds are forged, though the only known pairs with such a bond have all gone on to achieve great things.”

Gaius resists the urge to look towards the three teenagers, and keeps his placating gaze on The King, who does seem to be calming slightly. Uther looks to Geoffrey for confirmation, and the librarian nods, adding:

“It is incredibly rare sire, but possible, and proven.”

Uther is considerably less angry now, but the guards don’t relax, and neither do Arthur or Morgana as The King speaks again:

“How would one prove such a bond, and differentiate it from sorcery?”

Gaius jumps to answer this question, trying to keep control of the situation:

“Well one could simply ask for a demonstration-”

He gestures to the teenagers still huddled to the side:

“-I’m assuming that these...?-”

At Uther’s stiff nod, he continues:

“-might I ask Prince Arthur to leave the room, the door shut behind him, and demonstrate his ability?” Uther looks angry for a moment, and Morgana tightens her hold on Merlin as he takes in a scared gasp. After a few moments of deliberation, The King looks to his son and gives a slight, but firm, nod.

Arthur gives Merlin a quick smile, and reluctantly lets go of his hand before saying:

“I’m only leaving him if the guards sheath their swords, and step back-”

Uther goes to interrupt him, but Arthur continues harshly:

-And THAT, is final.”

Uther gives a nod once more, and the guards cautiously put their swords away. Arthur nods at Morgana, and she takes his place directly in front of Merlin as he walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Morgana can feel Merlin shaking behind her, but she grits her teeth, and squeezes his hand. She meant what she said, she would force the guards to cut her down before she allowed them to hurt her friend.

A second later, she hears the tell tale pop, and smirks slightly at the astounded look on Uther’s face, not having to look to know that Arthur was now stood behind her.

Uther still looks slightly disbelieving, but before he can say anything (or God forbid accuse his son of sorcery) Gaius speaks up:

“I have both ancient and modern literature on the subject My Lord, if you would like to read about it.”

Uther lets out a sigh, and purses his lips before looking to the physician:

“Very well. Have them ready for me tonight. Everybody out! I wish to talk to my son and this... boy.”

Gaius throws one last glance to the three teenagers, before shuffling out the room, closely followed by Geoffrey and the guards. Morgana stays in place.

Uther looks exasperated before saying:

“That includes you, Morgana. Out-”

Morgana interrupts him angrily:

“No. I will not leave. Merlin may be Arthur’s soulmate, but he’s my friend as well. I won’t allow you to hurt him, or speak down to him.”

Uther looks enraged once again, but Arthur speaks before he can start yelling again:

“I shan’t talk about it unless Morgana is allowed to remain, father. She has been nothing but loyal and protective of Merlin, and as his soulmate, I appreciate that greatly. She stays.”

Arthur thought about demanding that Sir Leon be summoned as well, but he didn’t want to get the man into trouble, he had already done so much for them. And besides, Arthur is fairly certain that if he continues to order his Father around like this, he’ll lose his temper once more. There’s only so many demands someone can make of the King before context becomes unimportant, and it becomes a matter of pride.

Uther grits his teeth once more before nodding, and muttering out a quiet “Fine.”.

The King straightens himself, and regains his regal composure before speaking once again:

“Merlin, was it? Bring yourself forward, boy.”

Morgana goes to argue, and Arthur looks insulted, both about to retort against the tone and choice of words, but before they can say anything, Merlin pushes between them, to face Uther head on.

He gives a small bow, but maintains eye contact, and speaks once he raises again:

“Yes sire, my name is Merlin.”

Uther scowls as he looks him up and down, and Merlin can feel Arthur and Morgana fuming either side of him.

“You look like nothing but a farmer. I will not have my son and only heir, bonded to a peasant.”

Merlin goes to retort at that, indignant at having his worth as a person lowered by his class status, but before even Arthur can speak up, Morgana steps forwards angrily:

“I told you, I will not allow you to speak down to him. Merlin is a wonderful person. Kind, and compassionate, and wise beyond his years; he’s twice the man most of your so called nobles are, you will treat him with the respect he deserves, or the three of us will leave right now.”

Merlin is taken aback at that. I suppose because it’s only ever been the three of them, and Leon, he’s never really seen Morgana angry. Sure, he’s listened to her rant about the unjustness of Uther’s laws, but never anything like this. The display of somewhat aggressive protectiveness from her definitely makes him tear up a little.

Uther’s face turns red at her demand, and he looks about ready to kick off again, but Arthur steps forward, in line with Morgana (once again, leaving Merlin protected behind them):

“As she said father. Merlin is my soulmate, whether you like it or not. I will not leave him, we will not be separated, and that will never change. If you can not speak to him respectfully, then you won’t speak to either of us at all.”

Merlin takes Arthur’s shoulder and pushes himself forward again before saying quietly:

“Arthur, no, he’s your father. I don’t mind, it’s fine, maybe I should go?”

Arthur doesn’t look at him, but takes his hand wordlessly, gripping it tight as he glares at Uther (who looks slightly taken aback at the offer).

Morgana once again takes Merlin’s other hand and says:

“No. We’re resolving this now, and The King is just going to have to come to terms with the fact that someone’s status does not define their worth.” She looks pointedly at Uther at that, and the older man sighs, rubbing his eyes slightly, before gesturing to the council table:

“Fine. Arthur, Morgana, Merlin, take a seat, and we shall discuss how we plan to move forward.”

END OF PART 1

Part 2 is up! Part 3 is up!

Let me know what y’all think :)

#merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur soulmate au #uther #uther being a dick #morgana #good morgana #bamf merlin #arthur #prince arthur #arthur pendragon #uther pendragon #leon #sir leon #gaius #geoffrey

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leetotters · 3 years

Note

could you do a peter parker x reader where she can control her hair? and it can be any length she wants but prefers the length mid thigh and its and its unbreakable? so like fury asks if anyone in the team knows anyone they could recruit and he suggests her and all the avengers go meet her at a tailors shop she owns while she's cleaning and she shows her powers? please and if you do it, thank you

note: i hope you meant the powers to be reader's hair bc that's what i used it as lmao. also i used the gif because this is kinda how rocket got smacked with your hair. thank you for requesting<3

warnings: kissing, curse words

peter parker x reader

summary: something like request^

The swooshing of the broom and the melody of a random song played through the speakers of your tailor shop while you swept the floor. The small lengths of wool and silk thread tangling on the broom bristles as you scooped it up. The racks and unwanted pieces of cloth laid on the marble floor making you let out a sigh of exhaustion.

A knock on your glass showcase window made you jump. The movement making your hair disentangle from the neat twist plait. You lowly cursed as your hair touched the floor, the belly laugh behind the window noted you that your bestfriend was the person responsible for your little mishap.

"Couldn't you ring the bell like a normal person!" You annoyingly exclaimed, closing your eyes and controlling your hair to stop at mid-thigh length. Your preferred length. You picked your broom up and teasingly shook your head when Peter told you open the door. "I think I'm gonna leave you outside tonight, just for scarring the life out of me and my hair."

You resumed your previous activity, counting the numbers in your head until you heard the lock on your ceiling window open. The sound of Peter's displeased voice and childish complains filling your storage room.

"Can't keep me outside Y/L/N, I'll always find a way." He proudly dusted his shirt, taking the scoop from your hand while you grabbed the racks and placed them in your extra closet.

"Thanks to your super spidey powers." You teased, thanking him when he returned the dustpan. "Anyway, why are you here?" You inquired, curious why your best friend decided to stop by your little, tailor shop.

"Well I- wait," Peter scrunched his brows. "Can I not drop by to visit my bestfriend?" He sassed, hand on his hip giving you a quizzing look.

"Oh please Peter, you only stop by when you need something." You remarked, returning a pointed stare before you began to reorganize the formal wear you were currently adapting. "And that something is usually to stitch those huge ass holes in your spidey suit."

Peter didn't respond immediately, because you were right. He did stop by your shop for you to mend his suit. Because one, he loved your company. And two, you were the only person who knew his secret other than the avengers, Ned and MJ.

"Fine! fine!," He huffed. Not so discreetly looking over his shoulder as if he was giving someone a signal. "You're right-"

"I always am Parker." You boasted, using the ends of your hair to move the sewing machine and pins to there rightful place.

"Yeah- okay, but I really came to tell you life changing news!" Peter amazed, a gasp leaving his lips when he saw the movement of your hair. It never ceased to amaze him how your hair was basically magical. Being able to move stuff with your command, grow at whatever length you wanted, heal others and even be unbreakable. Epic, really.

"And what is this so great news-"

The words didn't leave your lips properly as your tailor shop entry door was suddenly yanked open. Your door handle and lock was surely broken, at the loud eerie sound of a metal crunching noise.

"Get out of my way Tony!" Stephen scowled.

"Shut it wizard dude, I'm the leader here not you." Tony rolled his eyes, removing the pair of expensive shades from his face.

"Since when? Fury sent all of us Tony." Rhodey said, dusting his shoulder.

"I wonder how much she makes in this shop, not much I bet." Steve scrunched his face, eyeing your little shop.

"Did we really have to bring Groot?" Clint groaned, flicking baby Groot off of his shoulder when he tried to grab one of his arrows.

"He's a baby, Clint. We can't leave him at the compound alone." Gamora remarked, tickling Groot's tree stomach as she picked him up.

"Okay if she does joins us, we will have to ask her to design new clothing! Look at this!." Wanda marveled, showing off the mid thigh silk dress.

"I should get this for the recruiting party Tony is planning for her." Natasha thought out loud.

"What the fuck!" You yelled, glaring at the talkative avengers standing before you. Looking mighty and high as always. "I just fixed that lock dude!" You whined, sighing gallingly when you saw the chunk of metal by Thor's feet. "You're repairing my lock, hammer man."

"Ah yes, I will have the Man of Iron restore your brittle lock Lady.."

"Y/N."

"Lady Y/N." Thor smiled.

Peter let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his ear and looking at you sheepishly. "Surprise?"

"Surprise my ass Parker! Why are the avengers in my tailor shop and why is this raccoon trying to cut my hair?!" You moved your hair with your mind, smacking the animal avenger with your y/h/c locks.

"Woah, did she just-" Bucky froze, mouth agape.

"Control her hair to hit Rocket, yeah." Peter Quill laughed at his co guardian misfortune.

"Okay her hair is very much un- unbreakable," Rocket coughed out, holding his stomach. "And strong."

"I am Groot." ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈᵃˢˢ

"You can not say that word Groot, but I do agree with you." Gamora smirked, finger bumping the cute tree.

You were mad, really fuming. You spent two hours cleaning and by the looks of it you'll have to do it a second time. So yeah, you wanted an explanation.

"Okay don't get upset." Peter spoke calmly. Holding his hand out and gesturing towards the superheroes infront of you, who had the same impressed expression on their fanciable faces.

"This is the life changing thing I was talking about," He paused with a smile. "You're joining the Avengers!"

"What?" You were officially bamboozled, with everything. One minute you were simply tidying your shop and next, half of the avengers are occupying your shop. Quarreling and interfering with your stuff.

And not to ignore the fact that your best friend just blurted out four questionable words to you.

"You're going to be an Avenger, Rapunzel." Tony repeated, strutting to you with short steps. "If you want to of course, sidey here told us your hair power thingy and though I was a little iffy about it at the beginning, it looks like your power is truly powerful." Tony patted your shoulder. Looking over at Rocket, who was being assisted by Drax.

"As much as I would like to say it's an honor to be in your presence," You said. Controlling your hair to grow back at mid-thigh. "Why?" You faced Peter, inquiring him with the plain word.

Peter shrugged, giving you a bashful look. "Fury asked if we knew anyone who could be recruited, and without thought I suggested you." He sighed, feeling completely awful for the situation he put you in.

"And I know, I should've asked you first but I know how much you adore helping others and the money here isn't enough for your college tuition Y/N." Peter ignored the awkward silence in the room that was loud seconds ago before continuing. "I thought this would be a way to assist you."

You physically softened at his words. He was too kind and caring for his own good. You could never be upset with this idiot boy.

"I'm sorry-"

Peter didn't finish. His apology was muffled by your lips pressed deeply to his frowny pink ones. He was slighty awestruck, the feeling of your lips were breathtaking. He swore he could kiss you forever. His hands found your waist pulling you in closer, even including a little tongue movement inside your mouth.

As if reality kicked in, a teasing 'ohhh' sound came from a few avengers. Causing you to shyly pull away from Peter, who loudly groaned at the lost contact of your plump lips.

"Looks like Spidey is getting a little too handsy." Sam quipped, chuckling when Peter told him to shut it and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

"So is this a yes?" Peter hopefully asked.

You feigned ponder. "Yes."

Peter pecked your lips, mumbling a short 'yay' attempting to deepen the kiss.

"That's enough smooching spiderling." Steve uttered, obviously not enjoying the PDA.

A beeping sound came from Tony's watch altering the team about an upcoming mission.

"Looks like we gotta go," Tony spoke with a serious voice before turning to you. "Glad to have you on the team Rapunzel."

"It's Y/N." You corrected.

"Okay, I'll send some people by tomorrow to pick up your stuff. See ya soon, Rapunzel." Tony winked, exiting your tailor shop.

"He's not gonna give that up." Peter laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I oddly don't mind." You responded, waving bye to the others. "Thank you Pete."

Peter grinned. "I didn't quite hear that, say it a little louder baby."

"Thank you mister Parker." You kissed his lips, playfully rolling your eyes. But you weren't that distracted to miss Thor stealthily trying to leave your shop.

"Hey hammer God! Don't forget to fix my lock."

"I will have Stark right on it Lady Rapunzel!"

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter fanfic #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #avengers x reader #peter parker x you #peter x reader #avengers x you #lee writes short fics

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knullanon · 3 years

Text

invincible bullshit that i came up with 10 days ago i just forgot about it

ngaoevnbiaebiw its here @anxiousnerdwritings i hope you like it i got inspired by you to write this

words: 2196

warnings: past arguing, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ENTIRE SEASON 1, shooting, arguing, past manipulation

“Reports of who killed the Guardians of the globe are starting to surface, with our agents finding out about the supposed killer: we know they spared Omni-Man, killed the rest of the members, and then fled. We also know they are not from earth. Lots of people have speculated that Omni-Man is the one behind these killings, however, the government has ruled out that being a possibility, since there was no evidence of Omni-Man doing these actions. More at 7 tonight on-”

The program stopped playing as you saw a contact appear on the top of the screen, and reading it, you immediately perked up.

Swiping on the green button, you happily said, “Hey, Dad! What’cha need?”

You heard a chuckle from the other end, before he said, “Hey kiddo, how you holding up?”

“Nothing much going on here, you good over there?”

“Yup, mostly everything is fine. You know my work, they always have something for me to do.”

“Hopefully that clears up soon.”

“Yeah, hey, listen, where are you right now?”

Ugh, not this again. Your mood slightly dropped as you remembered a few years ago, when you first met Cecil. He wasn’t as good as he is now, and he would always be asking where you would be. Even in school. However, that was all in the past, since you were older, he now knew that you were responsible enough to do things on your own. At least, that’s what he wanted you to believe.

“Uh, well, I was just gonna go hang out with some friends and then go back home. Why?”

“Ok, listen to me very carefully: one of my guys is gonna pick you up near Bridgetown, ok? You’re gonna get a bracelet from them and then I’ll explain the rest here.”

What the fuck? “Oh, um, ok, when will they be there?”

“About 5 minutes. Be there soon, love you, bye.”

He hung up the phone quickly, which was extremely rare, even for him, since he would never show his love to you out publicly and you would feel weird if he even did. However, on the phone or in private he was a completely different person, having a great personality and he was an even better dad.

Well, he did say to hurry up, and 5 minutes. You checked the time and when you saw it was near 1. You strided your way towards the street he told you to meet on, and cheerfully thought of the ways to hang out with your friends after whatever he wanted to do. Maybe you could go to the mall? Maybe the food court? You’ve been meaning to try those damn milkshakes at that new bar everyone is talking about, but it was always so crowded. You never liked crowded places in the first place.

Suddenly, your phone rang again. This time, when you checked, it was your dad again. Strange. It was weird for him to call you twice in a row. He usually got to the point within a few sentences.

Picking up the phone, you said, “Hey dad-”

“________, listen to me. Get to someplace safe now. Get out of the road. Get out of the public. I don't care if you have to go inside someone else’s house, just get out of sight.”

Stopping in the middle of the road you let out some surprised stutters. “Wh- Dad, what are you talking about?”

“_______, please, just listen to me when I say this, you are in danger and you need to get out of there.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

You were shuffling around trying to find a good place to “hide” while your dad went into complete panic mode in his voice. “_______, find a place to hide, and whatever you do, get out of open space.”

You heard him speak to someone off the phone, before he cursed out loud. “I have to call you back, but someone will be there, wherever you are, ok? I… I love you.”

Before you could answer him, he hung up the phone. Anxiety was the only thing you could feel, as you looked around the desolate neighborhood. There was a reason why you chose this area over others: it was quiet and small. Not only that, but the only people who walked this way were people who were not fond of bigger crowds. In fact, you haven’t seen anyone go this way for a long time. You always wondered why, since it was the perfect way to get robbed. Of course, that would never happen, especially with all those lessons from your dad about self defense.

The street you were on had walls surrounding the sidewalk to prevent people from going into people's backyards, probably. They were too high up to climb, and they were concrete, so it wouldn’t be easy to just hop over and call it a day.

However, you were almost at the end of the street, and you knew there was a little patch of bushes and leaves that would provide the perfect cover. They were almost as tall as your dad, which always made you wonder who was watering them to be that big.

Pacing quickly towards the end of the street, and seeing no one in sight made you let out a sigh of relief. Either dad was overeating or something bad was happening, and you don’t know which would be worse. When Cec- dad overrated, it always got messy, no matter what it was about.

“Why were you out so long? I was about to send a team after you-”

“Cecil, it’s fine, I just had to talk to my-”

“Don’t call me Cecil, and don’t try to make excuses, tell me who you were with right now or I swear to god-”

You forgot the memory almost as soon as it came up, instead choosing to focus on getting to the brush where you could hide until C- Dad came to pick you up. Wherever he was. Actually, did he give you a time that he would be there?

You got a weird feeling that made you sprint towards the bushes and dive in, like there was someone behind you. You ignored it and forced your way on all fours, ignoring the cuts and scratches you were getting on your arms and legs.

There was almost a whooshing sound above you, and you wondered if your dad sent a fucking jet to get you. But that thought left your mind when you heard it right next to you, along with the sound of someone making a harsh landing onto the street. You were able to hear the little bits and pieces of concrete fly off the ground to hit the ground again.

You stayed completely still, leaning on your arms while your body was facing the street. You heard something shuffle, like moving fabric around, before a familiar voice hit your ears.

“Who’s there?” they- he said, and you were about to cry out of relief when you heard it. “Omni-Man?”

~~~~~

“Cecil, why do you think Nolan would go after ________?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Cecil didn’t look at Debbie, instead focusing on the map in front of him, wondering where Mark could’ve been.

“What reason would he have to go after them? I just- he wouldn’t just attack a child, would he?”

Cecil felt his head start to hurt. Goddamnit, why did Nolan want to go after you? You had nothing to do with anything, besides being Cecil’s daughter. … is that why he was after you? Just because you were related to Cecil?

No, Nolan wasn’t stupid. He knew you weren’t his biological daughter, Nolan knew Cecil took you from somewhere.

He probably thought you were just someone that he got for fun, which was the furthest from the truth. Cecil didn’t-

“Sir, we’ve found Mark Grayson, along with your daughter, not at the same locations, but-”

“Where is she?” Cecil didn’t try to hide his worry in his voice. It didn’t exactly help when the agent said, in a monotone voice, “She's with Omni-Man, sir.”

~~~~~

“________? What are you doing here?”

Peeking out from the bush, you saw Omni-Man walk up towards you and hold out his hand. You graciously took it, and helped yourself up. Even when you were standing at your full height, Omni-Man was way taller than you. Like, way taller. He could beat your dad within an inch of his life even with all of that combat stuff he learned over the years.

Of course he could, he’s Omni-Man dumbass. Ignoring the thought, you answered, “I’m, uh, busy.”

You saw him give a small smile. “You’re busy hiding in the bushes?”

“Yes.” you cursed internally for answering that so quickly like an idiot. You weren’t expecting him to let out a laugh. He continued while you stood there, confused as all hell.

Finally, he said, “You know, you’re a terrible liar.” You laughed along with him for a moment, before saying, “Yeah, I know.”

His face suddenly darkened, before he said, “So, why are you out here?”

The laughter in the air was gone now, only replaced by crushing silence as he waited for your answer. You felt yourself shrink under his scrutinizing gaze. He looked like he was judging you for just standing there. Well, he could’ve also been judging you because you were in a bush just 10 seconds earlier. After a few more seconds, you broke.

“C- Dad said to hide somewhere.”

“Aren’t you too old to be playing those games?”

“Yeah, I am, but apparently someone was gonna come and get me. He just said to get out of open space.”

You heard him mutter something under his breath, before he scratched the back of his head.

“Well, I can see why he would want that.”

“Really? Why?”

“A mob boss named Machine Head.” When you gave him a confused look, he elaborated, “Machine head was a guy who took down the new Guardians of the Globe along with… Mark. They thought they got him, but unfortunately they weren’t able to kill him.”

“How does that have anything with me?”

“... You’re Cecil’s daughter. Cecil was the one who found out about Machine Head. And took him down. Machine Head wants revenge against Cecil for ruining his plans, so he’s probably going to take it out on you.” When you still gave a surprised stare, he asked, “Do you really not have this happen often?”

“No, Dad keeps me inside alot…” your voice trailed off when you heard your phone ring, and picking it up, you saw it was your dad.

“Hello?”

“_________, I told you to get to somewhere safe!”

“I-I am! I’m with Nolan!”

“Hey, Cecil, don’t worry, I’m right here.” Nolan’s voice was filled with sarcasm, probably an old joke between the two. After all, they were both good friends to each other.

“No, you don’t understand, ______, listen to me-”

Suddenly you were grabbed by your arm, and dragged down. You were caught by Omni-Man before you hit the ground, though. Looking behind him, you saw two trucks coming towards you, along with multiple people in them, with weapons of all sorts.

You didn’t have time to ask who they were or what they wanted, as Omni-Man grabbed you and pulled out off the ground, and into the air. It took you a few moments, but you realized you were in the air. Flying.

Reaching for your phone in your pocket to call your dad back, you realized you must’ve dropped it. However, you weren’t about to waste your energy trying to get it back. Especially not when you were high above the ground. So you simply hung on for dear life as Omni-Man flew away from the shouting people in the cars.

~~~~~

“Where is she?”

“She went with Omni-Man, sir.”

Cecil stood there for a moment, wondering what the fuck happened. It was obvious now that Nolan had no intentions to harm you, but why would he take you and not tell you anything? Cecil wondered before something was handed to him. “We found this near where they took off, sir.”

It was your phone. Completely crushed to bits. “Omni-Man took it from her and crushed it without her knowledge, sir.”

“You started to shoot at her?! What the hell were you thinking!?”

The men stood there, completely still realizing their mistake. “We’re not kids playing at some game, this is real life. And now- I-” he really wanted to kill Nolan now. Debbie was going to become a widow, and he really didn’t care.

Walking up to the truck that was nearest to him, he opened the back and shuffled around, trying to find something, anything that would be of use.

Then he found his favorite gun. The only one he could actually hold himself without another person that stopped Omni-man.

Loading the ammunition, he walked over to Donald, who had a tablet in his hand. “Sir, we’ve found where they’re going.”

Looking at the area on the map, Cecil tapped his wrist watch, and said, “Good. Get the backup ready, and get Mark Grayson. Get Invincible.”

#yandere invincible #yandere nolan grayson #yandere cecil stedman #originally i was gonna put the invincible logo at the end but i didn't want to do that much work cuz im tired rn

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jinx-jade · 3 years

Text

To choose her fate: Chapter 1

Any comments left on this fic will affect how the story progresses. Marinette will essentially be able to 'read' all of the comments and use that knowledge to her advantage.

________________________

Marinette gasped for air as she woke up to her school alarm.

“Breath Marinette. It’s ok. You can breathe. You’re alive. It’s ok.” Tikki said calmingly, far too used to her chosen waking up like this.

Marinette took another gasp of air, “T-Tik… Tikki…. It’s…. It’s getting worse…. I…. I can’t,”

“Shhh, it’s okay, Kitten. Listen to Sugar Cube. Breath.” Plagg instructed, flying up to her from where he had been previously, settling onto Marinette’s head, ribbing little circles with his paws.

Tikki flew forward, wiping the tears from her chosen’s eyes.

Marinette did as Plagg and Tikki instructed, taking a few more, be it a little shaky, breathes.

“There we go, kittens. Why don’t you go shower, that always makes you feel a little better.” Plagg suggests.

“We’ll bring your clothes to you before you’re done with your shower so don’t worry about picking out an outfit.

Marinette nodded her head numbly as she got out of bed and entered her bathroom.

“Mistress Marinette is correct. She seems to be getting worse.” Kaalki states.

Tikki let out a tired sigh, “I know, but what can we do about it? Everything has a price and the price for bringing back all those people after Akuma attacks is that our Guardian has to relive their deaths while she is in any kind of unconscious state.” The ladybug kwami reminds them as she begins looking through her chosen's closet for a ‘last day of school’ outfit.

“Yes, we know Tikki, and trust me when I say we are just as upset about it, but the point of this balance is to drive people mad, essentially the same effect of those Lazerus pits, but our guardian is too strong to break. Our guardian had walked through every hell imaginable and yet she remains, so why can’t we bend the rules a little?” Trixx purposes.

Tikki let out a hum in thought before showing the outfit she has picked out to her fellow kwami, each of them giving their agreements, and critiques for the outfit.

“What do you want to do then, Trixx?” Tikki questioned as she picked out accessories.

“Nothing big, just, let the kit know a few things… outside of our realm,” Trixx said with a shrug, as if it was no big deal.

“Are you suggesting we let our guardian break this world’s walls?” Wayzz questioned.

“Yup!” Trixx cheered both to answer Wayzz’s question and to the finished outfit, Tikki had created.

“I think it’s a great idea.” Fluff said, speaking in agreement with the fox kwami.

That made all of the kwamis pause to think.

If Fluff, the kwami of last chance, was saying they thought it was a good idea, who were they to argue.

“We do it tonight,” Tikki informed them with a sharp nod of her head, before bringing her chosen’s clothing to her.

Marinette walked out of the bathroom dressed in black leggings, a red off-the-shoulder peasant blouse, a gold underbust corset, and black combat boots. Her hair was pulled into two French braids with red ribbons woven in, instead of her normal twin tails.

She looked better after calming down and letting the hot steamy air into her lungs, the color has returned to her skin.

“Lady Marinette, I wish to travel with you today.” Longg states flying forward with his miraculi.

“I too, Miss!” Roarr claims, following Longg’s lead as he flies forward presenting his miraculi as well.

“Are you sure?” Marinette questioned as she extended her hands out for the two kwamis.

“It would be my honor,” Longg claimed with a bow of his head.

“Of course, Miss. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t wish to.” Roarr informs her.

Marinette nodded her head before taking the two jewelry pieces, the kwamis leaving her hands as she placed the panjas bracelet around her wrist, slipping her fingers into each of the five attached rings. Once the tiger miraculi was succored Marinette clasped the black choker, dragon miraculi, around her neck.

The kwamis each have their cheers and compliments to give, causing Marinette to smile.

“Go now guardian, you will be late otherwise.” Sass reminded her.

“Right, thanks! Bye Guys!” Marinette cheered as she grabbed her backpack, today's kwamis flying into her bag to hide.

Marinette left the bakery, easily slipping out without her Aunt and Uncle realizing it, beginning her usual weekday walk to school.

Marinette cleared her head, letting a neutral expression grace her facial features.

The young guardian walked to the top of the stairs, finding her friend already waiting for her.

Felix gave a nod of his head, handing her one of his coffee-to-go cups. Marinette nodded her head at him in both thanks for the coffee and greeting for the day.

Kagami gave a similar silent greeting in the form of a small bow of her head, which Marinette returned before they began their walk to class.

If someone had told Marinette four years ago that she would be dubbed the Ice Queen of Paris, she would have been horrified.

Marinette never would have thought that she would become a part of the unofficial Ice Court as the Ice Queen of Paris, with Felix Graham de Vaneliy the Ice King of London, and Kagami Tsurugi the Ice Queen of Tokyo.

The bluenette walks with perfect posture as she heads to class with her friends, ignoring the whispers of the other students.

The Ice Court walked past Miss Bustier’s classroom, which was far too loud to be appropriate for a class let alone at school, and into Miss Mendeleiev’s classroom.

Marinette could already tell that today was going to be a long day.

Making eye contact with Felix and Kagami she can see them silently agree with her, not a single word needing to be spoken between them.

Kagami turned on her tablet, starting today's classwork even though they still had five or six minutes till the first bell rang.

Felix took out a classic novel that he has probably already read and memorized and began to read it.

Inwardly letting out a sigh, Marinette took out one of her sketchbooks and began to draw out a silhouette.

The kwamis couldn’t help but think to themselves that today was going to be a long, boring day, but after tonight, things were going to become a lot more interesting.

#maribat

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

By Your Doorstep (Part 1)

Summary: When the reader is looking for her teenage sister’s service dog one day, she runs into Dean Winchester who thankfully saw him run past. When she arrives, her sister is fine aside from a sprained ankle but Dean’s decided to follow along and help get her sister home...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,200ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, mention of car accident/death

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Please enjoy this first part! …

_________

“Toast! Toast!” you shouted as you ran down a street. “Toast boy!”

“Uh, you okay?” said a guy walking on the other side of the street. He was raising an eyebrow and you shook your head.

“Toast is a dog,” you said.

“Oh, gotcha. I thought you were nuts for a minute,” he chuckled.

“You haven’t seen a german shepard around have you?” you asked.

“I saw one run down the block a few minutes ago,” he said. You looked the direction he pointed and you started sprinting. “Hey!”

“Sorry! Can’t talk!” you shouted back. You ran down the block and across the street over to the park. You ran over to the basketball court and saw Toast there next to Tessa. She was sat up and holding onto his vest when you jogged over to her. “Tess. Are you okay? Did you have a seizure?”

“No,” she said with a laugh. She was holding her ankle and you saw the swelling. “I think I broke it playing. My phone’s over in my bag. I told Toast to get it but I guess he ran home and got you instead.”

“He barged in through the doggy door, I thought he was just nuts at first,” you said. You heard footsteps behind you and the man from the street was there panting.

“You found your dog,” he said as he caught his breath.

“Yeah,” you said, the man wincing when he saw Tessa’s ankle. “We’re all set.”

“She needs a doctor,” he said.

“Tessa, you okay here while I run home to get my car?” you asked.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she said. “Toast’ll stay.”

“I can carry her,” said the man. You both stared at him and he shrugged. “Save you a trip.”

“Are you some kind of weirdo?” you asked.

“Says the woman running through the neighborhood shouting Toast,” he smiled back.

“Alright. Tess if you’re cool with it…” you said, the man nodding.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Dean will carry you back to the house and I’ll drive you to urgent care,” you said. “If you do try anything though Dean, Toast will rip your face and junk off, just to be clear.”

“Got the message,” he said. Tessa climbed on his back and he was careful of her ankle while you grabbed her bag. You walked with Toast by Dean’s side back the few blocks towards home. “I think it’s just a sprain actually. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“You play basketball?” you asked.

“No. I’m a doctor is all. First glance it doesn’t look too bad.”

“Are you single? Y/N’s single,” she said.

“You’re a little shit, Tessa,” you said. Dean chuckled and Toast bumped his leg. “He wants you to get on the sidewalk.”

“Will do,” he said, Toast giving some space once he’d stepped up off the road. “He’s very intelligent.”

“We’ve only had Toast two years but he’s been very good with us,” you said. “He’s Tessa’s. I just feed him and pick up his poop.”

“I have school, loser.”

“I have work, loser,” you said.

“You guys must be sisters,” he said. “I’m a big brother. I would know.”

“If your younger brother is single and half as good looking-”

“Keep it in your pants, Tess,” you said.

“I like you two,” he chuckled. “Sorry Tessa but he’s probably a little too old for you.”

“They always are,” she sighed.

“You’re seventeen. You’re fine,” you said. “Besides college has way more attractive guys and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, Elmdale community college. Known for it’s hotties,” she mumbled.

“Elmdale University has some good choices,” you said.

“I thought it was too expensive,” she said.

“Well I was gonna tell you this at dinner but I applied for a different job awhile ago. I heard back this morning. I accepted. It’s double what I was making before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. With your grades you can get a half-ride and I figure between inheritance and my new salary, you can do your four year out of the gate without loans,” you said.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said quietly. “Really.”

“You still need your part-time job if you want to get stuff for yourself though. I’m sorry. I can’t make it work if-”

“S’okay,” she said. “I can’t believe I can go to the university.”

“I called up the school earlier and talked to your guidance counselor. We gotta work on your application but we can make it work,” you said.

“Can I get a car? I know I can’t afford room and board but maybe I can get something used so you don’t have to drive me all the time?” she asked.

“Tessa…” you sighed. You knew you couldn’t afford insurance on two cars at the moment and everything else and she wouldn’t make enough part time to cover all the car expenses herself. “I-”

“I can pick up more shifts,” she said.

“Tessa, I want you to enjoy college. I sure did. I’ll give you rides whenever you want. I’ll drop you off in the morning and pick you up at night. That would work, right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t even care about my ankle. I can get my art degree!” she said.

“Tessa.”

“I’m joking,” she laughed. “Art minor?”

“You can minor in whatever you like but please for my sanity major in something you can get a job in?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. You rounded a corner and started to walk up a driveway, Dean setting Tessa down in the passenger seat of your car. You opened the back and Toast jumped in, Dean smiling when you shut both the doors.

“Thanks,” you said. “For helping us out.”

“Sounds like you two know how to solve problems on your own,” he said. “Happy to help. Here.”

He dug in his back pocket and pulled out a card.

“If you ever need a doctor, I’m two blocks over,” he said. “Or just to talk.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I’ll see you around, Dean.”

It was around nine when you were sitting on the front porch with a glass of whiskey in your hand. You drank slowly, eyes catching a man in a baseball cap and reflective shirt jogging by.

“Do you always run at night?” you called, Dean stopping at your front walkway. “Cause I never see you run at night and I sit out here a lot.”

“Whew well let’s stop that charade cause running is so not my thing,” he said. He breathed hard for a moment as he walked up the steps. You nodded to the other chair and poured him a glass, Dean drinking it down. “Your sister okay?”

“Yeah. Just a sprain,” you said. “Still gotta pay the deductible for the x-ray though.”

“How old are you?”

“How old are you?” you asked.

“Thirty one,” he said.

“Twenty eight.”

“Where are your folks?” he asked.

“They and Tessa were in an accident two years ago. It’s just us two now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m slowly getting used to be a guardian,” you said.

“I raised my little brother. My parents are still around but they fought a lot. I get becoming the parent when you’re not ready.”

“Do you ever get to just be a sibling again?” you asked.

“Yes. But they have to grow up first and you got a few more years ahead of you before it happens,” he said.

“I figured.”

“What does she have? Toast is a service dog I saw.”

“She gets seizures sometimes. It’s from the accident. She hasn’t had one in seven months. Fingers crossed we got her on the right mix of meds finally,” you said.

“So who takes care of you?”

“My buddy Jack Daniels. Sometimes I hang out Jim Bean too.”

“I’m partial to Johnny Walker,” smiled Dean.

“Very nice. I don’t drink much. Too tired most of the time,” you said.

“So nobody takes care of you then.”

“Who takes care of you?”

“Good point,” he said. “But I didn’t have it this rough.”

“We’re getting by. We always do.”

“I have no doubt that you can,” he said. “Take care of yourself every once in a while is all.”

“When she’s done with school I will.”

“She’s got five years left. You won’t last that long,” he said.

“Watch me.”

“Who worked on your sister at the urgent care tonight?”

“Dr. Novak. Why?”

“Cas is a good friend. I’ll see about getting that x-ray test off the bill,” he said as he stood up.

“Dean, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said, heading down the steps. “You want me to leave you alone from now on?”

“...No.”

“You want to go on a date tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you said.

“I’ll pick you up at noon? I’m buying. Nothing too fancy,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. He smiled and nodded, spinning around and sliding right off the last two steps to his bottom. You rushed down them and he groaned, shaking his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” he said, grunting as he stood. “Oh my ass hurts.”

“That’s what she said,” you said, Dean laughing.

“I definitely like you,” he said as you helped him take a few steps. “I’m alright. I’ll swing by tomorrow then.”

“Bye Dean,” you said.

“Bye Dean!” called Tessa from her bedroom window upstairs.

“Oh my God, go to bed!” you shouted back.

“It’s nine and I’m not twelve,” she said.

“Goodnight ladies,” chuckled Dean, waving as he headed back down the path. You gathered up the bottle and glasses, bringing them inside and locking up for the night. A few minutes later you were upstairs in Tessa’s room, frowning as she giggled while looking through her phone.

“Oh come on,” she said as she rolled her eyes at you. “He’s cute, he’s a doctor, he’s single and he’s a dork that just fell on his butt in front of you cause he’s so nervous and trying to play it cool. Like what is wrong with him?”

“Nothing. We have a date tomorrow,” you said, leaning against the doorframe.

“We used to talk about guys,” she said.

“I know,” you said. You picked at the wood, Tessa putting her phone down.

“Y/N. You’re not my mom. I know you gotta act like her sometimes but you’re not. Mom and dad would want you to go on dates and stuff. I haven’t seen you do anything fun in years.”

“I barely knew how to be an adult for just me,” you said. “You’re my priority now.”

“I’m not in a hospital bed anymore. My seizures are under control and I got Toast to watch out for me just in case. Dean had a point. You gotta take care of yourself,” she said. “Including me going to community college.”

“Tessa-”

“It’s both our inheritance and you can’t spend all of it on me. I can do two years at community and transfer to the university after.”

“Tess. You don’t have to do that. I did the math and it’ll work out.”

“When’s the last time you bought something for yourself? Seriously when?”

“I bought a new bedspread two weeks ago.”

“You needed one. That doesn’t count. When-”

“Before mom and dad died, Tess. Is that what you want me to say? They made good money but you had medical bills. Do I want a new winter coat? Sure. Do I want to splurge and by myself a nice pair of leggings? Of course. I want things. But I want us to stay in this house. I don’t want us to get shoved in a tiny apartment. I want you to be able to go to college like I did and not worry about this crap. I’m the grown up, not you. I choose how to spend the money.”

“Fine,” she said. She grabbed the crutch by her bed and got up, going to her dresser. She opened her jewelry box and grabbed a wad of cash, holding it out to you. “It’s three hundred. I want you to have it.”

“Tessa, no.”

“I earned it. I get to choose how to spend it,” she said. “You’ve always told me that. Buy a coat and leggings and whatever else you want.”

“Tessa. It’s yours. You were saving up to buy an iphone.”

“I don’t need a fucking phone. I need my sister to stop looking like she cries herself to sleep every night. Just take it,” she said. You shook your head and she shoved the money in your hand. “Y/N, take it.”

“Alright,” you said.

“Good.” She waited a beat before pulling you into a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said. “You got plans tomorrow night?”

“I was gonna sleepover Hailey’s house if that’s okay?” she said.

“Yeah. You guys have fun,” you said. “Just be careful on your ankle.”

“Duh,” she said. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I’m kinda beat. Sunday for sure?” you said.

“Okay. Night,” she said.

“Night, Tess,” you said. You went next door to your room, opening your desk drawer and opening the envelope inside. You counted the money she’d given you and added it to the front. You definitely had enough for her phone now and her birthday was only a few weeks away. You smiled and put it away, writing out a few bills before you gathered up your pajamas and walked down the hall to the bathroom. You kept going though, down to the shut door. You pushed it open, the room cold and dark. You flipped on a light, a coating of dust on everything again.

“Y/N?” said Tessa from the other end of the hall. You turned off the light and shut the door, Tessa by the bathroom when you walked back. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna shower quick before bed. Shout if you need something.”

“Yeah. Night.”

Dean POV

“Hey, Sammy,” said Dean after he’d gotten out of the shower and was laying in bed.

“Hey, Dean. What’s up?” asked Sam on the other end of the phone.

“I think I just went full on weirdo on this girl I met today.”

“Well that’s obvious but what’d you do? You didn’t like stalk her or anything.”

“She lives in the neighborhood. I kinda went jogging past her house tonight and she was sat on the front porch.”

“Okay that’s kinda creepy,” said Sam. Dean ran his hand over his face and sighed. “Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I gave off creeper vibes but she might have just been polite. I don’t know. We’re going out tomorrow,” said Dean. He was quiet as he shut his eyes. “Which sucks cause I really like her too. I hope she doesn’t think I’m weird.”

“Maybe she’ll have pity on you and let it slide. Where’d you meet her? I thought you swore off women after your last hookup went bad,” he said. Dean didn’t speak and ran his hand over his face again. “De I know something happened that night.”

“Sammy I got tired of hooking up. I’m too old for it. I just want a girl to go home to at the end of the day and laugh with. That’s all there is to it,” said Dean.

“Dean I was still living with you at the time. You were off for days. I know-”

“If you’re gonna bring this shit up again-”

“I’m just saying it’s nice to hear you excited about a girl again...and you can tell me anything. Anything, Dean. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You’re twenty seven. You’re a kid,” said Dean. He rolled over on the bed and lay on his stomach, putting his hands under his chin. “Some things I just don’t tell you about, Sam.”

“Dean, I asked you to stop raising me awhile ago. You’re not my father anymore.”

“I still gotta protect you from stuff,” said Dean with a shrug.

“I get that. But my mind has gone to the worst case scenario on this more than once. Just promise it wasn’t that,” said Sam.

“Sammy, I called to talk about a girl.”

“You want things to work out with her? Then figure out whatever the hell happened in the past so it doesn’t happen again.”

“You don’t understand,” said Dean.

“Whatever. Just crack a joke next time you see her,” said Sam. He hung up and Dean looked at his phone, sighing before he jammed his face in the bed. He gripped the sheets tight and felt his heart rate pick up, bile rising up in the back of his throat.

“Stop. It,” he said to himself, forcing himself to sit up. He wiped off his eye and dropped his head to his chest. “It’s just a fucking girl. It’s just a girl, it’s just a date. It’s all it is.”

He saw his phone light up and Sam’s name appear. He swiped and put it on speaker before he faced away from it.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam.

“It’s okay,” said Dean, freezing when he sniffled. He stared at the phone and Sam cleared his throat.

“You alright?” Dean stared at the phone and shook his head. “De, you there?”

“Are you alone?” he asked.

“Yes…” said Sam. “It’s just me.”

“You repeat a word of this to anybody or you laugh or you tease me or-”

“Hey. I’d rather we not have this conversation over the phone. I can be there in an hour.”

“...Fine but you better bring some pie with you.”

“I’ll see you in an hour, Dean.”

______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #doctor!dean #au!dean x reader #dean x #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #doctor!dean x reader

397 notes · View notes

gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

ML What If 4B

(Previous part)

(What if Luka Learned the Truth in Truth?)

This is Option B which was the second most requested

(B. Adrien says they will runaway together.

_____________________________________________________________

-“I am glad I got to tell you before I forget.” Marinette spoke softly.

-She kisses him.

-“Good bye, My kitty.”

-Marinette prepared to renounce her Guardianship. Until Adrien covered her lips.

-“Wait!”

-Marinette stops.

-"That can't be the best option. If you lose your memory, then I still have to fight Shadowmoth on my own, and you will still be targeted."

-Marinette thinks for a moment. Adrien had a point. Sure if she forgot, she couldn't give up any useful information, but that just put all of the responsibility of chat noir. Shadowmoth knows Chat noir deeply cares about her... so she would STILL be targeted. As would her family and friends.

-Marinette felt despair. Adrien was right.

-"Then what can we do?"

-"We run away."

-Marinette blinked.

-"We can't just abandon the city."

-"Its for the sake of Paris that we do. Shadowmoth is only interested in the miraculous. He will pursue us anywhere we go. So we run and try and find a solution."

-"Adrien... but what about your life?"

-"You are losing more then I am bugaboo..." Adrien admitted.

-"We need to make a few preparations.

_____________________________________________________________

-Shadowmoth dispatched the police with ease. Now trying to figure out how to pursue Ladybug and Chat noir.

-The heroine couldn't hide from him. At least thats what he thought.

-A message on the TV caught his attention.

-The mayor was with Ladybug and Chat noir.

-Shadowmoth watched the tv.

-"Shadowmoth. We know you are out there. We are leaving Paris. If you want our miraculous, you will need to find us. If you attack Paris while we are gone, we have made sure that other heroes will handle you."

-Shadowmoth remembered that Ladybug and Chat noir did indeed have other hero friends. (remembering Majestia, the one that could MOVE THE MOON,) He had to admit, that was clever. Shadowmoth had attacked NYC, which technically made him an international terrorist. (he had covered his tracks in Shanghai, but not in NYC)

-Ladybug and Chat noir used their space forms and flew off.

-All of Paris was shocked, it was quite a tragic day for Paris.

-Shadowmoth growled. He decided to return to his lair. He would need to figure out where the two heroes had gone. No point in attacking Paris if they aren't IN Paris.

-Shadowmoth needed to reconsider his plan. But first, he needed to ensure that this wasn't a bluff.

_____________________________________________________________

-After a week, Gabriel had made a sentimonster known as Pursuit (a monster that looked Like Feast, but had his insignia instead of the guardian box, was Red and had wings to fly) To search all over Paris for them (subtly), but the sentimonster came up short.

-It wasn't a bluff. They had left Paris.

-It infuriated him! Where could they be hiding? He knew the identity of one of them.

-"Perhaps they went to Shanghai? She does have a relative there."

-Gabriel noticed something, the mansion was... quiet.

-"Shouldn't Adrien be practicing Piano at this time?"

-He moved to his son's room and noticed it empty.

-"Adrien?"

-He looked around the room and noticed a letter on the bed.

-He read the letter.

Dear G, Nathalie and Father:

You likely noticed my sudden absence. I know how sudden it is and how frightened you must feel. I am alright. I am safe. I have decided to make a life for myself outside of being a model. I hope this doesn't give you the wrong idea, I am not leaving out of hatred or spite, quite the opposite. I am leaving because of love. I will keep in touch when I can, I will try and pop by every now and again. Thank you for everything.

Love,

Adrien Agreste

-Gabriel felt his brain snap after reading this. The only remaining part of his family had just... ran away? How did he not realize it?

-Gabriel decided the miraculous could wait, Right now, he needed to find his son!

_____________________________________________________________

-Anarke was concerned.

-"Its been a week and Luka hasn't set foot outside of his room."

-Juleka patted her mom's shoulder.

-"He... he is going through a lot mom."

-Luka had sat in his room, his mind was racing. It was his fault. Marinette's identity was exposed. He failed her. He tried to be there for her and he failed her.

-Luka knew even if she didn't say it, that look she gave him before leaving him on that rooftop, that was the end of any relationship they had. But that wasn't what concerned him, he put her in danger, which was FAR worse. She had to leave Paris. Her family, her friends, and everyone else to protect the city. He knew why and he couldn't tell anyone. This was the punishment he deserved.

-There was a knock on the door.

-It was surprising for him to see Adrien's girlfriend at the door, the fencer. Kagami.

-"I was told It was okay to come in."

-"Yea... its fine." Luka weakly muttered.

-"I imagine that the break up was just as painful for you. Your probably the only one that understands it."

-Luka blinked.

-"How did..."

-Kagami was holding a letter in his hands.

-"I didn't expect to get dumped by letter." Kagami confessed.

-Luka could hear the sorrow in her heartbeat.

-"I didn't think he would runaway with her." Kagami commented.

-That caught Luka off guard.

-"Wait what?" Luka blinked.

-"You didn't know? Our exes runaway together, like some sort of soap opera."

-"May I see that letter?" Luka asked.

-Kagami looked at him.

-"You didn't get your own?"

-"No, but I didn't deserve one."

-"Don't say that, Marinette was the one that..."

-"Im the reason she had to runaway."

-Kagami could see the tears forming in his eyes.

-She handed him the letter.

-Dear Kagami,

I wanted to do this in person, but there was really not much time. I caused you a lot of unnecessary stress and pain. I'm sorry for that. You were right, I keep hesitating, I keep being unsure of my actions. Even our relationship had you pushing and me receiving. It wasn't right that I let that go on. I think it would be best if we ended things here. I need to stop hesitating and do what I truly want. Thank you for showing me that.

Love,

Adrien

-Luka could tell that Kagami didn't know the truth, but Luka was able to figure it all out.

-Adrien Agreste was Chat noir.

-"Are you okay?"

-"No, but I will be."

-Luka felt himself calming down. He would help fix his mistake. By helping everyone hurt by it.

-"Know you aren't alone okay?" Luka spoke.

-Kagami turned to him. She had to admit, that was nice to hear after all of this.

-"Thanks."

_____________________________________________________________

-In the streets of Shanghai, a girl with straight dark brown hair, and a boy with black hair walk the streets. They were holding hands as they were taking a walk. A nice break from the restaurant they had been working as waiter's at.

-They took notice of a mugging happening in an alley way.

-The two looked at each other and smiled.

-A mouse and a snake Kwami pop out of their pockets.

_____________________________________________________________

(End of Part 4B)

#ml #ml what if #the runaway au #miraculous ladybug #ml au #slight lukagami #ladynoir #adrinette #angst #fluff #luka couffaine #kagami tsurugi #shadowmoth #luka learns the truth au #ml alt truth au #alt truth au

184 notes · View notes

ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

Stories of Paris

I have no self control this week and have just finished this wip I'll update 2 days on the trot (mainly as I've become word blind and can't see the words for the letters). This is a flux occurrence and is likely to never happen again unless it's like a month with 2 full moons and the stars have aligned wonky and theres a north wind blowing and Fae stuff like that....

Will eventually post on AO3 when like the tech sprites are feeling nice to me and the gremlins have disappeared.

Masterlist

Part One Part Two

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Alfred checked in on his small charge, making sure he was still asleep, before heading to his own room. The last couple of months had been hard. Much harder for young master Bruce but still hard. He had lost his employers, who were closer to friends really. He'd become an unexpected full time guardian on top of a full time workload of running a manor house, which he was originally employed for. Gone were his fortnightly day off. His evenings to himself to meet up with friends, his whole life was turned upside down and he was grieving.

As much as he adored Master Bruce he wanted, no that's not right, he needed a break to grieve too. Grieve the loss of his friends, the loss of his freedom, the loss of his own life expectations.

Once he reached his own personal sanctuary he got out his personal phone and dialed the one person who got him. She may have been a foreign agent but she had taken him under her wing, looked after him and treated him like a son before they both retired (for different reasons). She was like a mother to him after he lost his own. She was always a grounding rock. It was this point, in his early 30's he needed someone to talk to this overwhelming, unexpected, humongous responsibility he'd stumbled upon.

"Ciao?"

"Gina, Are free to talk?"

"Alfie darling!!! Of course I am free to talk to you! I'll always make time for you darling! How are you doing stateside? The family in your charge still treating you well? Or do they need to be dropped so you can come adventuring with me?"

Suppressing a stifled sob Alfred tried to answer Gina's questions.

"They, they died Gina. The couple. The… the Wayne's were murdered in front of their son… They left me in charge of looking after him. I'm his guardian… I've looked after him for 2… 2 months..."

The stifled sob broke loose. After 2 months of being in complete control over all the emotions in favour of protecting and supporting Master Bruce he finally let them all out.

".... Shhhh shhh, there there il mio piccolo… Let those tears flow. Don't hold it in. Let those feelings out… "

Alfred sat in his room allowing himself to crack with Gina providing soothing words to him. After a while the sobs died down and he recomposed himself.

"Are you feeling better Alfie sweetie?"

"... Yes …"

"How often do you get your own space? Time to care about yourself? When was the last time you had a 'you' day?"

"... Before, before all this I would have days and time to see friends. Now, it's all about Master Bruce. He needs someone. He's just lost his parents. I can't abandon him as well.''

"So not for 2 months then. Hmmmm… you need to get a babysitter and make time and days for yourself"

"I don't trust anyone in Gotham Gina to look after Master Bruce. I've built a network up but not a 'child friendly one'."

"Good thing then I have the perfect candidate for you. My granddaughter is in Gotham as part of a study program or something like that. My little fairy is good with bambini. And it would benefit us having someone we trust to physically check in with her too. Being an ocean away makes it hard for us to check she is actually ok and not what she is presenting to a screen or phone."

"That, that might work Gina. How old is she? I know you wouldn't suggest it if she wasn't suitable…"

"Currently 17 but soon to be 18 and planning to stay Gotham way for a while. She seems to adore the architecture."

"That… .this might work. Could you check with her that she is happy to do this and we can arrange a meeting to see how it goes. It will be dependent on how well she connects with Master Bruce as to what happens next."

"Sounds like a plan Alfie! You're a strong resourceful man Alfie. You'll get through this. Do call me again if you need anything. And I do mean anything! Also be certain I'll be visiting in the nearish future to check on you and the lad.

Now go to sleep and I'll have a chat with my little fairy to see what we can do. You're not on your own in this son. Rest now and I will be in contact soon."

"Thank you Gina. For everything. Just being able to talk to someone has been a huge help. I'll go rest now. Bye"

"Bye Alfie"

After hanging up the phone Alfred took a deep breath and for the first time in a long time he felt he could finally breathe. Gina had never led him wrong before. Having someone to watch Master Bruce even for a few hours would allow him the space to set up a new network and reconnect with people. The overwhelming task would become manageable. Hopefully Gina's granddaughter would be willing and that Master Bruce liked her.

With those thoughts in mind Alfred finally turned in for the night.

…………………………………………………………..

Bruce continued to stare at the teen in his living room. It was an unexpected guest in his eyes. Alfred had informed him of a visitor, an old friend's granddaughter who was studying in Gotham, and Alfred's friend wanted him to check up on her. So Alfred had invited her to the manor. That was all fine. What he didn't get is why HE needed to be about. He didn't want company, he wanted his parents back. He wanted that man who destroyed his life brought to justice. He wanted to do research not listening to some inane talk. He wanted to be left alone to wallow. And maybe have Alfred about too for quiet company and provide tea and snacks. Not this stranger in his home.

As he stared (glared) at the girl he lost focus on the ongoing conversation she was having with Alfred to sulk.

He was drawn out of his musing when he saw the girl out down the cup she was drinking from and gave Alfred a hug. She whispered something to Alfred and much to Bruce's amazement, Alfred's whole being seemed to loose some of the tenseness it held. A glimmer of a spark he once held seems to re-enter his being.

"*cough* Right Miss Marinette. I can tell you are related to your Grandmother. Gina holds a magic way with words too."

"It's ok Monsieur Pennyworth. I learnt a lot about how words have power and how they can affect people under Hawkmoth's rein. Nonna helped me refine the skill."

"Hawkmoth? Miss Marinette could you explain further?"

"Yes, he was a supervillain. He held the power to manipulate people with negative emotions and turn them into temporary villains which Paris superheros had to defeat.

It was exhausting to live through. Watching what you said and how it could affect others. Keeping your own emotions in check. Nonna was a great help in learning to read body language so I could preempt and defuse situations before Hawkmoth could attack."

The girl, Marinette, went back to drinking her tea as if what she said was common knowledge and that having super heros was a normal thing.

It sparked Bruce's interest. The 8 year old boy adored comics telling granduese stories of adventures. This Marinette may not be as awful as he originally thought. She had experience of heroes and what they could do. In the small boy's head, he needed to get as much information as humanly possible from her. She might know how they came to be. How they got their powers. She knew about justice and how to take down bad guys indirectly. That meant joining in the conversation so she might come again.

"Thank you for coming round Miss Marinette. Are you sure I can not interest you into staying for dinner?"

"No, thank you Monsieur Pennyworth, for having me. I would have loved to stay for dinner, Nonna tells tales of your fabulous culinary skills, I must however decline. The family I am staying with is expecting me back soon.

It was a pleasure to meet you though. And you Monsieur Wayne."

Bruce was drawn out of his thoughts of superheroing and taking down bad guys. His information source was leaving. He needed to keep her here somehow. Or get her return.

"It was nice to meet you too Marinette. Would you like to come round and visit Alfred again?"

Alfred looked at the young master in surprise, the young boy had appeared to show no interest and huge distrust of Miss Marinette, but apparently looks are deceiving. Somehow she had won the boys interest and he wanted her to return. Gina was right about the girl, she was talented and seemed to know how to work her audience especially children. Maybe, just maybe Gina's idea would work.

"I would be delighted to visit again Monsieur Wayne. Monsieur Pennyworth has my details. I'm sure we can arrange another occasion to meet."

"If you would like to follow me Miss Marinette, I will escort you to the door."

…………………………………………………………..

"Gina"

"Alfie!!! How are you? It's good to hear from you!"

"I am well thank you. Much better than when we last spoke. I must say though, thank you! Your idea has been perfect. Your granddaughter has been amazing. She completely worked her magic with Master Bruce."

"Mmmm hmmm"

"She has got him talking. Not much. But he isn't as wallowy as he was before we met her. She got him kneading bread. And basically got him to beat his frustrations into it. The kitchen was a disaster from it all but he seems happier."

"YOU sound happier darling too!! The kneading thing likely comes from my Tom. He got my fairy doing that a lot under Hawkmoths rein. Baking for her has become a way to process/deal with her emotions. The nasty fella. I'm glad he is all done and dusted for my fairy. He left his mark on her."

"I can honestly see a way forward now Gina. Thank you. Bruce and I, we will get there. But back to your comment, Left his Mark? Did Miss Marinette get hurt? Has she an injury that I need to be aware of. Every time I've seen her she seems well, with the occasional spacey moments. She seems to navigate a conversation well to avoid topics that cause her too many anxieties."

"Not physically that I am aware of. Emotionally it has taken its toll. She is good at masking and misdirecting emotions as you've probably seen and noted. She's grieving too. She's left Paris as it has too many memories for the moment."

"I see.... I can see how that is likely helping her and Master Bruce connect. Thank you Gina, truly. Our little family has hope now that your fairy has arrived. We will see if we can also watch out and help her."

…………………��……………………………………..

Had Bruce realised at the time that Marinette's original visit was an informal interview to see if he connected with her, Bruce may have paid a bit more attention. He might have noticed if had paid attention but that's neither here nor there. In his unfocused state he had somehow agreed to her becoming his babysitter. And as much as he protested to Alfred that he was perfectly capable of looking after himself. The small fire he created in the kitchen when he tried to make toast (this time) shortly before his declaration destroyed his argument.

The bonus was that with each occasion Marinette babysat him he was learning more and more about superheros (and got freshly baked treats). And she knew a lot about both.

"Mon poussin, shall we go bake some cookies before Alfred returns?"

"Ummm… I might have been err banned from the kitchen since you last visited Mari."

"Banned mon chéri? Why on earth were you banned?"

"I tried to make the cookies we made last time for Alfred as a surprise. The fire this time was much bigger than normal"

"Are you banned from baking or just being in the kitchen? I kinda need to know what rule we're about to bend"

"Bend? And errrr baking and kitchen. Alfred said 'Young master. Please can you refrain from attempting to bake and using the kitchen equipment. You are banned until I see fit that it is safe for you to learn again'"

Bruce caught a glint of mischief entering Marinette's eye and a smirk grew upon her face.

"Perfect!!! You're banned from the equipment for baking. I'll use the equipment then and you can still be in the kitchen then. Bending is working with the rules and looking for where they are flexible and looking for loopholes. Alfred for example according to you said baking. Well baking is different from cooking. So technically you could cook. Though as it's Alfred I'd probably give it a miss."

"Yeah, I don't fancy getting on the wrong side of Alfred."

The pair started to walk to the kitchen to bake with Marinette leading.

"The Parisian's superheros used that technique a lot. The police there weren't particularly welcoming in the beginning so they followed the rules the police set out and twisted them to work best in their interest. It's something you see business people do too. Something I'm sure you'll encounter when you're older sadly."

"How did they get their names? Paris's superheros"

Marinette smiled ruefully as she got the ingredients out for cookies.

"I told you that I was friends with a blogger at the time"

"Uh-huh" Bruce nodded.

"For the most part she named them. I believe, from what I remember her saying, is that Chat Noir introduced himself as that, but Ladybug, she focused on the task at hand and ignored the media for the most part at the beginning and they named her. The blogger from what I recall named her and then created the blog 'the ladyblog' as a pun on the name. Lesson to learn there is that if a hero doesn't want to be named by the media they should have a name ready to provide and introduce themselves with. Winning the media and public over made the job easier from what I could tell"

"And what made them superheros Mari?"

"They had powers mon poussin. Police, firepeople, doctors and nurses. They are all hero's fighting to protect others everyday. All within the law. These superheros had powers. They had magic."

Bruce looked at Marinette in awe.

"Magic?"

"A curse and a blessing, magic is Bruce" Marinette in such a serious way that was so out of character it startled Bruce.

"There are so many types of magic out there Bruce. For the most part it's benevolent, neither good nor evil just existing in balance. Old magic though. Old magic tends to come at a cost. Yes it can help but there is always something required to balance it out. A negative payment. Hawkmoth, he used the magic in a negative way and it cost him his family. His life as well.. Ladybug and Chat Noir they both had to use their powers to balance the other one out."

Bruce absorbed the information like a sponge. He loved when Marinette forgot his age and just spoke her thoughts. Her memories. He was learning so much from her about these heroes when she drifted to narrate the past. Superheroes. If Alfred let him he was going to look this blog up on his computer later.

With such melancholy Marinette continued.

"Hawkmoth turned out to be my friend's dad. His dad was awful so it wasn't a huge surprise. But, his misuse of the magic caused the death of my friend to balance it all out. Magic isn't inherently bad, it's the side effects that people forget about and neglect to think."

Marinette let out a big sigh.

"These cookies are going to taste sour with this sad mood growing. Mon poussin, what superpower would you want if you could have one?"

She enquired trying to lighten the mood about the past as she put the cookies into the oven to cook.

Bruce mulled over the question.

"I'm not sure Mari. What you said about magic and powers seems like a bad idea. If I had a superpower, what would it cost me? I don't want to lose Alfred or you. I'd want to do it without powers''

*Chuckling* "Oh mon poussin. That's what you got from what I've said. Mon chéri, you won't lose us. You're family now"

Marinette stated before booping his nose with a floury finger.

"But you said people were heroes without powers Mari! I wanna be like that."

"So a secret ninja hero with lots of gadgets then."

Matinette giggled at the boys antics "Remember secret identities are key. No-one but your selected trusted support network can ever know them so you are all protected as well."

"Hmmm ok Mari that's good advice"

They both sat in silence after that. Marinette, still trying to recover from the memories of losing Adrien, Bruce pondering what Mari had said.

"How'd you train to be a ninja Mari?"

"Hmmm ninja training I guess Bruce."

"What's that though"

"I guess ninjas train in martial arts, gymnastics and stuff like that. Maybe in weapons. I don't really know Bruce. I've never met a ninja before."

Marinette smiled at the small boy. He reminded her of Manon with all the questions on heroes and Alya with her obsession in her teens. She never remembered being so fascinated with them but many of the children she had babysat especially in Paris had a huge fascination with them. It was times like this she missed Paris and her family there. Nonna recommending her to Alfred was a stroke of luck. Bless Tikki. She was starting to feel like she had a family over here now too.

Bruce mulled over the information Mari had given. Maybe he would get Alfred to sign up for martial arts lessons. That would help towards getting skilled enough to bring justice, even if it didn't bring his parents back.

When Alfred returned back to the manor, he found the pair giggling in the kitchen. Cookies cooling on the side as the pair pretended to do silly ninja moves while watching ninja warrior clips on Miss Marinette's phone. Alfred smiled to himself while craftily snapping a photo of the pair. Miss Marinette was an excellent babysitter and was slowly bringing happiness back into the manor. Bruce's sour moods from grief definitely improved with her presence.

Gina's recommendation was perfect.

…………………………………………………………..

Marinette had almost become a permanent feature in Bruce's life. She was round at least once a fortnight. Sometimes once a week and had been for the last 9 months and he had grown to see her as almost an Aunt or cousin or something more than a babysitter. She was becoming family. He desperately missed his parents still but having Mari and Alfred he didn't feel quite as alone on the bad days.

The pair were both doing homework in the garden while Alfred was out when Mari's phone rang. She switched to another language on answering. Bruce paused from his work and watched. He didn't know the language and felt left out not knowing what was being said. He would ask Alfred to sign him up for language lessons when he returns. The martial art lessons were awesome in the boys eyes. Language lessons would help connect more with Marinette. And help in spying and his secret hero training.

Watching her though she seemed to flit through a range of emotions in quick succession which were a blur to interpret before they went. They disappeared from her face. He couldn't read what she was thinking or feeling. Bruce knew he was fairly good at reading adults. It was helpful to avoid getting into trouble at school (and with Alfred). It was amazing and scary to not be able to do so with Mari.

"Mari…?" Bruce gently asked when the call had ended "How'd you do that?"

"Hmmm.. do what mon poussin"

"Hide your feelings. How'd you do that?"

"Hide them?" Marinette mused over what Bruce was meaning. "I didn't really hide them mon chéri. I just sifted through them as I felt them and checked if they were helpful to me or not. If it wasn't helpful I parked to deal with it at a later date so I could focus on the call with a clear head. Given who I was talking to, getting upset, angry or frustrated wouldn't benefit me at all. Why do you ask?"

"Can you teach me?!" Bruce demanded with enthusiasm. To be able to be able to do that would be so cool. To do it in games with peers and hide what he was feeling and therefore thinking would be awesome.

Marinette laughed at her temporary charges determination.

"It takes time and patience to learn mon poussin. And I started by learning to meditate and recognising my own emotions. Learning what I'm truly feeling and working out what I need to do to process it.

If we complete our homework soon I'll teach you some basic mediation and we can go from there if you like?"

"Yes!! But don't have to do homework first….. can't we skip it pleeeeeeease"

Marinette just raised her eyebrow, in a very Alfred manner, at the boy who ducked his head in return.

Much to Alfred's surprise he came home to find the pair sitting in the garden as Miss Marinette took Master Bruce through a guided meditation. He hoped that this may be the start of Bruce starting to openly process his grief.

#maribat #maribat au #ml x dc #dc x ml #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #ml crossover #marinette x bruce #marinette x alfred #plantonic #friendship #babysitting #found family

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like-rain-or-confetti · 3 years

Text

A Story (Alec Volturi x Reader)

You opened your eyes, sitting up straight. Your back was stiff. You were in your bathtub, fully clothed, soaked. The bathwater threatening to spill over and freezing. You frowned. “I need to stop drinking.” You grumbled before rolling out of the tub. You groaned, too sore to even consider standing up. You’d clean the mess later. You crawled into your bedroom before flopping onto the floor. This had to be the last time you drank, it had to be. Better ignoring that you definitely could have drowned, since you were so intoxicated that you tried to take a bath and didn't even take off your clothes. You couldn’t even remember the night before so really, it wasn’t worth it. Whilst you didn’t have a headache, thankfully, you just felt tired...and cold. Phone, where was it? You groaned, a sudden feeling you had left it in the bathroom. You didn't see it around your room and it wasn't in any pockets thankfully. With a sigh, you figured you couldn’t avoid the day any longer, although it would be very nice to try. Regardless, you slowly got up and trudged back into the bathroom.

Your phone was on the floor, next to the bath. A couple of water droplets lay on the screen but remained undamaged...although it had twenty percent battery left. You had two missed calls from Alice. You checked your texts to find none. You decided to call Carlisle who picked up after two rings. “Hello?” “Carlisle, it’s (Y/N).” You said. “Hello, are you okay?” “Yeah, i’m good. I just...do you know if i was drinking last night?” Carlisle seemed amused. “No, why?” “Oh, no reason. I just, woke up weird and tired.” “Im sure you could have done that without alcohol.”You could hear his smile in his voice. You hummed in amusement. “Are you coming to visit today?” “Yeah, I can do that.” “I just wanted to check since you said you would yesterday?” Carlisle responded. “I did? I must have forgotten but yeah, i can do that. I’ll come over later. I’m going to take a nap first, okay?” “Alright, I’ll see you soon.” “Bye, Carlisle.”

When you arrived at the Cullen’s, they seemed as though they were waiting. “The Volturi are coming to visit.” Carlisle informed you. “The who?” You made a face of confusion. “The Volturi.” “I’m going to assume thats some vampire friends i don’t know about.” You shrugged. Carlisle turned to you with a look of confusion of his own. “You’ve-” He paused. Carlisle's eyes widened, a sickening thought rushed through him. Panic rushed through Carlisle realising the likelihood of his thought become more and more likely. "Stay here for a while. We have guests, I believe you'll have met them before." Carlisle swallowed hard trying not to scare you. You lightly shrugged.

A group of seven arrived, all dressed in black and grey with cloaks, varying in the same colours. You could tell they were an older coven with how they moved. You were given their names and noted the odd looks they gave you. You figured it was down to being human, you were a big no-no from what you remember. "Do you know these people?" Carlisle asked you before putting his hand into Aro's in a weird bizarre handshake. You shook your head. "No. We haven't met." Carlisle inhaled.

This made Esme step towards you. "(Y/N), why don't you help me in the kitchen?" She smiled. "Carlisle will get our guests settled in before you make their acquaintance." You nodded. "Sure thing, Esme." Without a second glance you turned, heading for the kitchen, Esme sending Carlisle a glance.

Half an hour passed and Esme led you to the living room where the Volturi awaited your presence. Your eyes immediately shot to Carlisle, nervous about meeting his friends but he nodded in encouragement. The leader in the middle was the first to greet you. "You must be young (Y/N), we've heard so much about you. We are delighted to meet you. My name is Aro." "Hi...it's nice to meet you too." You nodded. He held out a hand and you hesitantly reached out thinking it was a handshake. Instead, he cradled your hand in his own briefly. A flicker of an unrecognisable emotion passing his face before his wide smile returned. "These are my brothers, Caius and Marcus." The two men beside him nodded to you and you offered them shy smiles. He gestured to who you were told were their guards. "This is Jane, Alec, Demetri and Felix." You nodded. "Hi." You said nervously as the four nodded at you. Later that night you huddled into your seat. "So you guys have been around for a long time?" You asked looking over the Volturi members. "Yes. Quite." Aro smiled slightly. "Do you guys have any good stories? Surely you've got at least one after all this time." The Volturi looked around amongst each other, Marcus kept his head down whilst the Cullen's looked around uncertain of how to continue the conversation. Marcus spoke up, meeting your gaze. "I have a story. It was quite some time ago but I believe it's one our coven cherishes." All eyes were on Marcus, uncertain just what he was doing. However, you seemed pleased. "I'd love to hear it...if you're willing to tell it." "I believe it would be a good one to tell." Marcus nodded. "This is a story about a human we once knew, one who after all this time will continue to be very special to us."

(Y/N) caught Alec in their sights as he approached the door to the spare bedroom. "Alec!" They cried out with a grin. "You're here!" "So are you." Alec said peeking around the door. "What are you doing here? You don't live here." Alec couldn't help the amused smirk building upon his face as he watched (Y/N) struggle to reach for something on top of the closet. "I'm visiting but...! I can't reach my folder! I left it here the last time I stayed over. It has all my documents in there." With a defeated sigh, (Y/N) began to drag themselves down the closet doors. "I'd offer my assistance but I don't think I can't do anything without damaging furniture." Alec pondered. Alec's eyes suddenly glinted, clearly having an idea. "Come here." Alec bent down. "What am I doing?" They asked with confusion. "You're going to sit on my shoulders and I'll lift you up." Alec responded. (Y/N) made a noise of protest but couldn't think of a reason why. They couldn't necessarily tell him you were too heavy, tall or would hurt him given Alec was inhumanly strong. "...Promise you won't drop me?" They asked him. Alec looked unimpressed. "I have no reason to drop you now, come on." (Y/N) whined quietly in defeat once again moving to Alec.

As they got into position they looked down at him nervously. "You're sure I won't hurt you?" (Y/N) asked and Alec rolled his eyes, wrapping his hands around their ankles and standing up with ease. (Y/N) squealed, although it seemed Alec was right. He wouldn't drop them. "Oh it's all the way at the back, I bet Emmett did that. Can you take a step forward please?" Alec complied and suddenly the folder was in arm's length. (Y/N) grabbed it. "Thank you!" "Did you know that it's very likely you couldn't get down now that I have a hold of your ankles?" Alec smirked and (Y/N)’s smile of accomplishment vanished. "You'd get tired quickly." They retorted. "Would I? Shall we see how long I last?" Alec responded. "If you don't put me down, I'll eventually pee on you. It's inevitable." Alec immediately pulled a face of disgust, crouching back down and letting (Y/N) stand up. "So are you visiting the Cullen's or have you broke in? Oh! Oh! Did you run away from the Volturi and so have sought shelter with the Cullen's?" They asked. He scoffed. "My coven is visiting to check the progress of the hybrid." Alec answered.

Later that night, (Y/N) and Alec were outside, sitting on the Cullen's balcony floor. "Why do you need those? Those documents?" Alec asked turning his head towards them. "Oh, it's just stuff to keep the state happy. It's documents saying that Carlisle is my emergency contact and stuff, he's my legal guardian though I'm not living with him. I'm in contact with him frequently and he gives me money for my house. All of that stuff. Boring really." "You still haven't been in contact with your parents?" Alec asked and (Y/N) smiled at him sadly before shaking their head. "You should reach out, (Y/N). The argument was a typical one. They have no reason to hold a grudge against their own child for this long over something so trivial." "It's a little more complicated than that. Although I guess deep down, I like to think that maybe I do have their forgiveness." They admitted. "You didn't do anything wrong. Besides, for the last option, you could always make them forget the argument ever happened and avoid the topic forever." Alec smirked at (Y/N) who playfully shoved him. "Thanks Alec." They said with sarcasm. "It'll be okay, I assure you." Alec said to them. "They'll come around if they aren't already waiting for you to come back to them."

(Y/N)’s gift was phenomenal. Unique but dangerous due to its impact. They could make people forget things, everything really. Whether it were, events memories or thoughts, none of them were exempt. The only person it didn't work on was themselves. Since meeting the Cullen's and eventually Alec, (Y/N) had better control of their gift making them a very tempting addition to Aro's collection. Although that was still very much in discussion. Whilst they'd have to be changed at some point, it wasn't consensus that they were to join the Volturi. As a matter of fact, it was highly debated among both covens instead.

"You talk about my ability like you can trust me with it. I'm still learning, you could be forgotten at any time." Alec chuckled. "First of all, it doesn't work on yourself. Secondly, you don't forget someone like me." Alec's smile faded. "Not for good reasons, might I add." "Good reasons for me... you've been nicer to me lately." (Y/N) said. "I'm trying...it's not your fault you're human." Alec smirked slightly. (Y/N) narrowed your eyes on him playfully. "It's all I can ask." Alec wasn't the most open individual nor the kindest. He certainly had nothing nice to say about (Y/N) when they first met. Although over time, he gradually warmed up to them- even if it was reluctantly. Now (Y/N) felt like Alec understood them better than anyone in the world and accepted them. It made their bond to him stronger than most bonds could ever be. (Y/N) was confident that a piece of them would always be connected to Alec, nothing could divide them from him.

None of the Volturi really understood why Carlisle had a form of guardianship over (Y/N) and what a conflict with their parents actually meant for them to no longer be around their parents. Whilst the Volturi wanted to respect their privacy, it was important to them if (Y/N) were to become a vampire eventually. It was necessary to have the details. Although even being close with Alec didn't give them any answers as (Y/N) never told him any complete details.

There was an argument about (Y/N) wanting to be independent, treated less like a child and since then, they hadn't been near them since. Whilst this seemed logical that (Y/N) left, it didn't make sense why their parents hadn't reached out to them in so long. So much so (Y/N) was convinced that they couldn't be forgiven.

Marcus asked (Y/N) about their parents when talking one night. "Do they know about your gift?" He asked. (Y/N) wanted to wince at the reference of their ability being a 'gift' when there was very little actually pleasant about it. "No, they don't. I never told them and after that argument, I guess I had made up my mind they could never know." "Do you miss them?" Marcus asked. "I try to forget about them if I'm honest." (Y/N) answered. This response made Marcus tilt his head slightly. They looked at him, really scrutinizing him. Marcus was the most kind and gentle of the Volturi leaders. (Y/N) couldn't help but trust him, especially after he came to defence of their friendship with Alec to anyone who questioned it. Marcus had always made it clear that the bond Alec shared with them was undeniable. "Can I tell you the full story?" "If you wish." Marcus said quietly.

(Y/N) could remember the moment that their house stopped being your home. Everything was as it always had been. Signs of life, nothing missing from it's usual place. However, it was no longer welcoming as it had been before. Even the photographs of (Y/N) and their family, scattered around the place. Things were different now. Instead of a family, there were just memories of one. It took some time for (Y/N) to understand how their gift worked. Although they were forced to learn the hard way. (Y/N) had been arguing with their parents when (Y/N) said something about forgetting (Y/N) ever existed. Their parents did. They never had any children by that name. Nor had they ever seen (Y/N) before. All memories of them gone in a matter of moments. From then on (Y/N) could only see their parents from a distance, outside their house. Their parents wondered why they had pictures with the strange person in their house and got rid of them too. "I wanted to remember every inch of them as they were. Their eyes, nose, mouth, hair. Every tiny detail, because I knew after today. I'd never see them again." (Y/N) told Marcus. "Why are you so determined to pretend this didn't happen rather than embrace it and carry on?" Marcus asked. There was a moment of silence. Neither of the two looking at one another. "You rejected Corin's gift when offered comfort after your loss. Why?" (Y/N) responded. Marcus thought about the answer but it didn't require much thought. He had spent decades thinking about that decision and why he made it. "Because I wanted to feel the pain. I didn't want to feel content about her death." (Y/N) thought over his answer before replying, sadness almost radiating from them. "See that's where you and I differ. I want nothing more than to forget." Their voice was quieter as they looked down at their hands. It was safe to say, Alec was furious at (Y/N) when he found they had left out such an important detail when it came to why their parents didn't speak to them. (Y/N) had more than one chance to tell him and they didn't. It felt like a betrayal, like they had lied. Alec only ever asked (Y/N) to be honest with him, no secrets. This secret was a pretty big one at the very least. (Y/N), on the other hand, didn't think anything wrong with that. They were allowed some privacy like every other person. They were sure Alec didn't tell them everything so why should they share something they simply hadn't been ready to speak about until that moment. It was how the argument had began and it seemed the more defensive (Y/N) got, the more angry Alec became.

"This isn't a big deal, you're making something out of nothing!" (Y/N) said with exasperation. "It is something, (Y/N)! You didn't trust me with the full story and you told Marcus! Even Carlisle knew!" "Carlisle had to know!" (Y/N) argued back. "If he didn't I'd have been taken by social services! I told Marcus because I was ready to talk about it and I knew he wouldn't make a big deal out of it! It was nothing to do with trust!" Alec scoffed sending them a sneer. That was when their anger had begun to really build. "Am I honestly supposed to believe that you tell me everything!?" (Y/N) snapped. "That's different! There are parts of my life that aren't necessary and would only scare you." "Like your complete lack of trust and hatred towards humans for being burned at the stake? Like the dark, twisted things you and your coven have done in the name of justice?" "You don't know what you're talking about." Alec said icily. "You're just a little human who thinks they know everything when they know nothing. I have given you no reason not to trust me-" "Alec, I didn't do anything to you! Ever! I didn't accuse you of witch craft! So what did I ever do to you like the rest of the human population!?" Alec laughed darkly. "Of course, you wouldn't understand. How could I expect you to? You're only human."

(Y/N) was stunned into silence before fury took over them. "You are cold." (Y/N) said, anger and disgust in their eyes. "Cold and empty. So empty you have to suck out the life of everyone around you to feel even an ounce of emotion. Perhaps that is what your village saw in you! Perhaps that's what Aro sees in you! A monster just like the rest of your coven!" (Y/N) looked taken aback by their own words, stunned. When they saw the look of growing rage upon Alec's face, they knew they had done it again. Like they had with your parents, they lashed out with hurtful words they didn't mean. Alec was very hurt. (Y/N) knew by the emotion overpowering his stoic gaze. "I'm so sorry." (Y/N) whispered, their anger rushing away as they began to feel nothing but guilt. The look Alec gave (Y/N) could kill but instead he began to walk by them. (Y/N) reached out for him, grabbing his hand. "Alec, wait-" They began but gasped as they immediately felt cold numbness crawl up their arm. Alec roughly tore their hand off him and they were so caught off guard that they didn't even notice the slight pain you felt within their fingers. Suddenly (Y/N) felt like they were on fire.

(Y/N) screamed, collapsing to the ground, seeing Jane was now beside her brother. The two watched (Y/N) scream without sympathy. "So that's how you really feel." Jane said simply. Alice and Carlisle were quick to rush by the twins and towards (Y/N). "Enough! Not in my house!" Carlisle barked. The pain stopped, only (Y/N)’s hysterical crying being heard. "I didn't mean it!" They cried out as Alice pulled them into a hug, hushing them. "It's okay." She told (Y/N). "You're okay."

It was obvious that all the Cullen's and the Volturi knew what had happened and surprisingly enough the Volturi also seemed rather angry by (Y/N)’s outburst. Alec had made it known, (Y/N) wasn’t worth his time. (Y/N)’s true feelings had finally come to light. Yet none of the Volturi seemed to believe them when they said it wasn't true. Despite knowing (Y/N) sometimes said things they didn't mean. The last time they had seen their parents being one of them.

It had been Marcus that suggested the two covens separated for the night for some space. Especially since the Volturi hadn't fed yet. However, much to (Y/N)’s surprise, someone of the Volturi had phoned the Cullen's. Whoever it was, was asking on the leaders behalf how they were. If (Y/N) had to guess it was Marcus. If they were hopeful, Alec would want to know too. (Y/N) stared at Carlisle, who stood at the entrance way. "Marcus wants to know if you're okay." Carlisle said. "However I'm not entirely sure what to tell him. So, how are you (Y/N)?" (Y/N) slowly met his eyes. They looked exhausted from how upset they had been. "Tell him what he wants to hear. Tell him that I'm fine." Their voice croaked slightly. "I don't think I can do that." Carlisle said softly. "Why?" (Y/N) responded flatly. "You're asking me to lie for you." Carlisle replied. "He thinks I'm a monster. So it's better he thinks that way." Carlisle began to protest but Esme appeared with the phone. "Would you be willing to speak to him?" Carlisle asked, taking the phone from Esme. Even as Carlisle put it on speaker, Marcus asked if (Y/N) was alright. He even acknowledged that Jane's behaviour wasn't necessary. Somewhat of an apology. However (Y/N) stayed put, simply staring at the phone. After another few moments of silence, Carlisle took the phone off speaker before putting the phone to his ear. "My apologies, Marcus. I don't think they're feeling well enough to come to the phone right now. They appreciate your concern." "Of course, Carlisle." Marcus responded. "I thought it best to express my concern given Jane's gift." Marcus lifted his gaze to the twins, Jane looking indifferent whilst Alec's eyes were latched onto Marcus. "Emotions are high right now, would you appreciate our return tomorrow?" "Of course." Carlisle responded. "I'm going to keep (Y/N) here over night to keep an eye on them but I'm sure they will be just fine." After some more conversation, Marcus bid farewell and hung up the phone.

He turned to Alec. "I assure you, they didn't mean it." "That doesn't matter." Caius snapped. "They still said it." Marcus turned his gaze to Caius. "You suffer from the same flaw Caius. If anyone should be understanding, it's you." "Why should I take the time to understand? They're human. That's a waste of energy." Marcus turned back to Alec. "Trust me. I'd know if there were any truth in their words."

"They're coming back tomorrow?" (Y/N) whispered. Carlisle nodded. "We can take you home before they get here if you like. However, I feel more comfortable keeping an eye on you tonight after..." Carlisle trailed off but (Y/N) knew. After Jane used her ability on them. (Y/N) nodded. They were given the option to stick around the next day. Although (Y/N) declined, deciding they'd go home instead.

"I'll drop you off." Alice said brightly in attempt to keep the mood light. "Thanks." (Y/N) said quietly. Alice, Carlisle and Esme went quiet. "Let's go out the front." Alice smiled. "I'll go and get my keys and meet you at the car okay?" (Y/N) nodded. "Sure." "Come and visit tomorrow." Esme nodded to them with a smile, bringing (Y/N) into a hug. "Okay." They responded quietly, offering her a small brief smile before heading out the door.

Just as the door shut behind (Y/N), the Volturi moved into the living room after being let in by Jasper. Carlisle was quick to welcome them. Before they could ask, Carlisle explained whilst Alice passed by with her keys in hand. "Alice will be back shortly. She's taking (Y/N) home."

Alice grinned at (Y/N) as she walked down the path. "Alright, ready to go?" Even now she was trying to keep the mood light. (Y/N) nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for the ride." "Of course!" Alice responded. (Y/N) kept their eyes on her, not daring to look at the house until they were in the car.

Two days passed and Alec still wasn't speaking to )Y/N). Although (Y/N) figured it would have been best if they were the one to reach out to him given the situation as well as knowing Alec wasn't necessarily one to do any kind of approaching unless it were to kill them. (Y/N) found him alone and decided that was a better opportunity than any. He sat his his back to them, seemingly reading in Carlisle's study. "Alec?" (Y/N) asked quietly. They didn't receive a response, not even the turn of his head. He remained unmoving. "Could we talk for a minute? I want to apologise again. I didn't mean it but I still said it and I shouldn't have. It was an awful thing to say and I'm so sorry." Their words still didn't earn even the turn of Alec's head. "I can't stand not talking to you." (Y/N) began. "You're my best friend and I miss you. I want to make it up to you. To show you that I’m sorry and that I'd never think such a thing of you." (Y/N) still received no response. They sighed. "I don't know what to do here." "What makes you think you can do anything?" Alec's voice was cold. Although (Y/N) considered it progress. Especially as he turned around to look at (Y/N). His face was unforgiving, gaze piercing and his mouth in a tight line. "We both know I'm going to hurt you regardless." Suddenly he was standing and slowly moving towards them. (Y/N) took a step back. "You're scaring me." They said, trying to maintain the distance. He looked at (Y/N) like he did everyone else. He looked at them like he wanted them to burn as he did, like (Y/N) deserved more than he ever did. Alec looked like he most certainly would hurt them or even kill them. "I didn't mean it!" (Y/N) pleaded. "I'm sorry!" Alec glared at (Y/N). "It was my fault. It won't happen again." (Y/N) faltered. "What?" “It’s my fault for thinking you were different from any other disgusting wretched human!” Alec had most certainly returned the favour, his words cut (Y/N) to the core. They felt tears well up in their eyes. "Get out." Alec snarled and they did. Without question.

Another day or so passed and (Y/N) had an idea of how to fix all of it. Once again, (Y/N) waited until he was alone, this time he was outside by the tree line before the woods. "I'm mad at myself too, you know." (Y/N) began, crossing your arms over your chest. "I felt the same way when I made my parents forget about me. The confusion and fear they had to see someone claim to be their child, have photographs with them but have no recollection of them ever existing. I was so angry with myself for saying what I did and I'm even more angry that I did it again but this time to you. I meant what I said Alec. You're my best friend. What I'm trying to say is that I get it, if you hate me. I understand. Although I really do want to try anything I can to make this up to you." His back was still towards (Y/N). "You won't even look at me." (Y/N) said quietly. Alec turned to look at them with an empty stare. "Alec..." (Y/N) trailed off. "I want you to forget this happened." "What?" Alec's eyes narrowed on them. "I want you to be happy. I never wanted to hurt you. So I want you to forget-" "No!" Alec covered his ears and shut his eyes tightly. "Alec, look at me." (Y/N) stepped closer. "No! Get back!" Alec yelled. That was when Carlisle hurried in between them both. "What is it?" Carlisle asked, looking between them both. "They're trying to make me forget!" "It's better this way!" (Y/N) pleaded to Carlisle. "I never meant for any of this and it's hurting him! I can fix it!" "(Y/N), I want you to listen to me very carefully." Carlisle began, blocking them from Alec. “These thoughts, these memories, they don’t belong to you. They are not yours to take." "I-" (Y/N) struggled to respond. Feeling both the eyes of Alec and Carlisle on them. Carlisle put his hands on their shoulders. "This isn't the way." "I can't believe you!" Alec spat. "This is how you want to make it up to me? Wipe my memory and pretend it never happened!?" (Y/N) could see the hatred in Alec's eyes. Any second chance he had considered was long gone.

In that moment (Y/N) gave in. They knew they couldn't fix it. (Y/N) couldn't make it up to him and he wasn't willing to forget. It was over. Jane was the first to storm up to (Y/N) when they came back into the house. She was immediately held back and to their surprise she didn't use her gift. However, she did rant that they were lucky she couldn't slap you at the very least. Although she didn't need to. (Y/N) was suffering enough. They didn't look at anyone, instead walking out the front door. Alec and Carlisle entered the house, Alec yelling in outrage. Carlisle simply wasn't listening to him. His eyes immediately searching for (Y/N). "They left...what happened?" Rosalie asked. Carlisle said nothing, rushing out the door after (Y/N).

It was night time and most certainly not safe for them to walk home alone but they were determined to. Tears running down their cheeks, arms crossed over their chest as they briskly walked down the road. "(Y/N)!" They heard Carlisle call out behind them. (Y/N) didn't respond, continuing to walk away. Suddenly Carlisle was behind them, tugging them back. "(Y/N), it's not safe out here. Come back inside, we can figure-" "No!" (Y/N) shouted back. "Get off of me! I'm going home!" "Let me take you home then, come back to the car." Carlisle said. "I'm not going back in there! I’ve lost everything! It's my fault! I lost my friend, I lost my parents and there's no one else to blame but myself!" (Y/N) yelled. "(Y/N), you are a wonderful person with a remarkable gift. You just need some guidance. We can help you, just come back. I'll take you home!" Carlisle pleaded. "You know what the cruel part about my gift is Carlisle?" (Y/N) said significantly more quiet, an eerie calmness taking over them. "I can't use it on myself. I can make everyone around me forget anything but the one who wants to forget the most is me." (Y/N) took a step forward. "Can you take me home please?" Carlisle nodded.

Outside (Y/N)’s house, Carlisle pulled over. "Come to the house tomorrow. We'll have something figured out by morning." (Y/N) sighed before nodding. "Alright, I'll do it." "This will improve, (Y/N). We'll talk things over with them." Carlisle assured them. "Yeah, just at what cost?" (Y/N) mumbled. "I lost my friend. Alec will never speak to me again." "You don't know that." Carlisle responded hurriedly. "I do." (Y/N) said. "I'm just going to sleep this off. I'll see you tomorrow."

(Y/N) decided to run a bath later that night. Kneeling on the floor they turned on the tap which began to fill the tub. They felt the weight of every decision they had made on their body and no longer could they even cry about it. Whilst (Y/N) thought a bath would be best, they didn't really care about it being too warm or too cold. As a matter of fact, they didn't think further than the action itself.

"They hurt me." Alec ground out. Marcus wanted Alec to see reason. Not only that, Marcus wanted Alec to admit the reality of the situation and not hide from it. It was of no surprise to him considering (Y/N) was the first proper friend Alec had, the closest anyone had ever come to the twins. "Just as you hurt them." Marcus replied. "You've hurt many people, Alec. (Y/N) is one of many on that list. Yet regardless, they want you in their life. They want your friendship. You want to punish them but you don't realise they've already punished themselves. More so than is necessary. Furthermore, you aren't just punishing (Y/N), you're punishing yourself. I know you want to be their friend but you won't let yourself." "They-" "You're torturing yourself as much as your torturing them." Marcus said simply. "I think they frightened you, boy. I think you forgave them the minute they said it and that frightened you." Alec didn't have a response. As much as he tried. He couldn't tell Marcus he was wrong because he wasn't. "I can't trust them." Alec responded. "You can. You simply won't. They said awful things but still want you in their life. Apologizing the minute it was said. You've never experienced that and it bothers you that it makes it difficult to act in your usual response." "I don't know how." Alec said after a moment of silence. "I don't know how to show that I care about them and I don't know how to show it when I forgive them. I'm so used to pushing people away that...I don't know how to let people in." "You tell them." Marcus responded. "Even if it means you need to say it to yourself first. Put down the weight of the past. Even if it's only for them." Silence filled the room. "I forgive them." Alec said under his breath, it was quiet, barely audible but there none the less.

Alice tilted her head, staring at nothing in particular. “What is it Alice?” Jasper asked. “I think i should check on (Y/N).” She responded. “I can’t be sure but i think something is wrong.” “They’re upset.” Carlisle responded. “Do you suspect they’re in danger?” Alice tilted her head again. “I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell, I see them and then it just goes black.” “Why not give them a call?” Esme asked lightly. Alice nodded, immediately going for her phone.

(Y/N)’s phone buzzed beside them, as they sat and watched the running tap. It was a text from Bella, telling them that Jake and the pack were around the area, making sure they knew the Volturi wouldn’t come within their vicinity for the night. (Y/N) was about to respond when they got a phone call from Alice. “Hello?” (Y/N) answered. “Hi (Y/N), I just wanted to check in with you since things didn’t end too well tonight.” They paused and Alice noticed. “They’re just leaving now for the night.” Alice said, locking eyes with Alec as the Volturi moved towards the door. “I’ll be fine.” (Y/N) responded. “I... thought i had a vision of you but, I couldn’t see anything.” (Y/N) smiled slightly with a hum of amusement. “You don’t need to look out for me, Alice. I’m just going to go for a bath and head to bed.” “Are you sure?” Alice asked. “Of course. Besides, I’ve already began running the water...as you know.” Alice hummed quietly in amusement. “This will be fixed tomorrow.” (Y/N) swallowed. “I know.” (Y/N) said quietly. “It’s a good sign they want to see you, you know?” Alice said. “I can only hope.” They said simply. “Anyway, get some sleep and i’ll speak to you tomorrow, yeah?” “Yeah, have a good night Alice.” “See you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

When (Y/N) hung up the phone, a tear ran down their cheek. ‘disgusting wretched human!’ Alec’s voice rang in their head. (Y/N) put their phone on the floor next to them. (Y/N) felt their clothes stick to them as they sank into the water, leaning back in the bath. The calm luke-warm water peaceful, like their mind. (Y/N) felt a tear run down their cheek. (Y/N) shook their head biting back their tears. Before any more could fall, (Y/N) slowly sank underneath the water. After a brief moment,(Y/N) sat up, their hair dripped as they felt another wave of calm wash over them. (Y/N) noticed a reflection of the ceiling along the water. An idea rushed to their mind and that was when they knew, what they had to do. (Y/N) hunched over slightly, arms moving to the edge of the tub, more droplets falling down the sides. They looked at their reflection. “You’re going to forget. You’re going to forget the Volturi, forget what happened. You’ll forget ever meeting them. You’re going to forget that you have a gift to make people forget things. You won’t think to even question it. If it’s brought up. It’ll be like a dream, or story that you made up. You’ll forget ever using it, you wont remember to question why your parents aren't around.” It wasn’t known when (Y/N) had stopped repeating those very words. Although it wouldn’t concern them, they’d forgotten they had ever done it. "If only (Y/N) would have waited. If only we were quicker. Then maybe we would have had the time to tell them that they were forgiven. That for some of us, there was nothing to forgive. Maybe if we had spent more thought, we'd have known how much hurt they truly felt. However by then, it was too late what was done was done. They'd forgotten who we were, forgotten what they had done and all the details in between, washed away by their gift. We'd never know if such a gift could be reversed but could only hope that they've found peace and happiness. They'd live out their life, never knowing the happiness they gave and the joy they spread to many." Marcus finished.

Many in the room couldn't help but glance at you, wanting to see your reaction. Perhaps a flicker of recognition would show. Your head lowered and the two covens seemed almost hopeful. You lifted your head, wiping your eyes. "That's sad. I hoped for a happy ending." A pang hit some of their chests, that statement had remained the same even before you had forgotten. A quiet hum escaped you. "You know it's strange, you said the humans name was (Y/N). My name is (Y/N) too." "Oh?" Marcus responded lightly with a ghost of a smile. You nodded. "It's a funny coincidence, I suppose." You looked at Marcus with uncertainty. "I feel like I should hug you...?" You began. Marcus cracked a small smile. "That's alright." Marcus stood up and you met him half way. The room was quiet, even after you both separated.

You moved into the kitchen to refill your glass of water when you jumped. Alec was so quiet you had no clue he was even in there. "You scared me!" You laughed, a hand going to your chest. "Sorry." Alec felt a pang in his chest, remembering how tried to apologise to him and he completely rejected you. This time you were apologizing for nothing. In your eyes, you had apologised to a complete stranger and that broke Alec's heart. He wished he could turn back time, assure you that you were forgiven, that you'd always be his friend. He missed that chance, you got so good at your own gift you figured out a way to use it on yourself. "Alec, yeah?" You asked. Alec nodded. "I'm getting better at names." You smirked, pleased with yourself. "The human in Marcus' story was your friend right?" You asked nonchalantly as you filled your glass. "Yes." Alec responded. "Can I ask you something?" You turned, now with a full glass with a small smile on your face. Alec knew that smile well that you had sent him. It was the polite smile you wore to anyone you didn't know. In the hopes that it would cover up how nervous you actually are about meeting new people. "Yes." Alec said again, not entirely ready for the question but whatever it was, it meant you'd stay in the conversation. For all he knew, that last conversation he'd have with you. "Were they nice? Your friend?" You might as well have stabbed him in the chest in that moment. Alec did his best to hide it. "They were wonderful. The best friend I could have ever had." Alec responded. You slowly nodded, contemplating his answer. "That's nice. Anyway, I won't bother you anymore." You smiled, raising your glass. "See you around." You turned and walked out the room without even a second glance. Leaving Alec standing in the kitchen, alone once again. Jane moved passed (Y/N), casting them a quick look before entering the kitchen towards her brother. She said nothing as Alec looked at her. For what could she honestly say? "They forgot me." Alec said quietly.

#twilight #volturi #the volturi #the cullens #reader #one shot #oneshot #alec volturi

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