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abbynx · 3 years

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Being Sorlato’s child + Being babysat by La squadra

A/N: Soooo, this is a direct sequel from the one-shot “Encounter” if you haven’t read it yet, feel free to browse it here

Genre: Fluff, platonic, wholesome headcanons

- After the encounter, the couple found themselves thinking about it all the time, how different they acted to a child at the face of danger, and how afraid they were and how quick they were to act upon instinct and save you. There was certainly something the couple felt in their chest they can’t fathom but somehow liked the pleasant feeling.

- One time Sorbet was found lounging around the La Squadra headquarters with a pamphlet regarding parenting whilst waiting for the meeting. When asked why he was reading that he nonchalantly replies that the thing was lying around and decided to read it because, “Why not?” One knows not to question him any further, so they let him be.

- Gelato was found longingly staring at parents with their kids on the playground whilst on a mission and again, no one dared to speak a word of it. He didn’t leave even if the mission was over, until Sorbet was called in and had to physically drag him away.

- They both knew it was getting out of hand because all they can think of now was wanting to raise a child of their own but they knew their circumstance were the least ideal to put a child in. For crying out loud, they kill people for a living and they didn’t really want to subject a child into this mess of their’s.

- “God, is this what baby fever feels like?”

- The couple has discussed about this, over and over than they can recall. When Gelato would suddenly mention, “You know, if we were to have a son I think that you can teach him how to ride a bike. That’d be sweet to watch to be honest.” or Sorbet saying, “If we were to have a daughter, I get to threaten her boyfriend to bring her back home before dinner.”

- Once again, they were out to go on their once a week date all to their selves and decided to go to the same restaurant they had to stop in to save the child. And on their way their, what are the odds, the aforementioned child coming up to them and greeting them.

“Ciao signore Sorbet! Signore Gelato!”

W-was this a sign???

"Ahh, Y/N!" Gelato was practically enthusiastic, he can just pick you up, but of course, he has to bind himself down.

"Out in the middle of the night again, I see." Sorbet points out.

"Aheh, yes sir..." You sheepishly responded. "But I really have to do everything if I want to graduate elementary with high marks."

- After a brief chat, weather, school and whatnot, once again you went on with your merry little way. After that, it was back for longing and yearning for the couple.

- The rest of La Squadra noticed this, but didn't knew how to help; until Melone picked up on the signs the couple were exuding: Sorbet reading the parenting pamphlet, Gelato longingly gazing towards parents bonding with their children, the two of them talking away about 'If we were to have a child...'— why, Melone's diagnosis: Baby fever.

- Melone somehow came up with an elaborate scheme involving an orphanage, did a couple of research. Due to some... Fortunate moment, somehow, someway, the figure running the same orphanage you resided in has made quite the list of enemies all his years.

"Melone you know that you can just tell them it's okay for them to adopt the child, right???" Risotto looks up from the detailed, complex document sent in by Babyface's user.

- Yes, it was stupidly complicated and a lot of work compared to just simply signing papers and adopting the child. The paperwork would be, again, stupidly complicated, but at least it doesn't involve bloodshed. It's not like the couple shied away from shedding blood but that wasn't the point.

- Capo Risotto had to consider their circumstances to adopt a child. Like I said, the dilemma was killing them and simply can't act out of selfishness and adopt a child just because they wanted to, it wasn't the same as a adopting a pet.

- Cue the four hour meeting with the couple, discussing about what they can do and what they cannot do. Risotto was most certainly happy for the two of them to be adopting a child of their own, taking care of them and along of those lines but again, the fact they are a part of a crime syndicate and there were a lot of things they discussed about.

- After that, everything was settled and got started with the process of adopting the child. They didn't have to chose, they already had their eyes set on a specific kid; Y/N L/N, age eleven, abandoned by their parents when they were born, who adores reading and loves (insert food) and— what? They've done their research!

- The couple was just beyond elated!

- Through the process of adopting you they learned you were six

- Now that fact was uncovered, they were now more concerned and pissed why the orphanage would neglect a first grader and let them return from school at eight in the evening. And the fact that they met you under the circumstance of danger, pretending to be the couple's kid in desperation.

- Needless to say, a lot of things are going to change in your life, especially at the aspect of your security. They are a part of those people you should fear at night, admittedly gelato has almost pulled a gun on you that fateful night out of sheer jealousy, and didn't even register the fact you were barely half Sorbet's height.

- First and foremost, you won't be staying in school longer than six thirty, as the couple takes turn on picking you up. They understand and adore the fact you're a hardworking kid thriving to have a scholarship in college despite being a literal first grader, but being a little kid walking alone in the middle of an evening is frightfully concerning. And in those times wherein either sorbet or Gelato picks you up, they'd buy you treats you want but not enough to spoil your appetite for dinner.

- You did not hesitate to address them the way you addressed them that one fateful night when they tucked you in your new room for the very first time.. Gelato cried after that and Sorbet had to hold him to his chest to clam him down. Ugh, you were so effortless at making the two of them so soft.

- They're underpaid, not broke, so the couple spoils you in an overwhelming rate, the entirety of La Squadra were beginning to get concerned. Proscuitto scolded the two that they might spoil you rotten, but they reassured them you weren't.

- Speaking of La Squadra, the couple considered them as their family. Sorbet and Gelato did not hesitate to introduce you to them not as La Squadra, but as your uncles.

- All of them were touched that Sorbet and Gelato want them to be a part of their child's life, that one of them would often volunteer to watch over you if the two were away. The couple were not going to introduce you to them as assassins and took advantage of your gullible nature as a young child. they don't intend to hide it as a secret from you. Perhaps someday they'll tell you their line of career, but six was not the right age to do so.

- Which brings us to their circumstances, the fact that they're assassins and how it is not an ideal career for people who has an attachment outside of their jobs. They were extremely careful in terms of that, wanting to protect and prevent others from using you against the couple. Well, now there's now a fate worse than death if ever that happens.

- With new responsibilities, Risotto understood them and gave them less jobs in order to take care and watch over you. But there were times where the two were both absent, prompting one of La Squadra to babysit you.

- Melone, Formaggio and Proscuitto are top picks for babysitting duties! but, of course, there are disadvantages. Melone is... Melone. Formaggio can and will act as a kid rather than an adult. And Proscuitto, well, he can be a bit too domineering. So yes, they are A-tier babysitters, nonetheless.

- B-tier babysitters would be Illuso, Pesci, and Ghiaccio. Illuso can be a bit too dismissive, Pesci will be too anxious and overprotective-- like in an extreme rate, and Ghiaccio... Hide your copy of Merchant of Venice, and you'll live another day.

- S-tier would be Risotto, except the fact that he is always busy. He is good with kids and he can guarantee their safety, I mean, need I say more?

- Under no circumstances, are they allowed to swear around you. The couple already had restricted their foul language around you, and they expect the others to do so as well. Ghiaccio is highkey sweating when you started saying bullshit whenever you're frustrated. He profusely begged you not to day that again in exchange for ice cream.

“Bullshit!” Ghiaccio’s heart skipped a beat after hearing your small voice whisper-shout on the dinner table as you attempted to solve a rather difficult math problem.

- Your relationship with them was well. They were protective of you, love you and support you. They're very affectionate, but not in an overwhelming amount... Well, at least they try to hold back but all they want to do is to spend time with their baby and love them unconditionally, as they should.

- Padre Gelato is more of a fun dad, very playful and energetic. He likes lifting you up to his hip before gently nuzzling his nose against yours. Dad jokes subconsciously slips from his mouth, be careful. He does a lot of cool tricks with his butterfly knife, twirling the sharp blade around while you stare in awe, whilst Papa Sorbet was more concerned that he'll accidentally cut himself, or that you might try the trick unsupervised. Needless to say, Padre was responsible enough to keep his knife in his pocket at all times to prevent that.

“When will you teach me how to do that, Papa?”

“When your old enough, N/N.”

- Papa Sorbet is a bit more reserved, but certainly not distant. He will not hesitate to kill someone who tries to hurt you. So he's the perfect person to serve as your teacher, as he helps you with school work and help you learn other practical things: cooking, baking, doing laundry by hand (which product is more effective to get blood off clothes), self-defense, etc.

“So if there’s a stranger following you, what do you do?”

“Cling to the nearest person I see and pretend that I know them?”

- They both tuck you into bed after reading you a bed time story, though it only lasted until you were nine because you insisted you were already grown up (cue, Gelato hiding his face on Sorbet's chest because his baby is all grown up--), but some things don't change because by bed time, they just check up on you even if they won't tuck you in to sleep.

- Extremely supportive and encouraging. Like, they're basically the gasoline you pour on fire to intensify the fire of your passion. Like, they'll cheer you on sport games and competitions, tries their best to attend recitals, etc, etc. Though sometimes one is missing due to missions, sometimes both, but in the end of the day, you were confident that they would have loved it.

- Unbeknownst to you, at the end of the competition, a certain figure will come behind you and lock you on a headlock before harshly rubbing their knuckle atop your head. Uncle Formaggio can be a mean sometimes. So yes, if ever the couple is absent from your competitions, one of your uncles would volunteer to go.

“‘Sup, little sport?”

“Uncle Formaggio, my hair--!”

- The first time you celebrated your birthday with your new parents was your seventh. They wanted to throw a goshdarn ball, but you insisted to keep the party amongst yourself. Just you, your papa and padre, and your seven weird uncles. You were already a big family, and you were happy with that.

#la squadra x reader #sorbet and gelato #gelato and sorbet #gelato x reader #sorbet x reader #platonic #familial #fluff #jjba part 5 #jojo vento aureo #headcanons #wholesome

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daydreamstew · 3 years

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(did I sent you one already? who cares yolo) brio + 58

thank you, paloma!! 💕🥰 look at you trying to get me to write angst! HA! enjoy my first ever college au instead 🤪

58. “I made a mistake.”

“I made a mistake,” Beth blurts out as soon as the door to Rio’s room swings open.

Her pleading eyes meet his sleep-bleary ones, blinking from the fluorescent lights of their rundown dorm hallway. He must’ve still been sleeping.

That’s when she glances down, eyes going wide when she realizes that the only thing he’s wearing is basketball shorts, sitting low on his hips revealing that v muscle thing and a happy trail leading to, well, a morning wood situation even though it’s the afternoon.

Her gaze darts back up to Rio, now sporting a smug grin and raised eyebrows, but she just squares her shoulders in spite of the flush she can feel blotting her cheeks.

“Yeah, what’d you do?” he asks, eyes dipping down to look her over like always.

“I forgot to bring my key with me when I left for class and the door locked behind me and now I’m locked out and my notes for my comp gov exam are in there and I can’t study without them and I need an A on it to bump my grade up,” she explains in one breath, eyes wide.

Rio shifts to lean against his door frame, his muscles rippling from the movement and she has to stop herself from staring for too long because she cannot be looking at him, another fellow RA, like that. That’s how she got into this mess in the first place.

“Yeah, see this is why you should just type your notes like the rest of us, darlin’,” he responds, wagging his pointer finger at her.

“I-,” she starts, before stopping to take a deep breath to calm herself.

God, it’s just like Rio to try to push her buttons like this. It’s almost like he enjoys it.

“Studies show that you learn more when you physically write down the information, Rio,” she replies, voice sickly sweet.

He hums out a noise, chest rumbling and, shit, her eyes glance down again.

Pull it together, Marks!

“Aight so you need your notes. Why can’t you just ask your boyfriend for the spare key to your room? Ain’t he working in the office right now?” he asks.

Her eyes glance down to the stained carpet, avoiding looking at him. Because, yes, Dean is the one scheduled to be in the RA office right now. She knows his work schedule like the back of her hand. But-

“We actually broke up,” she breathes out, feigning being casual.

But it’s not casual. Not at all. Because Dean had-

Well, he’d cheated on her with Amber from back home, who is still a senior in high school. Which—ew. And she can barely handle looking at him, but she has to anyway because they’re both RA’s for the same dorm complex and he has seniority over her since he’s a senior and she just can’t ask him for a favor right now. Can’t fathom using the word please to the guy that has made her feel so worthless.

But she doesn’t say all that to Rio because as much as they’re friends, as much as they enjoy talking shit and studying together in the lounge, as much as they’ve bonded over their Detroit upbringings and other more serious stuff—like them both losing a parent young and the responsibilities they have back home—she doesn’t want him to know the details of this.

Because, even though she knows it’s not her fault, she still feels this aching feeling of shame every time she thinks about it. And she’s terrified that the knowledge may change the way Rio looks at her. Like he may look at her and see what she sees right now. A girl that wasn’t enough.

“Oh yeah? What’d that asshole do now?” he asks, voice dripping with disdain.

He’s always hated Dean. She could always see a spark of something in Rio’s eyes whenever Dean fucked up.

She clears her throat, eyes looking everywhere but him.

“It’s nothing, okay? We’re done and I don’t really want to ask him for anything right now,” she says with a shrug.

“Elizabeth,” Rio says, voice now serious.

She’s not sure why she came to him. She has other RA friends she could’ve asked that would’ve made this less difficult. She would’ve explained that she and Dean broke up and they would’ve given her a look of pity and an I’m so sorry and moved on.

It’s just that as much as he gives her shit, he really is always there for her. He’s the one that got one of his sketchy friends to scare off that guy that wouldn’t stop harassing her and texting her. He’s the one that stayed up helping her work through her calculus practice exam during midterms while Dean went to Logan’s party. He’s the one that held her when she broke down in tears from stress over classes and work and Annie struggling in high school.

“Please just help me with this okay? I need to get my notes or else I’m gonna fail and then the next thing you know I’ll be dropping out and moving home and then who are you gonna pick on all the time? You’re gonna have to start teasing Jeremy or something,” she rushes out.

He sighs out a reluctant laugh and nods.

“Nah can’t be having that. That kid’s weird as fuck,” he jokes.

She smiles at him softly and he rolls his eyes.

“Okay so what do you need me to do?” he asks.

“All I need is for you to sneak into the drawer on the bottom right that holds the keys while I distract him,” she explains.

“Yeah and how you gonna do that?” he questions, eyebrows raised.

She looks down and reaches into her tank top to readjust her boobs for optimal cleavage before straightening her posture and beaming at him with a smug smile.

His grin is crooked and his eyes are glazing over as he eyes the trap she just set. When his perusal lasts longer than usual and he bites at his lip, eyes still on her chest, she smacks at his arm.

“Hey!” she exclaims, but she’s smiling.

He throws his head back in laughter.

“Yeah, that fool ain’t gonna know what hit him,” Rio replies, shaking his head.

She giggles.

“Aight lemme just put a hoodie on,” Rio says, slipping into his room.

She follows and smiles when she sees his normally perfectly made bed rumpled from his sleep.

He’s throwing on some shoes and grabbing his keys, looking like he’s just about ready to leave when she stops him, grabbing his wrist.

“Wait,” she starts.

“What?” he asks.

“Your..situation,” she mutters out, eyes glancing down to his groin. “Aren’t you gonna...take care of it?”

She can’t bring herself to be more specific. She thinks she may simply combust if he makes her spell it out.

He licks at his lips and looks down at his erection, still holding strong.

“Why? You don’t want Deansie to think we were in the middle of something?”

She laughs nervously.

“No,” she insists.

“Okay then you wanna help me take care of it?” he teases.

And he’s joking, but she can’t help the warmth she feels in her gut at even the thought of touching Rio like that.

“No thanks,” she squeaks out.

“Mm so polite,” he rasps, eyes dark.

He hesitates before asking almost tentatively, “Maybe next time?”

His eyes dart to her lips briefly before returning to her gaze.

And, god, what’s wrong with her? She just broke up with Dean and her and Rio are friends. Good ones. And she doesn’t want to risk losing someone else.

But she can’t help herself from biting at her lip and saying, “Yeah. Maybe next time.”

His mouth parts slightly and he’s breathing heavier and she is too.

Something about the way they’re looking at each other is changing by the second, their vision clearing without a Dean-sized obstacle blocking the way. Revealing to her a possibility she hadn’t even fully considered.

She glances down to his lips and suddenly she’s thinking about how he could take care of her, so she clears her throat and takes a couple of steps away from him before she does something stupid like kiss him.

“How ‘bout we watch something for a minute? While it, uh, takes care of itself?” he suggests, gently mocking her prudeness.

As she climbs into his just slept-in sheets, she realizes that despite having watched hundreds of hours of tv together, they’ve never done it in his bed. They usually do it in the lounge, but they may have to switch this to their usual spot. It smells far better.

And if as they settle in for an episode of New Girl they’ve seen a dozen times, she shifts closer until she’s pressed into his side, and if he tentatively wraps his arm around her shoulder like they’re two fifteen-year-olds on their first date, and if she wordlessly hits play on the next episode so he doesn’t stop playing with her hair, then so be it.

The notes can wait. It’s still early. They have time. She’s good where they are right now—an “enough” with someone who looks at her like she’s more than.

#girl i’m a mess #this got so long #and i have so many prompts #THANK YOU to everyone who sent them in 🥺#sorry if i don’t get to them!#my writing #prompts #angst/fluff prompts #asks #dragonturtle #brio #brio fanfiction #nbc good girls

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taexual · 4 years

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i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (13)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst, years of longing escalating into something serious

words: 8.6k (send help)

chapter thirteen

The lamp posts on the street illuminated Jungkook’s face with a warm yellow haze as the two of you walked back to your dormitory, the noise of the party – and the argument you’d had outside of it – already behind you. You didn’t dare to watch him for longer than just a split-second but you could feel his eyes on you when he thought you were too focused on the pavement to notice.

You hadn’t said a word to each other since you left the front yard of his house – and that was already two and a half blocks away – and both of you were busy worrying what the right way to say goodbye once you reached your dorm was. A wave didn’t feel enough but a hug seemed inappropriate after the intense conversation you’d had.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook volunteered to make your trip less awkward.

“Were you actually going to have me arrested?” he asked, recalling your previous threat with surprising clarity – probably because it had impressed him so much.

You sighed, recognizing the amusement on his features – no matter how hard he tried to play it off as simple curiosity – and then said, “no, probably not. That would have only ruined your whole plan and your future—”

“I already have a record,” he pointed out. He said it like that was supposed to make you feel better – it’s totally fine if you get me arrested, you know – but you almost stopped walking in surprise.

“Y-you do?” you asked, unable to fathom how a family as rich as his could not find a way to ensure their beloved son remained a flawless citizen.

“It’s not the first time I got into a fight,” he explained simply and, if you hadn’t known the truth, you’d have thought he really was just your usual troublemaker with no strong backing from his relatives whatsoever. “Some of those fights were more public than others.”

“And your dad—?”

“He took care of it to the best of his ability,” Jungkook admitted, sounding far less dignified than when he mentioned he had a record – as if that was something to be proud of. “But he can only do so much without staining his own reputation. It’s just a few misdemeanors anyway, so he decided it wasn’t worth it. If it proved to be a problem later on, he thought he could just blame it on my youth.”

You chose not to voice it – to avoid an argument that would certainly arise because that was just how Jungkook was – but you couldn’t help thinking that his father’s reasoning was actually different. Maybe he chose not to cover Jungkook’s previous arrest up to teach him a lesson.

“Does that bother you?” you asked instead.

“What?

“That he didn’t put enough work to cover this up.”

Jungkook looked down. All of your questions about his feelings, his wishes, his ambitions were so unusual to him that he didn’t even know what the proper way of answering them was, because you looked like you genuinely wanted to know. You didn’t ask just to be polite.

“No,” he ended up saying, “I didn’t want him to cover it up. And it’s not like I acted out to get his attention, or anything. He seemed really tired of it all when he had to deal with that. You know he’s usually the sort who gets his frustrations out vocally?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Well, when he picked me up from the police station, he didn’t say a word,” Jungkook said. “It was like I’d unlocked a new level of disappointment – one I’d never seen before – where he was just quietly fuming. Or just… so disappointed, he couldn’t even begin to find words.”

You felt jittery. It was hard to walk when your legs kept trying to bounce nervously, hoping to rid you of the excessive anxiety.

“I never knew this,” you said.

Jungkook gave you a smile that wasn’t supposed to seem sad but, because it was purposefully meant to conceal his despair, sad was exactly what it seemed like.

“My mom didn’t tell yours,” he said.

“But they tell each other everything,” you felt the need to point out but you could feel your own naivety getting the best of you – even the people, who had no secrets, had secrets.

“Yeah, I know,” Jungkook replied. “But I don’t think my mom would have had it in her to brag to her best friend – with a straight-A student for a daughter – that her son got arrested. She may have been less obvious than my dad, but she was still just as disappointed.”

Your heart clenched uncomfortably when he mentioned your scholarly achievements and, for a brief moment, you almost felt bad for being such a good student when he was struggling to be a good person.

But you didn’t think now was the time to feel bad about yourself – especially since there wasn’t anything you should have felt bad about in the first place – and you eyed Jungkook carefully before finally daring to ask, “did they ever say they were disappointed in you?”

“They don’t have to say it, it’s plain and obvi—”

“No, but maybe that’s just you assuming things,” you interrupted. Your mind conjured up a thousand scenarios of how this conversation could have gone wrong, but your mouth kept moving, “you have that right. I mean, they have been disappointed in you plenty of times before. But maybe this time they weren’t. Maybe they were just scared for you.”

Jungkook looked at you and he wanted to believe that you were basing your speculations on some legitimate evidence that he’d missed, instead of just hoping that this was true. But he’s known his parents long enough to recognize their defeat.

“Why would they be scared?” he questioned rhetorically. “I know how to throw a punch.”

“Well, maybe that’s why,” you said.

“No, that’s not it,” he said firmly. “They don’t get scared when I get into fights. They get frustrated, like how did I dare to do that? And then do that again. And again. Maybe they also get confused: I am their son and yet they can’t explain why I am this way.”

He said it like he was diseased – like lacking proper conflict-resolution skills and being impulsive was an illness he’d inherited from someone and, since no one else in his family was sick, that had to mean he didn’t belong there. He belonged somewhere else.

And every time he did something that did not fit into the frame of acceptable behavior in his family’s eyes, it just reminded them that he was the black sheep in a herd of white ones. How did he get here?

“It’s not just you,” you said, your heart hurting. No matter if his parents were really disappointed in him or if they were just worried for him, no child should ever feel like he didn’t belong at home. “Kids from close, loving families rarely grow up to be impulsive or, well, aggressive.”

He clenched his jaw after you said this and that was when you knew that, despite feeling shunned for not being the son his parents had wanted, Jungkook was still their son. They were still his parents.

“I was always like this,” he declared. “From the day I was born. You know that. The relationship with my family hardly changed anything.”

You wondered if he was aware he was defending his family – the family that constantly hurt him with their expectations – by shifting all blame to himself.

“They could have worked as a preventative measu—”

“How, exactly? Remember the time I gave three kids from my pre-school class bloody noses?” he said to prove his point. “Because one of them mocked my drawing of a giraffe and the other two laughed.”

“I-I remember—” you struggled to find a word, “that. It’s not an acceptable way to solve conflict. If they’d taught you that—”

“Acceptability is subjective,” he snapped.

“Uh, sure,” you said and then stopped to wonder if you had the right to draw these conclusions about him.

You thought that, if only Jungkook had gotten more love from the people who were most responsible to love him, he may have grown up to be different – but saying that out loud would have made you sound far too condescending and it would have made a normal person feel uneasy.

Someone who was as arrogant as Jungkook was bound to get riled up – he was already defensive enough as it was – and, maybe, rightfully so. He wasn’t telling you about his family to have you psychoanalyze him. He was just talking to you.

“I-I guess there are other factors that determine how a person chooses to react to something,” you said, threading more carefully now. “For example, you let your testosterone make your decisions for you.”

The sudden transition to biology confused him as he turned to look at you with furrowed eyebrows. “My testosterone?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s obviously your uncontrollable hormones that get you in these situations in the first place. You’re like a twelve-year-old boy, unsure what to do with himself, so you just go with whatever your instincts tell you.”

“Fourteen-year-old boy,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is I was fourteen when we stopped being friends.”

That only confused your further. “What does that have to do with—”

“Maybe you were the preventative measure that my family was supposed to be for me,” Jungkook said, the words pouring out as smoothly and elegantly as the floating of your skirt in the windy night. He chuckled humorlessly as he finished, “and then I lost that – the only positive influence in my life.”

You wanted to tell him that he never lost you. That he tried to rid himself of you, he tried to walk away – but he never lost you. No matter how much you wanted to detach yourself from him, to walk away, to move on – he never lost you.

And, more than that, you wanted to ask him why that happened – to demand why he walked away – but allowing him to shift the focus to your relationship would have been selfish. This wasn’t about you-and-him right now. This was about you and him.

Because you were here. You were always here. But Jungkook wasn’t – not always. Often, he fell out of touch with himself completely. And if there was no him, there could never be you-and-him.

“You… you need to be the positive influence in your life,” you said instead, advocating for independence when all you wanted was for him to let you hold his hand so he was steadier on his feet. “You can’t rely on others to get you out of the messes you create all the time.”

“I know,” Jungkook said but he no longer felt like discussing the reasons for his behavior, because every reason eventually led back to you – and when he thought of you, he couldn’t think of anything else. “But I never learned how to take care of myself, did I?”

“No, you never did,” you agreed and then, watching him smile appreciatively – you rarely ever agreed with him – you continued more playfully, “maybe it’s time you started learning, you big baby.”

He laughed and even the wind stopped to listen.

“Maybe,” he said then, the same pathetic hopeful tone that was in your voice before, now evident in his, “I do have you to help me again, don’t I?”

You do, you wanted to say, you’ve always had me. But you only smiled.

“I can’t be the one to handle your conflicts for you,” you said instead. “You have to learn how to do that yourself. How to do that responsibly. I can just… be there for you.”

And, much to the joy of your body that was aching to support him, he smiled and said, “that’s more than enough.”

“Okay,” you swallowed. You felt relieved suddenly – like the tension that surrounded you since you left the party had finally dissipated – and, paradoxically, nervous. Like you didn’t know how to act anymore.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice that, however, as he teased, “support me even when I inevitably fuck up again, though, yeah?”

You raised your eyebrows, countering his lively pout.

“That’s not a very good attitude,” you said. “How do you expect to change if you’re setting yourself up for failure from the get-go?”

He shrugged. “By a miracle?”

“Jungkook.”

“Come on. I have you rooting for me. I won’t let you down,” he assured you and then, carelessly throwing his arm around your shoulders, added, “I am a great actor. I just have to start playing a responsible role.”

“It’s your father you’re supposed to prove your responsibility to, not me,” you reminded him – just like he’d reminded you a few days ago in your dorm room – although your skin was burning from his touch. “But I’m hoping that by pretending to be responsible, you’ll actually learn a thing or two and prove yourself to us both.”

Jungkook looked at you – his face so close and so welcoming – and said, in the most laid-back fashion that was possible for someone who’d just crossed half the campus while analyzing his childhood issues, “you’re very preachy when you’re drunk.”

It felt like you’d left the party years ago as you said, “I don’t feel drunk anymore.”

“Oh, well. That doesn’t surprise me then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he leaned his head against yours and the touch of your temples was electrifying -- like shock therapy that numbed every one of your senses except the ones that consumed his close presence. “I’ve missed your lectures.”

You doubted that but your voice didn’t sound convincing when you spoke – he probably wouldn’t have even heard you if he wasn’t so close, “have you, really?”

“Hmm,” he purred and your pulse nearly flat-lined. “I’ve missed everything about you.”

If you two weren’t walking so close to each other, if he didn’t have his arm around your shoulders, if his head wasn’t pressed against yours – then maybe his words wouldn’t have strummed the strings of your heart so terribly and so delightfully. Maybe you wouldn’t have forgotten all about the seven-year-long silence when you heard the song his words played for you.

But you were walking so close to each other – so close, in fact, that a passerby wouldn’t have been able to tell where your body ended and his began; you shared a silhouette.

And he did have his arm around your shoulders – pulling you closer to him while making sure you were steady on your feet even if his own balance was off.

And his head was pressed against yours – so gently and yet so naturally, it was as if there were magnets inside your skulls and they literally pulled you to one another.

And, thus, when you reached the door of your dorm room, you could not imagine yourself saying goodbye. You couldn’t imagine watching him walk away.

“Are you coming in?” you asked as Jungkook waited a few steps away, unsure how to behave now that the moment-at-the-end-of-the-night had arrived.

“I thought you said you felt like going to sleep,” he said perhaps a little awkwardly.

“I do,” you said and maybe you were still drunk without realizing it but you felt bold enough to add, “but I also feel like spending time with you in a place where... we don’t have to worry about what other people think. Not to mention, your wound needs to be taken a look at.”

“My wound?” his bruised cheekbones had completely escaped his mind. “Oh, that—it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“At least, let me put a band-aid on it,” you asked.

“And cover up my beautiful face?” he scoffed, using his favorite strategy of dealing with problems – deflection. “No.”

You sighed. “It won’t be beautiful if it scars.”

“Are you kidding?” he still didn’t give in, bringing a hand down the side of his own face and clenching his teeth so you wouldn’t see him wince when he touched the wound. “It’ll make me look badass.”

“You’re a baby,” you declared and then ordered, “come inside.”

“Not if you’re going to be pulling your medical equipment out on me—”

Groaning, you cut him off with a reluctant – but irritated – promise, “I won’t. Now, come in.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook checked again but he was already reaching for the door that you kept open for him.

“Yes,” you said.

He still hesitated. “Because you don’t have to—”

His uncertainty did terrible things to your boldness – it seemed to vanish with every moment that he did not enter your room.

“Look, if you’d rather get back to the party,” you said, “and drink some more of Taehyung’s painfully unbearable drinks, then, by all means, go—”

“No,” he cut in sharply – maybe too sharply – and then, just to be sure you understood why he cut you off, he said, “I’d rather be with you.”

“Well, come inside, then,” you said and, because you were nervous, you felt the need to add, “but I can’t promise to be more entertaining than absinthe.”

He snickered, finally walking past your doorway. “Oh, you have a far bigger effect on me than absinthe.”

He stopped to take his shoes off. You stopped to lock the door.

The hallway of your dorm-room was very small for two people but, locked away from the rest of the world, you suddenly felt like you were home. Like there was nothing to be nervous about here. Like you were back with your best friend that you’d known for decades.

“Ah,” you started to say because you were back with your best friend that you’d known for decades, “so it burns your throat when you get in contact with me and you feel sick every time you look at me?”

“That’s—” Jungkook paused, one sneaker off. He raised his eyes to look at you. “You really hate it that much, huh?”

“It’s a rational feeling,” you said, unbuckling the strap of your own shoes. “Absinthe is not meant to be enjoyable.”

“Well, if we’d stayed longer, you would have seen what my bandmates do with it,” Jungkook said. “It involves a cube of sugar and a whole lot of cursing because their hands shake too much to do anything.”

He hadn’t realized just how hypnotizing it could be to watch someone take off their shoes so, when you finally placed your shoes on the floor, your feet aching from the torture you’d put them through tonight, he was still staring at your legs.

You cleared your throat, somewhat self-conscious now. “I’m, uh—I’m a little intrigued.”

This got him to lift his eyes to your face. “Oh? So… does that mean there’s a little possibility you’ll go to the party with me again next week?”

“Next week,” you repeated, realizing that this was Parental Advisory’s routine: parties every Friday, hangovers every Saturday. You turned around with a soft sigh and headed into the bedroom, plopping down on your bed. “I didn’t sign up for that.”

Jungkook chuckled, sitting down on the bed next to you.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, keeping respectful distance from you – because you weren’t walking across campus anymore, now you were on a bed – but still remaining close enough to hear your faint breathing. “I was just kidding. We can stay here.”

You looked at him. “No.”

“No?” he repeated, his voice breaking in surprise. “Okay, then. We don’t have to do anything togeth—”

“No, I just mean—you like that,” you clarified before his stomach could drop any lower. “You enjoy partying, hanging out with people, drinking, dancing, and all that. I don’t want you to give that up to hang out with me here.”

You were saying you didn’t want to bore him. You were saying you didn’t want him to overstep the boundaries of your fake relationship.

He’d never heard you say something so stupid before and he didn’t realize that it was his own words that got you to feel this uncertain.

“I’m not giving anything up,” he said because, apparently, even the smartest people sometimes needed to have it spelled out for them. “I do enjoy that but I also enjoy spending time with you.”

In your defense, it wasn’t spelling out that you needed. It was reassurance.

“We haven’t done that since we were… well, in middle school,” you pointed out and your last words were an incantation of a silence spell that prevented you from saying anything else for the next few minutes.

This time was no exception, as both of you shared a thoughtful moment, avoiding each other’s eyes, and then Jungkook clapped his palms on his knees, nodding his head in the direction of your laptop on the desk across the room.

The spell was broken. You weren’t going to speak of that day. Not today.

“Well, come on, then,” he said. “We have a lot of catching up to do, it’s been seven years. Show me the movies I’ve missed.”

“Lots of movies came out in seven years,” you replied but got up from the bed to get your computer nevertheless.

“Well,” Jungkook said, dramatically extending his arm to check the non-existent watch on his wrist. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

You sat back down, smiling at his antics, and pulling up your Videos folder. You scanned it briefly, trying to pick one movie that would leave a long-lasting impression on him – even though you couldn’t explain why you wanted to impress him.

“Don’t think about it,” he suggested. “Just choose the first one. We’ll watch them all.”

You scoffed. “There’s not a chance in hell you’ll stay awake through more than one movie.”

“You want to bet?” he countered, knowing your taste in movies too well. “After the movie you’ll choose, I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep for a week.”

You rolled your eyes as you smiled – he’d never grown to like horror movies as much as you did – and teased, “don’t be a baby.”

“I can’t,” he pouted on purpose, hoping for more of your sympathy and not knowing that he already had all of it. “I scare easily.”

“You don’t,” you said. “You just get distracted all the time and everything catches you unprepared.”

“That’s the same thing,” he insisted.

Sighing as you finally settled on the movie, you gave him a look. “Just try not to fall asleep on me, okay?”

“Do you mean that literally or—”

“I mean it in every sense of the word,” you replied. “If you start snoring during my favorite part, I might not be able to forgive you.”

“So strict about snoring,” he said, a mocking grin on his lips.

“I am,” you replied, completely serious. “So, now that we’ve established that—”

“We established that in second grade,” he reminded you, “when you tried to suffocate me with a pillow during our sleepover.”

“I…” you started to say but the memory was too unexpected and overwhelming – and he didn’t remember it correctly. “I tried to get you to stop snoring!”

“By putting a pillow on my face!”

“Nothing else worked!”

“You could have kicked me!”

“I did!” you said. “Several times. My feet bruised.”

He rolled his eyes, adamant to prove your murderous tendencies. “Oh, please.”

You shook your head, the argument so pointless and unnecessary that you chose to opt for a compromise. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen tonight, alright?”

“It won’t,” he assured you, “I stopped snoring after that incident. I guess, you could say I haven’t recovered from that trauma. I’m constantly afraid someone’s going to try to use a pillow on me—”

“I wasn’t trying to do that!” you said with a groan and when he opened his mouth to protest again, you cut in quickly, “drop this or I really will suffocate you with a pillow.”

He closed his mouth again and then nodded, impressed.

“Still very strict about snoring,” he corrected his earlier statement. “I’ll keep my breathing in check.”

You finger lingered on the mouse button, ready to play the movie you’d picked, but your mind lingered on the memory he’d brought back and all the other memories that came with it. It’s already been a long night, full of reminiscing, discussing, and analyzing.

But you couldn’t resist it.

You’d wanted to know for so long – even if there was nothing to know and it was something that just happened as things sometimes did – that even the late hour couldn’t stop you.

You didn’t want closure. Seven years have gone by – you didn’t want it.

You needed it.

“Can I ask you something?” you started, swallowing slowly.

“Of course,” Jungkook said, unsure why your face had clouded all of a sudden.

“It’s been seven years,” you said and the thunderclouds started to make sense. “Why did you talk to me that night at the party?”

The question was so loaded, he probably wouldn’t have been able to answer it without reflecting on his entire life. But right now, after the night he’d had, you managed to catch him off guard and his mind was void of any answer that made sense.

“Because you were there,” he said because that was the simplest way of explaining it.

You needed more. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve…” he shifted his weight to his side until he was half-laying on your bed, his left shoulder pressed into the corner where your bed met the wall. His body was facing you but his eyes were on your hands, “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a very long time. Actually, since the day I told you we shouldn’t be talking anymore,” he paused here. He never learned how to talk about that without pausing. “Not a clever decision on my part.”

“Mm, no, not really,” you felt the bitterness in your voice as you said this but you didn’t try to justify it – and Jungkook didn’t need you to.

“Yeah,” he only nodded. “So, I don’t know. I saw an opportunity to talk to you again – and I was drunk, and sort of on a post-show high – so I took it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he confirmed but it sounded like only one half of an answer that you needed. Jungkook didn’t know how to explain the other half and he naively hoped he wouldn’t have to. “Timing, right?”

You weren’t sure if that was right. He could tell.

“You deserve a better answer,” he acknowledged, sighing heavily, “but I don’t want to lie and make up stories about how I’d been—I don’t know—bracing myself to talk to you for a long time, how I planned it all out, because that’s not true. I did want to talk to you, I’ve wanted to every day, but I probably never would have. Not if I wouldn’t have seen you right then and there, in front of me.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think I was in any position to seek you out,” he replied, “and, actually, I sort of got the feeling that you weren’t that excited to see me, either. Every time I saw you on campus, I’d blink, and you’d be on the other side of the street, already far away from me.”

Fair enough, you weren’t entirely blameless in this, either, you decided, and then admitted, “yeah. Maybe I was avoiding you a little.”

He chuckled. “I deserve that. I made the decision to… to stop talking to you and I knew I should have stuck with it.”

“Can I ask you something else, then?”

He knew what you were going to ask as he exhaled shakily and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Why did you make that decision?” you asked, unafraid of the potentially childish connotations in your voice. You just needed to know. You’d waited for this long enough. “Why did you decide to stop being friends with me?”

Even though he hadn’t answered you yet, just getting the question out of your system felt so relieving, it was as if Sisyphus had dropped his boulder on your chest seven years ago and now, at long last, you’d rolled it off.

The boulder seemed to roll off onto Jungkook, however, as he tried to open his mouth to speak several times, but always ended up closing it again. He didn’t know where to begin.

“We… we were so different back then,” he finally said. He looked at you then and there was hope in his eyes – he wanted you to understand him without any words. “Remember?”

“From right now?” you asked. You weren’t willing to try to decipher the signals his eyes were sending you. Right now, you needed him to use his words.

“From each other,” he clarified. “You were always so focused on your studies and spent so much time working with the school staff when you were in the student council, you were essentially the de facto headmaster of our school.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Right. And I was… well, you knew me then. I haven’t changed much.”

“The troublemaker,” you said and then, almost automatically, tried to make light of the situation because he looked like he was having a hard time and you didn’t want that. “Good thing there are no more PTA meeting in college, huh?”

Jungkook laughed at this but his laughter lacked humor.

“Yeah,” he said, not sounding wistful in the slightest. He wouldn’t go back to high school even if someone paid him to do it. “There’s still the risk of expulsion even without them. That never goes away in any institution.”

“It’s what brings you to life, though,” you said, your previous discussion returning to your mind. “You love the adrenaline, the danger of doing something that might have long-lasting repercussions. You always have.”

“And you don’t,” he said sadly. “That’s why I felt like—I didn’t want to—I was bad for you.”

Your loud heartbeat momentarily halted your ability to comprehend his words. “Hmm?”

“You probably don’t know this, but,” he hesitated on the very edge of what he knew you needed to hear, “I’d overheard my parents talk about us once, after our middle school graduation.”

There it was again. The last day of your middle school.

Thankfully, this time, the silence spell didn’t linger and Jungkook continued. Actually, this time, the spell didn’t even work on him – now that he’d decided to answer your question – now that he’d found how to answer it – he couldn’t be silenced.

“And the only thing I remember from their conversation,” he said, “is my mom – who’s been on my side for as long as I could remember, standing up for me to my teachers even when they believed I was a lost cause – saying to my dad that she was afraid I was going to be the end of you.”

“What?” you asked, perplexed.

After spending almost every day with Jungkook – and his family, too – for years, you hadn’t even considered that they may have been talking about you when you weren’t there.

“She, um… she saw something between us that we didn’t, I guess,” Jungkook continued as his fingers absentmindedly toyed with the edge of your blanket, his eyes on the shredded fleece. “And she believed I would be the reason why you stopped working so hard. Why you lost your ambitions. She thought I’d turn you into someone entirely different.”

“But that’s—why would she—” all the questions you had tried to pour out of you at once.

“She saw how much we meant to each other and—”

“Yeah, but—” you cut him off and, closing your eyes for a moment to settle on just one of the many things you wished him to explain, you tried, “I mean, why couldn’t she have looked at it from a different perspective? I could have been the good influence that you needed in your life. Y-you said I was.”

“I thought you were. I still think you are. But, um…” Jungkook spoke to the fleece blanket because he couldn’t speak to you, “she… she didn’t seem to think you had it in you to resist me.”

“Resist you?” you repeated, unexpectedly offended. But that only lasted for a second before you felt it necessary to disarm yourself and stop pretending. You were absolutely devoted to Jungkook when you were growing up. “Oh, fuck it,” you said. “She probably had a point.”

Jungkook was prepared to hear your offence. He was not prepared to hear that.

“She had?” he repeated, looking at you for the first time since he started talking.

You swallowed the ball in your throat. “Yeah.”

Shakily, Jungkook concluded, “so, I made the right choice, then.”

“By putting an end to our friendship?” you asked, suddenly aware of how cold your body seemed to be, your hands especially – and painfully so, too. Dancing with the ghosts of your past proved to be difficult. “Was that for my benefit, then?”

It wasn’t the disbelief in your voice that he focused on. It was the anger.

You’d moved on. He thought you moved on – you were still the same in almost every aspect that he remembered, but you were also so different: so mature, so determined, so certain.

And he was partially right – you clearly didn’t hold a very strong grudge. But he also felt ridiculous for assuming that, despite it being so long, you wouldn’t still be angry about this now.

You’d allowed him back into your life and blessed him by not asking him to explain himself for weeks before you finally gathered the courage to do it; it was natural for you to feel angry about something that you’d waited for for so long.

“That’s… well, it was supposed to be,” he explained and then felt the need to defend his decision by saying, “that’s how everyone seemed to see it. I didn’t want you to lose the best parts of yourself because of me. And I don’t doubt that your parents were also relieved when I was no longer such a prominent part of your life.”

You had considered the possibility that Jungkook ended your friendship per the request of his parents. But you had assumed they saw you as a threat to him – even if, in retrospective, that didn’t make a lot of sense; what threat could you have possibly posed to him or the company?

Instead, it was the other way around.

Looking down, you said, “my parents weren’t relieved.”

“They weren’t?” Jungkook repeated because he couldn’t find enough words of his own.

“No,” you confirmed, remembering the not-so-distant times when Jungkook’s name was a forbidden word at your dinner table. “Hardly any parent would feel relieved to see their child cry her eyes out for days.”

Admitting this made you feel vulnerable and it would have made you feel pathetic, too, if Jungkook didn’t immediately wince after you said this – not from pity, but from his own hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said because he had to, and because he was. And then, even though he didn’t have to, he continued, “I didn’t handle that well, either. I broke my leg in a bike accident about three weeks after we last talked.”

You frowned, focusing all of your energy into your confusion so your wet eyelashes wouldn’t release the droplets of tears down your cheeks. “Was that—”

“That’s how I deal with my emotions,” he said with a nod, confirming your guess. “That is, I don’t. I get reckless and I do stupid shit. That’s the last time I ever saw Dad’s beloved Ducati. He sold it.”

“He sold the bike?” you asked. The bike had belonged to Jungkook’s father who was a casual collector of sports cars and motorcycles – much to the joy of his underage son – but Jungkook was never permitted to drive any of them, at least, not until he was “old enough” according to his father’s standard.

“On the same day they ‘scraped my body off the pavement.’ That’s how he put it,” Jungkook said. “I only got to ride it that one time. Clearly, I’m not a natural. But dad couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to get on a bike for the first time without a helmet or any help at all. He wasn’t even looking for reasons why I did it, he didn’t ask me anything. Just sold the bike, locked up the garage, and didn’t talk to me for a week after I returned from the hospital. Actually—t-that was the first major thing that lead to me moving out of their house later on.”

You replayed his words for a long time, thinking and trying to understand.

“Why did you ask me to put this act? To play a couple for your parents?” you asked when you thought you were ready for the final cross on the last T. “If they thought you were a bad influence on me, this—seeing us back together again, could have painted you in the wrong light again.”

He didn’t think so.

“It’s been so long,” he said, “and you’re arguably the best student in your year. You’re determined and driven. And you’d rather kick my ass to the curb than give in to me and what I want. You… you affect me in ways I could never affect you. Control me in ways I could never control you. And I mean that in a good way. You are a good influence on me. And my parents can see that now.”

Obviously, he wasn’t entirely aware of how much control he still had over you, but because now you knew that this was precisely the reason why you’d stopped being friends seven years ago, you chose not to bring it up.

“I… I don’t control you,” you said.

“You do,” he disagreed. “Maybe not intentionally—actually, probably not; I’d like to think that you didn’t want me to suffer—but you do. You want to stay inside of your room, watching movies – and I want that, too. You want me to come to class and I want that, too. You want me to change and I’m changing.”

“I just—I don’t want you to kill yourself with your recklessness. But I don’t want you to be different,” you said, looking down. “I’d... always liked you the way you were.”

Your broken-up confession couldn’t have warmed his heart more. And yet, he had to point out, “I was unbearable.”

You gave him a look that wasn’t threatening at all because your eyes were still glossy from the tears.

“I know,” you said.

He smiled in spite of himself. “And you still liked me that way?”

You nodded, not saying anything else because he already knew the answer to that—and every other—question.

“I’m sorry for these seven years,” Jungkook said then and maybe that wasn’t enough to cure the wounds the years had left but it was a start. “You had a future ahead of you and I didn’t. My parents could see that but there was little they could do. I had to understand and deal with the fact that I was going to fall off the rails sooner or later myself. I was fourteen and I had to understand that. And I did. I knew that. And I also knew I didn’t want to drag you down with me. You didn’t deserve that.”

You fell into silence again.

You knew you wouldn’t have walked away from him then – anything he’d have asked, you would have given him. Any cliff he would have jumped off of – you would have followed.

To realize that Jungkook didn’t let you go because he didn’t want to be your friend anymore, or because he got tired of you, or because he didn’t care about you anymore -- or because of any other reason you tried to find over the years -- but rather, he let you go because he knew you wouldn’t, was groundbreaking.

It didn’t fix the hurt, it didn’t make it better, and, perhaps, nothing would – the years have gone by and you couldn’t get them back – but now you knew that the end of your friendship was a sacrifice of sorts.

You were intertwined together – it was you-and-him, always you-and-him – and you were comfortable living this way, both of you were. But that wasn’t right. It wasn’t healthy.

Except, you weren’t the one who had her eyes opened seven years ago – if there was no you and him, there could never be you-and-him – and so Jungkook ended up having to break out of your comfort zone, to leave your sanctuary, and walk in a different direction. On a different road.

All so you could have a road for yourself.

“I’m…” you tried to say but the tears that had welled up in your eyes were now cascading down your face and Jungkook – alert as soon as he saw that you were crying – sat up straight. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day. Thank you for telling me.”

“I… you’re welcome,” he said, wanting to reach out and wipe the tears away but watching you do it yourself. “Although, I wish I didn’t have to tell you anything. Not just because I don’t want you to think about my mom differently after this—she always wanted what’s best for you, we both did—but also because I… I wish there had been a different way. A way where we could have kept in touch and still remained individuals.”

“Maybe there was no such way at the time,” you said. “We’d been close from the day we were born. Maybe we needed to spend some time apart to learn how to be ourselves.”

“Maybe,” he agreed but he didn’t think that was fair. “We were too close.”

“We were,” you said and couldn’t help sniffling; the tears have started to block your breathing. “Sorry, I just—it didn’t have to be seven years. I-I mean, it doesn’t take that long for people to mature.”

“No. It didn’t have to be,” Jungkook said but the fact that he agreed with you didn’t bring you much joy because his words were sad. “I have no excuse for that.”

Knowing that you could have been setting yourself up for more heartache, you still dared to ask, “would you have talked to me sooner if I hadn’t been avoiding you?”

“Probably,” he said, afraid to look at you in case he’d lose control of himself at the sight of your tears. “I-I couldn’t resist myself. But would you have replied to me?”

You looked down, making it easier for another tear to trail down your cheek. “I did that night at the party.”

Jungkook bit his lip. “Would I have seen you again if I hadn’t crashed my car?”

You inhaled sharply, not liking that this was what it came to. “No. Probably not.”

“It didn’t have to be seven years,” he said again, nodding thoughtfully, “but I think that we… started to talk again right when we had to. When it was time.”

You didn’t like that, either. “That can’t be true.”

“We’ll never know what’s true,” he said, leaning in closer to you but still not daring to reach out and touch you. “But it’s been long enough.”

“It has been,” you said, nodding and, feeling more tears coming. You sniffled, throwing your head back to fight the crying, and excused your emotions again, “it’s been a long day. It’s been seven long years.”

It’s been a long life; but you didn’t think of your years as his best friend to be draining. If anything, these were the years that made you feel alive: both of your families so close, it was like you grew up with two sets of parents, and with a soulmate for a best friend.

It’s what happened next that was a task.

Life had been pouring out in every shade of color around you when you knew him, when you laughed with him. And when you didn’t, you had to physically strain yourself to see the world in anything other than black-and-white.

You’d worked so hard to get used to the darkness of your life that the explosion of the color spectrum when you finally got to laugh with him again was almost painful. You’d grown so accustomed to monochrome that seeing colors all over again felt scary. Dangerous. Potentially hurtful.

But now you knew he never meant to take the colors out of your life. By doing so, he ended up having to sacrifice his own brightness. His own light.

Maybe what hurt the most right now wasn’t the memory of the years that you’d spent without talking, but rather the pointlessness of it all because here you were again: together. Affecting each other in ways ordinary people should not have been allowed to affect one another.

“Come here,” Jungkook finally asked, extending his arms, but you shook your head, not wanting to admit to how big the hurricane cloud in your chest was. “Come here, please.”

The insistence of his tone wasn’t what got you to move closer in the end – it was the pain in his eyes.

This had hurt him, too. He was the one who had to find a different way so he wouldn’t have to end your friendship. He was the one who eventually failed and had to say goodbye – stone you so you’d run away. Wound you, so you wouldn’t come back.

It would have hurt your pride if you didn’t love him so much.

And he couldn’t find it in himself to say how much he wanted you to come back after he told you to leave; how much he agonized over your phone number – which he’d deleted off his phone only to realize that he knew it by heart – and how much he wished he was different—better—so he wouldn’t have to stay away from you. He couldn’t find the words.

So, he just held you – like it was the first and the last time he was ever going to hold you. And he hoped that this would be enough for you to know that he knew you loved him. He’d always known.

And he loved you, too.

“I’ve missed you. Everything about you,” he whispered, clutching your body tightly against his own and sinking his face into your hair. “So much.”

Your hair grew wet – you could feel the pain leave his heart in tears – and, even though you’d seen him cry before, you’d never cried with him. But it felt inevitable now – like everything you’d done together in the past few weeks was only the prologue and tonight you were turning the page, you were starting the first chapter of the rest of your lives.

It hurt because of how long the prologue was. It hurt because of the seven empty pages.

But it felt so relieving to reach the end. So freeing.

You wrapped your arms around him tighter because you were ready to work on letting go of the pain, and you were ready to move on, and you were so happy to have him with you. You didn’t know what awaited you after tonight but that scared you much less than all that you’d already survived.

“If history repeats itself,” you said, your nose stuffed from the crying, “we’ll find a different way, right?”

Jungkook considered pulling away when you said this but that didn’t seem right. Not holding you when he could, didn’t seem right.

“We will,” he said into your hair. “I’m not leaving again.”

And he meant it – in the long run, at least. Because this night was coming to an end.

Your laptop – and the movie you didn’t get to watch – was long abandoned as you and Jungkook sat on your bed, your legs crossed and hearts open, and you talked.

You talked and the seven empty pages filled. The filled with words, written in different fonts with different colors, but they filled.

You talked and your bodies grew tired even if your minds didn’t, so you lied down on your backs next to each other, the white concrete ceiling painting itself in the colors of all that you’d missed about each other.

You talked and the hours went by – minute by minute, morning was creeping up on you.

“It’s late,” Jungkook said when your room got so dark, he couldn’t make out which bits of skin, glistening in the pale light from the street lamps outside, were yours and which were his. But even so, he remained on his back next to you. “I should probably go home. Maybe we can watch a movie tomorrow? Or next week?”

“I… I don’t have plans tomorrow,” you said and you wanted this night to keep going so badly, that if you’d been Faust, your soul would have gone straight to hell: beautiful moment, do not pass away! “Will the party be over now?”

“No, probably not yet,” Jungkook replied, “won’t be the first time I’ll be woken up by someone drunkenly smashing a bottle or something,” he said and then, when you bit your lip, clearly concerned, he added, “it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Then, because you were not Faust and the devil had not chained your soul to the pits of hell just yet, you found a way to stop the moment as you said, “you could stay here.”

“Hmm?” Jungkook turned his head to look at you, unsure if he understood your offer. “H-how do you mean?”

“Just… stay here,” you said with a shrug as if it was that simple. Your eyes remained on the ceiling. “The RA didn’t see you come in with me. And, usually, no one smashes anything in the middle of the night here.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again. He didn’t want to go – but just like he did before coming inside earlier tonight, he didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for; God knew you’d already done so much for him.

But you assured him, “yeah. You didn’t want me walking home alone, well, maybe I don’t want you stumbling around at 3 AM, either. You’d already had one fight today.”

“It’s, uh,” he checked his phone, “four-thirty.”

You gave him a look.

“But your concern is understandable,” he added quickly, catching on, “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable with you here.”

“Okay,” he said, your gazes so intensely focused on each other, both of you were almost paralyzed as you lied side by side.

“Yeah?” you asked. “So, you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay if you let me.”

You turned to your side, facing him. Your eyes never left his, just like his did not stray from yours. You even seemed to blink in unison.

“Stay,” you said. “I’m letting you.”

He turned to his side as well and, as his eyes fell to your lips – he could have touched them with his own if he dared to move a little bit closer – you knew you would have allowed him do a lot more than just stay here for a night.

But you’ve come a long way tonight, both literally – when you walked back here from the party – and figuratively – when you scratched the wounds until they bled because there was no other way for them to heal properly – and maybe that was enough for one night.

“Goodnight,” Jungkook whispered because you’d walked so much tonight but your road hadn’t ended yet. He didn’t dare to touch you.

“Goodnight,” you whispered back because just having him here with you after so long felt enough right now. You didn’t have to to touch him.

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#bts reactions #bts fanfiction #bts college au #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #bts angst #college au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #friends to lovers au #bts f2l #fanfiction #bts au #angst

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aurora077 · 3 years

Text

Ask not for whom the clarity bell chimes, it chimes for thee.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13913863/1/Ask-not-for-whom-the-clarity-bell-chimes-it-chimes-for-thee

Summary: What’s an esteemed sect leader to do when his nephew wants him to spend time with his estranged brother? He hides, of course. Unfortunately said nephew is stubborn... wonder who he got that from? Now he’s forced to talk about -ugh- feelings.

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

“Uncle!” Jin Ling panted, moving apart the lapels of his tent to find him sitting there with a cup of tea, “There you are!”

Jiang Cheng snorted, “Where else would I be A-Ling?”

His nephew scowled. “You could be sitting with the rest of us.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Jin Ling had been setting him up. It was the third night hunt that he’d gone on with those friends of his that he’d actually invited Jiang Cheng to. Of course normally he’d follow Jin Ling anyway but Jin Ling used to scowl at him and pretend he was part of the scenery like the Ghost General who’d become his unwitting junior-stalking partner. He was surprised the first time he was actually invited. It wasn’t until this last time however that he realised what his nephew was trying to do. Because on every occasion that he was invited someone else was too. Someone who his nephew tried very hard to get him to interact with.

“Go back to your friends A-Ling. You don’t get much time with them as Sect Leader now do you? If you’re taking precious time away from your sect for this the least you can do is use it well.”

“How can I go back without you? I invited you, you know. Even Wen Ning is sitting around the fire with everyone and he doesn’t even need to warm up!”

“Don’t be stupid A-Ling you know very well that my presence will just make things awkward.” As it had the past two times. The juniors were more subdued when he was around and Lan Sizhui looked constantly anxious and alert because if an argument started he would inevitably land up playing peacemaker. The Ghost General seemed to have exhausted his anger in one shot the night he shouted at him in his own home no less, and now spent the time fidgeting around him like he was a bomb ready to explode whenever they weren’t busy spy-- protecting the kids. To say nothing of the other guest. Only the loudmouthed Lan seemed completely fine with his presence and he had to admit, the kid had guts.

Well, except when confronted with ghosts apparently. A matter that gave him no small source of amusement when he really thought about it. It made the last night hunt slightly tolerable because it put him in a good mood --a cultivator afraid of ghosts! Who ever heard of it? (He found out this little fact when the unorthodox Lan was faced with the ghost of a butcher and was apparently way more terrified of the ghost than of him, given that he screamed at the sight of it and clung to Jiang Cheng like a particularly large baby...a move that startled him enough for Zidian to lash out and banish the ghost without him even consciously doing it. Lan Jingyi couldn’t look at him for the rest of that hunt without turning beet red. It was hilarious. Contrary to popular belief, he did have a sense of humour. And if the action led to Jin Ling sticking closer to him than usual while petulantly glaring at the Lan all the while, well he wasn’t going to complain...much.)

His thoughts sobered as his nephew, already worked up from running around to find him only to realise he was just in his tent all along, lost his composure. “I’m not being stupid! Is it so bad to want you two to get along?”

“Aha! I knew it. So you admit you’ve been inviting me so that Wei Wuxian and I would what, fall into each other’s arms and cry and be bosom buddies again?”

Jin Ling flushed, “You don’t have to make it sound like that jiujiu!” Then he deflated and said in a smaller voice, “You’re the only two people I have left to call family.”

“And don’t say the Jins are my family, you know they’re not!” he snapped before Jiang Cheng could even open his mouth. Not that he would have said that anyway, the only other Jin he had considered family in that viper’s pit was Jin Zixuan who was cold in his grave.

“I just want the only family I have left to be on good terms, is that too much to ask?” his nephew continued, pouting slightly. A habit that he had been steadily leaving behind as he got accustomed to his role as Sect Leader Jin. He knew Jin Ling must have been incredibly upset to let it show. Indeed his eyes were starting to look shiny.

But Jiang Cheng was tired. Jin Ling was young enough to be optimistic. Jiang Cheng hadn’t been that way for a long, long time. He was prepared to be angry with his nephew for this when he finally confronted him about pushing him and Wei Wuxian together, but one look at that round pouty face made all the anger drain out of him suddenly as he was transported back to a young Jin Ling asking him about his parents after being bullied for being an orphan for the first time and being unable to answer without being choked up himself.

“A-Ling,” he said softer than usual, “Sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want them to.” “I should know,” he said bitterly, staring into his tea with a frown, recalling how the one thing he was most sure about all those uncertain years ago came back to bite him in the ass in the most horrible way possible. Even in the depths of his despair he had never regretted what he did to save Wei Wuxian. Now though...if he had only known what it would lead to... But how could he have ever even fathomed what would happen? Wei Wuxian did the impossible time and time again. His own sacrifice was rendered completely worthless. Just like him he supposed.

“But can’t you just try to get along with him?” his nephew continued, ignorant to his musings.

“I’m polite to him aren’t I? I don’t just flat out ignore him. And we haven’t even argued,” he said grumpily, still frowning at his tea like it personally wronged him. There was once a time when arguing would have solved everything. They’d air out their grievances and come out all the better for it. But Wei Wuxian didn’t seem to be inclined to do that any longer. That he’d attacked him instead of falling back into their routine that day in Lotus Pier’s ancestral hall was all the evidence he needed, even before Wei Wuxian said what he did in the temple.

His nephew huffed, “That’s not what I mean by get along and you know it!”

“It’s a two-way street A-Ling!” he bit out. Forcing himself to restrain his steadily rising temper he continued, “I’m aware you want us to act like a family but I don’t need to remind you of what happened on that horrible day do I? You were there. You heard him. He didn’t care for apologies. For him, it was a lifetime ago. He wants the past to stay the past. And it was all about repayment. Everything he did, he did because he felt he owed my parents and your mother.”

The bitterness crept back into his voice, “He wants nothing more to do with me or the Jiang sect. The least I can do is respect his wishes. After all, I’d be nothing without him, as his Ghost General took pleasure in reminding me. The only one who was foolish enough to hold onto things all this time was me. Besides, you weren’t there A-Ling, the first time around. I wasn’t enough for him then, what makes you think I’d be enough for him now? He has his Hanguang-Jun to hang off of, he has no need for a brother he never even considered one. And why would he? It’s not as if that accursed Jin Guangyao was entirely wrong anyway.”

“What exactly do you mean by that!?” came an offended voice. They both whipped around in shock.

“Wei Wuxian, were you eavesdropping?” he snarled, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I just came to see if Jin Ling found you, but never mind that! Explain yourself! How could you say a thing like that?” he said, outraged, pushing his way fully into the tent.

“Did I say anything wrong, Wei Wuxian? Please, do tell. What did I say that you didn’t say or imply yourself?” he said, angry that Wei Wuxian felt the need to intrude on his space and then had the nerve to get offended after eavesdropping on a private conversation.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t a total idiot despite being made a fool of time and time again by this man. If there was one thing he was particularly good at, it was knowing when he wasn’t wanted. He’d had a lifetime of practice after all.

The core in his body was given out of a sense of duty. After Guanyin Temple he recalled his parents’ last words to Wei Wuxian. Was it any wonder he felt like he had to give away the one thing that he cherished most if it would save Jiang Cheng? The people who brought him in from the streets and raised him had beseeched him with their last words to protect their children with his life, and so, he did. Maybe not in the way they would expect but in giving away his core, he also gave away his life as a cultivator. And debt paid, Wei Wuxian ran off to be with people who he chose for himself.

Jiang Cheng had slowly reconciled with the idea of having a core that wasn’t his because if he didn’t, what would be left of him? Yunmeng Jiang needed him and so did Jin Ling. He had no choice but to carry on like he had been doing for what felt like his whole life... for his sect and his nephew. The weight of responsibility that he had didn’t go away just because his once shixiong embodied his sect motto more than he did. His entire life revolved around duty; once again he recalled how the one thing he did that went against duty, that he did out of love, caused a chain reaction of misery.

Wei Wuxian seemed stunned, his mouth opening and closing like those fish he had liked to catch so many years ago.

“Do you really think like that?” he croaked, “After all we’ve been through, you think I don’t care for you?”

“All we’ve been through?” Jiang Cheng hissed, leaving his now cold tea and standing up to face him with a stormy look on his face,“Why are you now talking about all we've been through? What I know about all we’ve been through, Wei Wuxian, is that the one thing I wanted after losing my home, my parents, and the rest of my sect, was my second in command by my side. The second in command that my sister called her blood brother* in a way I was never allowed to. I had thought that despite the fact that we were unable to label our relationship thanks to my parents, that we understood what we were to each other. That he would do as he promised and stand with me. But what did he do instead of staying by my side? Out of a sense of duty to the sect, he mutilated himself to give me his precious golden core, his life force as a cultivator, without telling me! Without asking me if I would let him do that to himself for me. He made me believe that I regained my own and that the alcoholism and lazing around was because he didn’t respect me enough to support me as sect leader in a time where the leaders of the other sects would pounce at the first sign of weakness. He avoided meetings and banquets where he should have rightfully stood beside me and I wondered, what happened to his promise of support?”

Jiang Cheng’s body was heaving, having let out the words that had clogged up his chest for over thirteen years.

He continued, more softly now, resigned and tired, “He left out crucial information about himself that could have allowed me to see the situation for what it was. He let me think that he didn’t care if we lost face in front of the others, during a time when we couldn’t afford to lose face. Then he ran off to the Burial Mounds to save the rest of the Wens and refused my protection.”

(I'm afraid you don't know that the Wen cultivator whom Wei WuXian wanted to save was called Wen Ning. We owe him and his sister Wen Qing gratitude for what happened during the Sunshot Campaign he had said, in defense of Wei Wuxian. It wasn’t enough. The hatred for the Wens was too great, and they hadn’t been aware of the Jin sect’s machinations at that time. But if he couldn’t save them he could at least save Wei Wuxian. Except Wei Wuxian hadn’t wanted him to. Just another failure to add to his list. Jin Guangyao was right after all. Maybe... if he had insisted… But it wouldn’t have changed a thing would it? Since unbeknownst to them there was Jin Guangyao himself working against them. So in the end it was a lie wasn’t it… the idea that he could have kept Wei Wuxian safe was a lie. Because the Jin sect wanted his seal all along. Whether he was in the Burial Mounds or in Yunmeng that fact would not have changed. But knowing was one thing, and feeling was another. And Jin Guangyao had known this and taken advantage of it.)

“Jiang Cheng…” Wei Wuxian said, sounding pained, “I…”

“You wanted me to renounce you,” he said, interrupting brokenly, “That was your grand idea. You let me think that you didn’t respect me rather than telling me outright that you couldn’t do certain duties anymore. Even if you had to lie and say it was Wen Zhuliu’s fault it would have been better than making me think you didn’t care. Why...why didn’t you trust me?”

His voice cracked but he shakily continued, “That fight we feigned...why would you let me injure you like that? You had your Ghost General break my arm but you had no core. Had I known, do you think I would have stabbed you anyway? Was our relationship that poor? Just because we never labelled it does that mean it didn’t exist then Wei Wuxian? I thought that we understood…”

He broke off to choke back a sob.

“You said you could control the resentful energy...the seal. I trusted you. I may not have reacted very well when the sect leaders tried to drive a wedge between us but I trusted you regardless. I trusted you even though you had been acting unreliable. I trusted you up until the moment A-jie died to protect you. You think you’re the only one who lost it then? The only one who went mad with grief? Do you think if you hadn’t died from the seal’s backlash I would have killed you? Because even now I don’t know the answer to that question. But what I do know is that the two of you broke me; one after the other you died, just like that. We promised that it would always be us three didn’t we? If it wasn’t for A-Ling I might have joined you then and there sect be damned.”

He was too far in the past to notice the strangled sound his nephew made in the background on hearing his words. Wei Wuxian, though, was as stiff as one of his corpses (or even more accurately, his annoying husband). He couldn’t seem to make a sound if he tried. His heart was pounding, disbelieving of the words he was hearing. Shellshocked, he just let Jiang Cheng rant.

“Then, when our old school friend somehow manages to scheme his way into bringing you back to the land of the living and clears your name in the process, what do you say? Take it as repayment to the sect Jiang Cheng, let’s not mention it again. Forget it. It’s all in the past. As if I could ever forget it. As if I’ll ever get the image of A-Jie dying in my arms out of my mind. As if the image of you getting torn apart by corpses right in front of me hasn’t been seared into my brain for all these years. And you want me to forget it. You come back and run off with Lan Wangji. You come to Lotus Pier and what do you do? Go to make bows in the ancestral hall with freaking Lan Wangji. The man who we all thought hated your guts even before the whole Yiling Laozu schtick. It’s been easy for you to forget and move on hasn’t it? I’m the only one stuck with these memories. I’m the only one who held on to promises,” he scoffed self-deprecatingly, “Falling apart in front of everyone in that temple and claiming you owed the sect was all I could do given that you would never come back for me. But you abdicated yourself of that responsibility too so what else could I say? Don’t talk about all we’ve been through Wei Wuxian. In the end, I’m the only one left who cares about that.”

“You’re wrong!” Wei Wuxian yelled, the accusation of not caring seeming to strike a chord, breaking him out of his state of speechlessness, “How could anyone give up a core for duty? I said it was repayment because I didn’t want you to feel obligated to me. I know we have our differences but I still know you enough. Don’t tell me now that you know that you don’t see everything you did to rebuild the clan differently! You’ve always felt inferior because of me and I never wanted to put you in that position. How could I have told you what I did? I didn’t want to hurt you, and don’t say you wouldn’t have been hurt because you would have! How can you say I don’t see you as a brother? How can you not have known how much I…”

He trailed off and started again, eyes glossy, “In the end, your life was worth more than mine and I did promise your parents I would protect you. I cared about you much more than I cared about cultivation. I didn’t want you to give up, and you looked like you would. I wanted you to live and be the leader you were always meant to be. I found a method that would work and in the end it wasn’t a hard decision to save you. Even if I didn’t survive it, I would have been happy to have been of use to you. You could not be lost; you were Yunmeng Jiang’s last hope. I could be replaced. And I was right! Look how well you’ve done. The Jiang Sect is flourishing now, better than before and it’s all thanks to you. So if I had the choice to change whether I gave it to you or not, I wouldn’t. I’d do it again!”

“You really are arrogant aren’t you?” Jiang Cheng intended to sound harsh but instead he sounded closer to despair. “You think that because you think something is so then it must be. You think everyone else feels the same way about you as you do. You’re the only one who thought that you could afford to be sacrificed. Nobody who cared about you thought of you as disposable. Funnily enough I’m sure your irritating husband would actually agree with me for once.”

“Lan Zhan’s not--”

“Shut up! Who asked you to destroy yourself? Do you think I wanted this? Do you think A-Jie wanted this? It’s why you made sure we sent her away isn’t it? I only realised it later on. She would have put a stop to it. You did what you wanted to do as always. Mother and Father’s wishes came before my own with you didn’t it? So what if I was depressed? How was that worth your life? Do you think I would be happy that you lost your cultivation because of me? Whatever ‘inferiority’ I felt I’ve never once wished for you to be destroyed because of it. But you don’t seem to acknowledge other people’s feelings for you, do you? We loved you, you complete imbecile! How could you for one second think that we’d be okay with you dying to give me a core? You said you may not have survived it well that much I gathered on my own! Nobody ever did such a thing of course the risks were high. Did you ever consider what would happen if you did die? Would Wen Qing just bury you in secret and a-jie and I would be left wondering what happened?” he said, openly crying now and not even bothering to try and stop it. Not like Wei Wuxian hadn’t seen him look even worse than this. But he continued his rant nevertheless. A few tears couldn’t stop him now that he was on a roll.

“I would wake up with a brand new core and one brother less, which is exactly what happened except you came back from the Burial Mounds… but there would have been no coming back from dying then. You’re only here now because your famously ignominious death got you summoned as an evil spirit!” he paused to wipe his nose and continued, voice devastatingly melancholy,“Do you know how I felt when I found you missing? I came down that mountain expecting to see you waiting there with that annoying grin of yours, but you were gone. Vanished into thin air and nobody could tell me what happened to you. I feared the worst. And I was right to! Nobody’s ever walked out of the Burial Mounds. We had no idea where you were and everyone was whispering that you were dead. A-Jie and I refused to believe it; how could you be gone? All I could think of was that maybe if I hadn’t gone up that mountain you wouldn’t have been in a position to get captured in the first place. It was all my fault. What was the point of me getting back my core if you died because of it when in the first place I lost it to--”

He stopped. No. He couldn’t say that. He never meant for Wei Wuxian to find out what he did. After the events at the Guanyin Temple he’d considered coming clean but had held back. It would have seemed as if he was lamely throwing it out there. Like ‘ha it isn’t only you who can sacrifice’. It would just seem petty and like he was trying to one-up Wei Wuxian, and to him that would have diminished the worth of his actions. He’d done it without hesitation, expecting to die but preferring that to the alternative aka letting it be Wei Wuxian instead. He hadn’t done it to get acknowledgement. (He was man enough to admit --to himself at least after lots of time to think in the aftermath- that Wei Wuxian probably felt the same, except if the Wens had caught him, Wei Wuxian would have surely died, whereas without a core Jiang Cheng just felt like dying. So really in the end there was no need for Wei Wuxian to risk his life because Jiang Cheng would not have actually lost his.)

Surprisingly, Jin Ling had actually noticed his hesitation --which on later consideration made him realise his nephew was really growing up and he’d had some strong feelings about that-- but by that time it was too late even if he intended to say anything. It wasn’t as if Wei Wuxian had the time of day for him then anyway. He hadn’t even glanced Jiang Cheng’s way before making off with his stubborn donkey… and Lil Apple.

“When you lost it to what?” Wei Wuxian said hoarsely, still disbelievingly processing what was being said to him and latching on to the thing he actually knew instead, “I’ve never faulted you for wanting to retrieve your parents’ bodies. You were grieving.”

Jiang Cheng was flabbergasted. His tears stopped abruptly in his shock. He had never actually given much consideration to how Wei Wuxian determined he was in Lotus Pier and why. When he had woken up in Wen Qing’s domain all he’d been told was that Wen Ning helped Wei Wuxian save him. At the time he was too empty and hurt to think much about anything further than that he was alive and broken, and then all the other shit in his life happened and he hadn’t given that question a second thought. But to think, all this time and…

“That’s what you thought I was… Okay yes, that’s why I was in Lotus Pier,” he said decisively. He couldn’t believe Wei Wuxian thought he was that foolish but better he believed it was because Jiang Cheng was a grief stricken child that went back on his own. He wouldn’t blame himself then.

Except Wei Wuxian’s eyes narrowed. He may have been struggling with many complicated emotions but his mind was still sharp. “Jiang Cheng,” he said slowly.

“What!?”

“You went back for your parents’ bodies, right?”

“...”

“Right?” he said, stalking forward and clasping Jiang Cheng’s shoulders urgently. “Yes! That's what I said! Have you developed a hearing problem now?” Jiang Cheng barked defensively, half-heartedly struggling in his suddenly tight grip.

But Jiang Cheng hadn’t said that, he did.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“Jiang Cheng! Why were you in Lotus Pier?”

“It doesn’t matter! Let it go, Wei Wuxian. It’s all in the past like you said.”

But Wei Wuxian had a sick feeling in his gut.

“You didn’t go back on your own, did you?” he said, chest tightening as his certainty grew.

His grip went slack. “You didn’t choose to go back. So why…”

“But I did choose,” Jiang Cheng said, a rueful smile forming on his face. It was his choice to step out from where he was hidden and distract the Wen soldiers. Although arguably, in the moment, there was no choice at all because letting them take Wei Wuxian was never an option.

“No…. No, if it wasn’t for your parents then you wouldn’t leave shijie. You wouldn’t have chosen to go back. You’re not stupid. You wouldn’t have tried to take back Lotus Pier by yourself.”

“As you said, I was grieving. Maybe I was reckless. You were there, you would have taken care of a-jie.”

“No, shijie was sick, you wouldn’t have left!”

He remembered going out to buy some food and medication for Jiang Yanli, who was too ill to take care of herself. There was a moment when he’d been afraid he’d be caught by some Wen soldiers but then they’d been distracted and he’d breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that the Wens had caught up too quickly and he had to get the others out of there asap. He’d gone back with the supplies intending to let them know only to find that Jiang Cheng was gone.

But… thinking of it… hadn’t they left him alone because someone shouted ‘I’ve got him’?

No!

It couldn’t be.

“Jiang Cheng… Tell me you didn’t.”

“I can’t tell you I didn’t leave Wei Wuxian, clearly I did,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes.

“No not that. You got caught on purpose. You…” his voice cracked.

“Why would you say that? Who would be foolish enough to get caught on purpose. You’re overthinking. Didn’t you just say I wasn’t stupid?” Jiang Cheng retorted.

“Didn’t you just say that maybe you were reckless?” he fired back, tearing up, “How could you… Why?? Why didn’t you just let them take me?”

Jiang Cheng scoffed, “Well aren’t you full of yourself. Not everything is about you, Wei Wuxian.” Why wouldn’t Wei Wuxian just drop it? Didn’t he know there was only pain going down this road?

He laughed, a broken hollow thing. “No, not everything is about me. But this is. My memory is full of holes but I remember that day. I remember how it felt to find you gone. And now, now I remember what happened before I found you missing. Why did you do it?”

He tightened his grip on Jiang Cheng once more and shook.

“You should have let them take me. How could you do such a foolish thing?” he almost screamed, tears leaking down his face.

“How could I do such a foolish thing? How could you carve out your core and give it to me?” Jiang Cheng growled.

“You were the new Sect Leader! Why would you give up your life like that? I promised that I would protect you with my life. Why would you throw it away for me? Your mother was right, it was all my fault. I wasn’t wor-- mmph!” Jiang Cheng covered his mouth.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence! Were you not listening to a thing I said?!! Who gives a shit about worthiness? Do you think a-jie was thinking about worthiness when she threw herself in front of that blade for you? I certainly wasn’t thinking about worthiness when there were Wen soldiers about to capture you and take you to Wen Chao for his torturing pleasure. Who was going to let him take you? He dared?! Did I just stand aside when that Wang Lingjiao demanded your hand? And not in marriage! Why would I stand aside for some measly soldiers?”

He’d come to terms with the fact that taking the blade was his sister’s choice. He’d done the same after all, in a different way but nevertheless… he did. If this was a few years, heck months, ago he’d probably still be painfully in denial. Yanli’s death had unhinged him. And it had taken Jin freaking Guangyao to deliver a proverbial slap in the face for him to start to reflect on his own behaviour, as well as that of his siblings, with a clearer mind. Despite the fact that he’d come to the conclusion that Jin Guangyao was wrong about a great many things (given that he conveniently didn’t mention that he would have manipulated things in the Jin’s favour no matter what Jiang Cheng did), it had been the push he needed to work through his years of resentment. It had taken a while and was probably still going to take some more time, but he’d been learning a great deal about himself.

Which is why he was so mad at Wei Wuxian, whose tears were dripping onto the hand Jiang Cheng was using to cover his self-deprecating mouth. “How can it be that Lan Wangji hasn’t managed to get you to stop that? You’re sickeningly in love with each other and the entire cultivation world knows it, yet you have the nerve to come here and say you’re not worthy? To my face? A-Jie would be sad. Your sickening husband would be sad.” He was sad.

He grimaced as Wei Wuxian licked his hand in an attempt to dislodge it, possibly because he insulted Lan Wangji again and Wei Wuxian had a compulsive need to defend the man.

“Nice try,” he grinned, “But I’ve changed A-Ling’s dirty diapers, a little spit isn’t going to gross me out.”

His nephew, whose presence had been totally forgotten by both of his uncles, squawked in indignation. Jiang Cheng didn’t acknowledge it. If he had turned to look, he might have seen that the boy was shedding silent tears the whole time in solidarity with their emotional meltdowns. Jin Ling also briefly had the thought that Ouyang Zizhen would have loved to witness this spectacle and would definitely have declared it novel material.

Ignoring his nephew’s reactions, Jiang Cheng addressed Wei Wuxian, “Do you think that Lan Wangji would say you aren’t worth sacrificing for? Do you think he’d say you’re replaceable?”

Unable to speak, Wei Wuxian just shook his head. Lan Zhan would be hurt if he said those things.

“And why do you think that is Wei Wuxian? Why would Lan Wangji not think that?” He squished Wei Wuxian’s cheeks, forcing him to speak with fish lips. “B..cs e lv.s muh?”

“Exactly.” He finally let go of Wei Wuxian’s face.

“Jiang Cheeeng *hic*” cried Wei Wuxian.

“What!?” “I love you too,” Wei Wuxian said while sobbing some more and throwing himself at Jiang Cheng.

“Who said anything about love? Get off of me!”

“Y..*hic* youuuu did!” He clung to Jiang Cheng and refused to let go until Jiang Cheng gave in (but not before struggling a bit, had to at least look like he resisted) and hugged back just as fiercely. The two of them stood there holding each other and weeping for a solid quarter of an hour.

Wei Wuxian felt raw inside. He had never expected that Jiang Cheng would… It had never occurred to him that Jiang Cheng distracted their pursuers just to save him. Him. Jiang Cheng had let himself be taken instead. Jiang Cheng who was so prideful and who had blamed him for bringing ruin to Lotus Pier. That Jiang Cheng had been angry with him and yet saved him anyway. Saved him knowing that he was likely going to die for it. Saved him because he loved him. What else could he do now but cry? He felt wrung out. Like his world had shifted.

---

“Sooo…” said Jin Ling, clapping his hands together once decisively and smirking slightly (after drying his own tear-filled eyes), “Since you guys ended up falling into each other's arms and crying, that means that the only thing left is for you to become bosom buddies again.”

“Brat!” Jiang Cheng sniffed, pulling away from Wei Wuxian to threaten his nephew, “Are you looking to get your legs broken?!”

“No thank you!” he cried, rushing out of the tent quickly, only to bump squarely into Lan Sizhui who only managed to keep them both upright thanks to the infamous Lan arm strength that Jin Ling may or may not have been admiring surreptitiously the entire trip.

“What are you all doing out here?” Wei Wuxian asked, upon fixing his face and following Jin Ling out and seeing the rest of the juniors and Wen Ning nervously huddled outside of Jiang Cheng’s tent.

“Senior Wei!” fretted Lan Jingyi, “We were so worried!”

“Yeah, we thought something might have happened since you guys were taking so long to come back and we came to check it out but then we couldn’t get in! We had no idea what was going on inside,” said Ouyang Zizhen who had tear tracks on his face. He had clearly expected Wei Wuxian to come out as a corpse.

Wei Wuxian was stunned and looked at Wen Ning for confirmation.

“I would have tried to break in but A-Yuan stopped me,” said Wen Ning sheepishly and if he could blush his face would have been bright red.

“Are you all stupid?” snapped Jiang Cheng, “Am I a person that looks like I have a death wish? Who would take care of my sect if Hanguang-Jun murdered me?”

“A..ah I told them that Jin Ling would have come for help if anything was going on,” Sizhui piped up, “ I told you guys not to worry so much.”

Responsible as always, that Lan Sizhui. How someone like Lan Wangji raised a well spoken boy like that was a mystery to Jiang Cheng. Though he guessed Lan Xichen would have had a hand in it too. The boy did remind him very much of the Lan Sect Leader. Only in temperament however, looks-wise… well he stopped that train of thought before it could go too far. Some things were probably best left unacknowledged, though he was spending way too much time observing the juniors and the Ghost General on night hunts not to notice… well again, best to let sleeping dogs lie.

“Finally! Someone with sense,” was all Jiang Cheng muttered in the end.

“But how come you couldn’t come in?” Wei Wuxian asked curiously.

“Ah well…” Jin Ling rubbed the back of his head, “I kinda sorta maybe put up a privacy ward when you two started airing grievances. No need for the whole camp to hear about family business.”

“This kid…” Wei Wuxian laughed, secretly pleased that Jin Ling seemed to have accepted him. “Come here!” He slung his arm around Jin Ling’s neck and held him in a death grip to ruffle his hair. “Let go of me!” Jin Ling protested, pushing half heartedly at his arm. Two soft jingles followed the movement.

“Wait,” said Ouyang Zizhen, eyes widening, “Did you hear that?” “Is that…” queried Sizhui, also noticing the sound.

“It’s a clarity bell!” announced Jingyi, “ Senior Wei, why do you have a Jiang clarity bell?”

“Ah well.. It’s mine?”

“Huh, since when?!”

“Uh since I joined the Jiangs?”

“Why do you sound like you’re questioning it, idiot!?” said Jiang Cheng, barely refraining from whacking the back of his head. He did remember that his shixiong’s new body was frail.

“Ah hehe, I’m not, I’m not,” he raised his hands placatingly.

“But we’ve never seen you wear it, Senior Wei,” said Ouyang Zizhen innocently.

“That’s because I gave it back when I defected,” he said sheepishly.

“Then why do you have it now?” questioned Lan Jingyi, somewhat bluntly.

“Kid, has anyone ever told you you talk too much?” said Jiang Cheng.

“I’m not a kid!” he pouted, at the same time that Jin Ling said, “All the time!”

And well sure he technically wasn’t a kid anymore, at 21, but if Jiang Cheng admitted that then his 19 year old nephew wouldn’t be a kid either and Jiang Cheng wasn’t ready to accept that yet.

Lan Jingyi shot a rancid look at Jin Ling, who cheated and hid behind Sizhui, and turned back to Wei Wuxian like a dog with a bone. (Which was a hilarious analogy because, you know it’s a dog and they all knew what Wei Wuxian thought of dogs.)

“Does this mean you’re going back to the Jiangs then, Senior Wei?”

“As if his husband would ever let that happen,” Jiang Cheng snorted before he could answer.

“Hanguang-Jun lets Wei-qianbei do whatever he wants!” Lan Jingyi said, unable to hide the starstruck tone he used with Lan Wangji’s title.

Jiang Cheng sighed, “I forgot I was with the Hanguang-Jun fanclub.”

Lan Jingyi turned red and was ready to retort but Wei Wuxian cleared his throat and derailed the tirade before it could start. “Nobody’s going anywhere except to bed. As for the bell, Jiang Cheng just returned what was originally mine in the first place. It’s not a big deal.”

It absolutely was a big deal.

He couldn’t believe Jiang Cheng had held onto it all this time. He was sorely tempted to burst into tears again. Much like Chenqing, it was kept in pristine condition. Before they left the tent Jiang Cheng had shoved it at him like it was burning and told him to come home sometimes (“even if you have to bring your prissy husband with you”). It so was a big deal. Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan did not like each other at all. He privately thought that as much as he loved Lan Zhan and wanted to show him Lotus Pier, he’d make the first few visits on his own. Best not to push Jiang Cheng too much.

“Well I’m happy for you, Young Master Wei,” said Wen Ning, smiling as much as his face allowed. He at least had an idea of what it meant. Not just in general, but to Wei Wuxian.

“Thank you, Wen Ning.” He smiled softly at his friend.

“Well, I’ve had enough talking for one day,” said Jiang Cheng, “I’m going to go to bed. If you’re all going to continue talking, please do it somewhere that’s not right in front of my quarters.” And with that he bid them all goodnight and ducked back into his tent.

“Ah yes, I think it is past your Lan bedtimes is it not? You two also need to skedaddle,” Wei Wuxian said to the little Lans.

“Of course Senior Wei, we’ll head in now,” said Sizhui who promptly did as he said and turned to step into a tent.

“Hey! Why are you going into the Young Mistress’ tent?” called Jingyi, “Weren’t we supposed to share?”

“Ah well Jin Ling offered,” Sizhui explained.

“You just want to take advantage of his very fancy sect leader tent,” accused Lan Jingyi.

“Hehe guilty as charged,” he said,“Goodnight Jingyi. And to you Wen-qianbei, Wei-qianbei, Zizhen.” He left all four of them standing there and went to bed.

“No fair, I want to sleep in a fancy sect leader tent too. Ours is not nearly as comfortable,” lamented Jingyi.

Wei Wuxian couldn’t share the sentiment because his Lan Zhan always made sure he was the most comfortable. But he also couldn’t resist teasing Jingyi.

“There’s a very fancy sect leader tent right here,” he smirked, “Enter at your own peril.”

Lan Jingyi blanched and squeaked, “Never mind!”

Zizhen laughed heartily at him, “Better luck next time buddy!”

---------

Author’s note: * Since I read the translation of MDZS I am not sure how Yanli refers to Wei Wuxian in the novel other than as a brother which in English does not convey as much as the Chinese text would. In The Untamed episode 25 however when she is defending him from Jin Zixun she refers to him as didi, which I have gathered is what you would call a younger blood related brother, rather than shidi which would be the term for a martial brother. Since I don’t know Chinese though correct me if I’m wrong ^^;

Also I don’t recall the novel mentioning if wwx had a clarity bell or not so I am working with the assumption that much like the Lans’ forehead ribbons, the Yunmeng Jiang disciples would have a clarity bell... in The Untamed, Yanli gives him one when she shows him her wedding dress but I am taking creative liberties and saying he already had one as a member of the clan. Maybe main family members and disciples have different ones like the Lan ribbons but I’m leaving that up to interpretation.

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aroaceslytherin · 3 years

Text

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29226306/chapters/76373429

Love is love is love...

Snippets of Regulus, Narcissa, Sirius, and Andromeda's love life.

What does it take to make a love forbidden?

Someone you can’t have, usually. Whether that means they are already in a relationship, or family doesn’t approve. Well, for the children of House Black; it is the second option. Throughout history and many generations, they have matured faster than those around them. Each family member had someone to marry by the time they were born. Although, most of these children found love elsewhere and were forced to make a choice.

Alphard Black was the second known to run away from family rules because they had not accepted him for whom he loved. Cyfrin Black was the first; he discovered werewolves and fell in love with one, making a family and home with him.

Andromeda Black also ran away; the first female to do so, third Black to run from rules. It irritated Walburga Black to see her family going against the rules - especially so that it reminded her of her brother.

You would never know how terrifying Andromeda Violet Black can be until you meet her. They raised her on pure-blood rules, anger, and dark magic, following her two eldest sisters who dabbled in Death Eater ways. She could have a few tricks up her sleeve. Especially with two mischievous younger brothers.

She was a hat stall. The Sorting Hat had tried to put her into Hufflepuff but eventually landed on Slytherin for her. Andromeda stood from the stool tall and proud like her family taught. Upon sitting with her elder sisters who were in year three, Bellatrix leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“Four years with us, dear sister. I hope you follow us, ‘tis the only way to win over mother and father.”

Andromeda had then rolled her brown eyes. Surely at eleven there was not much you could do in a family of darkness except become the brighter, happier one? As Andromeda grew up, she rebelled against them. Instead of wearing black and green, she would wear earth tones; browns, greens, and oranges throwing in a bit of pink and blue here and there.

Andromeda, like her siblings, grew up lonely. Her mother; Druella Black, passed away when she was young. People said she passed during child-birth but she was there when her sisters were born. At three years of age, Andie watched her father mix a green sort of potion into her mother’s medicine. She wondered why he would even consider doing so. Later, she found out he did it so he could have power over her and her sisters - especially since he wasn’t gifted an heir (Walburga eventually took custody of them when she realized he was trying to get one from his daughters like they used to do in years past.)

At eleven years of age, Andromeda ran away to Alphard’s apartment. He hid her for three years until Walburga came pounding at his door; dragging Andromeda back home. At fifteen years of age, she noticed Edward Tonks (or Ted as he preferred). She would sneak off with him often, in hopes and fear to not get caught. Though at sixteen she had been and she ran away with him; burned off the tapestry, becoming a blood-traitor. She graduated at eighteen, married Edward, and had Nymphadora Tonks at twenty-three.

***

We all know they betrothed Narcissa to Lucius Malfoy, what you don’t know is that she was also interested in Severus Snape. She had flings with Lily Evans, dated a few girls in school; including Alice Fortescue. Like her elder sister Bellatrix, she kept her last name and slept in different rooms as her husband/fiance/boyfriend. It infuriated Lucius but he would respect her. (the only thing different was that she hyphenated it to Black-Malfoy)

Narcissa Druella Black was not a Death Eater like most believe, she did however have the Dark Mark that she was born with. It appeared on her left arm at eleven years of age. She kept it hidden behind long sleeves and arm sleeves. No one could tell which side she was on (in which she learned from Snape). She may have learned the ways of Death Eaters and Dark Arts from the time she could talk, but she may never have accepted that path completely.

Narcissa and her sisters did not have a good upbringing. Though being the youngest daughter, she had always been a powerful person mentally, physically, and magically which was an important thing to be when being a member of the House of Black or your partner spent most of his life in Azkaban.

Narcissa was the middle half of her sisters; black and white, never fully good but never fully bad either. She was a protector, a dreamer, a fighter. A mother, an aunt, and a lover. She not only raised her own son and daughters... but she raised Bellatrix's daughters, helped Andromeda with her daughter, helped/took in Remus, Sirius, James, Regulus, and Lily's kids when they passed.

She raised her son; Draco Malfoy, with great intentions and did her best to give him a better upbringing than she had. It was difficult to do so with Lucius Malfoy as a father. That is where Severus Snape stepped up and lent a hand to be a father figure for Draco. He protected him with all that he could. But was unfortunately too late in stopping him from inhibiting the Dark Mark like his parents. Lily Evans was a third parental figure with rights to him.

Narcissa screamed at Lucius the same words she had screamed at Bellatrix: “He’s just a boy!”

She may have come off as overprotective but she knew if Draco went down that path, he would never be the same little boy she had spun in circles in the ballroom late at night when he couldn’t sleep. She would stay up at all hours of the day just to see him happy.

It broke her heart when the smiles stopped. All she wanted was her baby to smile. Lily got him to smile sometimes, but it was never enough. It would never be enough for Narcissa.

Never enough love, hugs, attention, or money could ever repair Narcissa from the damage her family had caused on her and her son.

***

Sirius Orion Black. The family troublemaker, rule-breaker, and rebel. A lion in a pit of snakes. If anyone were to act like Alphard and drive Walburga even further up the wall - it would be her own son. She had never expected to see what it was like to raise Alphard all over again, but Sirius did just that. He had put up a fight since he was born.

At eleven years of age, Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor and became the second blood-traitor. His father hated him from then on and would abuse him with the unforgivable curses. They told him he was no longer a suitable heir, and it fell to his youngest brother; Regulus Black. Though Sirius could see who Regulus truly was even if he was too afraid to find it within himself. Sirius understood that; their family was terrifying. Only in things for money, power, and keeping the name of Black pure. Though incest was the farthest thing from pure.

Sirius also noted at eleven years of age that he was a few steps ahead of his dorm-mates in puberty and interests. Within two months of him being at Hogwarts, he had kissed a girl two years older than him and was already trying to figure out the two girls his family had chosen for him to marry when they were of age. Kissing and flirting with girls made him sick. Sirius soon realised that he wanted one of his best friends.

He realised his feelings were getting stronger when his friends came back after Summer Break in 93’ and Remus’ voice was deeper, his face was sharper, and he had grown a few inches. Sirius could never act right around him anymore. He noticed little things about Remus he hadn’t before, his quirks became cute, changing in front of him got awkward, and he got flustered seeing him fresh out of a shower. It was hard to tell what Remus was feeling since he was always blushing.

He was thirteen when he first kissed Remus. They were alone one day talking about crushes and things when Sirius looked into Remus’ amber eyes and whispered; “You.” Remus was blushing hard and smiling randomly the rest of the day but either of them would deny it whenever Peter or James asked what was going on.

Sirius was sixteen when he ran away to the Potters because his parents found out he was gay and dating a half-blood. He couldn’t even fathom what they would do if they found out that his boyfriend was a werewolf. He would occasionally go back home just because of Regulus.

He would never forget what his father uttered to him just before he grabbed Regulus’ hand and ran with him out of their father’s office before anything worse could happen. ‘You disobeyed the rules! You are to keep the line pure, marry a woman and raise perfect heirs!’ It would never happen. And he even said it out loud; ‘That would be very unlikely.’ He closed his eyes to take a deep breath when he remembered what had happened next.

His world flipped upside down a few times; being betrayed by one of his best friends, living through a war, finding out he was pregnant at seventeen, and marrying the love of his life at nineteen. Although, when he had held his little girl (Omega metamorphagus/trans Veela) he thought everything would be alright.

Until it wasn’t and the Aurors threw him into Azkaban at twenty-two. He lost his family, his husband, his son and daughter, his friends, his lovers, and his brothers. (Remus rescued him two years later.)

***

Regulus Arcturus Black. Although the youngest and perfect in everyone’s eyes, has some pretty well-hidden secrets of his own. Like how he would dance with girls just to spite his family but then he would get his brother to signal for him if he ended up getting thrown towards a girl his family wanted him to marry and walk away.

Regulus Black...

The biggest rule follower. Followed in his family’s footsteps even if he had not agreed with everything they were saying. Did all he could to get on his parents’ good side. As he grew up, he realised there was no good side. It was either “follow us to death” or “run as far as you can and make a life of your own in hiding to gain safety”.

His parents were wrong when they said to him and Sirius that all they had in common was black curly hair, chiseled faces, and grey eyes. They were similar in brave stupidity, chivalry, and honesty. Regulus may have been sorted into Slytherin but there was no doubt he had a heart of a lion, making him a lion in a snake’s den whereas his brother was a snake in a lion’s den. Sure Sirius was a Gryffindor, and that is where he belonged, but there was no escaping the teachings and rules of their family.

You could change yourself, think differently, and behave differently but you were still going to be holding on to knowledge of Dark Arts and how to protect yourself even if it meant death. Sure other people would fight to death, but some would stop before someone got hurt.

Not his family. If it wasn’t what they wanted; they would never listen and never stop until the last breath was taken. Even once you get away from them and years later become unrecognisable to them, there are going to be moments where you have a thought or two on what they did, who they were, how you were raised, and questioning the lies even after finding truth.

Another thing they were similar in?

Being gay.

Sirius’ friend was right. You are born the way you are. You can’t help who you love.

And Regulus couldn’t help but love James.

It shattered him to break up with him when he became caught in the turmoil of Voldemort.

Once Regulus went running back to James - even though he was married to Lily - he took him back into his arms and they welcomed him into a home where there was nothing but love.

Regulus thought he could not love two people; that it was wrong. Even with seeing Narcissa and Sirius doing so.

They showed him he could, and it was alright.

They protected him, helped him, and rescued him.

Unfortunately he still died at eighteen leaving behind his husband, two daughters, a son, and another unborn son. (Or did he?)

***

So what makes love forbidden?

Nothing.

Love is love is love.

#marauders era #sirius azkaban #regulus black #sirius black #andromeda black #bellatrix black #narcissa black #severus snape #james potter #lucius malfoy #lily evans #jegulily #james x lily #drarry #wolfstar #narlily #regulus black lives

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joel-millerr · 3 years

Text

Kijimi

Chapter One of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.5K

Warnings: Reader cauterizes a wound, so read with caution if that makes you uncomfortable

Summary: You've become quite a good spice smuggler. You always managed to evade capture, and now the New Republic is getting desperate. After meeting a friend on Kijimi, you planned to get the hell off that planet quietly, but you've never had to deal with someone like The Mandalorian. // This chapter establishes the reader and is more of an introduction than plot driven tbh

A/N: I’ve never written a second person POV before so pls be gentle. Also, this story takes place after Chapter 12.

You're sitting in a booth at the back of the cantina. Periodically, you take the time to scan your surroundings. There’s a steady flow of individuals coming in and out, therefore it’s hard to keep track of everyone, but you try to monitor their movements anyway. Being in such a crowded area is risky right now, but when Tye asked you to meet him on Kijimi, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to catch up. Besides, you’re currently on a work hiatus, and now seemed like the perfect time to get back into the spice smuggling game.

It’s not that you wouldn’t have been able to do anything else. You’re quite skillful with your hands because you used to help your father fix ships back on Tatooine. Theoretically, you could have kept doing that for the rest of your days, but there was always a part of you deep down that made you believe you were meant for more important things. Granted, this isn’t exactly what you had in mind, but it is considerably more exhilarating than just cleaning and fixing ships.

It was Tye who first mentioned this “job”. You were busy fixing a T-14 hyperdrive generator that had been destroyed during a dumb gambling game of chicken. Why people would purposely charge at each other in space, you’ll never understand.

Anyway, he knew you were starting to get tired of the same routine every day. He could see it in the way your shoulders slumped while you were working, and how your voice grew tired of talking about re-wiring, and the maintenance of spaceships.

Ever since you were a child, your father had taken you with him to work and you loved it. You loved being able to spend time with your father and also learn the ins and outs of any spaceship. You could probably take a whole ship apart and put it back together in less than a week, but ever since your parents died, the work became mundane and repetitive. You no longer enjoyed doing the work. You did it just to get by.

“It’s a fairly easy job,” He started to say. You were sitting with your legs crossed, hyperdrive in your lap, rewiring the chunk of metal. “We meet the manufacturer on Kijmi and then come back to Tatooine and bring it to the client.”

“I don’t know, Tye,” You craved adventure, but your friend had a bad habit of getting into trouble. Unlike you, he didn’t have a steady job. Instead, he took whatever was offered to him, no matter how legit it was. You were usually the voice of reason and tried your best to get him on a straight path, but his spirit always craved danger, and while you fantasized about going on epic adventures, you tried to keep it on the legal sides of things.

Tye laid a hand on your shoulder, and in turn you looked up at him. His eyes were gentle, inviting and trusting. More often than not, you attempted your best to avoid his gaze whenever he tried to reel you into something because you knew as soon as you’d look at him, your walls would come crumbling down and whatever he asked you to do would get done. You crossed your left arm over your torso, placed your hand over his, and let a deep breath escape your lips.

“What are we transporting?” You asked, rising to your feet to look at him properly.

He hesitated to answer. Biting down on his bottom lip, his eyes broke contact and shifted down to his feet.

“Tye?” You inquired, leaning down to try to catch his eyes again.

“Uh…” His hand began rubbing the nape of his neck. You came to the conclusion by his behavior that this job wasn’t going to be something along the lines of transporting pieces of scrap metal and he knew you very rarely took on an illegal job. You had done maybe one or two over the years but if you could avoid it, you tried to keep your employment on the side that wouldn’t get your ass thrown in a cell.

“What’s the transport, Tye?” Your voice was more stern this time. This seemed to snap his mind back into reality and he finally met your eyes.

“Spice,” His voice was barely above a whisper and if you weren’t entirely focusing on his tone, you wouldn’t have heard him at all. Your muscles went rigid and you swallowed the lump in your throat you didn’t know was there. Once the empire fell, the New Republic had the impossible task of trying to keep the peace as well as police the entire galaxy, and wherever they were unable to properly govern, spice runners thrived. You had heard stories about spice runners. How every single one was a highly wanted criminal but were almost impossible to find. They worked quietly and discreetly and were able to smuggle spice on pretty much every corner of the galaxy.

“It’s foolproof. They supply the ship and give the location. All we have to do is meet the supplier on Kijimi and then bring the product back here. It’s simple enough,”

You began shaking your head immediately. The risk of getting caught was too high, and spice running was a hard limit for you.

“No, I can’t. What you’re asking is insane, Tye. Spice running?” You emphasized the last two words to make sure you heard him clearly.

“I wouldn’t have offered it to you unless I was absolutely sure nothing bad would happen.” Tye reached out and gently pressed his palm to your elbow, begging you to hear him out. “I can see you don’t love doing this anymore. Ever since your parents passed, I could see the passion disappear. It’s completely drained out of you. We do this one job and then you can go back to fixing hyperdrives in this kriffing hangar.” He waved his arms around the store. “Don’t you want to see what else is out there?”

You opened your mouth to protest but the words never came. He was right. Since you were a child, you dreamed of leaving Tatooine. You were tired of the sand, of the heat, of the kriffing dryness that was always eating at your skin. You dreamed of worlds where lush green ran rampant. Trees that grew so high you couldn’t make out the top. Grass that would tickle your hips as you travelled through it. Clean, fresh oxygen instead of the dry, dirty air you had grown accustomed to here. You had heard stories from travelers whose ships you’d fix about waterfalls, lakes, beaches. A large body of water? All these things you couldn’t even fathom. How beautiful must it be to live on a planet where water wasn’t fucking scarce. What did an actual shower feel like? Not some sonic shower that merely got you sterile enough to do about your daily business, but an actual shower, with water.

So yeah, you wanted to get the fuck off of Tatooine, but was this really the only option you had?

Tye could sense your apprehensiveness, but he knew the idea was tempting. Closing the gap between you, he wrapped his arms around your body. He was much larger than you, and you almost disappeared in his embrace. Taking a deep breath in his chest, you let yourself imagine a better life.

A life where you got to visit new worlds, encounter people from different walks of life, an existence where you truly got to experience the greatest things the galaxy had to offer. As a child, you’d lie in your cot and wish for an extraordinary life. One you could recount to your kids with awe, not wasting your years away on a desert planet that no longer had anything to give you. When your family passed away, you worked yourself to the bone, trying to lose yourself in repairing ships. You wished someone; anyone, would help you escape off this godforsaken wasteland one day.

You’d regret not taking the risk, you thought to yourself.

Before you knew the words had slipped from your lips, you were agreeing to the job.

You’ve been a spice runner ever since, and you were pretty damn good at your job too. Since your frame was relatively small, it was easy for you to slip in and out of towns without ever being seen, and because you had been working on crafts your whole life, you had become pretty good at flying them too. You had made an impressive name for yourself. Even if you had someone on your tail, you were always able to lose them once you left the port. Your movements were sharp as a tack and was always thinking one step ahead. It enabled you to outrun any hunter or whatever sad, inexperienced New Republic officer that tried to snag you. When you first joined, all your runs were with Tye, but soon after getting accustomed to how runs operated, you were able to go solo. After realizing how much quicker the job went by without having to rely on another person, you became a strict lone wolf. On your own, you could take higher risks, and that made the thrill of the job even more exhilarating. You had become quite the adrenaline junkie, taking some chances even your fellow smugglers would find questionable.

On one job, you were purposely sloppy and let some officers tail you right up to the moment you fought them off in your ship just because of the way the blood in your veins fired through your body. The threat of being caught ignited every nerve-ending in your body, and you constantly chased that feeling.

You were staying on a quiet, uneventful planet when you had gotten a hologram from Tye asking to meet you on Kijimi. “For old time’s sake” he said. Since you had no other run lined up, you figured it was a good time to meet him. It had been a couple months since you last saw him, and now seemed like the perfect time to catch up. Maybe he had a job in mind, too.

The life of a spice runner typically wasn’t very long. It was a physically exhausting profession, and often times a spice runner would get captured by either a bounty hunter or an officer of the New Republic, or die at the hands of a rival smuggler. You knew your days as a runner was limited, so you made sure to have the time of your life while you had the opportunity.

Lately though, a lot of your peers were getting caught by some highly skilled hunter. Whoever it was had managed to trap four of your closest counterparts and you were on high alert. No one had ever been able to snatch that many smugglers in such a short period of time, and your particular crew was starting to get anxious. The runs were beginning to get more sporadic, and spending more time underground, only going out when absolutely necessary, hence the reason you were camping out on lightly populated planet. Technically, you shouldn’t even be in this cantina right now. You should be laying low, waiting for the right moment to jump back into action, but because you now have a taste for the wilder things in life, you take the chance anyway. Plus, if Tye is still walking around then it couldn’t be that bad. He had become a lot more cautious than you, so you’re not all that worried.

You continue to keep your head down, only peering up whenever you hear the door opening. From the corner of your eye, you catch the glimpse of a dark maroon shape coming through the door. Tye. He preferred to wear dark colors, as not to draw any attention to himself. Tonight, he’s wearing a dark maroon jumpsuit, a long-ranged rifle strapped around his back. You—on the other hand, believed hiding in plain sight. You tended to wear neutral, earthy colors. It permitted you to blend in with your surroundings. Every run, you’d switch your uniform according to the conditions of the planet. White for cold environments, dark clothes for desolate, bleak planets, and so on.

He stands in the doorway of the cantina, taking a scan of the bar. He knows you usually like to sit in the back so that you have eyes on everyone that comes and goes, and it doesn’t take long for him to spot you. He walks over to your booth with a kind of swagger you’ve grown to love about him. He’s a pretty confident man, without being cocky. The way he carries himself has always fascinated you. His shoulders are always back, arms swaying at his sides, never looking down. He takes long strides as he saunters over to where you’re sitting. As you both have grown, he also has become a pretty well-respected member of your crew and he exudes that in his every step.

You scoot out of your booth to meet him as he gets closer to your table. Big toothy smiles are exchanged between the two of you and he just about runs to close the space between you. His large arms quickly pull you to his chest and all the air nearly punches right out of your lungs. He actually lifts you a couple inches off the ground in your embrace.

“Tye! I have a reputation over here. You can’t just pick me up like that,” However, you’re unable to hide the joy in your tone. You’ve missed him more than you realized. Yeah, you prefer doing jobs alone, but sometimes the solitude can get the best of you. Having someone to banter with, play sabacc with—you miss it, but you both have very different ways of transporting the product, so you know the days of you working together are long gone.

Tye finally lets you down and you both slide into the booth, sitting opposite of each other. You still have a clear view of the door.

“You couldn’t have picked a better shithole to meet?” You remark.

It’s not that Kijimi was a total shithole, it’s just that it was the biggest shithole of a planet you could ever set foot on. The weather was brutal, the people even more so. The New Republic wasn’t able to control the crime here, so criminal activity ran rampant here. Luckily, the main interest in the city was spice smuggling so you had the respect of most of the local spice lords, but there was always the threat of some travelers who couldn’t care less who you were or how important you were to come after you; to kill without mercy and take your corpse to the New Republic. Therefore, you tried to limit your visits unless they were absolutely necessary.

“I figured since we haven’t been together on Kijimi in a while, it might be worth the visit,” Tye answers honestly. Lifting a hand to the bartender behind the bar, they rushed over holding an empty cup in one hand a jug of bright blue liquid in the other. They place the jug between the both of you. Tye reaches into his pockets and places come credits on the table, giving the tender a small nod before they excuse themselves, grabbing the credits and stuffing them in a small bag that was tied to their waist.

“How nostalgic of you,” You mock, lighthearted enough for it to make him chuckle.

Despite trying to keep your mind focused on Tye, part of you is still observing the door behind him. In the short time you’ve been smuggling, not only had your reputation amongst other smugglers grown, but so had the price on your head. The last few jobs had been particularly difficult. Not only were you trying to fight off New Republic officers, but several bounty hunters had been tracking you. Apparently, you had become a huge pain in the ass. Unfortunately for them, that just made the game way more interesting, and honestly it really fueled your ego.

“Any news on the next run?” You inquire. It had been a few weeks since you last had a contract, and the itch for adventure was starting to get under your skin.

Tye’s eyebrows furrow. He looks at you quizzically. “I didn’t ask you to meet you to tell you about another run. I just wanted to see my best friend.”

“Oh come on. There’s always another job. Always someone who needs spice and someone who wants to get rid of it.”

He looks at you like he doesn’t know you. Leaning back in his seat, he begins shaking his head in disbelief.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You can feel beads of anger building deep inside you. He was the one that got you into this, and now he has the audacity to look at you like he doesn’t know you?

“You’ve changed.”

You scoff and let out a laugh, a laugh that drips with irritation. “Of course I’ve changed, Tye. Did you really think I was going to stay the doe-eyed girl you met on Tatooine?”

Tye reaches over and pours spotchka in both cups before taking his and throwing his head back to swallow every bit of it. “No,” He begins to say, using the back of his tunic to wipe his mouth clean. “I think those two young kids who grew up on Tatooine are long gone.”

Your lips form into a firm line, not entirely sure how to respond without sounding too cynical.

“I’ve heard stories, you know.”

“Oh have you, now?” Your eyebrow raises, and elbows firmly plant on the tabletop. The joy seems to drain from his face. Smile disappearing, and his eyes begin wandering, looking everywhere but into yours. Curiosity is starting to get the best of you, your eyes squinting and burning into him. Testing to see how he reacts; you push him again. “And what have you heard, Tye?”

Green eyes still refusing to meet yours, he’s busy eyeing his fingers that are fidgeting on the piece of wood that separates you. “That you’re becoming too reckless,” His voice is steady, but much lower than his usual tone. “You’re taking too many risks and causing problems where there doesn’t have to be.”

Your hard expression scorches into him. He starts squirming in his seat. Back on Tatooine, it would have been the other way around: you succumbing to his will, but now you’re the one with authority.

“Look,” He says, leaning in towards you. “I’m not gonna sit here and tell you how to do the job. I know you’re good at it.” There’s regret in his voice. It hasn’t gone unnoticed how he looks at you occasionally, almost like he’s ashamed of what he’s done to you. If it wasn’t for that day, you wouldn’t have turned out the way you have. You think he wants to take it all back. Wishing that you stayed some nobody who lived their life fixing and repairing shit.

“But I’m told you have a high bounty on your head. Maybe it’s best if you continue to lay low for a while. Just until the heat cools down.”

You chew on your bottom lip, and your body relaxes into the booth behind you. Deep down you know he’s right. He just wants for you to be safe and admittedly, the way you’ve been acting lately is as if you think you’re invincible. You chase the thrill and the danger but it’s just making everyday life so much harder. Some merchants are too scared to sell to you, locals steer clear of you, and those who aren’t scared get too confident and try to pick fights with you. Despite your size, you’re able to carry your own surprisingly well during a fight. You don’t quite understand it yourself. Each time you’ve had to defend yourself, there was an energy you conjured that came from deep inside you that helped you manipulate your opponent. This energy allowed you to levitate objects or people in mid-air, assisted you to kill them without ever touching them, or even influence them to say and do what you wanted them to.

It was after a late night of sabacc. You were on your way back to your ship when three male figures blocked your path in a nearby alley. Three blasters pointed directly at you.

“Can’t let you pass, sweetheart.” One of them sneered.

Bounty hunters.

One hand slowly glided to the blaster strapped to your upper thigh, the other extending in front of you. “Okay, fellas. I’m sure we can make a deal here.”

“Don’t try that shit with us. You couldn’t possibly come close to the price the Republic is offering.” The man in the middle—a Twi’ you realize, warned.

“The bounty asks to bring you in alive, so let’s not compromise that, okay sweetheart?”

Adrenaline and wrath were starting to seep into your muscles. If there’s one thing you hated, it was chauvinistic men calling you ‘sweetheart’.

“Call me sweetheart again, and it’ll be the last thing you ever say.”

All three men’s cackle echoed through the stone walls.

“I’d hate to ruin a pretty hair on that head, but if you’re going to act like a little bitch then maybe—”

Cutting him off, one of their blasters wiggled out of their reach and smacked the first hunter right in the face before he could finish his threat, blood spraying from his mouth. Your blaster found its way into your hand, raising it to strike him straight in the chest. Simultaneously, your left hand targeted the second assailant’s throat, your hands violently gripping around the pressure of his neck. The hunter attempted to scream, his hands wrapping around his throat as your grip tightened. Fire consumed you, and as your grip on the man’s throat intensified, his body started to lift off the ground. The Twi’ eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets; horror plastered on his face.

“What the fuck are you?!” The Twi’s voice bellowed, spitting as he charged at you, a vibroblade in each hand. Your eyes shifted to him coming right at you with pure fury in his eyes.

“Come here, you little bitch!” He roared.

You let your hold of his partner relax slightly, then your arm swung to the right, forcing the hunter to lift completely off the ground. Once he became jelly in your grasp, you launch him towards the Twi. Both men slammed into the concrete wall next to them. You heard the sound of skull making contact with the cement, then watched them fall to the ground hard. The Twi cried out, “Please don’t!” but you blasted him right between the eyes before he could say anything else.

You stood there, chest heaving. Your eyes examined the men in front of you, not fully understanding how you were able to fight them off. You were outnumbered and they were much larger than you were. Holding out your hands, you stared down at your palms. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to focus on the power that expelled from your fingertips. Where did it come from? How do you control it? What was happening to you?

You had never felt such power before. For a moment, you were no longer in control of your movements. In that split second where you gave into that rage, it bended you to its will, driving you to do cause more harm than necessary. This voice inside of you wanted them to hurt, for them to suffer, and you couldn’t resist it.

Tye repeatedly calling you brings you back to the present. “You okay?”

Shaking your head, the corner of your mouth curls into a smile. “Fine.”

The rest of the evening is much more lighthearted. After the initial awkward tension between the two of you, you’re able to enjoy a couple drinks of spotchka and reminisce about old times. You’ve definitely missed his company. Tye is the closest thing you have to family and you cherish him deeply. Your energies mesh together so well, and you have to admit, sometimes you daydream about settling down together, living on a quiet planet and drinking spotchka for the rest of your days until you’re finally arrested. Those are quickly replaced by reality, because the reality is, it’s just not attainable anymore.

The cantina never empties, no matter what time of day it is, and given that there aren’t any windows, you have no clue as to what time it is anymore. You came in just as the sun was setting—what little sun is even offered on Kijimi. It’s easily been a couple hours since then, and you begin to feel the fatigue creeping up on you.

“Where are you staying?” You ask, stretching your arms and your back as much as you can in the booth.

“I have a place not too far from here. It’s tiny, but it’s not like I spend enough time on this planet to need anything bigger. You can stay with me for the night, if you want?”

“That’s okay,” You start to say, shaking your head. “I’m probably going to leave first thing in the morning anyway. I don’t like to linger.”

Tye’s head bobs a few times. “Sure. I have a couple things I need to take care of here before I can leave.”

You cock your head to the left. What could he possibly have to do? You don’t ask though. It’s a common thing for smugglers not to ask questions. Staying in the dark about your crew’s whereabouts and jobs make it easy not to catch too many folks in the same squad. It’s how smugglers have been able to evade capture. If one person is snatched in a team, it’s almost impossible to catch another because chances are, they have no idea what anyone else is up to.

“I should probably head back to my ship then,”

After announcing your leave, you both shimmy out of the booth and rise to your feet. Tye is the first to move into your body and wrap his biceps around your entire torso. Quickly, your arms find their way around his back and you allow yourself to sink into his body. You’ve missed the warmth of another person. For a second, you allow yourself to be vulnerable and really appreciate the physical intimacy. Tye’s the one who finally breaks the embrace, but he keeps you at arm’s length, both hands squeezing your shoulders. Yours drop at your sides and you can’t stop the grin that forms on your lips.

“Sometimes I can hardly believe we used to be a bunch of nobodies on Tatooine,” He says. Before you can come up with a snarky remark, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Bye, kiddo.” Slapping some credits on the table, he turns on his heel and heads to the door. “You’re not even a year older!” You shout, and you’re not entirely sure he hears you given the amount of noise in the cantina, but you see his shoulders bounce, so you assume he heard you. You linger for a couple minutes, finishing off the remaining spotchka on the table. Once you’ve downed the final drop, you thank the bartender for their kind service, toss them some coins and head out the door.

It’s in the late hours when the cold Kijimi winds hit your face. The freezing air is a drastic change from the heat of the cantina and the cold immediately sends chills down your spine. Pulling your hood over your head, you cross your arms across your chest, trying to conserve a little bit of heat. The streets are dimly lit and dirty with mud and snow. It’s a long, dangerous trek back to your ship, so you keep your head down but still keeping an eye out for any potential mercenary or hunter who might want that pretty bounty on your head. Keeping your hand close to the blaster strapped to your thigh, you dart through stone made arches, and small huts. Instead of taking the straight route, you opt to zig-zag through the city, knowing it would be more difficult to track your footsteps this way. It takes more time, but you know this is the safer way to go.

The cold is starting to really get to you, now. Despite wearing gloves, the tips of your fingers are starting to go numb and you thank the Maker once you catch a glimpse of your ship not too far into the distance. You fight the urge to walk straight towards it, instead listening to your gut. You come to an alley, lit only by a small streetlight that’s flickering slowly.

“I can’t wait to get off this shithole of a planet,” You whisper to yourself.

Just as you turn the corner of the alley, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. The adrenaline pumps through your veins, causing your heart to pulse quicker than you’ve felt in a long time. Any sound person would be afraid, knowing they were in for a bout, but not you. No, you chase this feeling on your runs. This is when you thrive.

You stand tall, straightening your shoulders and slowly turn to where you assume the figure is behind you. At the end of the alley, you see the shape of a man—what you think is a man, anyway. The light bounces off the blob in front of you, and realize they’re covered almost head-to-toe in shiny armor. A droid?

“Can I help you?” You question. Your hand rests directly over your blaster, slowly flicking the safety off.

The mystery man/droid doesn’t say anything. He stands completely still, and for the first time in a long time, panic prods at you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you take a deep breath, hoping it’ll calm the nerves in your stomach.

“Can I help you?” You say through gritted teeth.

Again, you hear nothing.

You stand your ground, refusing to run from the figure. You’ve never been one to run from a fight, and you’re not about to start now. “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me who the hell you are before I blast you on your ass.” Your voice is stern, now becoming more annoyed with the fact that they haven’t said anything. What the hell is this thing’s problem?

The figured dressed in armor takes a small step forward and finally speaks. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” His voice comes out low, but is nothing short of terrifying.

You suddenly realize who stands fifteen feet in front of you. It’s him. The hunter who’s created quite the name for himself. The bounty hunter who almost every smuggler has grown to fear. The one who never lets a bounty get away.

The Mandalorian.

As much as you are terrified right now, you can’t help but let a little bit of pride consume you. For the New Republic to have him come after you, it means they’ve gotten desperate. It also means they see you as a threat, and that makes you feel good. So good in fact, that you accidentally let a chuckle escape you.

“How much are they paying you?”

No answer.

You know he’s going to blast you any moment, and you’re trying to buy yourself some time.

“Oh come on. If I’m gonna go down, I should at least know how much I’m worth, don’t you think?”

Your ship is a quick sprint away (if you go straight ahead) but you’re not stupid enough to do that. He’s probably none the wiser and thinks you would, so you have that advantage. Instead, you know running to your left is the safer option. Even though there’s no actual street to your left, you did notice a split in the foundation just big enough for your body to slide through and make it to the next adjacent path, but you’ll need to do it quick. You gauge your assailant’s body language. He’s standing with his legs shoulder-width apart and you think you see his hand resting on his blaster, but you can’t be sure. You do catch the shadow of a rifle strapped to his back, and you know that that armor looks expensive which means it’s probably beskar, which unfortunately for you is basically indestructible. No amount of blasts will penetrate that armor.

Thinking impulsively, you grab the blaster out of your holster and shoot the light, hoping he’ll struggle to find your shape in the dark and praying to the Maker that it’ll give you enough time to wiggle through the stone walls. You sprint for the wall and see blaster fire shoot passed your head. Fuck, he must have night-vision with that helmet.

You manage to squeeze through the crack and end up on the other side. Most likely he’d come by the right, so you avoid that side entirely. Breaking into a sprint, you run down the cobblestoned road. It’s horribly uneven and you trip a few times, but always manage to recover without actually falling. The air cuts at your face and makes it harder to breathe but you persevere. If you were to stop, even for a moment, you risk getting caught. Your mind is running a million miles a minute, trying not to look back but also trying to imagine the more tactical way to capture you. Before you can think of your next move, the door to a hut opens and someone seizes your left arm and pulls you into the house with such force, it almost feels like your arm was ripped right out of its socket. The door shuts behind you immediately but before you can make a sound, Tye’s hand comes to cover your mind.

“Shh,” he warns, pressing a finger from his free hand to his lips.

You nod and he releases the grip he had over your mouth.

Tye crouches near the window by the door, checking to see if the hunter is out there.

“I can’t see him,” He says, turning his gaze towards you. You move from the doorway and crouch next to him by the window. Both of you continue to scan the street, looking for any sign of the attacker.

After a few minutes of looking with no luck, you conclude that he’s lost you. You retreat from the window to examine the room. It’s tiny, the bed almost immediately to your left and you wonder how anyone could possibly sleep there. The door is just a few feet away and you can assume the cold penetrates the door easily enough. Sleeping there must be miserable. The only source of light emanates from a few candles scattered throughout the room.

“This is my place,” Tye explains before you can ask. “It’s not much but it’s better than sleeping in one of the taverns.” He passes you and lowers himself in an armchair, rubbing the palms of his hands against his face.

“How did you know?”

“Call it intuition.”

The adrenaline is slowly wearing off and now you feel an ache in your bicep. You look down and notice a section of your coat has been ripped right off. Then you notice blood, a lot of it.

“Maker!” Tye all but jumps right out of his seat and rushes to your side. Gently grabbing your elbow, he inspects your wound. It’s pretty deep and will need to be cauterized.

Realizing it at the same time, your eyes meet. “Just do it.” You whisper to break the silence.

“I can use bacta spray instead. It’ll hurt less,” He says, before turning towards the cupboards, rummaging through the shelves and tossing whatever he can find, on the ground. You carefully remove your coat without touching the gash on your arm.

“Bacta spray will hard to find at this hour,” Your voice is barely above a whisper. The pain is starting to disorient you, and you manage to sit down on the bed before collapsing. “Just do it, Tye.”

Your friend stops searching for the spray, and he’s quickly by your side again with a clean cloth. He begins wiping the blood away. It stings and you swear under your breath.

“If you think this hurts…” His voice trails off. Yeah, you both know cauterizing it will hurt even more.

Trying to lighten the tension, you force a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

It’s true. You’ve broken bones and you’ve been hit a lot worse. If you ever manage to successfully make a run without injuring yourself, it’s a miracle. This is nothing new.

Tye leaves your side to warm up his vibroblade on one of the candles nearby. Once the blade is steaming, he returns to you. He holds out the blade, and you take it from his hand. Releasing a deep breath, you hold the blade to your arm and press it into your flesh. It sizzles and smells awful. Tye squeezes his eyes shut, like he thinks it’ll stop the whole ordeal. You stifle down the scream that desperately tries to come to the surface, and groan instead. Pressing the blade to your skin in short bursts, the blood slowly stops spewing and the pain from the actual blast begins to subside. Once the sting begins to slow, you drop the blade on the ground. Tye’s eyebrows relax as he inspects your skin.

“You should still put some bacta spray on that, to avoid getting it infected.”

Nodding slowly, you let out another deep breath through your lips. “I have some on my ship. I’ll head out in the morning and hopefully get to it before metal man out there can get me.” You try to be lighthearted with a joke. Tye either doesn’t catch it or think it’s funny because he’s shaking his head at you. He meets your eyes and whispers your name. “Having a Mandalorian after you is serious business. Those guys don’t fuck around.”

You sit up straight and look at his defensively. “Yeah, I know Tye.”

“Do you? Because you’re still making jokes. Do you know that Mandalorians are like the best killers in the galaxy?”

That sends daggers through your entire body. You rise to your feet, slowly until you’re almost towering over him. “I’m well aware of their abilities, Tye.”

“Why do I get the feeling that this is just a giant ego boost for you?”

That you actually scoff at. “Kriff…” Taking a step away from him, your hands rest on your hips. “Am I a little proud that they had to get a Mandalorian to arrest me? Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to act reckless and change my tacti-“

“But you are reckless!” Tye pushes against his knees to stand eye level with you. “You always do this. This is why no one wants to work with you!”

Your eyes widen, mouth dropping. “I don’t want to work with anyone because they slow me down!”

Immediately, your friend’s shaking his head. “No, that’s not why. Everyone’s deemed you too dangerous to actually work with. It’s a miracle you haven’t been caught yet.”

You try to interject but Tye holds a hand up to stop you. “I’m not done. Yeah, you’re good at smuggling, probably one of the best, but at what cost? Where’s the girl that was gentle, kind? Where’s that girl who would fix ships with her dad and play in the sand dunes with me? That girl who nursed an injured womp rat back to health because you saw some stupid kids shoot at it? Where did my best friend go?”

The laugh that erupts in the room is anything but joyful. It’s resentful, it’s anger. Your best friend stands inches away from your face, insulting who you are. Who he essentially created.

“She grew up, Tye! My parents died and left me all alone on a planet that shouldn’t even exist. I had no choice. You think a ‘gentle, kind’ girl can survive in this galaxy?”

Tye’s fists ball up at his sides. “I miss that girl. Who you are now, it’s not who I remember. This job has tainted you.”

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you dragged me into this world five years ago!”

“Don’t do that…” His shoulders drop, his head hanging in defeat.

“I love you Tye, but I can take care of myself. I’m not scared of some Mandalorian. I’m not afraid of anything.” A lie, but you refuse to look weak.

“I know…” He admits, his head still looking at the ground. “That’s the problem.”

A few moments pass in silence. Neither of you try to break the apprehension in the air. You can sense that Tye’s been waiting a long time to admit that. That he doesn’t like what you’ve become, and maybe he’s right. Maybe you do act impulsively, maybe you do put yourself at risk unnecessarily just to fill this void inside of you. A void that’s been eating at you since you were a child, but it’s not something you want to hear right now, or maybe ever.

“I’m heading to my ship.” Grabbing your coat off the cot, you slip into it, groaning as the material slides against your sensitive flesh.

That appears to snap Tye out of his thoughts because he looks right into your eyes.

“Please don’t. He’s probably still out there.”

“Well it’s like you said,” Usually, your voice is soft. You’ve never spoken to Tye with such anger before, but something inside of you now sees him in a different light. You resent him. “I’m too reckless.” You growl.

Tye mouth is agape and it almost looks like tears are forming in the corners of his eyes. He takes a step back like he’s been stabbed, which I guess is true. Your tone said it all.

You both realize at the same time that this is probably the last time you’ll see each other.

Turning on your heel, you head towards the door. “Take care, Tye.” You say over your shoulder before pressing the button to open the entrance. It lifts off the ground and you step out, not even looking at your surroundings before throwing the hood back over your head and heading straight for your ship.

If you want me, come get me, Mandalorian.

You’re not careful about the walk to the ship. You’re not careful passing corners or getting to the port. You’re behaving stupidly on purpose. You want to fight him; you want to prove to everyone and yourself that not even a Mandalorian can catch you. It’s extremely naïve but your blood’s boiling and its currently clouding your judgement. You spot your ship and march towards it, without a damn care in the world. Clicking the button on your bracelet, the ramp opens, and you begin to walk towards the slope. Once your foot touches the metal, you catch a glimpse of something shiny at the very top of the ramp. A sly smile creeps on your lips.

“You know, it’s rude to hijack someone’s ship.” You peer up at him.

The Mandalorian’s tense, with his hand hovering over the blaster strapped to his right thigh. Legs once again spread shoulder width apart, he oozes authority. The metal—beskar, glistening against the moonlight. You fight the submissiveness that begins to creep up on you. You refuse to show him weakness. If you’re gonna get caught, you’re gonna make sure you put up a fight.

Your strides up the ramp get smaller and smaller. Adrenaline fully pumping now through your entire body. You wonder how close he’ll let you get to him before blasting you right off your feet.

“I do have to admit, getting caught by a mandalorian is pretty admirable.” You taunt.

His hand gets closer to the blaster and you think this is your moment. Just as he rips the blaster from its holster and fires at you, your right hand comes up, catching the blast mid-air and deflecting it. It hits one of the cargo boxes and explodes. Before he can fire another shot, the blaster is ripped right out of his hand and goes flying into your palm. As soon as you get both blasters in your hands, a grappling line exits his vambrace and wraps tightly around your ankles, causing you to slightly lose your balance. He pulls hard on the rope and it sends you flying backwards. Your head hits the metal hard, and for a second your vision begins to fog. You blink repeatedly, trying to get your damn vision to clear, but before you can even begin to push yourself to the ground, the Mandalorian is hovering over your body. One leg on each side of your thighs, he leans down and grasps both your wrists with one hand and straps some binds around them. You give it one last ditch effort and try to kick up at him, but his reflexes are surprisingly quick and catches your calf with his free hand.

“Maybe if you stayed with your friend, you might’ve gotten away without me catching you.” He says through the helmet. The baritone of his voice immediately causes your breathing to hitch. Your heart is pounding in your chest and heat begins to form in your stomach.

“Then again,” He begins to say, pulling you to your feet. “because you’re so careless, I’d find you again.”

In any other circumstance, you’d have a sly comment, but right now you can’t even remember how to speak. Once on your feet, you notice just how big he actually is. Sure, the armor might add to his demeanor, but you can’t help but be intimidated now. He towers over you, and you have to strain your neck just to look at him. You try to see his eyes through the ‘T’ of his visor, but it’s too tinted. He loops his forearm around your bound arms and guides you down the ramp.

“I can walk on my own, you know?”

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. He simply continues to drag you whichever way he wants. As you make your way to his ship, your heart is still hammering in your chest. The way he carries himself, you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s definitely intense, but nothing short of fucking mesmerizing. Most of the hunters you’ve encountered were cruel and mouthy. But the Mandalorian? He barely spoke to you; he didn’t let his any emotion come through. You can outtalk any hunter, but you couldn’t do that with him. He was one step ahead of you, which you have to admit has never happened before.

Once you reach what you assume is his ship, you can’t help but be taken aback by it.

“Whoa, is that a pre-Empire ship? I didn’t think those things still existed.”

He says nothing, as per usual. In the very short time you’ve known the Mandalorian, you noticed he’s a man of few words.

You’ve spent your whole life around ships, but you’ve never seen one quite like this. It’s pretty dated and looks in pretty shit condition, honestly. Several panels are completely dented, and whatever isn’t dented is scratched up badly. You can tell it’s been in a good number of shootouts. It’s a miracle this ship is still operational.

He presses a button on his vambrace, and the ramp opens up, creaking as it lowers to the ground. The Mandalorian lets go of the grip he had on you, and gently pushes you in front of him, instructing you to walk ahead of him. You head up the ship, turning back to look over your shoulder one more time. In that moment, reality hits you. You’ve been caught. You’re going to live the rest of your days in a cell. Actually, with your reputation, you’d be lucky if you get a cell. The New Republic will probably have you sentenced to death. While you didn’t expect to live to an old age, you didn’t think you’d die this young, but it comes with the job description. Everyone’s gonna get it sooner or later, and unfortunately for you, it seems like the former.

You take notice of the three other quarries in carbonite to your right. Heating beating so fast, you’re sure it’ll burst out of your chest, you start babbling.

“Please don’t put me in carbonite,” You plead, turning around to face your captor. He’s already closed the ramp and is busy removing the rifle off his back, placing it back on the wall of the ship. “You already have me in binds, I can’t go anywhere. I won’t cause any more trouble. Just please, no carbonite.”

At first, he doesn’t bother to look at you. He lingers there for a few seconds, probably arguing with himself on the best way to handle you. Your eyes burn into his helmet, praying to the Maker that he’ll give into you. You’re chewing down on your bottom lip so hard, you’re sure you’ll break skin. Eventually, he turns to face you and begins a slow, tantalizing walk towards you. Panic overwhelms you, and you begin to shake your head frantically. Since when did you become such a submissive? Under any other circumstance, you’d be throwing insults, trying to get under his skin, manipulating words in an effort to aggravate them. You might even try to manipulate him into doing what you ask but your brain is shut off. You can barely form a coherent thought. Therefore, you resort to begging and pleading with the Mandalorian.

You can’t stop your body from trembling, and as he reaches to grab your wrist, you shudder at his touch. You swear his glove is on fire because how the hell is it possible that his touch burns into your skin? You keep your head down, not having the strength to meet his visor. You’re crumbling under him, letting him take absolute control of you.

“Up,” is all he says, as he gestures you to the ladder that goes up to the cockpit. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nod and let him guide you to the ladder. It’s hard to climb with your hands bound but you do your best.

Once you reach the top, you wait for him to catch up. Putting a hand on your lower back, your breathing hitches when he touches you. His hand nearly cover your entire waist and you can’t help but imagine that thick hand wrapped around your throat.

Maker this shouldn’t be turning you on. He captured you.

He guides you into the seat that’s to the right of the pilot, and then sits himself in the pilot’s seat. He begins the take-off sequence, and the ship’s thrusters roar to life. As the ship lifts off the ground, it creaks and makes you shift in your seat. You take one last look at Kijimi as his ship climbs higher and higher into the air, realizing that for the first time ever, you lost.

#the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #Star Wars #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #we are one when together #fics

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slyeposting · 4 years

Text

Rating Marvel’s new New Warriors

(long post)

After seeing the character designs for Marvel’s new series of New Warriors comics as well as watching multiple reaction videos and reading other people’s reviews, I thought I would summarize some basic points and add my ratings/review. Please prepare yourselves for this hot garbage.

Screentime: 3/10

wow starting off strong

looks like Ben 10

basically if Alexa was your obnoxious Fortnite-obsessed younger brother

writers will probably make him say “Ok bOomEr” and unironically floss

got his powers from internet gas????? whatever the fuck that means??????

Superhero name makes him sound like he’s six and his parents are trying to stop him from watching Ninja for 12 hours a day

useless in combat bc other than him having a smartphone for a brain he’s a regular kid (aka: will die in one hit from a villain with actual powers)

only redeeming quality is his visor reminds me of Geordi La Forge

Trailblazer: 3/10

Dora the Exploer if she got really into bad 90s fashion

Backpack looks like Sleeper from the Venom comics

her description says she “she doesn't think of herself as a Super Hero,” which is good because she isn’t one

slightly more useful in combat than Screentime because she could potentially pull an RPG out of her pocket dimension backpack or something

oh wait she can’t even control what comes out of it!!! nevermind!!!!

fucking Percy Jackson did this with Leo and even then he had his own powers as well as this

there were so many fat jokes/fatphobia in all the reviews i saw on youtube and it made me want to smash my head into a wall (not related to the review but I thought it was worth mentioning if anyone wants to look up any reviews after this)

I keep coming back to the color scheme and it’s just. so bad. Neon sucks especially when it is clashing with other neon

apparently she got the backpack from God, but “not the god you’re thinking of...” very cool writers. Real quirky of you. Can you be any more annoying.

fingerless gloves

Snowflake and Safespace: 1/10

oh god

oh sweet jesus

I don’t even know where to begin with these. the names? The costumes? The color scheme? Safespace’s fucking sideburns? help

ok let’s start with the names

it does not matter who you are on the political scale, where you are on the gender spectrum, or how okay you are with “”edgy/dark humor””- nobody who has even the slightest knowledge of 2017-era Twitter language will look at two superheroes named Snowflake and Safespace and think “these characters are reclaiming these otherwise insulting terms and using them as their own.” They will think the characters are a joke. It shows how utterly out of touch the writer is with modern day culture, which is not a good sign considering he’s writing modern-era comic with all teenage characters. Snowflake is an insult. It just is. The idea of a “safespace” has been demolished because of the way it has been used by trolls online. No amount of woke points and “flipping the script” is going to change that. It’s a sad attempt to pander to a very specific audience, and the writers still manage to make it feel like a slap in the face. This is one of the poorest attempts to make a new-age, hyper aware characterization that I have seen in a long time. It fucking sucks.

Also Marvel makes their first nonbinary character and they name them fucking Snowflake? Are you kidding me Marvel? I’m going to scream

Moving on to the costumes, they’re actually shit. It’s like if the Wonder Twins became semi-professional roller skaters who watched Tron once while tripping on LSD. Why do they have vests.

Why is everything Neon??!?!! Does the designer not know how value and complimentary colors work?! Can the saturation not be constantly at 100 please my eyes are suffering

Apparently their characters are just as obnoxious as their hair

“they see their Super Heroics as “a post-ironic meditation on using violence to combat bullying.” They're probably streaming this.” WRITERS HAVE YOU EVER INTERACTED WITH A TEENAGER. THIS READS LIKE A REDDIT POST DO YOU THINK WE TALK LIKE THIS

the best components out of these characters are the powers, and even then the powers aren’t extraordinary. Ice shurikens and force fields? Fine. A little standard, but fine. I just wish their powers weren’t so connotative with their names. I can’t fathom that someone actually approved these characters. This is exhausting.

B-Negative : 6/10

probably the best one out of them all

what every emo kid wanted to look like in 8th grade

a cohesive color scheme that isn’t trying to attack me through the screen

actually has super powers that aren’t googling things or pulling things out of a magical Jansport that not-God found at Target for $30

apparently this is where the creativity ends though because in the end he is literally just a vampire minus the immortality (why, you ask? I don’t fucking know. It’s like the internet gas everything is a shitshow)

“B-Negative ages like a regular person (or does he?) and he definitely drinks blood (or does he?)” I don’t care. (or does he? Jk I don’t fucking care. Stop trying to be quirky, writers. It’s not cute.)

“The world is a vampire…and so am I.” Hi what the FUCK does this mean

fingerless gloves

Final Thoughts

I am very tired

Marvel doesn’t know their audience at all

The creators of these characters tried to make modern characters despite being extremely out of touch, making the concepts already seem dated and unappealing

I’m honestly suprised they didn’t have a Hijabi character for those sweet sweet woke points ™

please for the love of god can I get some neutral colors once in a while. I can’t take this much longer

fingerless gloves

#WOW this was way longer than I planned #thank you to anyone who read the whole thing!#rant #marvel #marvel new warriors #new warriors #trailblazer #marvel trailblazer #screentime #marvel screentime #snowflake and safespace #god i hate that I had to tag that #b-negative #marvel b negative

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somebodycall911onabc · 3 years

Text

More post 4x13, Maddie-centric, a little Madney, a little Buddie. I just want her to be happy. Warning for a lot of emotions in this one, folks.

Maddie is elbow deep in soapy water when her phone starts ringing. She tells Hildy to answer (being a parent has definitely taught her the wonders of technology, unlike Eddie) while she shuts off the tap and reaches for the dish towel.

“Hello?” She asks, seeing Chimney’s name scrawled across the screen. It’s been two hours since he last called—not concerning, but a deviation from the usual.

“Maddie. Are you OK? How’s Jee?”

A bad call, maybe. He could’ve lost someone.

“We’re good,” Maddie says, stealing herself. She hates to lie to him, but she’s being honest in the way he means. They’re not hurting in any way he can fix.

He breathes out a whistling breath over the phone. “Good. Good. Thank God.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No. No, I mean. I’m fine. But… Jesus…” He mutters something too low for her to hear. “It’s Eddie. He’s in the hospital — alive — but, but he got… he was shot, clean through the shoulder. Some psycho opened fire on the LAPD.”

Maddie’s heart drops to her stomach, where it stays for another hour until Chimney walks through their door. She’s holding Jee-Yun, who’s wailing like her little lungs are about to give out, but she and Chimney find each other like magnetic poles. She steps into his arms and wishes that the whole world could just drop away. Just her, and Chimney, and their daughter. That would be enough.

“It’s all over the news,” Maddie says. Jee-Yun seems to have been stunned into silence by the unexpected arrival of her dad.

“Athena says they’ve got some of the best people in the department on it,” Chimney says. “They’re gonna catch him.”

“They’d better.”

“Yeah well, otherwise, they’re going to have Amateur Detective Buck on their hands again.”

Jee-Yun starts hiccuping, picking up where she left off, and Chimney steps back to lift her out of Maddie’s arms. She lets go without a fight. She’s so tired of fighting.

“Don’t even joke about that. I’m sure he’s losing his mind—he hasn’t answered any of my calls or messages.”

Chimney attempts a smile. Or maybe all along he’d been going for that twisted grimace. “Bobby’s corralling him, don’t worry. Your brother isn’t going to do anything stupid.”

“Like drag Athena into an active investigation to chase down the man who stabbed you and kidnapped me?”

“Yeah,” Chimney says. “Exactly like that.”

Maddie turns her head to look out the window. She knows what he’s going to say in answer to her question, and she can’t bring herself to look at him when he does. “So what are you all going to do? What happens when someone targets the entire Las Angeles Fire Department?”

“Our jobs,” he says, and Maddie closes her eyes. “We have to, Maddie. We called in C-shift today, but we go back tomorrow.”

“OK,” Maddie hears herself say. What else can she do? How can she tell him that she’s afraid they’ve avoided tragedy one too many times, that she can see them all running to the end of a line, nothing but a long fall below them?

She feels like someone froze half of her in ice, then told the other half to run for her life. She feels fathoms deep in very dark water, but someone is screaming in her ear to swim up, up, up.

When Chimney pulls on the bullet-proof vest, Maddie doesn’t say anything. The human throat wasn’t made for the drawn-out scream inside her head.

Maddie doesn’t visit Eddie while he’s at the hospital. Between Jee-Yun and her own shifts at work, there isn’t time. She feels a little bad about that, but despite their small social circle, she and Eddie haven’t gotten that close over the years. Buck takes up all the air and space when he’s around, a wildfire that she and Eddie chase around and keep from burning up the furniture. But Maddie feels like she should have been there while Eddie was confined to a hospital bed, watching his friends risk the same fate as him when they pulled on their uniforms—she feels a sort of kinship with him. With that helplessness.

So she shows up at his door a week later with Jee-Yun and dinner.

Buck lets her in, which has ceased to be surprising as a general rule, but seems a little suspicious in these circumstances. She hasn’t heard anyone mention Ana’s name since the shooting.

“Jee-Jee!” Buck shouts, whisking Jee-Yun from Maddie’s arms.

“Oh, hi, how are you,” she mutters, watching Buck as he kisses Jee-Yun’s nose and grins. He looks like he needs a long shower and an even longer nap. But Jee-Yun giggles at him as he makes faces and smacks his lips. It’s sweet. It only hurts a little, seeing how good Buck is with her, when sometimes Maddie still thinks of him as that little kid she stitched up every time the world knocked him down. It only hurts a little that for Maddie, getting Jee-Yun to smile is like pulling out her own teeth with rusty pliers (i.e., really goddamn difficult).

“Hey, Maddie,” Eddie says, reaching the door. He nudges Buck aside to make room for Maddie to come in. “It’s good to see you.”

Maddie looks at his cast, at the way Eddie hunches in on himself and the blue-black bruises beneath his eyes from exhaustion and blunt-force head trauma, and feels so goddamn guilty. She should have come sooner. She should have tried harder.

“Hey,” she replies, wiggling the takeout bag, “I come with nourishment.”

“By all means,” Eddie says, sweeping his hand out to the hallway. Maddie leads the way to the kitchen, Eddie slumping behind her, Buck cooing at Jee-Yun and somehow managing not to walk into a wall.

“I figured something light and healthy would be best,” Maddie says, dropping the bag on the counter.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much doctor’s orders,” Eddie agrees. He peeks inside the canvas tote and pulls out a container, opening it up to reveal a big, green salad. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

“It was no problem—“ Maddie starts, but she realizes Eddie is wrinkling his nose in disgust, not gratitude. “Oh, shut up and eat your veggies. There’s chicken in it,” she adds with a laugh.

“Where?” Eddie snorts, eyeing the salad like it might come to life and strangle him with leafy hands.

“Chris! Guess who’s here!” Buck, who hasn’t heard a word of their conversation, barrels into the living room where Chris is sitting on the floor with a host of action figures.

“Don’t—don’t let her put anything in her mouth!” Maddie calls after him.

Eddie chuckles and takes a seat at the table. “How’s it going with her? With Chimney?”

“Us?” Maddie keeps her eye on the living room situation while she sits down across from Eddie. “We’re fine. How are you? Buck seems to be living in your back pocket lately.”

“Yeah, he’s been…” Eddie trails off, and Maddie glances over to see him looking at the living room. She turns her eyes back to see Buck sitting cross-legged on the floor, cradling Jee-Yun while showing Chris her tiny fingers. The first time he held Jee-Yun, Buck had lost his mind over her fingernails. They’re so small, he’d said reverently. How could anything be so small?

“I wouldn’t be here without him,” Eddie finishes. “I think I’m going to ask him to move in.” The way he says it isn’t a joke, isn’t something light-hearted about being down an arm or how Buck is free labor. He sounds contemplative. Wondrous.

“Oh,” Maddie says. “But what about… I mean, won’t that be kind of weird for Ana?”

“Buck didn’t tell you?” Eddie asks, turning back to face her and fishing a fork out of the bag. “Ana broke up with me.”

“Oh, my god.”

“I know. But it wasn’t like what happened with Chimney. Ana had the guts to say it to my face.”

“Jesus, Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was the right call. I’m not upset, actually.” Eddie pokes around the container until he finds a piece of chicken, throwing Maddie a smile as he picks it up. “It was the easiest breakup I’ve ever had.”

“Well, that’s… good.” Maddie pulls the bag toward her and lifts out her own salad. She’d gotten Chris chicken fingers and fries, but Eddie doesn’t have to know that. Not until he finishes his grown-up, post-ballistic-surgery food. “Then should I ask what your intentions are towards my brother?”

Eddie chokes on his lettuce. She flashes him a smile while he struggles to swallow. “He is a strapping young man,” she adds. “Very… able-bodied.”

“You’re evil,” Eddie says, laughing.

“No, just observant,” she counters. “Every time I called Buck this week, he was either with you or Chris.”

“I keep telling you people that Buck’s suspension wasn’t my fault. I was unconscious when it happened.”

“All I’m saying is, my brother wouldn’t risk losing his job for just anyone.”

“You think so?” Eddie asks, smiling down at the table.

Maddie takes a delicate bite of spinach and pomegranate seed. “My brother spent a long time running, Eddie. I always thought he was just running away, but he was running toward something. The 118 is his family. But you and Chris are special. He would bleed himself dry if it meant keeping the two of you safe.”

Eddie’s fork is paused halfway to his mouth.

“Don’t take advantage of that,” Maddie says. “If you can’t say the same for him, you need to let him go. I’ve seen him hurt too many times, Eddie.” And she doesn’t mean just Abby—she means their parents. She watched Buck drag himself through hell for a love he shouldn’t have had to fight for. She means herself, too, because she knows that the years he spent thinking she’d chosen Doug over him had cut him deeper than she had any chance of healing. Even now that he knows the truth, there’s a scar.

“You’re a good sister.” Eddie lowers his fork and meets her eyes. “I wasn’t really expecting the shovel talk a week after getting shot, but I promise you that I feel the same.”

“Well, good,” she says. Then, “Oh god, I really did corner you while you’re—I apologize. That was thoughtless and rude of me.”

Eddie just laughs. “Please, Shannon was a wreck the whole first year. She actually forgot my birthday.”

“Oh, Chimney would never let that happen,” Maddie says, feeling a genuine, soft smile cross her face. This is the first time in a week she hasn’t felt the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. It’s an unexpected, but welcome, break. “He starts dropping hints at least three months in advance.”

“I wasn’t really around to remind her,” Eddie says. “That’s my biggest regret, really. Not being around more when Chris was little.”

Ah, there’s the familiar, soul-crushing weight of the world again. It was a nice minute, while it lasted. “It must have been hard to be away from him. I can’t even imagine…” Maddie swallows, but her food tastes sour, acrid. She can imagine. She has. She’s fantasized. About walking out the door. About not coming back.

“That’s the thing,” Eddie says, “it kind of... I mean, I missed him, and I missed Shannon. And now? I would rather get shot a thousand times than leave Chris. But at the time, it was easy. Ridiculously, insanely easy.”

Maddie watches as Eddie runs his hand through his hair, a twisted smile taking over his face. “What kind of fucking father chooses a war zone over his own wife and kid, you know? I kept telling myself it was for them, it was for us. But really I was just scared. I was terrified of it, of being a husband, a father. I didn’t know how to be those things.”

There’s something unfolding inside Maddie’s chest. An old hurt, an old fear, unraveling for her to finally grasp at its edges and see the bloody, wretched mess. “I don’t either,” she admits. She hasn’t said that to anyone. Not Buck, not Athena, not Josh. Certainly not her parents. Because that thing inside her, that little girl curled in on herself to hide away her broken heart—her parents had a lot to do with it. “I’m so scared. All the time. She’s tiny, and perfect, and I’m… I’m not good enough.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Eddie says.

“No,” Maddie says. “I’m going to ruin her, Eddie. I’m a horrible mother. I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t do this.”

“Whoah, whoah.” Eddie reaches his hand across the table to grip hers, tight. Maddie raises her other hand to her face to wipe her eyes. “You’re doing great, Maddie. You’re really good with her.”

“No, I’m not. Not really. I mean, Buck is more of a natural at this than I am.” He’s in the living room, letting Jee-Yun chew on the collar of his shirt, while Chris is talking and gesturing wildly with his hands. Buck looks happy. He looks rapt, focused. All in.

“I don’t think anyone’s naturally a good parent. I think it’s supposed to be hard. That’s how you know you’re doing it right.”

“I just don’t want to hurt her,” Maddie says, watching Buck, watching Jee-Yun, watching Chris. This beautiful tableau of a family that she wants so desperately to be part of.

“That’s normal. That fear is… hell, Maddie. That’s parenthood.”

“How do you deal with it? How do you walk around with that, knowing… knowing any moment, you might fail?”

Eddie tightens his hold on her hand, pulls on it slightly to bring her focus back around to him. “I’m going to tell you something I told Buck a long time ago,” he says. “You’re going to make mistakes. It’s not like there’s some test you can study for and get the perfect kid at the end. What matters is that you love them enough to keep trying.”

Maddie remembers Buck, what feels like a lifetime ago, staring down their parents. Love me anyway, he’d said. “It’s that simple?” She asks, feeling hollow. Feeling like she failed before she even crossed the starting line.

“Of course not,” Eddie says. “It’s hard work, loving someone. But you’re not in it alone, either. You’ve got all of us.”

He’s right. Maybe she can put a little bit of the load down, once in a while. Maybe she doesn’t have to be crushed by all that weight.

“I’m sorry,” she says, cracking a smile, “all we’re doing is talking about me.”

“Trust me, it’s a relief,” Eddie says, smiling back. “All anyone wants me to do is talk about how I’m feeling. I’m sick of talking about myself.”

“It’s nice to know you’re not the only one with problems?”

“Yeah. Exactly that.”

They share a raw, honest smile, and Maddie does feel a little bit lighter. “I’ll be sure to come back for more sage advice,” she says, pulling her hand away.

“Next time, bring pizza,” Eddie says. It makes Maddie laugh.

When she gets home, she puts Jee-Yun to bed and looks at her. Just takes in that fragile nose, the impossibly delicate eyelids, her perfect, untidy mouth. She thinks about how she’s been scared her whole life—of upsetting her parents, of hurting Buck, of losing Doug, of leaving Doug, of finding love.

But all those fears, they brought her here. So maybe this is just another journey, and maybe it’s OK to be scared.

When Chimney gets home the next morning, he crawls into bed with Maddie and Jee-Yun. Their daughter had started fussing at three in the morning, and now they were both exhausted. But Maddie holds on tight, holds Jee-Yun close, and when Chimney wraps his arms around them and drops a kiss into her hair, Maddie hears him say, "my two best girls. How did I get so lucky?"

And she thinks, this. This can be enough.

#it's not perfect but I worked kind of really hard on this and I'm feeling some type of way so here you go #for anyone who wants to cry about Maddie #ray writes #madney #maddie buckley #how did this get so fucking LONG #long post

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let-me-love-you-loki · 3 years

Text

Reassuring Too Late

Nick

It was strange those first few days and weeks. It didn’t matter that I’d only been gone for a week… I’d walked out on my wife, my kids, my brother. I’d left them when they needed me, when Mattie needed me. After everything Y/N had gone through with Ty… selfish wasn’t even the word for it. Coward wasn’t even strong enough.

And God knew I hated myself every second of every minute of every day that I was gone. It ate at me the moment I started packing my stuff. By the time I was in the car, I felt like I was going to puke. I cried as soon as I pulled out of the driveway and sobbed all the way to my parents’ house.

I was still amazed that they’d let me come home. That Matt and Y/N had given me the chance to make all of this up to them was almost more than I could grasp. They had more grace and love than I could fathom. I didn’t deserve them, and I thanked God every day that they’d allowed me back.

For the first week after I came home, Mattie wouldn’t let me out of her sight. Matt and Y/N had pulled her from school, so she was home all the time. If I walked down the hall, she was right on my heels. If I stepped outside to do yardwork or have a place to think, she found a reason to sit with her feet in the pool or to do her homework at the picnic table on the patio. More than once, I found her bundled up in her sleeping bag outside the door of whatever bedroom I happened to be sleeping in.

Matt took a while to let me spend time with Y/N without hovering. I didn’t blame him, honestly. But I tried my best to show them both that I was sorry… that I wanted to make things right. Y/N just rolled her eyes at Matt and acted—wonderfully—as if nothing had happened. Yes, I could still see some of the pain in her eyes when she looked at me. Every second of seeing her in pain was like a knife in my chest, and I swore that I would never hurt her again. That I would die first.

“Dad,” Mattie said, appearing out of the blue at my elbow. “Can you help me with this?”

She pointed to the thick paperback book in her hand. Algebra. I cringed a little. “I haven’t done algebra in… way too long.” Her face dropped. I smiled. “But I’ll try.”

Her fingers wrapped around mine. There were new callouses on her palms, earned from long hours in the home gym or the training ring. She’d gotten stronger, and God knew that she looked more like her mother every day. My chest ached. I couldn’t believe I’d been such a coward as to leave her when she needed me.

We plopped down on the bench at the table. She pushed some papers aside, stacking her other books in a rough pile. Then she flipped open the book and slid it closer to me. “I don’t get how to do this,” she said pointing at the page.

I pulled the book close and tried not to look intimidated. After two read throughs of the problems, I figured I had some idea of what was going on.

“Okay, first, what does your teacher say to do?”

Mattie grinned, “You mean Mom or Hattie?”

I bumped her playfully with my shoulder. “Hattie. We both know your Mom isn’t the best when it comes to this stuff.”

She smiled even more and launched into a detailed explanation of her last co-op meeting and what had happened in her math lesson. I listened carefully, hoping something would ring a bell for me. Honestly, I’d spent more time in high school waiting to get home to train with Matt than I did listening to what was going on. Hopefully I wasn’t completely useless in this.

“So, when it says this…” she ran her fingers down the page, “then, you take this here and put it in this equation. But I don’t get this one. There’s too much going on.”

I looked over her shoulder. If f(x)=….. and g(x)=… and t(x)=…. Then what is f(g(t(x)))?

Holy shit, I thought, I have no clue what to do.

“Okay, give me a second…” I needed more than a second, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. “So let’s talk through what Hattie told you. If you see f(g(x)) and all you do is take the equation for g(x) and put it in where there’s an x in the original equation, how is this one different?”

Mattie stared at the page, the corners of her mouth turning down. I could see the frustration settling in on her brow. “I don’t know, Dad. I can’t do math. It’s stupid…. I’m stupid.”

“You are not stupid, Mattie. Not everything comes easy for everyone. Sometimes, you have to work extra hard and that’s okay.” I leaned over and kissed the side of her head. “You can do this. So look… let’s do Hattie’s lesson again.”

We sat there for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. Mattie recited what she’d been told by her teacher. I picked out problems that looked exactly what Mattie wrote on the paper, and we did them together. Three problems in I knew what she was supposed to do.

“Take a deep breath, and listen to me, okay? If you can do that with two equations…”

I watched. Waited. Held my tongue. She needed to figure it out on her own.

She perked up, looking at her book with wide eyes. “If you can do that with two equations, you can do it with three. Work backward! Plug t into g and then the result of that into f.”

I grinned back, holding up my fingers. “There you go, gimme a too sweet.”

She smiled so proudly that it made my heart nearly burst. She looked so much like Y/N in that moment. I tucked my arms around her and gave her a big hug. “Proud of you, Tea.”

Mattie pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Love you, Dad. I think I can do this now.”

“Shout if you need me, okay?” I dropped a kiss on the top of her head as I stood up and turned toward the kitchen. “I won’t be far.”

The moment my gaze focused on the kitchen, I felt my breath snatched out of my chest. Y/N stood by the sink, tears streaming down her cheeks, one hand pressed against her mouth, the other gripping her phone. Guilt stabbed through me as I closed the space between us.

“What’s the matter, Sunshine?” I asked, settling my palms against her cheeks. My thumbs brushed at the tears still flowing.

My wife looked up at me with the eyes that could stop my heart and make it race at the same time. She reached out, pressing her hand over my heart. “I just saw you with Mattie and…”

I squeezed my eyes shut and let my forehead press against hers. It ached to take a breath. “I’ll fix it, Y/N. I promise you, I’ll make it up to you. To all of you.”

***

Nick smelled like sunshine and heat and home. I marveled at it these days, desperate to burn every second into my memory, knowing that it could end at any moment. As much as I tried to put those lonely days behind me, I couldn’t help but feel the lingering fear that this bubble of happiness would burst and I would lose myself again.

I’d come upon them by accident. Nicole and the boys were at school. Baby Ty was asleep in the nursery. I had planned on getting started on lunch for when Mattie had a break. Yet, the moment I stepped into the kitchen I saw them at the table. Mattie, her dark hair pulled back in a messy knot, long legs folded beneath her on the bench, leaning unconsciously into Nick’s side. Nick, turned toward our daughter, his arm slung around her shoulder, head tilted sideways, brow furrowed in concentration.

I couldn’t help but take pictures. Dozens of them. The longer I looked, the more I cried. It was everything I’d ever wanted… a happy life with the people I loved the most in the whole world. Everything that happened had only made me more grateful for the moments I had.

“Oh, Nick,” I whispered, resting my hands on his ribs. “You’re here. You’re home, and there’s nothing else that I want.”

His blue eyes popped open. “Then why are you crying?”

I chuckled and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Because I’m watching you with our daughter. I’m watching you be a dad. And that’s the greatest joy I’ve ever known.”

Nick snatched me closer, burying his face against my neck. He hugged me tight, one hand cradling the back of my head. His chest rose and fell in gasping breaths, tears dampening the skin of my throat. I clutched him to me, falling into the strength and comfort and rightness of the way that it felt to be in his arms.

“You are enough,” I murmured over and over again. “You’ve always been enough, Nick. I love you so much. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. All I’ve ever wanted was to have this… this life with you.”

Nick sucked in a breath and leaned back, cradling my face with his hands. “I hated myself for so long… wanting what my brother had. For wanting you and everything that being with you would bring.”

I shushed him, smiling softly as I looked into his beautiful blue eyes. “Then I should hate me too, Nick. But Matt doesn’t hate us, so why should we hate ourselves? I have you. You have me. We have Matt, and we have these beautiful children. And God knows, the happiest moments of my life are watching you be a dad.”

Wriggling out of his hold, I picked up my phone and pulled up one of the pictures I’d just taken. He slipped the phone from my fingers and stared at the photo until the screen went black. I rested my forehead against his bicep.

“Dad! I’m stuck again,” Mattie called over her shoulder. I felt Nick heave a breath. He wiped his eyes and pressed a kiss to my hair.

“Coming, Tea.”

Tag List

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#too late tales #the too late tales #nick jackson fanfiction #matt jackson fanfiction #nick jackson #matt jackson #young bucks #young bucks fanfiction #aew #aew fanfiction #mattie jackson #matt x reader #nick x reader #matt x reader x nick #polyamory #polyamorous relationships

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geekkatsblog · 3 years

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Grey's Anatomy season 17 episode 4

(Get these characters some Ragu sauce because they've been through enough.)

This episode has been the best for the season so far, I loved it.

_________________________________________

Jackson and Jo

(Never thought I'd have to put them in a title together.)

Jackson and Jo I was intrigued at first when they were being just friends but then they swapped it and slept together. At this point I'm not sure if I like the pairing it's kinda odd borderline cringe, but maybe it'll change. It might be because it came on so suddenly and different. They've pledged to be a friends with benefits thing which is for the best, because Jackson really does go through clothes like he does clothes, but we all know how that is going to end up, someone is going to catch feelings and I don't think it's going to be Jo.

Honestly I'm not sure what they're doing with Jackson. He hasn't had a plot in a really long time it seems like they're just using him as a general filler to put the ladies in relationships, and where did my baby Harriet go she carried the show for the few seconds she was in it last time.

Other than their new arrangement neither Jackson nor Jo have any pressing plots at the moment.

___________________________________________

Link and Amelia

(Currently carrying the Grey's relationship game.)

Before we get into it can I just express how adorable it was seeing Amelia gardening and mothering. She's really doing a great job.

And Link and his one man band serenading his son is adorable as well. He's an awesome father as everyone knew he would have been.

The pandemic and the possibility of Meredith dying is getting to them, as it would for anyone in their positions. I loved that he sat with Amelia and allowed her to feel all her feelings. Link has been the only partner Amelia has had who actually listened to her instead of talking over her concerns and dismissing them and in return she sat with him and allowed him to process his grief in the way he preferred to. Their levels of communication is on point right now and I am excited to see where it goes. Then there's also the scene where she's afraid for Meredith, her and Meredith had a rocky start and even now they don't have the best relationship but still it's great to see the moments where they let us know that they do care about each other.

___________________________________________

Nico and Levi

(At this point I'm sad to put these two names together up here.)

I shipped those two so strong at the beginning but now I just want Levi to stand up for himself and leave Nico hanging, give him some time to let him realise what a good thing he is messing up. I'm still seething at his hypocrisy calling Levi a baby gay and lowkey pressuring Levi to come out to and move out of his mother's basement only for him to find out that Nico hasn't come out to his parents either and worst of all basically left him homeless by putting him out.

I was sad to see that Levi was falling down the same rabbit hole again. Levi hunny you deserve better. At the beginning of the episode when they had that awkward hi moment I was like oh no here we go again. Jo's reaction to finding out about them was perfect their friendship really has grown on me. It was a little odd at first but I approve of them as each other's persons, and for Jo to let him know he's worth more until Nico gets his crap together.

___________________________________________

Owen

Oh Owen, no just no, he miss diagnosed a patient because he didn't look at the whole picture and just saw a piece, however he took the time to educate himself so I'm feeling a little better, I was expecting him to get mad or offended but he wasn't he took it in stride usually some of the doctors would tend to get snippy at the resident's when they pointed out that they made a mistake but he didn't. This is a common mistake made where doctors don't take into concept ethnicity when they're diagnosing patients and I'm glad they touched on this topic.

Owen has no other current plots at this point to touch on, at least until him and Teddy talk again.

___________________________________________

Richard Webber

Meredith better be alright and come out unscathed, because if she does that will destroy Webber. He was so stressed all episode trying to make the decision of whether to put Meredith in the trial or not and I could only imagine the panic that went through him when he heard her mention George. Finally he made the decision to put her in the trial. Her reason for putting her as her POA was because Richard tends to be calm in most situations but she underestimated how important she is to everyone in the hospital they were all literally only interested in her during the briefing, and seeing him in her room all the time was adorable she was alone yet not alone at the same time because he was always in the room watching over her. He is the father that Meredith never had.

__________________________________________Bailey

(Her plot is apparently coming next week)

She really didn't do much other than educate Owen, worry over Meredith and express her concern about her parent's recent move to an assisted living facility.

Seeing her and George together again warmed my heart and seeing her on the beach with Meredith was a surprise as well especially because the few conversations they had in season 16 were the most I'd seen them talk about things that didn't involve work, but they've been together from the beginning along with Richard and been with her through it all, they're all a family and even though her and Meredith have their ups and down they have a similar relationship to Amelia and Meredith they fight sometimes but when push comes to shove they are there for each other.

___________________________________________

Teddy

(A moment of silence for season 5 through 7 Teddy. May she rest in peace.)

Her plot wasn't so much as about her as it was about Meredith but I understand her concern about Meredith dying under her watch. The whole hospital was basically looking over her shoulder with pitchforks for incase she screwed up. It's a lot of pressure when Meredith Grey is your patient, and after the whole her being heard cheating on Owen with Tom by the whole OR the eyes were probably sharper than ever.

But then onto the worst part, her going to visit Tom. Now I know he said he was going to move on for his own sake, but out of all the times they broke up or separated he has never actually ignored her he would have answered even if it was to say go away and even so he has Covid and wasn't answering the door, why didn't she try to open the door or call 911 that's concerning. She could have even threatened to call the ambulance first just to make sure he wasn't really ignoring her. That would have gotten a response from him for sure. But I just can't fathom how she just left after getting no answer from him.

___________________________________________

Maggie

(Get it hun.)

Her and Winston are so cute and they haven't even met in person yet. Seeing the way how they handled the whole dinner with his father was a nice moment. The dinner was super awkward and he managed to make me hate his dad in one scene. This one seems to be the real deal for Maggie she isn't freaking out at the pace like she usually does and took the invitation to family dinner quite well. I'm glad to see she's no longer a cheerleader but now has a life of her own and probably soon maybe even a plot.

___________________________________________

Tom Koracick

(Take Owen instead.)

NOOOOOO not Tom, we haven't gotten to see his character development yet. And why has he been through as much as someone who has been on the show since season 6 give the dude a break man. The whole time I knew he was going to get worst being asymptomatic doesn't necessarily mean that you won't get them later plus the fact that they sent him home alone was enough to know that something was going to go bad.

First thing first the rest of the doctors are sickening the way they treat him, can he come on strong and be a douche yes but I remember Bailey telling George at one point when he was making fun of Karev that they still had to be on his side even if they didn't like him. They are not on Koracick's side they just sent him home to rot and now it may very well cost him his life. I know Meredith is the sun but they could have at least kept Tom in the hospital to just to monitor him or if that wasn't able to happen they could have kept better tabs on him to make sure he was ok.

Am I the only one who's seeing Helm as his intern later in the future? They clearly have the same taste in video games and they would get along better when he becomes more open to people. Plus idk Helm just reminds me of someone in Nuero or even cardio, she has that tough attitude and strong drive like Cristina and Stephanie etc.

I don't think he's going to die though or at least I hope he's not going to die. Bailey's mother is there for a reason I more see her as the one to die.

___________________________________________

Meredith

Last but certainly not least is Meredith am I the only one who suspected that George was next Ellen Pompeo and T.R Knight have a good relationship off set. If anyone was coming back it was going to be George. I can't see Eric Dane coming back. Chyler is filming Supergirl in Vancouver I think and the others are still alive which makes it more unlikely for them to show up on the beach unless if they heard about Meredith being sick and came back to help or something.

Either way I was ecstatic when I saw George, as I said at some point before he was one of those characters that I didn't like before but the more I watched the show the more I appreciated him until he became one of my favorite characters on the show. He's every bit as 'Georgelike' as I remember him. The only thing was I was a little peeved at the fact that she got to be close to George and talk about her kids with him and not Derek but as I realised later apparently Derek is death and when she reaches him it means she choose to live. Which I'm ok with I guess it was good just seeing them again, and it was even better when we got to see the 4 OG's sitting together again even if it was just in a dream.

She has to pick her kids, they need her and so does GreySloan, she needs to live.

I'm hoping she recovers soon, as much as I would like to see even more visitors at the beach. Has Meredith not been through enough? Although this is as peaceful as I've seen her to be completely honest.

___________________________________________

Next week is looking extremely dramatic already.

Meredith seems to be getting better although who knows how long that will last.

Koracick is worst like I said before I don't think he will actually die but something extremely dramatic is going to happen besides him being near death it might be another peice to the Teddy, Owen and Tom love triangle seeing that they're both working on him.

And the last part I saw was Bailey's mom I knew her talking about her parents all of the sudden meant that something was going to happen to one or both of them. Unfortunately I think she might be the one to die Grey's has a habit of bringing in secondary characters when too many primary characters are at risk. Plus it'll give Bailey her plot which I'm lowkey ok with because Chandra Wilson's Emotional scenes are always on point.

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings ch. 3

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

Marinette wonders when she got used to the crushing weight of expectations that had been imposed upon her by the Powers That Be. She also wonders when she got used to being lonely. These are two separate events, she’s fairly sure, but it isn’t like she keeps a diary anymore. She has long since fallen out of that habit, because she doesn’t want another Sabrina incident. With the class the way it is now, she can’t even fathom how much damage her diary could bring to her classmates, and likely, the whole of Paris. Because for some reason, Hawkmoth has some sort of a vendetta against her class.

Which is the whole reason why she didn’t transfer out of Mademoiselle Bustier’s class in the first place. Sure, she tried for the first few months to expose Lila and get things back to the status quo, but Marinette can only try and fail so many times before getting tired of her classmate’s willful ignorance. Then, she stayed in class for Adrien. Such a sweet, misguided boy. Marinette wonders how he would have turned out if his father was less of an asshole, or if his mother were still around. No use crying over spilled milk; she still feels bad for him, but she’s no longer staying in class for him. Her crush on Adrien is a thing of the past.

As it is currently, Mlle. Bustier’s class simply provides the most excellent cover for all of her escapades and an excellent vantage point to see what the next akuma might be.

After all, their class encompasses both the people who are most often akumatized-- minus Monsieur Ramier and Augustine-- and the people who are most likely to cause somebody’s akumatization. These are the usual suspects:

Chloe, who has admittedly improved her attitude after reconciling with her mother, but still doesn’t know how to deal with people like an ordinary person would.

Lila, whose lies and half truths have ended more than one person’s dreams (as well as her own penchant to get akumatized willingly, but that hasn’t happened often after the first year, and Marinette doesn’t really want to go into that).

Adrien, who never intends to get anybody akumatized, but ends up doing so when the media catches him doing anything. Because everything he does gets covered by the media heavily. So when he goes out with friends and is mistaken for having a lover, there are a lot of angry fangirls who get akumatized.

Oh, and then there’s Marinette herself. She’s honestly not sure how or why so many people around her end up getting akumatized-- maybe she takes other people’s luck in exchange for having an abundance of her own-- but there’s certainly quite a number.

And if she’s talking about family relations, this class takes the cake too. Adrien’s father lashes out at his employees so often that Marinette is surprised that all his workers haven’t quit yet. Gabriel’s attitude has also convinced Marinette that she never wants to work at the man’s self-named brand. Mayor Bourgois and Audrey Bourgeois are both… frightening in their own ways. Both can end careers easily, but Audrey definitely goes about ending careers in a more harmful way. Juleka’s mom pisses off anybody who tries to come down the Seine; numerous akumas have appeared in response to her loud music blasting at all times of the day. And Ivan’s parents? Sweethearts, but both are so sensitive that their family is a prime target for Hawkmoth.

She wonders when the new boy, Damian, will get akumatized. She doesn’t think-- hopes-- that he won’t, but with the track rate of their classmates, it was highly unlikely that he wouldn’t. So far, Marinette and Adrien have been the only ones in the class who haven’t been, including the series of brief transfers to their classes last year. Maybe he’ll be another to add to their number. And Marinette and Adrien both moonlight as superheroes. There’s probably some Miraculous magic involved, but Marinette’s not entirely sure. Master Fu doesn’t have answers for many of the questions that Marinette asks.

Damian seems like a decent person with a good head on his shoulders. Marinette hopes that he transfers away from this class soon, because she would feel awful if he does end up getting caught up with her classmate’s delusional version of reality. Because even though Lila has calmed down a lot and no longer tells such outlandish tales as she did in her first year at Francois Dupont, everyone else still follows her so mindlessly that it isn’t a healthy relationship for anyone involved. Marinette is almost certain that there are multiple people in the class that must know Lila was lying but now perpetuate this twisted version of reality because they’re afraid. Ninth and tenth year were important; if Lila really did lie about all of her connections, that means they messed their own futures up and need to work on themselves to fix it--something that is difficult to admit and commit to matter what age a person is. To admit that they did something wrong and take steps to fix it-- Marinette doesn’t think any of her classmates have that kind of mindset. After all, if anyone else had guts, there’s no way that Chloe would have been class president for as long as she was.

Lunch comes around quickly, and Damian manages to catch her on her way out, grabbing and holding her forearm. Marinette is cautious, making sure that none of Lila’s lackeys are around. Despite her agreement with Lila, her classmates tend to make everything a much bigger deal than it should be, and they always tell Lila whenever Marinette steps so much as a foot out of line. Lila doesn’t always act on her classmates' words, but when there are too many voices that say that Marinette is doing something wrong, Lila has to act; if she doesn’t, she’s at risk of losing her position of power. Once Marinette is sure there is no one from Mlle. Bustier’s class watching, she pulls Damian with her to an alleyway a short ways away from her family’s bakery.

“I’m telling you again. You really don’t want to be seen with me.”

“If you think I care about Lila, you’re mistaken. I will be seen with who I want to be seen with.”

Marinette’s hand is warm and calloused. Her fingertips are extra soft, like she takes care to moisturize them more than the rest of her hand.

The alleyway is surprisingly nice. Much nicer than any alleyway that Damian would find in Gotham, that’s for certain. It doesn’t have any blood stains and there are no crazy psychos hiding in the shadows. Instead, sunlight is let through the shorter of the two buildings, only five stories. Sure, the place smells slightly of urine and trash and there’s broken bottles everywhere, but that is par for the course for any major city.

Marinette’s not sure why Damian seems to be going out of his way to talk to her. She’s seen him interact with the other students, and he was positively stoic with them. His words are still clipped when he’s talking to her, but at least he speaks full sentences.

“It’ll be bad for your social health if you keep trying to talk to me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t believe I ever asked for you to look after my social health, and I certainly don’t want to talk to the idiots in that class.”

“I don’t think you understand, Damian. You might not mind being alone, but being lonely is different. It feels bad, and Hawkmoth will take advantage of you.” Marinette knows what being lonely is like, because despite her loving parents and all of her friends that she’s made outside of school in the past two years, before that, her world was limited. Sometimes, she wishes that some magical being came with Miraculous. Someone that she can actually talk to about all of her problems, both hero-related and those in her everyday life. As it is, Marinette never talks about what she does as Ladybug, unless she’s referring to herself in the third person and is forced to. Marinette doesn’t need people trying to figure out she is Ladybug, and despite Master Fu’s assurances that people without a Miraculous will never, ever catch on, she prefers to err on the side of caution. And as Ladybug, she only ever talks to Chat Noir, never deigning to talk about her personal life because it will be way too easy for Adrien to make the jump between her everyday problems and Marinette, because Adrien is a Miraculous user, and the Identity Concealment magic supposedly is less effective between Miraculous users.

“I don’t believe we’ve interacted enough for you to judge my mental fortitude. Besides, you might have told me to avoid you, but I never agreed.”

The former part of Damian’s statement isn’t true, but Damian doesn’t know that. As a superhero, Marinette needs to know how to judge people quickly and effectively. She’s read plenty of books on psychology and body language, clocked endless hours of videos on the subject. There’s also the matter of her bountiful personal experience, what with figuring out the issues of the ever increasing number of akumas that pop up around the city. Still, it isn’t like Marinette can actively refute his statement.

For a while, the two of them stand in contemplative silence.

“Fine, then, I’ll tell you why you need to avoid me. We might as well get out of this alleyway, though.” Marinette eyes the dumpster that stands a few meters away from them.

“And here I thought you were fond of alleyways,” Damian says, in reference to the first time they met.

She laughs, and it feels good. Marinette hasn't laughed in quite some time. Lately, her parents are always busy. They want to expand their patissiere by opening a second branch. That means they don’t have much family time, and when they do, it’s typically spent talking shop. Manon has continued in her bratty toddler stage, and the rest of the kids that she babysits are in a similar state. Uncle Jagged and Aunt Penny are still touring, bringing Luka around for the ride, Kagami’s currently in intensive training for the World Cup, and she simply hasn’t had enough time to see any of her other friends.

“I’d like to think that I'm more fond of my parents' macarons, than I am of alleyways.” Marinette leads him through the other end of the alleyway and through a few streets to get to the back entrance that leads directly to their house instead of the bakery. At least since Maman and Papa are so busy with business, she never needs to talk about her friends in school, or lack thereof.

“Let me get this straight,” Damian says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You had four transfers last year and each of them ended up as akumas multiple times because of her lies, students who don’t believe her get expelled, suspended, or bullied, and the teacher and school refuse to do anything about it?”

“Well, Principal Damocles refuses to do anything; Mlle. Bustier believes her.” Marinette sips the cup of hot cocoa she prepared and lounges on her chaise. She doesn’t bother saying that all the transfers occurred in a six month period, after which Lila let up on her tyranny and turned into an average albeit still incredibly charismatic teen. Neither does she bother mentioning that Lila doesn’t lie anymore-- at least, not any big ones-- and has stopped getting herself willingly akumatized. She’s trying to get Damian to transfer out, after all.

“That’s even worse. They’re useless.”

“It depends on your point of view. They’re very useful if you’re Lila or the rest of the class.”

Damian swivels the chair so he’s facing Marinette in her entirety. “How have you managed three years with that orange demon? Better question, why have you not transferred?”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” It’s not like Marinette can tell him the real reason why she’s staying in the class. That’s why she hasn’t told her parents about all of this. If they knew, they would definitely make her transfer classes, if not schools.

“That is no good reason for me to continue to stay with her group. I hate lying manipulators.” Damian’s mother is a good example.

“You might hate them, but if you can’t beat them and you can’t leave, you have to join them, or at least make a truce. And there’s no way Lila is going to give you up.”

“I really should just transfer.”

“I agree whole-heartedly. Please do.”

“But I can’t. My father won’t arrange a transfer for me. He wants me in that class.” More accurately-- Damian knows how many akumas came out of that class, and there is no way that he’s going to transfer away from it. It’s easier to figure out a game plan if he’s able to watch the action.

“I could arrange a transfer for you, if you want.”

“No, that’s too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble, and if it helps one person by preventing them from getting akumatized, that’s great.”

“Why can’t you just expose her?” Damian counters.

“Tried that two years ago. Failed. Miserably. I almost got expelled.” She tactfully leaves out the fact that Lila also got her back in school. After years of making up excuses for where she’s been when an akuma attack calls her away, she’s gotten very skillful at lies by omission. Besides, if they’re to help someone, that’s okay, right?

“If you can’t expose her then how are you going to get me transferred out?”

“Those are two separate issues. I might not be able to persuade a classroom that’s very interdependent on their relations with each other, but I was class president for two years, so I know people.”

Damian decides to revise his tactics. “I don’t back down from a challenge. Besides, I want to see her empire crumble.”

The last part isn’t true. He cares little for the Italian girl, even less for their other classmates. People like Lila are alarmingly common when you run in the circles of the rich and powerful, and there are certainly people whose charisma is infinitely more dangerous. Lex Luthor, for instance. He shakes off thoughts of the dangerous business man. Damian needs to stay in this class because it’s the best lead that he’s got right now. He’s trying to be as covert as possible, under League request. Apparently, the Justice League of America isn’t supposed to interfere with what’s going on in Europe unless they call in for help. Damian thinks that’s a stupid rule-- in the end, they’re all just trying to protect the world-- but he agreed to secrecy and keeping his head down when accepting the mission. That means he’s not suddenly going to start asking his classmates about akumas unless they’re brought up in conversation. Unnecessary suspicion is a bad thing in this instance.

He takes another bite of the pastry that Marinette brought up for him. It’s much better than a lot of the other vegan options he’s found in Paris-- not that there are many to begin with. Everything in this damn city is made with butter or cheese. There is a lull in the conversation, and then, “She has no reason to hold on to me. I’ll just stay with you, in the back of the class.”

Marinette laughs at this.

“Lila isn’t going to let you go.”

“What do you mean by that? She let you go.” Damian almost feels like he should be affronted at some of the statements that Marinette has made. He feels like she doesn’t appreciate or know how capable he is. It feels weird to have somebody not hold him to the impossibly high pedestal of a genius billionaire’s son. Now that he’s with Marinette, he’s glad that the Justice League sent him under a different last name. He can only imagine the chaos that it would have caused when he arrived.

Marinette rolls her eyes. “She didn’t willingly let me go. She only did because I was constantly undermining her, though unsuccessfully. And besides, there’s a very big difference between the two of us.”

“I’m very capable at undermining people.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Marinette snorts. Damian Grayson is quite the character. They’ve met in the oddest of situations each time. At first, she thought he might be a stalker, but after getting to know Damian a little better, Marinette believes that it’s coincidence-- there’s no way that someone with as much pride as Damian would go out of his way to follow a mere girl. If he wanted to go out with someone, he’d simply demand it. “But the key difference is our gender. Lila Rossi may be bisexual, but her desired gender of arm candy is male. I’m sure you’ve seen her with Adrien. The blonde one?”

At Damian's nod, Marinette continues. “Don’t get your ego even more inflated, but you are good looking. You’re Lila’s type. Tall, muscular, green eyed. You’re the perfect balance to Adrien’s sunshine demeanor. Besides, she can’t have a girl with self-confidence within her circle, so there was no way that we could have peacefully coexisted in the same group to begin with.”

Marinette’s comment about his appearance makes him feel an unexpected shock of pleasure. He knows he’s good looking. All of the Wayne kids are. He’s gotten enough compliments on his appearance to last him ten lifetimes. But knowing that Marinette finds him attractive feels different. She doesn't seem to be the type to exaggerate, and has a good objective eye for beauty.

“Yes, she already has Adrien. She doesn’t need me as well.”

“Greed never stops.” Marinette finishes her cup of hot cocoa and now stares at her ceiling, then at the wall opposite her, covered in fabric and design sketches. It seems like it was only yesterday when the walls of her bedroom were filled with the countless modelling endeavors of one Adrien Agreste. Now, there are very few pictures of him at all. She wishes that she got to hang out with him more, civilian to civilian.

When she figured out that Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir were the same, it was a day for the record books. She had so much emotional whiplash that day that it still gives her nausea just thinking about it. Marinette figures that it is a good thing she found out when she did, otherwise she might have continued with her crush on him and would have ended up pointlessly heartbroken. She still loves him, just not the way lovers do. Marinette also suspects that Adrien himself is not looking for a relationship of any sort besides friendship. He’s been more tense in recent months, and Chat Noir confessed that people touching him made him uncomfortable.

Marinette wants nothing more but to rip Adrien from Asshole Gabriel’s hands. But she can’t, because Marinette doesn’t have the trust of Adrien Agreste. Not in the capacity that she needs him to. Not in the capacity that will allow her to unseat Gabriel as she so desperately wishes to. If Ladybug entrusted Marinette to help Adrien out, there is no doubt that Adrien would figure out her alter ego, and that is dangerous knowledge. Especially since he is so tense with everything else going on in his life. It’s a recipe for a powerful akuma and the horrifying possibility of Hawkmoth learning her civilian identity. Ever since retiring the other heroes, Marinette knows that she can’t afford to have Chat Noir or Adrien akumatized. She’s certain that she can beat him in either form, but on the off chance that Hawkmoth decides on a mass akumatization, she can’t beat them all. She’s just not strong enough, no matter how many hours she trains and no matter how many times she takes down baddies in her civilian form.

“So what, I should just let her put her hands all over me?”

That… admittedly sounds unpleasant. Marinette isn’t sure what Adrien and Lila have going on, but Marinette knows that they’re not actually in a relationship. She’s fairly sure that Adrien and Lila have stuck some sort of deal on their own, but she’s not close enough to ask Adrien, and she’s definitely not going to ask Lila. Still, when Marinette addressed her concerns with Lila’s touchy tendencies, Adrien gave her a weak smile and said that that was just part of Lila’s nature. He implied that he dealt with worse, which made Marinette worried to hell and back, but ultimately Adrien convinced Marinette that touching him was not done with ill intent by Lila and that her touch warded off other people’s interest. He promised that he was fine, and that he would tell Marinette if he was really uncomfortable. So Marinette let sleeping dogs lie, because despite her initial animosity towards Lila, she was good at manipulating attention away from Adrien whenever he was having a particularly bad day.

“I told you, I can get you transferred out.”

“And I told you that I never back down from a challenge.”

“Then it seems like we’re at an impasse.”

“I suppose we are.”

Marinette’s phone alarm goes off, and she jumps from her chaise. “We’ve got to get back to school. Class starts in five. You go first, I’ll clean up.”

“I am not a rude houseguest.”

“Well, I don’t want to be seen with you in school, so leave.” Marinette’s sudden burst of rudeness is unlike her, but she chalks it down to her deep-rooted desire for Damian not to end up like the four transfers last year. She keeps in contact with some of them still, and not all of them are doing all too well. Marinette really doesn’t want Damian to end up like that.

Damian’s mouth sets itself into a thin line. “Fine then, have it your way. Give me your phone number.”

A shrug. “If that’s what it’ll take for you to leave me alone during school.”

And then, Damian is off.

4:50PM | Unknown number: I’m testifying next Thursday.

4:55PM | Marinette: Damian?

Damian: Yes.

Marinette: oh

Marinette: me too

Marinette: i’m going to visit renee tomorrow

4:58PM | Damian: I’ll come with you. I’ll meet you at your parent’s bakery after school.

6:42PM | Marinette: uh

Marinette: how about that alleyway instead

Damian: If I must.

Marinette doesn’t really know what to make of Damian. The first time she meets him, she almost thinks he is another stalker. Almost, but not quite; he looks far too reluctant to be following her and looks too unfamiliar with the streets that they were going down to have done this before. Still, she doesn’t want to take any chances, so she makes quick work of her first stalker and immediately gets on the phone with the police, leaving her stalker in the alley despite her normal protocol to stay with the criminal until the police get there. She makes an exception for this, because even from a distance, the second person following her looks much more dangerous than the first, and she doesn’t want to fight with someone who’s bigger than her in a place that’s hard to run away in.

When he appears near the alleyway he seems annoyed, then relieved and surprised when he sees the body in the alleyway. Like it was something he didn’t want to deal with.

When she brushes past him, there isn’t a hint of recognition in his eyes. Nothing except for surprise, and maybe a little bit of admiration. A raised eyebrow, saying, really? This short little girl just beat a man twice her size up?

She ends up in violent altercations as a civilian on an almost regular basis. According to one of her stalkers, she was just so friendly. Clearly she wanted to go out with him. It’s her fault for coming onto him. When she isn’t fending off creepy men whose profiles were nearly all the same-- five to ten years older than her, with some sort of fetish for asian women (she shudders at the thought of being called exotic)-- she does her duty as a plain-clothes hero. Because her conscience will never let her get away with walking away from an instance that might end up harming someone else. Marinette feels an overwhelming sense of responsibility. She won’t forgive herself for not protecting the weak.

The next time she meets him, she’s surprised that he actually approaches her and asks if she needs help. He clearly doesn’t actually want her to take him up on the offer, so she immediately turns him down. Marinette isn’t sure why he feels so compelled to offer his help when he clearly didn’t want to but-- oh merde. The class is going to leave her behind again if she doesn’t run and try to catch the bus now. She can take the metro, but she is short on the amount she needs to get all the way home. Marinette is also unwilling to turn into Ladybug, because Ladybug only ever shows up on night patrols and when there’s an akuma, and she doesn’t want to send Parisians into a mass panic.

Despite his obvious unwillingness, she reneges on her words and asks him to watch over the thief. He seems more at ease with it than she expected. Maybe he really had meant his offer. Weird. She is usually pretty good at reading people. Why can’t she get a good read on this guy?

His posture, too, is more at ease than she would expect of any civilian. Usually, if she ever asks somebody to watch over somebody she’s detained, they’re nervous and a little jumpy. Their hands are glued to their phone, ready to make a call if the slightest thing goes wrong. But this guy is relaxed and confident. Just the way he’s standing screams of years of training, in fighting and possibly in etiquette. Maybe he comes from some high class family.

She doesn’t have time to contemplate why and where and how. She just leaves him.

Then he comes in like a ghost, when she’s helping poor Nicolette. Somehow, Marinette knows this voice, this step pattern. She only needs a single glance up to confirm her beliefs. It’s the guy she keeps seeing around town.

Despite her initial impression that he wasn’t dangerous, she still takes the proper measures to protect herself, just in case. She can never be too sure in situations like these, and although he has been nothing but helpful, she doesn’t particularly want to be on the receiving end of one of his punches. He looks like an athlete. Long, lean muscle. Dangerous too, if his eyes are anything to go by.

They’re dark green and calculating. He’s gone through Things. Marinette can almost guarantee that the guy has encountered at least a few life-threatening situations.

She wonders how it is that he only ever seems to appear once she’s done with whatever issue she’s dealing with. Is he stalking her to see the extent of her abilities? Is he trying to make her let her guard down? Something about him makes Marinette anxious. He looks like he wants to tear her apart to see her inner workings. To figure her out. He makes Marinette feel like he’s always on the verge of finding out her biggest secret, and she hates it.

Still, he makes for a pretty reliable cleanup partner. She doesn’t think that she would trust a regular civilian to keep watch over any person she thought was dangerous. Fraser is just a little too dangerous for Marinette to consider leaving alone in the street. She certainly would not have passed his care to any regular stranger.

But Nicolette is clearly in need of comfort, and Damian looks like he can take care of himself and any trouble that comes his way. Which makes Marinette even more wary of him. Would she be able to beat him in her civilian form? She is certain that she could if he is just some common street thug-- she’s taken down people bigger than him-- but she gets the foreboding feelings that he is more than that.

It’s almost comforting to see Damian’s reaction to Ladybug and the akuma. He looks equal parts confused and awe struck. There is a touch of cynicism in there, for sure, a little bit of disbelief, but somehow, it lets Marinette breathe a temporary sigh of relief.

He doesn’t know what is going on in Paris. He doesn’t know her-- either side of her. And it is going to stay that way.

Of course it doesn’t stay that way. Marinette uses up all of her luck during her time as Ladybug, so the person who is currently at the top of her Avoid list shows up to her school as the American transfer. Of course he decides to sit next to her. She bemoans the loss of her blessedly empty desk. Damian is taller and larger than most boys their age, but he sits far enough away from her.

That’s a good sign. He’s not going out of his way to touch her or make contact with her. Maybe this whole thing is just a coincidence. Please, let this whole thing be just a coincidence

Then he starts talking to her, and of course he notices the whole thing with Lila, how can he not? She didn’t make a wrong judgement on his level of perceptiveness. Great. That is one thing she would have gladly lost a bet on. Now, she has to deal with possible ramifications of Damian, six foot Adonis, not wanting to get along with Lila. Lila will not like this. Marinette knows exactly what she wants in her little circle: attractive boys and girls that are less pretty or less confident than her. People who are easily controlled by promises and tall tales. And although Damian only fits one of those categories, he will undoubtedly be on her shopping list.

After their awful first year together, Lila proposed a truce of sorts. They could either try being friends or they could stay out of each other’s ways. Lila wouldn’t actively bully Marinette, and Marinette wouldn’t actively try to expose her.

She can feel Lila’s eyes on her. Green. It seems like everybody and anybody who brought her trouble nowadays had green eyes. Tonight, she’ll throw out all the green items that she owns. Marinette doesn’t need any more bad luck around her.

They return from lunch, and Marinette prays to every God whose name she knows that he is no longer sitting in the back seat. That Lila successfully swept him up.

Of course she hasn’t. Damian’s too smart for his own damn good. Which means that she needs to start preparing for the consequences of the inevitable fallout. She really doesn’t want Damian to turn into an akuma. She’s pretty good at telling which people will be more powerful (devastating? devastating.) in their akumatized forms than others, and she’s pretty sure that Damian would round out her top five, alongside Adrien, her Maman, her cousin, Bridgette, and herself. People who have more control over themselves are that much scarier when they fall apart.

This time, Damian shows up before things are completely settled, and she’s thankful for it.

If she wants to build a case against this woman, she does not need accusations of her own violence levelled against her. Thus, Marinette had been almost entirely ready and willing to feel the woman’s slap, maybe even her nails cutting through her skin. None of that matters, though. Not in comparison to Renee’s future.

In Renee, Marinette can see a lot of Adrien. He is blonde, is soft spoken from what little she’s seen of him, and lives firmly under a rich and manipulative parent’s thumb. Even though he’s scared of getting hit by his mom, Marinette can feel, instinctively, that if she hits the woman back, not only will she be in trouble with the case, she will also have scared Renee.

Damian steps in at exactly the right time, and leaves her free to call the police.

Though he’s quiet throughout the ride to the station, she does see him look at the little boy in concern. Other than that, he seems curious. A little child-like, even. His eyes are darting around the inside of the cruiser. It’s almost comical. Maybe he’s scared of being in the back of the police car, but she can’t find it in her to bring out a laugh. Not when Renee is on her lap. Not when she can feel his tears through her shirt and his soft little hiccups. Marinette hates that woman. Hates her so much. Hates Gabriel, too.

Marinette is focusing more on Renee and the woman more than Damian, but when she does spare him a glance, he seems unsure. Discomfited. Maybe he wants to reassure Renee that it will be alright.

She has been preparing for a situation in which she can take Gabriel to court for almost an entire year now. Despite this, Marinette still pulls out her phone and checks a few websites to make sure that all of the information she has is correct. Damian pulls out his phone too, though he’s just fiddling with it so his hands have something to do.

By the time Marinette breaks past the woman’s painfully bad facade of being a good parent, Marinette feels her blood boiling. She knows that she is not immune to being akumatized, and is very glad that it’s highly unlikely Hawkmoth sends out another akuma today.

It hurt a little when she first discovered that she could be akumatized. She was thirteen, Ladybug, and invincible. Then, she was thirteen, Marinette, and scared. Despite the situation at the time, Marinette could never bring herself to fully hate Lila. In part, because she believed--and still believes-- that Adrien is at least partially right. She sees it, periodically. How lonely Lila is behind her lies and friendships. Marinette doesn’t know what the girl is missing, and she doesn’t particularly care to know, but Lila is young and immature and has time to shift her course. And after their truce, Lila backed down a lot. Her lies are soft, now. Quiet. Most times nonexistent. She doesn’t need to do much to manipulate the class into loving her because she laid down all the groundwork during that first, horrible year.

But Marinette feels entitled to be angry at these parents who treat their children like they are nothing more than tools. Like they are subhuman. Maybe some parents can’t love their children-- she understands that to some extent-- and maybe they can’t be with them all the time. However, if love isn’t possible, they should still treat their child with the basic courtesy of human decency. And there is a point where neglect turns into abuse. Marinette knows that-- sees that with Adrien and Gabriel-- all too well.

Marinette is glad that all of her previous encounters with criminals taught her to record from the moment she interferes. She is glad that she sprung for a phone with extra amounts of storage. Her palms are hot and trembly, but her head is cold. She feels a twisted sense of accomplishment wrenched from her gut as she watches Renee’s mother flee from the room.

It is in this cold daze that she finds herself outside with Damian. Alone together, again. And he asks her about Lila, and she doesn’t want to deal with whatever dangers Damian brings with him. She’s had to fight off an akuma, deal with an absolute horror of a woman, and when she goes home, she will have to finish a commission and study for a test tomorrow. Damian is an unnecessary complication.

Somehow, her life has become a never ending cycle. At least she will sleep better at night knowing that Renee is in better hands.

#miraculous ladybug #dc #mlbxdc #daminette #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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christmasgeek2010 · 3 years

Text

My Girl; Bang Chan One-Shot

Genre: Angst

Synopsis: You start to drown in your college work, and as a result, question your credibility and worth. Luckily, your boyfriend comes home just in time to catch you as you fall and remind you of who you are and what you’re worth.

Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts, mentions of nudity, established relationship.

A/N: Hello! This is my first work published here, and I’ve debated posting this for a few months, but figured if it gets no traction at least I had the balls to post it. If you have any feedback or want me to write something for you, don’t hesitate to send in an ask, or comment, or even DM me! I hope you enjoy!

You had always loved your balcony. Your french door balcony was your release. It was your relief from the world’s problems and your escape from any stress or tension you ever had. You had come onto this balcony when you had fights with your parents or friends, when you needed relaxation when doing homework, when you had a bad day at college or work, or when you found yourself longing for your boyfriend, Chan.

Chan. Christopher Bang. God, you loved Chan. He had asked you out in sophomore year of high school after you two met in middle school, and you two had been a team ever since. You two had the same friend group, watching as people came and went and cried and laughed together for almost ten years now. You two had gone to great lengths for each other, never giving up on each other or your relationship. You never knew how you got lucky to be able to know the man for almost a decade, let alone call him yours for a little over half that time. And he felt the exact same way about you. You were his world, his light, his muse. He admired how you carried yourself, always holding your head high and looking for the positives in any given situation. You always found something good to say, about anyone or anything. Even the most despised teachers on your college campus had been spoken about in a light manner from you. It was incredible how you could do something so easily that not many people can do with ease like you do. Yet, he didn’t see you breaking.

You hid your bad days from Chan. You trusted him with everything you had in you, but he was the leader of an 8 man group that was currently on a steady incline in fame. His group, Stray Kids, was constantly releasing content, let alone music, and he had a hand in producing almost all of it. Plus, you can’t forget about all the variety shows the group does, the interviews, the music show performances, and not to mention his weekly Vlive show “Chan’s Room” he does on Sundays for Stays that last almost 2 hours sometimes. You went with them every chance you got, as you two were public for a while. JYP himself had come to accept the relationship. Mainly because he saw how much talent and potential Chan had, but he refused to break up with you for his career. You three compromised, and every day after college you go to JYP entertainment and help around as much as possible as your end of the deal. JYP told you a few years ago it was no longer necessary, but you insisted. You knew how much of a risk he took letting Chan date you through his trainee days into debut, and you felt like you owed the man a lot, even if he overworked your boyfriend and his group. You also went in because you got to see the boys often. You had grown a huge soft spot for them all, especially Jisung and Jeongin.

Your dedication to your end of the deal, however, is the reason you’re on your balcony at 1:48am in the freezing rain. JYP told you to take a few weeks off to focus on your studies as he was sure you were falling behind, and falling behind you were. You had a massive stack of work that was overdue, and another of stuff that’s due soon. You had always been good at your studies and well advanced in education, but even this was overwhelming for you. It’s not like it was hard, it was all rather easily. However, even looking at the stack of work piling into both your laptop and at your desk made you uneasy and lightheaded. You had already eliminated half of the stack within the last 3 days, but it was so much. You wanted to hide from the world and shut it all out, run away from it all. The demons in your head constantly were at war. Convincing you that you weren’t worth Chan or your scholarships, that you weren’t worth the risk taken on you by JYP, that you weren’t worth being so close to such kind and selfless souls as Stray Kids. That you were a failure. That you should’ve been kicked to the curb by your lover long ago and he should be with someone far more better than you. It didn’t help that your boyfriend hadn’t been around for a day or two, having to spend more time than usual on producing for the group and making sure choreography was being made for the comeback that would be announced in a few months.

You leaned against your balcony’s railing, your hair sticking to your face as the flannel, Chan’s flannel, was sticking to your small frame along with the rest of your clothes. You didn’t hear the front door to your apartment open, didn’t hear the footsteps coming down the hallway, didn’t hear the voice calling out for you, didn’t hear the bedroom door open, didn’t realize you had tears cascading down your face until you felt a warm and slightly calloused hand brush against your cheek, wiping away one of many droplets, rain or tear, before two arms wrapped around your body, immediately filling you with a sense of safety, warmth, and peace of mind.

“Why are you out here in the pouring rain, baby, and how long have you even been out here? Your clothes are completely soaked through. Talk to me, my girl.” The second name made you crack a small hint of a smile. You always loved when Chan called you his girl, it reminded you that he was your home, and that you were the luckiest woman in the world. You sniffled, only realizing you had been crying for a while when your nose was stuffed from crying, placing one of your hands gently on Chan’s arms and rubbing soft circles on the skin with your thumb.

“College has just been rough, Channie. That’s all it is. I have it handled.”

“You clearly don’t if you're in the freezing rain unconsciously crying, my love.” Chan tugged you inside, ever so grateful that your bedroom was carpeted as you two walked in soaked. He asked you to go into the bathroom and get undressed for a warm shower, grabbing a pair of panties and one of his shirts for you since he knew how much you loved wearing his clothes when you were upset. You did as he asked, knowing he was tired from work. He walked in and undressed with you, turning on the shower and getting the water to a desirable heat before helping you in, getting in behind you as he grabbed the shampoo and started scrubbing your hair gently.

“Seriously, Y/N, what’s wrong? You know I won’t judge you, whatever it is.” You sighed and rubbed your arms, still warming up from the cold outside.

“I’m overwhelmed with college. I’m way more behind in work than I realized, and even though I got through so much work while you were gone, it’s still so much, and that’s without what’s not past due. Looking at all of it makes me feel uneasy, like I’m a failure for having that much backwork. I don’t feel like I deserve you because of it. You work so incredibly hard, for the boys and for us, and here I am struggling to get my shit together like a responsible adult before graduating college this year.” Chan couldn’t help but frown as you told him your honest feelings. He was grateful that you didn’t hide stuff from him often, especially when it got really bad, but he also felt his heart ache at your pain. You were his best friend, his girlfriend, his partner in crime, and dare he say his soulmate, and he had seen you basically grow up. You were his other half. You both had similar work ethics and similar viewpoints in life, which meant you both tore yourselves down when you didn’t succeed how you wanted, and sometimes you both forgot that the other would never love you any less for not jumping over a hurdle with ease.

“My girl, your struggles will never make me love you any less. You’ve always been my number one supporter, and I will always be yours. Your struggles are what make you human, and what make you who you are. And I love who you are. I still can’t fathom how I’m able to call someone who’s as understanding and patient as you. Anyone else would’ve left as soon as I started working the way I do, but you stayed. You stayed because you know that this is my dream, and you’re willing to live my dream with me. I couldn’t be more proud of how hard you work. You’re a full time college student, work part time at the company doing basically everything, you help me care for the boys, and tend to me when I’ve had a bad day at work or get stressed from being unable to finish songs. You’re truly amazing, and I couldn’t ask for a better person to call mine than you. The boys love you, and I love you a million times over. I could never be ashamed of you, or disappointed in a little bump in the road. You’ll always be my everything, understand?” Chan rinses your hair before turning you around. Hot tears start streaming down your face again, this time mixing with the warm shower instead of the rain. You gently wrap your arms around your sweet boyfriend, squeezing his torso as he can’t help but smile and hold you against him. His fingers comb through your hair gently, knowing that’s your best relaxing tactic. Your breath is shaky as you look up at him, nothing but appreciation and love in your eyes.

“I love you, Chan. I’m so lucky that you’re a part of my life. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put into words how much you mean to me and how much you’ve influenced me over the years.” Chan’s smile only grows at your words, knowing that you’re going to be okay. Chan’s been your rock for what feels like a lifetime. He’s not perfect, and neither are you. Neither of you expect the other to be perfect. The two of you have always only asked for the other to try, and try you do. You both steady each other, make each other whole. Any one else would see your position, bare bodies embracing the other as a promiscuous moment, but to you two, it’s another moment in your relationship that makes you realize how much you love the other. There will be more, much more for you two to face, but that’s for another day. A day that will end with the both of you hand in hand ready to face whatever the world throws at you once more. A day that will only make Chan more certain that he wants to marry you, have kids with you, and grow old with you. That he wants you by his side when his group makes it even bigger worldwide, when they eventually disband, when he retires from the entertainment industry, when he only writes songs for you as gifts. When he releases his first love song inspired solely by you, when his best friends get married, when his parents are no longer a part of this world. He wants you, only you, forever you.

“I love you too, my girl. I’ll always be the luckiest man in the world, as long as I have you by my side.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids oneshot #bang chan #christopher bang #stray kids chan

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atomicblasphemy · 3 years

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Chamomile {Part III}

Eda and Amity share a cup of tea.

In front of her, her chin resting upon sharp and well kept nails, her eyes that had seen so much so intense, the Owl Lady, Edalyn Clawthorne, watched in expectancy, hardened eyes. Her posture relaxed still, no overt animosity. At least none directed towards the girl, the woman seemed to simply try to convey the weight behind the question, to tell the young Blight that all sincerity was needed now. She was face to face with the still most powerful witch in the whole of the Boiling Isles. No loss of magic, no curse, no cheap tricks her enemies pulled off would ever change that. Magic was not the cause for her overwhelming power, curses were no impediment, tricks were no obstacles for a woman such as this. The surrogate mother of the one who changed Amity in so short a period sat in front of her. The queen, sat upon her throne, undisputed with her crown above her head, awaited for Amity, the Blight,’s answer.

Amity took a long sip of her cup of chamomile, still hot enough, but not scalding anymore. There was no right nor wrong answer to a question like that. Emboldened by the warm drink, her Blight composure, her heritage, restored. Amity chose to take yet another leap of faith, a firm unwavering voice offered.

“I am Amity Blight. A student at Hexside, top of the class in the abomination track. Sister to Edric and Emira Blight. Daughter to Alador and Odalia. Used to be captain of the Banshees. I used to dream about joining the Emperor’s coven. I used to have light brown hair, but that’s green now. And a witch in love with a human.”

Eda’s eyes still studied the young witch. Her unchanged posture not giving away whether Amity’s answer had had any results. Still, the girl couldn’t help but to pride on her own composure. Taking a sip of her own, Eda finally answered.

“You know that none of that answers my question, don’t you? But it sounds like we’re getting there. We have time. Maybe we should keep with the theme instead. Why don’t you tell me about Willow? You messed her head real good that day of the photo class incident, you know?”

Looking off to the side, a different kind of blush coloring her pale features, Amity shrunk slightly.

“Yeah... I learned my lesson though. I won’t be messing with anyone’s memories again, I promise.”

Eda let out a chuckle.

“That’s not what I mean, kid. I mean how you messed her head after that, when you went there with Luz to fix things. I had a little chat about it with plant girl. She’s got no idea what to make of you, but, honestly, I don’t think she needs to. It should come from you, your initiative. You left the work unfinished, that’s what trying to get at. Still, I’m curious as to how the two of you got to that point. She told me what she saw there, inside her head. So did Luz. I know how it all started. That doesn’t explain how it went so far. How you, Amity Blight, allowed things to get so out of hand. And look, I’m not a cop, and in case you didn’t know I’m not in that bastard’s coven either. This is not an interrogation, if you don’t want to answer we can just finish our tea and that’ll be it. But…”

“No, I do need to answer that though. Don’t I?” Amity blurted out, cutting Eda’s words short. “Did they tell you what my parents told me that day? About what they’d do to Willow if I didn’t cut ties with her?”

“They did. It explains a lot, but not everything.”

“I know. She was my best friend, my parents were a threat to her. I wanted to protect her.”

“By pushing her away? That hard?”

“Yeah. I mean, I was like 9 when that all happened. So I figured that if I made her not want to be around she’d eventually just go away. But… I don’t know. You’ll probably think I’ll sound crazy.”

“Try me. I’m used to crazy.”

“I… I know you have no reason to like me, I don’t understand why we’re having this conversation. It just feels so weird, and I think you’ll end up hating me by the end of it.”

“I won’t hate you kid. I promise you. That ship sailed away long ago. Look, Amity, I’ve been in your shoes before, kinda. I know where you’re coming from and I don’t plan on hating you, nor do I have the right to.”

Amity wanted to believe Eda’s words, but, in the end, whether she did so or not was entirely irrelevant and she knew it. The conversation needed to continue regardless. Even if she couldn’t tell if it was due to fear of failure, the woman’s intimidating figure, or something else. Lifting her hands she drinks of her teacup, Luz’s human folksy wisdom, as Eda put it, seeming to be right. The tea and the image of her paramour helped her gather some much needed courage, even if the conversation clearly didn’t relate to her anymore, that still helped. Tucking a strand of green behind her ear, she continued.

“Okay then. Well… She insisted, for a while at least. A long while. Couple of years at least. Everyday she came to me during recess and I pushed her away and made her cry. And I would go back home after class, lock myself in my room and do the same until I fall asleep. And that would keep repeating, at least once every week, a cycle. I hated when that happened. And she would always approach me with this shy smile, calling me Ami as she used to. But… I was trying to bury this Ami girl, I thought I didn’t need her, worse yet, I thought this Ami girl was a danger to Willow herself. And Willow insisted on bringing her back… I…”

“You had to up the game, right?”

Eda’s motivations were still a mystery to Amity, she couldn’t fathom where this barrage of question was coming from. The did seem to come from a place of genuine interest however, way beyond idle curiosity. Whatever it was, it imbued Amity with a sense of being compelled to answer Eda’s questions. For an inscrutable reason, Amity wanted to answer. She didn’t owe Eda anything, she had no obligation to, but she wanted to answer. It was as though this nearly perfect stranger cared enough to want to hear what she had to say. Such generosity shouldn’t go unpaid.

“No, not myself at least… I had to find others and let them do it instead. I couldn’t bring myself to actually be as cruel with her as I needed, or as I thought I needed to be. But I knew people who could be just that. I tried to nudge her in the right direction, I knew her grades were slipping. Help her in a brutal way, in short that was the idea. All while surrounding myself with the people who were actually capable of hurting her. A buffer, I guess… Mother had already started dyeing my hair by that point. I tried to convince her not to, she told me tantrums were unbecoming.”

“So, that’s it? You were trying to help Willow. A twisted kind of tough love? Why can’t you bring yourself to look at me while you’re telling me all this if that’s the case?”

“No… That’s not all. I think... I lost sight of things in the mean time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. I just... I couldn’t see Willow anymore. Like, literally. I wouldn’t see her face when we’d come across each other at school or in her last few attempts to approach me. Her hair was green, sometimes brown, her voice was older. And I tried to see her as her younger self sometimes. To see the girl I was trying to protect, the girl I took swimming lessons with, my best friend. My old friend. But I couldn’t anymore. She stopped calling me Ami, just Amity, or even Blight sometimes. That last one stung the first time I heard it. Anyway. I couldn’t see my friend in her anymore, I’d gotten used to pushing her away as hard as I could. It became second nature. I think the scariest part was this one day, when I suddenly realized I was at the school halls looking for her. Actively looking for her. No one in between us, just me and her. I wanted to be the one to hurt her this time. I don’t even remember what caused it, it doesn’t matter now. I was actively looking for her as a target. I think a part of me felt entitled to do all that, maybe even liked it. Yeah… I see your face, there’s no denying I liked that though. Up to a point at least. Once I realized what was happening, what I was doing, I managed to turn around and make my way back to class. But, just when I turned the very last corner. There she was, green hair and all. You can imagine how that played out. At least it wasn’t that long before Luz arrived, just a couple of months, I think.”

“What do you make of her nowadays?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think about her so often, I try not to.”

“You should. You should try to think about her as much as you can. he believed it, you know? That half-a-witch thing, she bought into it hook, line, and sinker. And then someday you just show up and turn everything upside down. You show her that she herself was not the reason for anything that happened, that she was not the reason why called herself half-a-witch for so long. I think you’ll be friends again, eventually. That, what you did when you fixed the mess you made in photo class, when you showed her what your parents did to you, that was a firm first step. But the journey before all restorations are made is much longer than just one firm first step. You need to think about her, Amity. You need to talk to her, really try and patch things up. Not just for her sake, really.”

Eda sighed, Amity couldn’t voice her cowardice, not again, especially when it came to someone who had offered this so rare courtesy. She didn’t want to disappoint Eda. Amity felt like a baby or toddler must feel when held by their parent, not that this is how she’d describe it. She couldn’t show her shame to someone like that, not with words at least, and that seemed to be a sentiment the woman was familiar with. After a long moment of pregnant silence, Eda continued.

“I get it. I really do. For what it counts I wouldn’t paint you as a monster for what happened, it wasn’t just your fault alone, you were powerless for the most part. But at the end of the day, shared guilt is guilt all the same. Whether you threw the stones, whether you threw the first one, whether you were just supplying stones for someone else to throw. At the end of the day you had a crucial part in it, and you can’t do anything about that. Those stones flew because you either let them or made them do so. Asking Willow to just forgive you, with nothing in return, that’s the same as just throwing yet another stone, straight at her face. Probably that’d be the heaviest stone yet. Let me put it this way, when you were going after Willow, or pushing her away as you put it, she wasn’t seeing anyone other that you, Amity. Not your mother, not your father, no Blights. Just you. Worse yet she probably was seeing that Ami girl you mentioned. She isn’t any older than you, after all. She may know now that that wasn’t entirely the case, but you made your choices. Wrong ones maybe, you were a child too after all. A child put into a very bad spot. But you did those mistakes, and you kept on making them for years, and she had to pay the price as much as you. But then again, Luz told me something weird about you the other day. How she caught you at the library reading to kids, putting up a whole performance. Otabin, wasn’t it? You told her it was for extra credits, right? Yeah, I don’t really buy that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you also made a choice there and I don’t buy that extra credits bullshit. Those kids will probably remember you as the nice and weird girl that read wholesome stories to them. You chose to let them remember you that way the same way you chose to make Willow see you as more and more of a monster.”

“I don’t… I never really put a lot of thought on that to be honest.”

“You also chose to go and play grudgby against that girl, Luz told me the two of you are, or were, friends with. Boscha, isn’t it? And you did it to defend both Luz and Willow, despite knowing full well there was likely to be some kind of backlash. And you chose to go back screaming bloody murder, jumping from nine feet up in the air – seriously, how did you even get up there? - all to help Luz fight Grom. You chose those things the same way you chose to push Willow away or to duel Luz at the covention.”

“That note, the one Grom shredded. It was meant for Luz, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I told you that, didn’t I? Why does that matters here?”

“It matters because you also chose not to give her that note, the knowledge of your feelings for her. You chose to hide yourself from her, and then you chose to come here for this sleepover.”

Amity finally made eye contact with Eda again. Her image of the woman, from the stories she heard of the dangerous criminal, from Luz’s motherly mentor, from their few interactions before that night, was of a youthful, energetic, and powerful witch. The gray in her hair but a footnote. Now, however, the difference of age between the two of them couldn’t be ignored. She saw the wrinkles, the gray eye, matching her hair. She briefly wondered if this was how Luz saw Eda as well. For the first time Eda looked tired.

“I… didn’t want her to reject me.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious. But why did you think she would do that?”

“I just told you didn’t I? All of that, all I did to Willow. Isn’t that enough.”

“She did invite you over today, didn’t she?”

“Yes, but...”

Amity couldn’t continue with her answer.

“But...?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t know why she decided to invite me, why she wanted to be my friend despite everything I did to Willow, and even to her. I know that I can’t have left the best first impression.”

“She still invited you though. She chose to. Why would she reject you?”

“Its not… Its not like that, I guess. You’re right, she’s not the type to just turn her back. I love that about her. But I can’t help the feeling that if she knew me, really knew me, she’d do just that. Just turn around and leave me behind. And we were still just starting to become friends then, so there’s that.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear once more. If Eda had tried to keep track of how many times Amity had done that she’d sure have lost count by now. But seeing the older witch leaning towards her with a kind smile, placing her hand in her shoulder, squeezing it lightly but firmly, she doubt she had made such attempt.

“Kid, I gotta tell you. That’s by far the dumbest thing you’ve said all night.”

#sho #THE OWL HOUSE #amity blight #luz noceda #edalyn clawthorne

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