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dracosaurusrex · 3 years

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Kintsugi: Imperfectly Perfect (Draco x Reader)

“Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.”

- Tiffany Ayuda

Summary:In which Y/N teaches a broken Draco Malfoy how to mend himself and embrace the scars that haunt him.

Wordcount: 10.3k

Genre: Angst/Fluff; Postwar AU

Warnings: Descriptions of depression; self-degredation; sexual themes but no smut

A/N: Hi! This is my first time writing a postwar AU. I was always afraid of doing so out of fear that I would mistakenly portray Draco, but I guess this can be a rite of passage in a way aha. With that being said, here’s my attempt! I hope you like it :D Feedback is very much appreciated!!

The sound of an alarm clock breaks the peace that had manifested within the darkness of the room. One eye creaks open, followed by the other, and a body raises itself to greet the day.

The boy lifts his sheets gently, allowing the cold air to engulf his skin, to wake him, to pull him into the reality of yet another morning.

The pads of his feet are the next to awaken as he hoists himself out of bed, meeting the frigid floor beneath him. He plods across the expanse of space, only to take notice of his reflection in the mirror.

Draco Malfoy, once boisterous, prideful, loud, and arrogant, had been reduced to a shell. One that lived by drifting through the motions of each passing day. It showed through the dark circles apparent under his eyes, the frown that resided on his lips, and his overall gaunt appearance. The thrill that was once characteristic of his youth had spilled through his cracks, leaving him empty and seemingly unrepairable; and no other perspective of his experience could convince him otherwise.

The second wizarding war took too much from him so early on. It started with his father, the man he had ardently looked up to, who he desired so much to please. Lucius’s arrest put the young boy on the forefront of the Death Eaters’ activities, placing an unbearable weight on his shoulders. From that point on, it wasn’t long until the mischievous smile left him, only to be replaced with panicked eyes, increased stress levels, and absolutely no peace of mind. The boy had his entire life on a tightrope, constantly pulling strings to survive.

The result of such was the immense realization of guilt pooling from the sights of Hogwarts in shambles, the lifeless bodies of those he was once acquainted with, and the shame of literally walking away from it all.

Nightmares were also frequent visitors. Besides those that embodied remnants of the war, Draco was almost always confronted by the tauntings of his wrongs: the way he poorly treated others, his stuck-up sense of superiority, the foul slur that he once used so freely--they all haunted him with no end, and all he wanted to do was take everything back. The boy has so often degraded his character since then, describing himself with words such as ‘worthless’, ‘loathsome’, ‘putrid’--the list goes on. He carried his beating heart as though it was dead weight, wanting so desperately to discard the regret that compounded on itself through the years. He was broken, and had no hope of being fixed.

It was also needless to say that the family dynamic had changed for the Malfoy’s; especially since they often stayed within the confines of the property. Narcissa had been diligent in eradicating the place of all things that harbored any signs of Voldemort’s occupation--opening curtains, tending to her garden, changing up the plans for the interior design. Lucius, on the other hand, often occupied himself in his study, simply abiding by the plans for change that his wife had made. He still invested in his social connections, actively making donations to charities and hospitals that had been established as a result of the war. The act helped shed some light on their image, however any interaction that was to be made with the world outside was done through Draco as representative of the family name.

Fortunately, he managed to keep his mind silent in the mornings. As he walked through the vast hallways he would take note of the way light had poured into the manor, admiring the charm that it brought to its nooks and crannies. The quaint atmosphere that was characteristic of these corridors were peaceful, and managed to calm his thoughts albeit temporarily.

As soon as he entered the dining room, Narcissa beckoned him to sit with her and his father.

“Draco, darling, come have some breakfast.” Without much response, he obeys, taking the spot across from her. She placed his favorites on a platter, and observed him as he nibbled on the food in front of him. After several minutes of silence, she pulled an ivory-colored envelope from the pocket of her robe and slid it to him. With food still mounted on his utensils, the boy glanced at the gold details that embellished its corners.

“We’ve been invited to an art gala hosted by the Ministry. The details are inside.” She said.

“I’ll be sure to be in attendance, mother.” He confirmed before resuming his breakfast. The woman casted a worried look at him before turning to Lucius. Things could never go back to the way they once were.

The art gala was held on a Saturday evening, and Draco found himself standing in front of a finely decorated building. An air of aristocracy and luxury loomed within the environment--it was an energy that he had been surrounded by all his life. Large columns aligned its front. A red carpet stemming from the entrance had been rolled out, sweeping along a flight of stairs. Familiar faces of esteemed socialites were seen making their way up the steps. Banners had been hung, indicating the gala and a live auction as highlights of the day’s events.

His only job was to engage in civilized conversation, connect with other high-standing figures, and expand the family network. Simply put, he was there to look pretty.

The feeling of dread overcame him at the thought of immersing himself in socialization. With a begrudging sigh, he straightened his back, briefly smoothened out his suit, and adjusted his cufflinks before trudging up the stairs. Eyes tracked his every step. Despite his emotional wellbeing, the boy still managed to clean up well, creating a facade to those around him. He didn’t bask in the glory, though. He knew he was handsome, he knew he was wealthy, but looks and money were no longer sufficient enough to help him tend to the emptiness he felt on the inside.

The gala itself didn’t begin until 6:00 PM, which was in an hour. Therefore, in hopes to kill time, Draco aimlessly walked through the art displayed for the auction to be held later that night. He carefully observed the numerous crafts with great scrutiny. Paintings were created with much detail--many of them embodying styles from the varying art periods. Sculptures paying great detail to the human body littered the main floor. Hand-crafted furniture were set on display as well, showcasing elaborate ornaments and designs. Mother would like these. He thought. He continued plodding across the exhibit, typically stopping for a mere minute for every submission before walking away.

It was when he took sight of a humble set of ceramics that he actually stopped to stare. The collection consisted of bowls and pots ranging from small to medium sizes. However, what caught his attention were the traces of gold that coursed through their shapes. They took the form of cracks, which looked too beautiful, too flawless to be such--he couldn’t comprehend them ever being broken at all.

“Do you like them?” A light voice startles him from his thoughts. Standing next to him is a bright-eyed girl whose face he vaguely remembers.

“Y/N Y/L/N? What are you doing here?” He dismisses her question and looks at her with disbelief laced through his voice. The girl was in Ravenclaw when they were still in Hogwarts. Due to the difference in houses and friend groups, there was rarely any interaction between them. Nevertheless, he’s heard countless praises for her artistic talent even as a student, therefore reserved a tinge of respect for her reputation.

“Draco Malfoy! It’s been such a long time!” She beams at him. A breathy laugh escapes him as a polite smile settles on his lips.

“Definitely has been. Were you eyeing this set as well?” He glanced back at the ceramics, contemplating on bidding for them in the auction. The sight of them evoked a warm, admirable energy within him, as though they called for his presence.

“Heavens, no. I actually made them.” Y/N took notice of the way he glanced at them, and shyly rubbed the back of her neck. The boy turned to her with eyes widened in awe of her brilliance—the smile of politeness immediately transitioning to one of sincerity.

“You made these? They’re beautiful!” The comment brought heat to her cheeks.

“Draco, please. You flatter me so.”

“I’ll be taking these home without a doubt.” He reassures her. In the moment that he says so, he immediately takes notice of her appearance. Her hair was slicked into a low bun. Her makeup gave her a pleasant dewy look. Gold accessories accentuates her deep emerald evening gown, which only emphasizes her curves as it flows down her body. He couldn’t recall her ever being attractive when they were students—she had always been clad in blue. But, tonight proved that green was definitely her color.

“You look lovely, by the way.” He complimented as his eyes glossed over her. She bit her lip in response to the butterflies that formed in her stomach.

“You always had a way with words didn’t you, Malfoy?” The melodic laugh that she produced, in turn, caused his heart to skip a beat.

“I admit I was a prat, but I’m not joking around this time.” The girl let out another giggle before placing her hand on his shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze.

“I think you look rather dashing yourself. Unfortunately, though, I have to get going. I’ll see you around?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Draco watches Y/N’s figure as she walks away. Before she goes any further, she looks over her shoulder and says, “Good luck with the auction!”

With a small wave and smile, the boy is left in a lighter state.

The gala came and went with Draco thoroughly exhausted from the copious amounts of socialization. Questions regarding connections to his father were asked, business cards were exchanged, and flattery and compliment was a common occurrence amongst these interactions. Nevertheless, the boy’s energy especially drained from the intensity of the auction that occurred towards the end of the night. All the art pieces were valuable and beautiful, however it was only then that he realized that he wasn’t the only one drawn to Y/N’s work. Competition for the highest bid was at an all-time high as number paddles were desperately raised for every price announced. His heart clambered in his chest as the thought of keeping the ceramics seemingly slipped from his grasp.

“Highest bid for 80,000 galleons! Do we have any takers?” The auctioneer announces. Draco waits for a second to see that no one has raised their paddles. Within the next, he lifts his own confidently.

“We have a bidder for 80,000 galleons! Do we have any more bidders? No?” At this point, adrenaline coursed through his veins, beads of sweat had formed and fell, and the grip on his paddle tightened, leaving marks on his hand.

The auctioneer proceeds to announce the final countdown, “Final bid for 80,000 galleons! 1, 2, 3, sold to Draco Malfoy!” Relief overcame him while congratulatory praises were given by those nearby. He catches Y/N’s gaze from afar, and throws her a wink, signifying the resolution for the chaotic night.

As attendees began to file out of the building, the boy waited in the hall to collect his reward, filling out the form that confirmed the amount he had to pay. With his attention drawn to the slip, he fails to notice Y/N’s presence beside him. She looks over his shoulder, eyes widening at the amount before looking away to suppress the smile that threatens to form on her lips. She never really gave much monetary value to her art before; each one was produced as a product of passion and love. However, the expression that it first brought to Draco’s face, in addition to the amount of effort he put in to attain them, reassures that her work will be well taken care of. She momentarily stares at his broad shoulders before gaining the courage to speak.

“Congratulations!” She says, startling him once again. He takes a second to collect his breath before looking up at her.

“Do you plan on giving me a heart attack, Y/L/N, or is it in your nature to be overly enthusiastic?” The shameless smirk she has on her face, prompts him to release a chuckle. He stands up straight as soon as he signs the piece of paper, engaging his line of vision with hers.

“The way you respond is not my fault, Malfoy.” She answers, playfully shoving her index finger towards his shoulder. He grabs her wrist, and the warmth from his hands, accompanied by the flirtatious gleam in his eyes, prompts her to cast the same expression. She shoots him a coy smile before he releases her from his grasp.

“Would you like to accompany me to the front?” He asks.

“That’d be lovely.” The pair approaches the stage where the volunteers greet them both. They present his items upon confirmation, and proceed to wrap each bowl individually. He lifts one of the unwrapped pieces to his eyes, examining the gold details.

“How’d you manage to pull this off?” He asks, impressed by her craftsmanship.

“It’s a technique called ‘kintsugi’. I learned it while living in Japan for a while after the war,” She says, reaching her hand out for it. He gives it to her.

“You know, these pieces were never supposed to be auctioned off in this gala,” She explains as she delicately traces the lines, “They were so damaged. You can even consider them to be broken beyond repair,” Draco observes as she lifts it to her eye level.

“But obviously, when pieced back together—with all their cracks emphasized by the gold—they have much more value and beauty,” Y/N gives it back to Draco, and he takes it gingerly.

“However, It took a long time for it to come out that way. When you examine the piece before its repair, the first thought in mind would be to discard it. After all, why would anyone bother mending a broken bowl?” She meets his eyes once again.

“These cracks would typically be considered flaws, but at the end of the process the piece is still whole—I’m still whole. They mean a lot to me, and helped me heal from the war and all.” Her line of sight drifts towards the end of her statement, yet the boy catches himself appalled by the passion in her voice. He didn’t expect her to speak so openly, yet the words that flowed from her mouth touch him in a way he can’t comprehend. For once he feels a glimmer of hope budding within. For once, inspiration meets him, and he doesn’t want to lose that feeling she effortlessly provided.

“I’ll make sure to take great care of them.” He says with much sincerity.

He places the piece back onto the table, and turns back to Y/N to see a sweet smile on her lips.

“I have faith you will.” A knowing look is shared between them--one that makes both hearts flutter in longing to see each other again.

“Do you think we can keep in contact? If it’s alright with you that is. I’d like to become more familiar with this art technique.”

“The Slytherin prince wants to keep in contact with me? Consider me wooed.” Draco rolls his eyes and chuckles at the old title. Before he could respond, she speaks again with more seriousness, “I don’t usually accept visitors in my studio, but I’ll make an exception for you. You can come by sometime, if you’d like.”

A genuine smile appears on his lips for the second time that night. Out of all the individuals he exchanged contacts with, she by far had been his favorite. He ensured to send her an owl to confirm their meeting, hoping to do so some time next week.

As they part, she turns back one more time, and calls out to him, “Draco,” The sound of his name perks his head upward

“You should smile more. It’s a lovely sight.” Before he could see her face erupt in a blush, she apparates away. With his new belongings in hand and an obvious grin, he too returns to the manor, feeling elated for the first time in a long while.

It was nine o’clock by the time Draco apparated home. Narcissa immediately took notice of his change in aura much to her relief.

“How was the gala, dear?” She asks.

“Quite pleasant this time around, if I’m being honest. I won these at an auction.” Draco stated as he props the box on top of a table. His mother approaches him, attention drawn to the objects when he reveals the contents inside.

She gasps, “Oh my stars, they’re beautiful.”

She picks one up delicately. The expression she had on her face was very much identical to the one he sported when he came across them the first time.

“I knew you’d like them. The artist was a fellow classmate of mine at Hogwarts.”

“Oh? Who is it? I would like to see more from this artist.”

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. Quite brilliant she is.” Mother’s instinct told Narcissa that this girl had her son taken aback. She saw it through the pleasant expression that graced his facial features, which contrasted greatly to the gloomy air that usually accompanied him. Furthermore, there was a decadent tone in his voice, a sparkle in his eyes, and a slight smile present when her name rolled off his tongue. She decided to probe a little bit more.

“House?”

“Ravenclaw.” He responds.

“Very fitting. The craftsmanship in her work is amazing,” The woman’s eyes marveled at the gold.

“How is she?” She asks. The question catches the boy off guard.

“Pardon?”

“How is she doing? Has she been okay since the war?”

“We didn’t touch upon it too much. Although, she mentioned that creating these has helped her heal.”

“You mean to say that these were broken at one point?”

“Precisely. She mended them.” At this point, Narcissa was quite taken by the girl as well.

“You should invite her over one of these days. I’d love to have a cup of tea with her.” Draco quirked a brow at her.

“You’re not going to ask about her blood status?”

“I would’ve known she was a pureblood from her last name, but times are changing aren’t they not?” Narcissa flashes a tightlipped smile towards her son, to which he responds with a nod of understanding.

“I’ll be going up then. You can keep that one mother. You seem to take a liking to it.” Draco turns on his heel at the end of his statement, carrying the box of ceramic goods under his arm. He wouldn’t acknowledge that times are changing. However, tonight has been the only instance he had felt his life shifting —from the way he reunited with Y/N, to the way his mother spoke. It was a step forward to redemption, and he felt a little more willing to see where it would go.

The boy sat on his bed, deep in thought. With moonlight shining upon him, he delicately traced the golden lines that streaked the small bowl in his hands. Then with much hesitation, he rolled up his left sleeve and began tracing the blaring curves of the mark that stained his porcelain skin. Its presence resembled shackles that have been chained to his ankles, and the weight of the memories caused him to grimace. However the budding warmth that had seeped within him soothed the negative sensations. Heart palpitations of regret transformed into those of hope. Furthermore, recollection of the girl’s words rang through his mind. It led him to wonder if piecing himself into something better would ever be a viable reality—a dream so tempting to pursue that he brought himself to his desk to start a letter addressed to her.

Y/N awoke to a tapping noise on her window. With heavy-lidded eyes, she peeks through her curtains only to be met by an eagle owl. Its wide orbs stared directly at her, and attached to its beak was an envelope. She recalled the conversation she had with a certain platinum-haired boy from the night before, and immediately jolted upward, pushing the window open to let the animal in.

“Do you belong to Draco, love?” It perches itself on her shoulder, and drops the envelope into her hands. A wax seal presents itself with an ‘M’, confirming her inquiry. She opens it with much carefulness, and pulls out the letter inside.

Y/L/N,

How does this Thursday sound? 5:00?

The girl chuckled at how straight-to-the-point he was, while her mind flitted back to their school days. She had always felt neutral about him. In contrast to popular belief, she didn’t think he was quite bad. Despite the harshness behind his actions, his eyes always maintained an undertone of fear. Upon the revelation that the boy was indeed a death eater, the title itself wasn’t what stirred her. Rather, it was the incomprehensible experience that she could merely picture him going through. She was there when he crossed sides. She was no stranger to the distraught look on his face--fear had overtaken him even in that moment. He might’ve been flawed, but it wasn’t without reason.

A cry from the owl broke her out of thought. “Impatient are we?” It blinked in response. Not wanting to keep the bird waiting any longer, she pulls out a piece of parchment and begins to write a response to the letter.

Y/N inserted the parchment into an envelope, sealed it, and handed it to the owl only after she gave it a treat. As she watched it take flight from her window sill, she contemplated more on the boy. ‘Kintsugi’ the art of broken pieces and precious scars. As thoughts of him lingered, she began to wonder if how he fared ever since the war had drawn to its close. Before she knew it, she carried along with her work, totally occupied with the image of him in mind.

Draco’s heart beat like a drum when he skimmed through the contents of Y/N’s response. The feeling of nervous excitement erupted within his stomach up until the moment he stood on her doorstep. Besides the instances in which he’d gone out for his parents, it had been a long while since he stepped foot outside for himself. He took sight of the sheet of clouds that blanketed the sky, the small plants that were scattered on her porch, and the movement of the curtain as wind blew through her open window.

Mere seconds of waiting were filled with more self-doubt as he tugged on his left sleeve, clenching his forearm soon after. Not much could be guaranteed from this meeting. For all he knew, this might’ve been a one a time thing. However, such thoughts were casted aside once he was greeted with Y/N’s glowing smile.

“Draco! It’s so nice to see you!” She stepped aside to let him in, “Please come in.”

The boy greets her, and looks around her small space. He indulges in the glimpse of her expressive decor--somehow they represented the life that she had built and created for herself over time.

“Darling, your jaw is going to fall off,” she chuckled, “Come, the studio is in the back.” The girl gestures at him to follow her, and is met with a small building stationed behind the main house. The image of shelves fills his view upon entering. On them were stacks of cracked ceramic—some in large pieces, others in small. Towards the far corner of the room was a pottery wheel, and opposite from it was a small gas kiln. In the middle was a table space with various tools, brushes, lacquer, and gold. The room was as neat as it could be, much to Draco’s surprise.

“This is me.” Y/N turns around with her arms spread out. She then proceeds to pull a stool out for the boy and urges him to sit. He does so, and she stands in close proximity to him, leaning on the table for support.

“I was actually working on a piece before you came.” The girl points to her current project—a vase whose cracks have already been bound.

“What’s the process like?” He asks

“It’s much longer than you think. I learned how to do it the traditional way in Japan, and I haven’t deviated from it ever since.” The boy quirks a brow.

“You mean to say that there are faster methods?”

“There are, however it’s the process I appreciate the most I suppose. Mending takes time after all.” Y/N, who had been looking down at her feet, glances up at him to see his brows furrowed inwardly.

“Don’t you get impatient?” She nods in reminiscence.

“I used to in the past, but all things worth anything take time, right?” They stare at each other for a moment. Draco, who has longed for the feeling of redemption, looked into the pure intent within her eyes. The silence prompts her to slip a small smile at him.

“How about you, Draco Malfoy? How have you been?” There it was: The question that he could never answer (not truthfully anyway). Despite being in the center of all his thoughts, he hadn’t developed the courage to face them properly. He was stuck in a routine of living that provided a false sense of security. However, the present brought him to the realization that he had never been secure--not with himself.

“Not as good as what people see at face value.” He said simply.

“I never would’ve thought. Although, I suppose it just shows that we can never truly judge others, huh?”

“Yes, definitely.” He allowed his view on her to linger before speaking again.

“I actually wanted to see the way you worked.” It was her turn to quirk a brow at him.

“And why’s that?”

“To see the mending process.” Y/N remained silent as she analyzed the longing look in his eyes. His silvery orbs conveyed volumes of a history that was left unspoken.

He continued, “I want to believe that broken things can be mended.” The determination in his eyes reminded her of why she began learning kintsugi in the first place. Behind the determination was hope that longed to be born to fruition.

“I have one condition,” she said. His eyebrows arched in response.

“You can watch me, but you have to do some mending yourself.” She stepped away at the end of her statement and reached for something on her shelves. When she came back, she grabbed the boy’s hand, and placed a small bowl in his palm. It was a simple piece--still intact--taking on a warm, grey sheen. He looked at her with confusion, only to be met with seriousness.

“Kintsugi begins when something breaks, and it focuses more on the beauty of the process rather than the outcome. That being said, it requires a lot of patience and acceptance.”

“I’m not an artist, Y/N. It won’t be perfect.” The girl takes hold of his other hand, and cups it within hers firmly.

“It doesn’t have to be, Draco. The process belongs to you. You just have to trust yourself.” She said earnestly with her grip on him tightening. The warmth from her hands emanated through his skin and into his chest. She stood so close now, her head tilted upward to meet the uncertainty on his face. It made him feel vulnerable, but he stared back into her eyes with much resolve. It was an answer as it is.

Y/N gave him a reassuring smile and stepped away from him.

“I want you to drop that bowl. You don’t have to smash it, just let it fall.” Draco shifted his glance and looked at the bowl hesitantly. After a couple of seconds, he releases his hold, and allows the piece to slip from his fingers. His eyes were trained on it as it fell through the air, meeting its fate with a shattering sound. The bowl that was once intact was now in pieces on the floor, eliciting a familiar ache within him. It had split into five--a large one, one medium, and three more that were much smaller that comprised the object's rim.

As he bent down to pick up the pieces, a new wave of ambition overcame him. Each chip was picked up with much mindfulness, with responsibility, with purpose. When he stood up again, he began to perceive them as a reflection of himself, and gently placed them on the workbench.

Y/N, who witnessed the entire scene, smiled when Draco turned to face her. Her lips were pulled up gently, sweetly, and it evoked rosy feelings inside him. The boy eyed her as she went back to the shelf.

“How do you feel?” She asked. Her back was turned to him as she reached for another bowl.

“Light.” She smiled at the sound of his response. She returned with a teal-colored bowl in hand. Following his previous actions, she dropped it, allowing the sounds of shatters to fill their ears once more.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“You think I’m going to make you do this alone?” The girl bends down as she gingerly picks up the chips of ceramic from the floor. She proceeds to clear out the table, leaving only the utensils to be used to start the process.

“The materials I use are already here, but we’ll be working only with the lacquer for today.” The two set off to organize their pieces, hearts becoming more aware of one another as time passes on. After everything got sorted out, she demonstrated layering a coat of lacquer to the edges. Draco examined the way the smile instantly left her face, only to be replaced with a focused expression. Her eyebrows lowered, lips in a firm line, sights fixed on the ceramic. He also noticed how languid her fingers were in handling each piece with care.

The solemnity of the sight is broken as she parts her lips to speak again, “Did you know that the lacquer is toxic?” He shakes his head when she spares him a glance momentarily before setting her gaze back onto the chips. “It’s toxic when wet, therefore much care needs to be taken when you lay it on the edges.” She then takes the smaller pieces and proceeds to add lacquer on them as well.

“However,” She continues, “as it dries, it hardens and mends the bowl perfectly.” She attaches the pieces together, and lifts the bowl carefully to show him. The boy stares at her flawless handiwork--the cracks reveal themselves as mere lines, seemingly invisible to the naked eye.

“Strange, right? A substance that was once toxic is used to mend. When it dries it restores the product to perfection, and loses its toxicity.” Draco simply nods. It was a hard concept for the boy to grasp, but her words tickled a corner of his heart. How could something so bad be used to restore something that was once whole into perfection? He gazes at his own project while Y/N sets hers down carefully.

She passes the materials to him, observing as he gingerly takes the brush in hand. He dips it into the pool of lacquer, raising a glob of it up from the bottle.

“You don’t need too much, just enough so that the brush is covered completely.” She reached out to grab his hand, to demonstrate what she had meant. After realizing their closeness, however, she turned a shade of pink and stepped back. Draco tried his best to hold back his smile, but failed miserably.

“I’m s-sorry.” She stammered. He chuckled at her.

“Nonsense, I’m all for this form of instruction.” He said teasingly, eliciting a laugh from her.

“Don’t mind me, just concentrate.” She ordered. Silence loomed, but smiles remained on their faces. Draco continued his work, emulating the way she coated her edges. He gripped each chip firmly while his eyes trailed the movement of the brush. Each second spent felt like darkness was being extracted from within, leaving him light and solemn. With much caution, he then pressed them together, and watched as the product adopted its once flawless form. With an approving look, Y/N explained the proceeding steps, immediately noticing the relaxed expression that had settled on his features. Deciding to take a break, the two embark to the main house to relax.

“Since we have to wait a while, is there anything you want to do? To eat?” She asked as they entered the room. The question, however, was left unanswered due to the sighting of a familiar looking uniform. Hung on her wall was a Ravenclaw robe.

“You still have it?” He asked, pointing to the article of clothing with his chin. She chuckled and pulled it off it’s hanger.

“Yeah. I found it a couple days ago, and thought I’d try it for old times sake.” She slipped it over her shoulders, pulling the boy through a series of flashbacks from his time in Hogwarts. He recalled passing her by the hallways, getting small glimpses of her sketches, even seeing her vibrant personality shine with her friends.

“You know, I always thought you looked better in green.” He said approaching her.

“You think so?” He nodded.

“It’s a shame that we never really talked much. I think we would’ve been good friends.” She said in response.

“You think so?”

“Well besides the bullying, yes. I don’t think you’re as bad as people portray you to be.”

“You give me too much credit, Y/L/N.”

“Maybe you deserve a little more credit than you were granted.” This sparked more warmth within the boy. As she ordered food for delivery, Draco took a seat at her table, his gaze locked on her with the robe still propped on her body. His thoughts drifted as he imagined what might’ve happened if he did befriend the girl. How different would he be if he had her for company? How close would he have allowed their friendship to become? His mind began to wander and he ruminated on the what-could-have-beens, most especially the effect that his receiving of the dark mark would have had on her. His fingers flitted to his arm and rubbed the portion of fabric that covered his mark.

Y/N sat across from the boy, immediately noticing his dazed look.

“What’s on your mind?” She inquires. The boy broke off from his thoughts and refocused his attention to her.

“Just thinking about the past.”

“What of it?” She asked. He looked at her with slight reservation in his eyes.

“How different things would be if we were friends.” Her thoughts lingered on the possibilities for a while before she abandoned them completely. Only one realization came into mind:

“Well, we’re friends now. Perhaps everything that happened in the past was needed for us to meet like this.” She slid off her robe and propped it back on the hanger.

She continued, “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now belongs to us.”

In that moment, a switch flipped in Draco’s mind, and he knew those words would stick to him for a long time. Maybe it wasn’t a chance at redemption that he yearned for--the conversation he had with her made him realize that the chance had always been presented to him--rather it was company. Genuine company. The one that opened their arms for comfort, the one that offered understanding when he couldn’t offer some to himself, the one that provided reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

She didn’t need to elaborate. Her words conveyed her intent clearly, her eyes blazed with firmness, confidence, and faith in him. The boy closed himself off for way too long out of the fear that he’d be rejected once again. The anxieties that had resulted from the foul glances, derogatory statements, and prematurely formed accusations towards his family locked him away to the only source of comfort that was available to him--himself. How was it possible that he made it through on his own all this time? He barely held on to a thread, and as he crumbled further, so did his grip. And when the grip was no more, he fell into the hollowed body that he was. He allowed his darkness to swallow him, to control him as he mindlessly drifted with each passing day.

Until now.

Right now, in the stillness of the room, in the comfort of her dining table, in the presence of her worn out Ravenclaw robe, the thread had reconstructed itself. It presented itself as the small smile that softly graced her lips, the scent of clay that lingered on her hands, and his bowl that sat solemnly streaked with cracks in the workshop behind the main house.

“I suppose you’re right.” The boy showed a smile of relief, which prompted the girl to reach out for his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Here’s to our friendship!”

There were very few things that Draco cherished in his life: his family and his solitude. As weeks flew by with Y/N’s company, however, he found that his heart was beginning to create space for her as well. It began subtly with the way he silently observed her actions. She catered to each of her pieces with the same amount of dedication--every detail incorporated with mindfulness, with care, and intention. She exerted a similar effort when it came to guiding him. Every step in the process was taught with much patience. Her soft hands would graze his own in attempts to correct his form, to stabilize his shakiness, and to relieve him of the tension that came with his perfectionistic tendencies.

-flashback-

The sound of Draco’s uneven breaths made themselves aware in Y/N’s presence. She had left him alone to tend to his project and herself to her own. Muscle memory led her to scrape off the excess traces of lacquer from the cracks, while the boy fixed his concentration on sanding the surface of his bowl smooth. Scratching noises filled the air, and only became more amplified as minutes ticked onward. It was unfamiliar to the girl--the action itself shouldn’t have required much energy. With a brow arched upward, and her gaze directed towards him, the sight of furrowed brows and tense lines fill her view, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“You’re going to break the bowl at that rate, Draco.” The boy unclenched his jaw and gave Y/N an exasperated look, increasing the volume of her laughter.

“I told you I won’t be perfect.”

“What is it that you’re having trouble with?” Y/N asked, as she made her way to his side of the table.

“Some of the excess just won’t budge from its place.” Draco huffed in frustration. She removed the bowl from his grasp, and examined the object. On the other hand, he takes the liberty to step closer to her, his face peering over her shoulder. The heat emanating from his body distracted her, which she responded to by immediately returning her attention to the remnants that resided on its cracks.

“It helps to focus on one spot at a time,” She grabs the crumpled piece of sandpaper laying on the side, and connects its surface to the porcelain. He watches as she uses minimal yet focused motions to scrub at the excess. Slowly but surely the residue clears out, revealing a clean, crisp line. “See?” She turns her head to the side only to be met with his in such close proximity. His breath softly brushes against her skin. His silvery orbs dive deep into her y/e/c ones. The pulses of their heartbeats ring through their ears, and the concentration shifts from the demonstration to one another.

It’s the apparent flush staining his skin that has her pulling away.

“Why don’t you try?” She nervously asks. Y/N hands the bowl to the boy, and observes as he attempts to emulate her actions. With motions still stiff and choppy, she finally takes his hand into hers.

“Relax, Draco. You need to be patient with it.” With slender fingers wrapped around the back of his palm, she guides his grip with focused and particular motions. The repetition engrains itself into his muscle memory, and he quickly gets the hang of it. He exhibits relief with every remnant removed. In return, she releases her grip and looks at him with a satisfied expression.

“Thank you.” He says, and he means it. With perfection constantly being expected of him, the feeling of humility that comes with being a beginner is foreign. He had always been pushed into the limelight--the weight of his family name designates the image of flawlessness, elegance, and poise in all that he did. No room for mistakes. He was required of only the best. So, when he looks at her and gazes at his hands, a genuine smile spreads on his lips.

The expectation for perfection may have taunted his past, but the realization of his commitment in giving his best brought out a clear sense of victory despite the imperfect process that had been associated with it.

Some days are tougher than others. The nightmares make it difficult to get through the night regardless of how infrequent they became. It always resulted in him waking up, broken into a cold sweat. Goosebumps peppered his skin, the hair behind his neck stood straight, and he would gasp for air. With regret once again overcoming him, a weight forms in his throat--it’s impossible to go to sleep now. Moreover, the fear for the lack of a peaceful slumber keeps him wide awake until sunrise, and there is only one word that shouts at him in the back of his mind.

“Mudblood.”

“You filthy mudblood!”

The sayings are coupled with the memory of his back pressed onto the cold, wet, bathroom floor. He could recall the stinging sensations that pricked his body, the sight of blood seeping through the white fabric of his uniform, and the energy that was draining from his spirit. It was the lowest he has ever been--mere moments away from what could’ve been his end. Maybe that’s what should’ve happened. There was no one for him to turn to--the warmth of his mother’s arms was so far away, the act of shedding tears was sacrificed to protect his family, and the fact that he was already repulsive in the eyes of others caused his hope to plummet. There wasn’t anyone who he could call his true friend--one he could confide in to relieve the burdens he had faced.

But there was Y/N. The erratic heartbeats that rang against his chest subside when he remembered the firmness within her voice as she cheered for their friendship. The sparkle and reassurance that was displayed within her eyes tickled his heart in a way that he hadn’t experienced before. The soft touch of her hands reminded him that he wasn’t alone. The patience in her voice reminded him that despite all of his shortcomings, there was always hope for change.

It was then that he’d pluck himself out of bed, and take hold of the ceramic piece that laid prettily on his desk. With deep breaths, he ran his fingers through its golden streaks, allowing the chilled sensation to calm him down. His eyelids would flutter close, and he’d envision her soft smiles, her chipper personality, and the passion that was expressed through her eyes whenever she worked. He’d recall the worn-out Ravenclaw robe hanging on the wall of her dining room, and remember that she was there. She believed in him. She had given him a chance. With his mind set to ease and the morning sun illuminating through the fabric of his curtains, Draco picked up his own broken pieces, and binded himself with the faith she had as the lacquer to keep him together.

Narcissa and Lucius had noticed subtle changes in the boy. A peaceful light had returned to his silvery eyes, the frown that graced his lips began to fade with time, and the tension that he held in his joints loosened. He treaded the halls with his back upright, his vision trained straight ahead--each step filled with more purpose than the last. They didn’t make it known to him, but the sight brought them much joy.

It was a cloudy day when Draco returned to Y/N’s workshop. This time around, however, there’s much more uncertainty and nervousness within him as he stands in the midst of her working.

Earlier that morning, Narcissa mentioned hosting a ball within the manor (something that hasn’t been done in forever). Invitations were sent out already, the RSVP list continues to grow, and the property itself has been decorated to exhibit its new grandeur. Of course, he agreed to it--slightly concerned about how they’d be perceived--but he was more thrown off by his mother’s only request:

“Please bring Y/N with you, Draco. I’d like to commission her for a piece.” In his mind that translated into, “I want to meet the girl you’ve been constantly visiting.” He knew his mother wasn’t against her. He was more worried about how Y/N, herself, would respond.

The familiarity of her focused expression surfaces, and it attracts him much more than it has before. Her hands are nimble, and she moves fluently. Her hair was tied into a low and messy bun with loose strands framing her face. Her appearance now was much different than their first meeting at the gala, yet his mind went back to that night--picturing her beauty in her deep emerald green dress. With his feelings for her more clarified, he feels his heart beat at the thought of her touch, moreover the thought of his touch on her. Would she even return his feelings?

“Draco, are you alright? You’ve been staring this way for a while now.” He takes the opportunity to test the waters.

“I needed to ask you something actually.” He goes around and pulls a stool to sit on, meeting the level of her gaze.

“And that is?”

“My mother asked for you,” He said, fumbling with his fingers, “My family is hosting a ball, and she wants you to come--she wants to meet you.” He notices the way her eyes widen at the sound of his announcement.

“I’m sorry. Come again?” Draco released a soft chuckle before reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a decorated envelope with her name printed on the front.

“This is yours.” She takes it from his grasp gingerly and brushes her fingers on the fine embellishments. Realization hits her when she skims across the familiar letters of her name.

“I’ve imagined many things in my life, but they certainly don’t come close to this. Wow, imagine being invited to a Malfoy ball.” Her words flowed out with awe, softening his heart. He reaches out, and tucks one of the loose strands behind her ear. The action forces her to look into his eyes.

“She’s taken quite a liking to your work.” His smile brings out one of her own.

“I’m honored.” She starts to beam, “I should go dress shopping soon.” Her eyes remain transfixed on the information given on the actual invite itself.

“I think you’d look beautiful in anything you decide to wear.” It was meant to be a thought--meant to stay in his head--but it came out, and now the girl felt her face get hot. She covered it with her hands, while the boy just looked up at the ceiling to avoid her gaze.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” He says.

“It’s fine.”

“If it’s fine then why are your hands still covering your face?”

“Why are you still looking up?” Draco, lowers his chin and pulls her wrists away.

“I’m not anymore.” When the words leave his lips, and his eyes meet hers, he becomes aware of the amount of peace that he attained since meeting her again. In some way, the silence that fills them is overtaken by the messages that their gazes send to one another, both containing gratitude and affection.

“So will you come with me?” He asks.

“Definitely.”

Y/N paced back and forth while many aristocrats stepped into the manor with much poise in their step. She didn’t mind formal events when it came to art, however, this case felt entirely foreign to her realm of comfort. She wasn’t from a wealthy family nor was she pureblooded either. Surely the end of the war had initiated a shift in change, but the significance of blood status still persisted in some even after. Nevertheless, she made herself present. With much resolve and a false sense of confidence, she stepped into the entrance of the building.

The foyer was bustling with chatter--many attendees stood with glasses of champagne in hand. Still in an awkward stature, the girl takes a look around. The ceilings were decorated with crystal chandeliers. Velvet curtains were pulled to the side, exposing massive windows. Arches, columns, even the walls were covered with ornamental carvings. Every single aspect portrayed luxury. Whenever Draco visited the girl, she discarded his association to wealth and solely focused on him as a person. Because of this, the realization that the boy actually had some coin in his pockets hit her like bricks.

Draco, who had kept his eyes locked on the girl, chuckled to himself. She stuck out from the crowd with her eyes widened in awe. Not to mention her attire. Her hair was kept straight down with golden clips holding it tucked behind her ear. Furthermore, she was dressed in a champagne mermaid gown speckled with beads and embroidery, which flourished outwards and into a sheer fabric decorated with similar details. Her neckline plunged into the middle of her abdomen, yet her shoulders remained covered with long sleeves that wrapped themselves fittingly around her wrists. She truly had the tastes of an artist.

He quietly made his way to her as she continued to gawk at the room. “Your jaw is going to drop, darling.” He whispered in her ear. The feeling of large hands planting themselves on her waist caused her to let out a small yelp, pulling her out of her daze. She let out a breath of relief when she turned to see Draco’s face.

“You scared me.”

“You were gawking at the walls.” Y/N rolled her eyes, and briefly skimmed him from head to toe. Heart skipping at the way his suit had admiringly framed his shape well. She giggled at the sight of the snake brooch that embellished the collar of his jacket.

“Always a Slytherin, aren’t you Malfoy?” As she brushed her fingers along the details of its design, Draco reached for her hand, and held it by her fingers. She could only stare as he lifted it higher to press his lips on it. Butterflies were felt everywhere.

“And a charmer.” She added. They shared a quick laugh before being interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Standing before them was Narcissa, who beamed at the sight of her son with the girl beside him.

“You must be Y/N Y/L/N. I admire your work, dear.” The older woman stuck her hand out, which the girl shook firmly.

“Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Please, call me Narcissa.” The delight in her voice emitted a welcoming energy, loosening the nerves that Y/N felt early on.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, Narcissa.”

“It was no problem at all, dear. I’d actually like to speak to you regarding a commission later on tonight. Would that be alright with you?”

“Of course! I’m honored you’d even considered me.”

“Very well, I’ll leave you two alone now. I hope you enjoy yourselves.” Sweet smiles and gazes were exchanged between the two women. After casting a knowing look to her son, she departs from the pair, disappearing into the crowd.

“Draco, I’ll have you know that I can’t dance to save my life.” He snickered at her confession, already letting the comfort between them settle in.

“It’s alright. Let’s walk instead.” With arms hooked, Draco begins leading her away from the bustling room and into a secluded hall. Mounted on the walls were paintings of his predecessors. He introduced each patriarchal figure to her, starting with Septimus. Her vision plastered itself to their features, mentally discerning the traits that Draco inherited. After a while of walking and conversation, they finally got to a family portrait. Depicted on it was a younger-looking Lucius and Narcissa, and seated on his mother’s lap was a young Draco himself. Y/N unhooked her arm from his, and approached the painting. She concentrated on the little boy. He had bright eyes, a toothy grin, and flowing platinum locks. His hand gripped firmly on Narcissa’s, and his small legs dangled over her dress. He was the only one smiling in the painting, and it warmed your heart knowing that the artist decided to keep that detail in.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” He asks, stepping close. He hesitantly snaked his arm around her waist, hoping that she didn’t mind. She looked up to him and smiled, stepping even closer to him.

“You were so small.” Draco scowled slightly. However, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the way she looked at the portrait with adoration, allowing his foul expression to fade.

“Well that was painted when I was seven, so it’s no wonder I was small.” His sarcastic remark caused her to roll her eyes again, softly slapping the hand that was planted on her. He glanced at her and squeezed her side tighter, pulling Y/N even closer to his body--his warmth increasing the amount of butterflies that rose in her stomach.

“When I walked in earlier, it completely slipped my mind that this was your house. That you grew up here.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, genuinely interested in her response.

“Everytime you came over, I only saw you as Draco. Not as Draco Malfoy, only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and heir to the Malfoy family name.”

“Please elaborate.” He commands, his heart now racing.

“You’re more than the expectations held for you. You came with commitment to learn about a process that you were genuinely interested in. You grew with your mistakes and your frustrations. That experience was you, and you alone.” She couldn’t help but reveal that admiration she had for him through her voice.

“I thought it was amazing.” She whispered, hoping that he wouldn’t hear her. He did, however. In turn, he grabbed her hand and led her further down the hallway and into his room. Y/N stood there confused at his sudden action. Her eyes then begin to widen at the sight of him removing his suit jacket with her mind drifting to rather dirty thoughts.

“Draco, what are you-”

“I didn’t think it was possible.” Y/N furrowed her brows.

“What do you mean?” Draco looked into her eyes, before shifting his gaze to his left sleeve. Her line of sight follows him as he unbuttons his cuff, and rolls the fabric up, revealing his dark mark. She gasps.

“I didn’t think it was possible to mend myself.” It didn’t take him to say much for her to finally understand that he didn’t intend to do anything dirty. It was the opposite of that. He was making himself vulnerable to her.

“But you showed me how.” He said, completing his statement. Tears brimmed her eyes upon the realization of the reality he had to live. The blaring mark that took away his innocence screamed against his pale skin. It screamed of the pain, of loneliness, and the many many long sleeved shirts he must’ve worn to keep it hidden away.

“If there’s anyone amazing, it’s you, Y/N.” The tears that had built up fell as she furiously shook her head.

“No, Draco. It’s you. It’s all you.” She took his arm delicately into her hands and pressed her lips on his dark mark. Draco felt his eyes well up in tears, while her own spilled onto his skin. Every kiss that she peppered seemed to paint over his scars, his cracks with gold. The feeling of emptiness dissipated in her presence, only surrounding him with warmth that he had yearned to keep.

“I’m thankful for you.” He whispers. Y/N couldn’t hold herself back at that point anymore. She released his arm from her grip, and held his cheeks within her fingertips, wiping the moisture that managed to fall from his silvery orbs. She, then, slowly lifts herself using her tiptoes, and scans his face for a moment before pressing a sweet, short kiss on his lips. It was gentle, much like her. It was patient, much like her. It was filled with faith, hope, and concern--things that she hadn’t been able to express to him in words, yet was felt through her kiss. Draco closed his eyes at the sensation. When she parted from him, he cupped her face with his hands, and drew her close once more. A sigh escaped her as she felt all the emotions he managed to keep in. Each press conveyed a level of appreciation that the boy had never thought he was capable of showing.

In that moment a memory of a shrill shout fills her mind, and she stops so suddenly.

“Weren’t you struck with sectumsempra?” She asks with her brows furrowed towards him. His lack of response confirms her curiosity.

“May I?” Her fingers trail to the top of his shirt as she makes her request. Knowing what it is she wants to see, he nods, prompting her to carefully undo the buttons. Her hands tremble as she makes her way down, revealing the scars that resided on his body. She pushes the fabric over his shoulders, and begins tracing each one--much similar to the way he has done with the golden cracks on her bowl. She slowly lowers herself and starts placing kisses where he has been struck. With her hands gently fastened to his sides, her lips linger in one area before transferring to another. He finds comfort in them--it was as if each sensation reassured that he was loved. As she travels upward, she plants a kiss on his jaw, and a final one on his own. With it she expresses a message dedicated only to him: I believe in you.

They separate and bask in the moment by holding each other’s gaze. After a while, Draco wraps his arms around her waist, and pulls her into a tight embrace. He nuzzles his nose on the crook of her neck and kisses it, while she runs her hands up and down his bare sides. His left hand then finds its way to her jaw, tilting her face upwards. He proceeds to nip the expanse of her neck, making her head fall back to grant him more access. The hand that was wrapped around her waist travels downwards to her hip, grips it, and presses her body against his.

“Draco,” she moans.

“Hm?” She doesn’t respond. She finds herself completely intoxicated by his lips as he moves from her neck, her sternum, and to her exposed abdomen. Instead, she laced her fingers into his hair and pushed him closer to her skin.

The pair was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door.

“Young master! Are you in there?” It was a houself. Draco presses a finger to his lips, signalling to remain quiet.

“I don’t think he’s there, we should check elsewhere.” Light footsteps were heard fading into the distance, eliciting a light laugh between the two. Y/N looks into his eyes once more, and kisses him one last time.

“Should we go?” He responds with a small ‘yes’ and kisses her forehead. As he buttons his shirt, the girl plods across his room, fascinated with its luxuriousness as she takes in the details. One of them causes her to gasp, however. She walks with her throat choking up at sight of the familiar bowl that was placed on his desk. It was hers. She lifts it gently, recalling their first conversation at the gala. The golden scars remind her heavily of the boy behind her. As she traces them, warm hands rub against her sides before snaking around her waist once more.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” Y/N laughs at his question.

“I suppose it does.” She says as she weaves her fingers into his. The boy takes a moment to stare at the bowl ahead.

“When you said that Kintsugi helped you heal, I wasn’t quite sure to believe you or not. But, going through the process was more than enough to make me understand why.”

“You truly are amazing Draco Malfoy. I won’t let anyone tell me you aren’t.”

“Even if my past is completely flawed?”

“Your past made you into who you are right now. What we have is ‘now’, and ‘now’,” she sets the bowl down and faces him, while her hand caresses his cheek. “...‘now’ belongs to us. Now you are amazingly, wonderfully, imperfectly perfect.”

Epilogue:

The sound of Y/N’s words rung in his mind as Draco found himself standing in the middle of her workspace. With a firm grasp on the brush handle, he dips the bristles into the gold liquid, allowing the excess to drip back.

He takes a deep breath, and allows the solemnity of the room to fill him. Many thoughts overtake him in the moment, but only one makes itself prominent to him, resilience. After going through the binding process himself, he pridefully lays down the gold over the cracks on his bowl--each one portraying the imperfections of his past.

A/N: Hi! If you made it this far, I want to thank you so much for reading! There’s a bit of inaccuracy in the last bit, but besides that I hope I brought much light to the technique in general. I hope you enjoyed!! Feedback is very much appreciated :D

Tagging:

@beiahadid @hahee154hq @mushi98 @stretchyice @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @saby06143 @rottenhexrt @littlethie @amithatemo

Link to the taglist is on my masterlist :D

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines #draco lucius malfoy #tw depression #tw self degredation

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

That Time Tim Totally Terminated Ra's Al Ghuls Entire Empire Part 1

So. I wrote something very silly. The title says it all, except it doesn't because this bad boy spiraled out to being over 10k and deserving of 2 chapters. Anyway, here is the first chapter featuring all the times Ra's kidnapped Tim because he wanted to recruit him.

Summary:

"Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.” Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

AO3 Link

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. No really. One moment he’d been in Gotham, crouched behind an old BMW that had been in the same spot for a month, waiting on Batman’s signal, the next he’d woken up in some lavishly decorated room. Was that silk? Or maybe velvet? He had no idea what was hanging around the bed he was laying in, but Tim really didn’t care.

What he was concerned about was his own personal state. He raised his arms --that alone was a good sign-- and confirmed that his mask was in place. He pushed himself up on the ridiculously plush bed, -which was unreasonably plush by the standards of a kid who'd grown up rich, and then gone to live with a guy who had both more money and even better beds.

The point was, the bed was so soft Tim actually had a bit of trouble sitting up.

When he did manage to right himself, he finished taking stock of his own situation and his surroundings. His Robin uniform was intact aside from his belt, but he saw that set on a trunk that looked at least as old as Bruce, a few feet away. The room was, as he already determined, lavishly decorated.

Tim pushed himself out of the bed and onto a carpet so thick he kind of wanted to pull off his shoes and curl his toes in it, but seeing as he still had no idea where he was, who took him, or why, he figured that was probably out of the question. He did make a mental note to ask Bruce for some better carpet when he got home. As a kind of gift for surviving a very weird kidnapping.

Instead, he moved to walk carefully around the room. He found no obvious traps, no cameras or speakers or microphones that were either hidden or out in the open, and both doors were unlocked.

The first he opened revealed a bathroom. The second he cracked open to peer out of. His eyes locked on that of an honest to goodness ninja standing guard outside the door. The man locked eyes with him and Tim snapped the door shut with a click.

Welp, that answered the who and maybe even the where of Tim’s abduction. Ra’s Al Ghul. He was pretty sure if he gave the ninja ten minutes to go find Mr. al Ghul himself, he’d have the why too.

While he waited, Tim snapped his belt back around his waist, comfortable to have its weight back, even if being in a League stronghold meant all the tricks in his pockets were basically useless on his own. Still, it was nice to feel fully like Robin again.

After that it was a matter of waiting.

Tim paced an actual trench into the thick carpet as he waited. Batman was of course looking for him. That was a given, he just had to wait for the man to find him. Or for Ra’s to send him home? He really wasn’t sure why the Eco-terrorist would have taken him in the first place beyond a really weird obsession with Batman's various sidekicks.

How come all of Bruce’s baddies seemed to have a strange fixation on Robins? It was weird how many went out of their way to kidnap and attempt to recruit him, Dick, and if the stories were to be believed, Jason too.

Just as Tim was starting to turn that particular thought over in his head, the door to his room opened and Ra’s himself strolled in.

“Timothy.” the man drawled.

“Ra’s.” Tim replied, suddenly totally and completely unsure what to do with his hands, voice, feet, and general self. This wasn’t a fight after all.

He settled for crossing his arms and being terribly glad his domino hid his eyes.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here.” Ra’s said.

Tim shrugged, “It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to guess that.”

The man frowned at him, and Tim started to wonder if maybe he should be watching his words a bit. He wasn’t in Gotham with Batman at his back after all. But then again, Ra’s must need something from him right? So a little sass was okay, what was Robin without a smart mouth after all?

“I mean--” Tim started, unable to stop himself now that he was thinking about it, “I can probably start to guess. You didn’t kill me and I’m not in a dungeon so you’ve got to want something from me right? I bet this is some blend of trying to win me over and also hold me above Batman because you--” he paused for a moment trying to remember if Bruce had been on Ra’s’ trail at all lately.

He dropped his arms and clapped, remembering, “You’ve been trying to break into energy and you want Wayne Enterprise to back you and legitimize your business. So you’re holding Tim over Bruce, but you probably want Robin because you and like half of Batman’s rogues have this weird obsession with teen heroes for some reason."

At some point he’d stopped looking at Ra’s and actually started pacing again. When he stopped talking his feet stilled and he looked back up at Ra's and grinned, ""So, am I hot or freezing cold?”

He expected Ra's to looked angry or irritated, instead he looked amused.

“You are quite warm. Though I would contend the assertion that I have a weird obsession with teen heroes. I am only interested in the exceptional, and you Timothy, are exceptional indeed.”

Tim gulped, “I mean--not really? But thanks.”

Ra’s waved him off, “We will speak more later. You are correct, I do intend to use you as a bargaining chip against your guardian--”

“Dad.” Tim interjected.

The man raised an eyebrow but continued, “However you are not a prisoner in the traditional sense. You may wander the compound with one of my men by your side to ensure you do not get into trouble. If all goes well you will be returned to Batman within a reasonable amount of time. Unless, of course, you do decide you would like to stay and learn from me.”

“I don’t really see that happening.” Tim said, “But I'll be sure and let you know if I make a sudden turn towards world domination.”

Again, Tim expected some kind of retaliation, but he was thankfully ignored. Ra’s left him with a warning not to cause undue trouble and soon Tim was alone in the room again.

He spent the next couple days wandering the compound somewhat aimlessly. He had a phone call with Bruce where he promised his dad that he was totally fine if a little bored, and spent the rest of his time trying to avoid Ra’s. The man was kind of relentless in his attempts at winning Tim over to his side and sought him out at meals, when Tim was trying to train a bit at one of the many gyms, and even once while Tim was wandering a rather fantastic garden. Each time, Tim did his best to wiggle out of the man's suggestions and just get back to wiling away the time between then and getting home.

Thankfully, it was all over in four days when Batman came crashing in with Nightwing and Batwoman to rescue him, and soon Tim was home and settling back into normal life.

He’d actually almost forgotten about the whole Ra’s kidnapping him until it happened again. Once had been a surprise, two times was starting to look deliberate.

This one lasted a week with Ra’s claiming it was because he still really wanted that energy deal and he just couldn’t understand why Bruce wasn’t willing to trade that for his ward (son Tim had ground out in irritation).

Tim almost believed him, until he woke one morning to find a pamphlet had been slipped under his door, it was literally a flyer promoting hiring in the League. Tim looked over it and had to laugh out loud. The text was done in a mix of papyrus and other fonts and whoever made it had used clip art. It looked like someone had typed it up in Microsoft word in like half an hour.

He spent the rest of his time there re-designing the flyer, with a ninja hanging over his shoulder as he used one of the League computers. The new one wasn’t the best flyer in the world, but Tim was pretty proud of it, and it was much better than the first draft.

When he was done, he pocketed the original, then pinned a note to the new one that said: Ha! Not until you get better designers.

Batman rescued him again, and Tim pushed the double kidnapping and Ra’s’ weird obsession to the back of his mind until the next time he was with Steph.

They were in the manor watching a Chopped marathon and Tim was telling her about both kidnappings.

“So he’s super into energy? How come he didn’t nab Dick? We all know he’s Bruce’s favorite.” Steph teased, popping a chip into her mouth.

“Setting aside that obvious lie, that’s the thing,” Tim continued, digging out the flyer he’d kept, “It has nothing to do with energy or Dick. I’m pretty sure Ra’s is trying to recruit me.”

He showed her the paper and Steph snorted, spraying chips out as she laughed, “No. Freaking. Way. I have to tell Cass. Let me show her this, please I’m begging you.”

Tim groaned, “Yeah, sure, but don’t you think it’s weird?”

She shrugged, taking the flyer to look it over, “Of course, but the B-man attracts weird like ice cream dropped on the ground attracts ants. Give him six months, and Ra’s will move onto a different way of trying to piss off Batman.”

“I hope so.” Tim said.

The third time Tim woke up in the elaborate room he was getting really sick of the decor and the headache that came with being knocked out and dragged halfway across the world.

“You know.” Tim started, the moment Ra's walked into his room (and it was actually Tim’s room he’d learned from one of the ninja guards), “You could have waited a month this time, to at least pretend this wasn’t all about your super weird plan to try and convince me into letting you adopt me.”

Ra’s opened his mouth to respond, but Tim wasn’t done.

“Which, by the way, I’m taken already. B did the whole adopting thing, so you missed that window. Though, I guess that probably doesn't really matter to you in the grand scheme of things since you keep kidnapping me. You are aware that kidnapping isn’t the best way to convince someone that your way is the right one, right?”

“Also, would it kill you to pick up some --I don’t know-- books on recruitment or something? I don’t understand how you’ve managed to get so many guys on your side it’s--” Tim started, but Ra’s had caught on to Tim’s mood at this point, conceded temporary defeat, and made a hasty retreat.

Tim didn't see him the whole rest of the day, and by the next morning Batman showed up, swinging in for another rescue and all was fine and good and normal for a while.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

It was the fourth kidnapping that really set Tim off.

He woke up back in that stupid room with it’s stupid decor and those stupid posters ready to burn the place to the ground. But something stopped him, a premonition. Like if he was patient for just a little longer he’d find a good and proper form of revenge to take on Ra’s for his total inability to take a hint.

At some point two ninja came by to take Tim to meet with Ra’s. As they walked Tim couldn’t help but notice the posters literally lining the hallways they walked through.

They were of two wildly different styles, but both struck a thought of familiarity in his mind. One was obviously a play on the classic “I want you in the army” poster. The other ripped off old “pin up” recruitment posters. Both made him laugh, and Tim pulled a couple of each down to save to show the Titans. He had a feeling Bart and Kon would lose their minds over these.

He had just folded them up and shoved them in his back pocket when they reached an office. Inside, Ra’s sat in a chair and motioned Tim to sit in one across from him.

“Thank you for joining me, Timothy.”

Tim sat and shrugged, “Not like I had much of a choice.”

Ra’s waved him off. As he did, a different ninja from either of the ones who’d escorted Tim to the office came in with a tray of tea. He handed Ra’s a cup, then gave one to Tim, and left the set on a table between them.

The whole vibe was kind of awkward and strange. Tim felt very much like he had one time a year ago when he’d realized halfway through a date that things were not going to work out. He hadn’t been able to end the date then and there, and had spent another two hours awkwardly making small talk and trying to avoid promising a second date.

“Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.”

Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

Tim took a sip of his tea in an attempt at avoiding having his mouth drop open in shock. Ra’s sounded like something out of a “Executive success seminar” that was just a veiled multilevel marketing scheme.

“To put it plainly, Timothy, I want you to become my apprentice. I know you and assume you might be hesitant to accept this lifestyle so I’ve prepared for you something of a presentation on what that might entail.”

Tim couldn’t stop a laugh from bursting out of him, but he did manage to turn it into a kind of cough.

“Wait--wait.” he said, almost choking on his tea, “Are you about to show me a powerpoint?”

Ra’s looked a bit put out at that suggestion, almost like he wanted to sigh, “Of course not, it’s more interactive than that.”

Tim held up his free hand, incredulous, “Is this--a job interview Ra’s? I thought you were pitching this to me.”

“No, no. It’s an interactive presentation designed to show you just what you have to gain from joining me.” Ra’s explained, as he did so Tim took another sip of his tea.

He lifted his cup and waved it lightly, “Oh yeah, so I’m just in one of those fairy tales then where you make me do three impossible tasks and at the end I get the happily ever after dip in the lazarus pit?”

“It’s only one trial--”

“So it is a task!” Tim declared, almost standing.

“Timothy.” Ra’s snapped, sounding a bit like Bruce whenever Tim and Steph’s antics pushed him a bit too far.

Tim crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Irritating the man was a bad idea, Tim knew that, but this was just ridiculous. He wasn’t going to be sent on a wild quest that might end up with him dunked in a Lazarus Pit or whatever else Ra’s had in mind that would supposedly prove how great it would be to work for him.

“If you are not going to take this seriously, then there are other ways of showing you why joining me is a good idea that are not nearly as pleasant.” Ra’s growled.

Tim held up his free hand, “I’d rather not find out, give me your pitch or send me off with your best ninja or whatever you were planning.”

He figured playing along would work for now. He could put off giving Ra’s an answer until Bruce came in for a third rescue. When he was home, they were going to have a serious conversation about ninja proofing the manor. Ra’s could not keep kidnapping him like this, they had to have some kind of security measures in place.

“Wonderful. I’m sure after your tour you’ll have a better understanding of what I have to offer you.”

Tim ended up following someone Ra’s called his “best general” around the compound for an hour. The guy showed Tim the training rooms, the medical suite, sparring rings, a variety of ninja’s actually practicing, and at one point they even ended up in the library. The general had been given instructions to pause anywhere Tim wanted him to, and so they lingered in the library for a bit.

He had to admit, Ra’s had a fantastic library.

The general didn’t seem worried about Tim getting lost, or escaping, and waited by the door while he wandered the massive room.

And boy was it huge. It was bigger than the main floor of the cave, with stacks and stacks of books on two floors. Some of the volumes looked ancient, and there were even scrolls shelved on the second floor.

He gingerly pulled one out to examine.

“That is worth more than you could ever imagine.” a sharp, young voice, declared, behind him.

Startled, Tim dropped it back onto the shelf and spun. Before him stood a kid, probably 8 years old, with tousled dark hair, dark skin, and a face that almost echoed some of Bruce’s school photos. It was startling.

“Hi.” Tim said, dumbly, “I know, it’s Ancient Sumarian right?”

“Tt.” the boy crossed his arms, “You are not an idiot then.”

Tim shook his head, “Nah, apparently I’m smart enough to be selected for recruitment.”

The kid nodded, “So you are Grandfather’s young detective. He speaks highly of you.”

Grandfather? Tim’s brain spun. This kid was Ra’s al Ghul’s grandkid? He ran the numbers, the kid’s mom was either Talia or Nyssa. If he had to put money on it, Tim figured the boy before him looked more like Talia than her sister. And his other features--like Bruce’s?

No.

No. Freaking. Way.

“That is hardly language to use here.” The boy said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Tim hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, but apparently his surprise had been so great he had. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I just never expected Ra’s to have a grandkid.”

“It is not surprising to me, I am his heir. Born to inherit the League and rule the world one day.”

Okay, that was a lot to unpack. Just a totally wild amount, but Tim wasn’t super focused on the world domination thing just yet (maybe later when he had a chance to process all of--well, all of it), “Sorry to keep pressing but, doesn’t having an heir kind of--I don’t know, put his whole Eternal Ruler of the League thing in jeopardy?”

“Tt. It is not my place to question my Grandfather’s plans. I simply know what I have been told, that I will inherit the League one day in his stead.”

“Well,” Tim rocked back on his heels casually and grinned, “That might be a long loooong time.”

The kid’s brows furrowed as if he had not really considered that idea before. He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to decide against it, dropping his arms to his sides to shrug, “If that is his wish then so be it.”

“True.” Tim said, not really knowing what to say. Instead he settled on changing the subject, “You know, if your grandfather gets his way I’ll be spending more time here, so I guess introductions are in order. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne, but most people just call me Tim.”

He held his hand out to the kid, smiling at him. If he really was Bruce’s then they’d be getting to know each other for sure. Just not here. Tim had zero intentions on letting Bruce’s child stay with the League. Did B he even know he had a kid? Tim thought he’d better figure that out first before kidnapping his little brother.

Little brother. Just that idea made something flutter in Tim’s chest. He’d always wanted a little brother.

The boy scowled at his hand, and did not take it, “You may be correct, even if I do not see what Grandfather seems to. I am Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Tim bit back a grin at just how serious this kid was. He sounded like a little prince, all imperious and haughty. Damian, even his name fit him. He wondered how Damian would do around Dick? Or Stephanie. They’d figure out how to bring a smile out of him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Damian.” Tim said, “I know we’ve really only just met, but I’m sure you’ll see what Ra’s does in time.”

Damian looked him over again, then gave a sharp nod, “I am interested in seeing what you have to offer.”

“Damian, I found it, where’d you go?” A voice sounded from deeper within the stacks.

Tim started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Knew it from nights spent chasing shadows, from recording’s Bruce had watched a hundred times when he didn’t think Tim was watching. From Tim’s own desire to know and learn more about his predecessor. It was Jason Todd’s voice.

But that couldn’t be. Jason was dead.

“I am coming.” Damian returned, his tone more childlike than Tim had heard in their whole conversation. He turned back to Tim, “Do not ruin that scroll, I will see you later.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Tim stepped forward, reaching out for the kid, “Wai--”

“Master Tim, we really must be going.” Tim’s guide was back, stepping into his view as if from nowhere, and stopping Tim’s chase as short as it had been.

“Can we wait just one more second?” he asked, “I wanted to ask Damian something else.”

The man’s mouth turned down in a frown, “I do not have clearance to let you speak with Master Damian. Come, we have more to see.”

Frustration bubbled up in Tim, but unless he wanted to start a fight he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Damian right then. The kid had promised to see him later, so maybe he’d seek Tim out. If not, Tim would find a way.

As he followed the man out of the library, he kept searching the stacks of books for a sign of the others. It wasn’t until they’d left the room that Tim caught sight of Damian again, his small form waving animated at a taller, broader one. One that, while older, was unmistakably Jason.

Before Tim could say screw everything, the two turned around a corner, and someone else was clearing their throat. His guide seemed eager to move on, and so they did.

Tim tuned out most of the rest of the tour, and eventually found himself back in the office from before, once again seated across from Ra’s.

“Timothy, I hear you have met my grandson on your tour.” Ra’s started.

“I did.” Tim said, a bit hesitant to go into detail, his guide had seemed like talking to Damian was a pretty serious thing, and suddenly Tim was afraid he’d gotten the kid in trouble.

Ra’s smiled, “He is magnificent is he not? Already he is a skilled warrior, and well trained in his studies.”

“He said he was your heir?” Tim ventured.

The man waved a hand dismissively, “Of course he is, he is my grandson, but that does not mean he will inherit. The boy is valuable to me, for many reasons. He is an excellent tool to wield against my enemies already, and will only become more so as he grows.”

Anger bubbled up in Tim. There was something in Ra’s’ tone that made Tim sick, to call a kid a tool. To plan to just use him his whole life?

“And what, do you want to do that with me too? You said you wanted me to be your apprentice, but if your Heir is just a tool then--”

“No, as I said I want you to take over a branch of the League. You have talents and skills Damian will not. The boy is--” Ra’s shrugged, “Let us call him a vessel. A shell for me to wield in one way or another.”

Well, that just made Tim even more angry. Damian was his grandkid. What Tim wouldn't have given to still have his grandparents, and for Ra’s to just--If Tim wasn’t already dead set on getting Damian home, he would be after this conversation.

“You know what, Ra’s. Let me think on it a while. I’ll get back to you on my answer. I kind of want to see Damian in action a bit, learn what this training looks like in someone closer to my age.”

The man considered this for a moment before nodding, “I will let you watch his sparring session tomorrow. For now, I think we’re done. Have a good evening, Timothy.”

Tim nodded, and left. His mind was racing, he wanted another look at Jason. Wanted to tell Damian about his dad. Wanted to make sure both his brothers were okay.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed the black and blue clad arm that reached out from behind a curtain and yanked him back. Nightwing put a hand over Tim’s mouth to quiet him, and then pulled him out the window the curtain had been hiding. They dropped, into nothing--except it was solid?

Tim found himself inside the invisible jet. Inside, and flying away from his newly discovered siblings before he could even argue they needed to be rescued too.

One flight with Wonder Woman and Nightwing later, and Tim was home again, being told in stern tones by both Batman and Nightwing that he really needed to stop allowing himself to be kidnapped by ninjas (like he didn’t know that).

Then he was in his room, in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind whirring. He had learned two things on this trip. Two impossible things. Two things he was going to leverage as soon as he could.

It was late, and he should be sleeping, but instead he texted Steph and Cass in their little group chat.

Tim: Want to cause some chaos?

Immediately he received a response:

Steph: Always

Cass: Who are we going after?

Tim smiled, his fingers dancing over his phone:

Tim: Ra’s.

Cass: Time to teach him a lesson?

Steph: I've been waiting for this, I’ll get the kerosene

Tim: There’s more.

Cass: Tell.

The light flashed on out in the hallway, Tim could see it flicker to life under his door.

Tim: Tomorrow, lunch at that place with the sweet potato fries. Come ready to plan a kidnapping or two.

The next day Tim found both Steph and Cass waiting eagerly for him at the restaurant, a heaping plate of sweet potato fries between them.

“Spill, Bird Brain.” Stephanie said, as he sat down, pushing some fries towards him, “I want to hear everything about this crusade against Ra’s.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and snagged a fry, dipping it in one of the sauces they’d gotten to accompany it.

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I had another visit to the League compound yesterday.” Tim started, “It was more of a day trip this time, but Ra’s did his very best to sell me on signing up.”

“More posters?” Cass guessed, then shook her head seeing Tim’s expression, “What did he do?”

Tim snagged another fry, “Yes more posters, but more than that he gave me a speech right out of a How to Recruit for Dummies book, then sent me on a tour of the building.”

Steph snorted, “Please tell me you recorded it.”

“I did not, but you will never believe what I found on my tour, or to be precise who.”

Both girls paused their snacking, waiting on him to continue.

Tim dropped the first bomb, “Jason Todd, alive and breathing.”

“What, no way.” Steph said, “How’d he even get there? I thought He was buried here?”

He shrugged, “I don’t have any of the details, but they’ve got a Lazarus pit, and Ra’s is weirdly obsessed with recruiting Robin’s, so I’d say his resurrection tracks.”

“Who else was there?” Cass asked, brow furrowed.

Now this he knew neither of them would be expecting. Tim hadn’t expected it. He still couldn’t believe it.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, Damian.” Tim said, watched both girls look even more confused, then added, “The son of Bruce and Talia. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s their kid.”

The fry Stephanie was holding dropped out of her hand.

Tim watched Cass processing the information, saw her realization that there was another child being raised in the League, then saw the determination cross her face at her own personal decision.

“We are taking them both, correct?” Cass asked.

“We’re taking them both, and burning the place down.” Tim confirmed, “That should properly pay him back for all the time’s he’s kidnapped me this year.”

Steph’s lips turned up into a sharp grin, “The law of equivalent exchange.”

Tim laughed, “You’ve been watching too much tv.”

“It’s prepped me for this very moment.” she shot back, voice falsely grave.

“Batman prepared you for this very moment.” Cass elbowed her.

“No.” Tim said, “I’m going to prep you. And then we’re going to put everything in action.”

They talked, and planned, and debated the pros and cons of letting Tim get nabbed again over just going himself, and eventually after many many sweet potato fries and sodas they were ready.

It was to be infiltration first, fire and kerosene second. Obviously the place was going to go up, but only after they set the stage for rebellion and convinced Damian and Jason to go home with them. Tim didn’t think it’d be a hard sell for Jason, but the kid was another matter altogether. If Tim couldn’t convince him to come along, they may actually end up having to kidnap Damian.

A key to the plan was that only Tim, Steph, and Cass were in on it. There was no way Bruce was giving the green light for such a thing. Besides, Tim wanted to see his face when they presented him with not one, but two, rescued sons from the League.

Over the next week Tim made himself the most kidnappable he’d ever been. He wandered outside, kept to himself, and tried to look as wide eyed as possible. He lingered in parking lots, and took shortcuts down empty alleyways. Basically, he did everything he could to signal he was alone and vulnerable besides hanging a sign around his neck that said “Take me to your (ninja) leader”.

At one point he even stopped, dead center in the middle of an alley and declared, “Wow this sure is a dangerous place to be! I hope I don’t get attacked and kidnapped by ninjas!”

The only response he got that time was from an older woman who stopped at the edge of the alley and very seriously called out, “Careful, young man. Don’t you know there are killer clowns out? You best be on your way before you get hurt.”

Then, at long last, Tim caught sight of one of the League members ducking behind a shadow. He paused his walk, and leaned over as if fascinated by something on the sidewalk in front of him. By the time he’d stood, the ninja was in front of him.

Tim held up his hands in surrender, doing his best not to actually look excited. Then, he was successfully kidnapped for the fifth --and if Tim’s plan worked successfully-- final time.

#Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain #Batfamily #fanfiction #crack #crack treated seriously #multimedia fic #humor #kidnapping attempts #revenge plots #Ra's tries to recruit tim #Spoilers it backfires #what is canon #precious posts #long post #chapter 1

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dork-empress · 3 years

Text

Singing In The Dead Of Night Ch 2

Harley and Barman set up a playdate for their wards.

forgive the long post, i'll edit and clean it up when im home. chapter can also be found on my ao3, url in the description.

Harley made it back home, which was actually the manor of some billionaire who only really used the house for tax purposes. Harley had taken it over when Lucy came to live with her, deciding she needed more room, and they quickly changed it to suit their needs.

“Luuuucyyyy, I’m hooooome,” Harley called out to the manor, heading through the living room/gymnasium.

Lucy was balancing on the beam by her hands. “Never heard that one before.” She went into the splits and stayed on one hand.

Harley looked over her form. “Point your toes more...there ya go.” Lucy did as recommended. “I got candy for dinner!” She dumped her stolen lollipops on the table.

“I already ate, Aunt Harley,” she said, “I made extra pasta if you want.” She pointed over to the kitchen, before switching hands and flipping herself over.

“Oh,” Harley said, going over to make a plate, but feeling like ants were crawling in her skin. “You know, you don’t have to call me your aunt when it’s just the two of us,” She said, swirling her fork through the noodles.

Lucy shrugged, “Force of habit. Plus it’s a good idea in general, ya know, in case someone’s secretly listening in or we mess up some other time.”

Harley shrugged her shoulders. “Makes sense,” and it did, but it still kind of hurt. “You can have the lollipops for dessert though. You like cherry?” She tossed her the red candy.

Lucy looked down at the wrapper a second. “Can’t, I’m allergic to the red dye.”

“Oh,” Harley said, silently cursing herself. That was something that mothers should know about their kids, allergies and crap. “Well. Lemon then?”

“Sure!” They traded the lollipops, and Harley sucked on hers between bites of the pasta. Sweet and savory combined, delicious.

Lucy swung her legs as she sat on the beam. “Does...my father have any allergies?”

Harley blinked at her. Did Joker have any allergies? It was hard to say. Even now, Harley didn’t know a lot about the Joker. That’s how he liked it. “Best not to talk about it,” she said instead, “In case of those listening things or whatever.”

Lucy hummed, but didn’t seem satisfied. “Hey,” Harley said, trying to distract her from the ‘dad’ talk, “You wanna go out with me tomorrow?”

Lucy brightened, jumping a bit, “Where are you gonna go?”

“I dunno,” she said, “Go lookin’ for trouble. Let the trouble find me. Punch out a couple people but only if they REALLY deserve it!” And maybe if they only kinda deserved it, Harley thought.

Lucy hummed again, thinking. “I dunno. I think violence often begets further violence, and while it is occasionally necessary, efforts should focus more on the community building and personal improvement area.”

Harley blinked at her. Right, she was a reader, Delia had mentioned that. Not unlike Harley at her age, really, although Harley had focused on psychoanalysis instead of philosophy. “Ah, of course,” she said, “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Lucy thought for a second. “Well, there was this girl I wanted to go inspire to fight her eating disorder.”

“Oh,” Harley said nodding. It was a noble cause, really, but...also seemed really, really boring. “I...sure!” she smiled.

The truth was, when Lucy came out to live with Harley full time, she had really thought they would be a lady dynamic duo, a proper partnership mother/daughter team. But Lucy wasn’t much like Harley. Or, she was but, she was different, a goody two-shoes. Or, a goody tutu. Ha.

More than that, she followed a strange sense of logic that was oddly reminiscent of...Harley didn’t even finish the thought.

“You don’t want to go, do you?” Lucy asked.

“Hmm? Of course I do!” Harley said, “I’d do anything with you sweetheart,” she gave Lucy a wink, then went to the kitchen to hide her facial expression.

She didn’t see that Lucy had followed her until she was directly behind her. “Oh, Jesus!” She said, clutching her heart, “Gotta look out there, sweetie. Almost brained ya!”

“Is Dad like me at all?” she asked, head tilted to the side.

Harley blinked at her. She felt like her bones were shaking inside her skin. “Why would you ask a thing like that?”

Lucy spun a little in place making her tutu swish. “I’ve been reading about him. People think he’s crazy. I mean, he says it. But that’s not what your records say.”

Harley frowned, backing away as though physical distance would get her out of the conversation. “What’re you goin through my records for? What, are you a snoop?”

“They got published after one of your arrests,” Lucy said, “Other people were more interested in the little notes you left in the margins, but--”

“Alright, stop.” Harley said, hand clutching her lollipop stick so tight it might break. “Look, Mr...your father is mean and cruel and manipulative, and nothing like you! He wants to drive other people crazy, and for some people, self included, he succeded. But I grew out of it as best I could and now...you don’t need to worry about him, ok? He ain’t ever gonna know about ya, and he ain’t ever gonna find ya. Got it?”

Lucy hesitated a second and there was something strange in her eyes. Something familiar. “Got it,” she finally said.

Harley lightened, smiling at her. “Why don’t we play a game or somethin? You like Monopoly? I make up my own rules!”

Lucy smiled, “That sounds nice,” she said, all bright again. As they set up the game, Lucy said, “You don’t have to come with me tomorrow, by the way. I can take care of myself.”

“You sure?” Harley asked. Lucy nodded. For the rest of the evening, Harley felt like something was…off.

She slipped the burner phone out of her pocket. She typed, ‘Wanna set up a playdate?’

“She called it a WHAT?!” Damian said, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Aww,” Tim said, over by the batcave computer, “Little Damian’s got a plaaayydaaate.”

“I will end you, Drake.” Damian snarled, fingers twitching for his sword.

“Enough,” Bruce interrupted the both of them. “Damian, if it helps you can think of it as a mission.”

“I thought I was forbidden from Robin duties for the next two months.” Damian said, arms crossed.

Bruce groaned. “Harley has taken in a ward, her niece Lucy. She has some petty crime charges, but from my recon, she’s not a villain. Harley wants her to spend time with someone her age, and I need someone who will watch over her.”

“Watch out for her, or watch out because of her?” Damian asked, scowling.

“Oooh, good question,” Tim said, still at the computer. “Hey, how come you didn’t set me up with vigilante kids?”

“Because you found them on your own,” Bruce shot back, “Look. Damian, you just have to spend the day with her. Follow her around, help her out as long as it’s not hurting anyone. Don’t let her get killed. Invite Jon if you want.”

“Uggh, Jon’s off world with his Dad,” Damian said.

“Oh right,” Bruce said, massaging his temple. “Why do interdimensional crises have to happen at the worst times?”

“Why is it we need a plural for interdimensional crisis?” Tim asked.

Bruce gave him a side glance to let him know he was coming up on the line that breached from ‘annoying’ to ‘problem Bruce will deal with.’ “Damian…”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said, “But I won’t be her friend by you forcing us.”

“Fine.”

They met up with Harley at a neutral location downtown on top of a party goods store. “Hiya Batsy, Hey Bird Boy!”

Despite himself, Damian liked Harley. She was usually of a like mind about which villains did or didn’t deserve to live, but he didn’t tell Batman that. “Harley,” Batman said, “Where’s your niece?”

“Just doin some high-wire practice.” Harley said, “Lucy-goosey!”

From the side of the building, a girl faulted up from where she was hanging on the flagpole. A girl wearing a tutu and white paint. “Nice to meet you, Batman,” Lucy said, “Aunt Harley’s told me….a lot of mixed things.”

“YOU!” Damian said, before he could stop himself, and all three of the others turned to him.

Lucy trotted forward on her tiptoes. “Have we met?” She asked, tilting her head, and looking him up and down.

Damian swallowed. “Uhh….”

“Blackbird!” Lucy said, and swooped him up into a hug, “Oh, I knew you were a Robin, why’d you lie to me?”

“Blackbird, huh?” Batman said, and he couldn’t see, but he knew there was a very pointed eyebrow being raised at him.

Damian, still being swung like a ragdoll by Lucy, tried to gain his balance. “I didn’t...I mean I wasn’t…”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Batman said, “You kids go on, I have something to talk about with Harley.”

“Kids?!” Damian said, offended, especially that he was going to be left out of whatever this conversation was. But in doing so, he left himself vulnerable as Lucy pulled on his cowl to the edge of the building.

“Come on, birdy, whatever color you are. The city awaits!” And she jumped from the roof, grappling on outcroppings to reach the street safely. Damian grumbled, but eventually followed.

Harley looked to Batman, and her face fell. “He’s out there, isn’t he?”

Batman gave one slow nod.

Lucy skipped everywhere. It was very irritating, because it was faster than walking, but slower than running, so hard to keep pace. Also,it was just very perky, which made it hard to sulk.

Lucy claimed she had deliveries to make around town. Something about girls who were bullies in high school and were treating others poorly, but it was only because of the societal pressures that were put on young girls of America and...and thats about where Damian lost interest.

She carried a cartfull of boxes like a damn girlscout, and left them on the girls doors. Damian could have followed in his sleep...except there was something about one of the boxes….

“What’s in that one?” Damian asked as she brought it to the next home.

“Huh?” Lucy said, “Same thing as in all of them, some cookies, a letter, balloons of course and--”

“It’s beeping,” Damian said.

“What?”

Damian didn’t wait any longer, he grabbed the box out of her arms and tossed it as high into the sky as he could, tackling her to the ground. The box then exploded.

Lucy gasped in excitement, clapping her hands together. “Birdy, look at it! It’s fireworks!”

Damian growled, jumping off of her and taking out his sword. “I knew it, I knew you were up to no good.”

Lucy tilted her head. “Whatcha talkin about, Birdy?”

“You--” He pointed to where the box was still smoldering. “You were going to put a BOMB on that girl’s doorstep!”

“I didn’t put that there,” Lucy said, getting up with no care of the sword pointed at her.

“You-” Damian stammered. “What?”

Lucy bent down and picked up a scrap of paper from the ruins. “Change of plans for the evening, Birdy!” Lucy said, “We’re going puzzling!”

She tossed the paper at him and he grabbed it quickly. It read ‘I’ve the tallest of trunks and thickest of stumps, a switch in the breeze, but I’m no tree. What am I?’”

They came quickly to the elephant pasture at the zoo. Damian couldn’t help it, he held out his hand for the elephant. She reached out her trunk and wrapped it around him. He couldn’t help but laugh.

Her baby came forward this time, trotting on new steps. He was already the size of a small horse, but he stole Damian’s heart all the same. He tried to bowl Damian over like a large puppy, and Damian couldn’t help but laugh. “Didn’t know you could laugh, Birdy,” Lucy said, kneeling over a shady patch in the enclosure.

Damian’s scowl returned. “Stop calling me ‘Birdy,’” he said, “You can just say ‘Robin,’ if you want.”

“But aren’t there other Robins?” Lucy said, fiddling with something, “I’d love to call you something unique to you.”

“There’s already a Blackbird, you know.” Damian said, continuing to pet the baby elephant.

“There is?” Lucy asked, “Picking a superhero name is HARD. I’m still trying to get Commedia to stick. You know, like, Commedia del arte? But I’ll end up getting called ‘Tutu girl’ or something if I don’t watch out.”

Damian gently pushed the elephant away, seeing what she was doing. She was hands deep in another box like the one they’d found in her cart. “Careful, it could be another bomb.”

“Fireworks,” Lucy corrected, “and I already diffused it.”

Damian leaned down, looking. She had indeed done so, quite efficiently. “How did you know to do that?”

Lucy smiled, “An uncle of mine taught me. You’ll meet him.” She dug further into the box. “I wouldn’t mind some more fireworks, but I don’t want to scare the elephants.” She pulled out another slip of paper.

“This has all the hallmarks of The Riddler,” Damian said, “We have to be careful. He might have bombs all over the city.”

“Fireworks!” Lucy corrected again, “And, probably. See, we already have the next clue!” She waved the paper and read out “Can you hear me make a sound, only when you are around.”

“Of course you can only hear things when you’re around.” Damian said, frowning.

“But only when someone’s around does it make a...Oh!” Lucy said, jumping to her feet, “An echo! We have to go somewhere there’s an echo!”

Damian sighed, “I have an idea.”

Technically they weren’t IN the Bat cave. They were at a far entrance to it, another end of the cave system. So he wasn’t breaking any rules. “Hey, is that Wayne Manor?” Lucy asked. “I tried to break in there once, but they have some crazy rich person security system.”

“Funny that.” Damian said, trying to seem completely ordinary.

Lucy stood at the edge of the cave and yelled into it. “ECHO!” listening for the echo in return. She skipped into the cave, humming all the way, the sound bouncing off as she went.

“Lucy?” Damian said, following her, “Don’t go too far, there’s all sorts of--” He heard a squeal and rushed forward.

He stopped short, his flashlight falling on Lucy. She waved at him to put it down, squinting. “Look here!” She brushed aside some dirt to find some rusted over metal. “Isn’t it fascinating! This cave system must go on for miles! Maybe people hid treasure there!”

“It’s just the old mining system,” Damian said, truthfully. “It’s all blocked off.”

“That can’t be hard to undo,” Lucy said, intrigued by whatever lay beyond.

Damian grabbed her hand before she could continue. “We have to catch the Riddler. There has to be another package here.”

Lucy sighed, but nodded. She took his arm with the flashlight and swung him around the cave. “Ah! There.”

She took the package and skipped out of the cave. “Careful!” Damian urged. “Come on, just diffuse it.”

“Nope, not these ones.” She tossed the package high in the sky, and Damian saw the fireworks light up.

He felt his phone buzzing, no doubt Tim could hear an explosion out here, not to mention Alfred. They’d come investigating fast enough. He leaped up, grabbing the fallen slip of paper, and grabbed Lucy again to pull her along. He read it quickly and passed it to her as he made his way away. “Even in the city scape, nature comes to take its place.” Lucy read. “It must be the park!”

“No,” Damian said, still pulling her, “I mean, yes, that is the answer to the riddle, but that’s not where we’re going.” He texted the police to inform them of the location of the hidden package so they could diffuse it, and dragged Lucy away.

The original Gotham Ice Cream shop was one of the oldest remaining buildings in Gotham, although was clearly closed for the night.

Damian saw a flash of green from the kitchens and rushed inside, finding none other than the Riddler standing there. “Stand down, Riddler,” Damian said, holding out his sword, “We’ve got you now!”

Riddler snarled, backing into a defensive stance. “Robin! How did you possibly find me?”

Damian smirked, “The beginning of each clue was clearly spelling out your final location. I-C-E. I didn’t need to follow 5 more clues to figure that out.”

Riddler cursed. “Those clues weren’t for you! They were for--!”

Lucy came skipping up to join Damian. “Hi, Uncle Eddy!”

“Lucille!” Riddler said, immediately warming. “I had so many sights around Gotham for you to see, why’d you go skipping to the end?”

Lucy skipped up to him, and Damian was once again left dumbfounded. “My friend Birdy here isn’t much for riddles, I think,” she said, “Although he enjoyed the elephants! And he knew about the mining carts in the caves, I want to explore those later.”

‘Uncle Eddy’ hugged Lucy, and Damian came to his senses, “THIS is your uncle?!”

Lucy shrugged, “I mean, that’s what I call him. I met him when I was visiting Aunt Harley a few years ago.”

“I heard you had moved to Gotham full time,” Riddler said, “I wanted to be sure you saw the sights. But the bat-brats have to ruin everything I suppose.” Riddler glared at him, and he glared right back.

“I don’t-” Damian started, but cut himself off, “You can’t just be leaving BOMBS around the city!”

“Fireworks!” Lucy and Riddler both corrected.

“Whatever! They’re explosive and they’re dangerous!” Damian hated having to be the safety one. It felt wrong.

Riddler rolled his eyes. “He’s just as much a barrel of laughs as the big one.”

“Aw, he’s sweet, really,” Lucy said, coming over to Damian and linking their arms. “Aunt Harley and Batman set us up on our own little playdate.”

“It is NOT!” Damian said, squirming away from her, “It is NOT a playdate.”

“Uncle Eddy, can my friend Birdy have some Ice Cream too?” Lucy asked, ignoring him.

Riddler and Damian glared again. “Fine.” He pushed his own bowl of ice cream towards Damian and went to get his own. “It’s MYSTERY flavor!”

Damian looked at it hesitantly as Lucy sat down to enjoy. Riddler went back to the kitchen. “It’s coconut,” Lucy said, “But Uncle Eddy likes to think it’s a mystery, so I let him.”

Damian frowned at her. “You’re really weird.”

“Thank you!” Lucy said, patting the seat beside her. “Come on, even you had to admit you had fun today.”

Damian thought about the elephants, and skipping around with Lucy, and watching the fireworks at the mouth of the cave, and seeing her all excited about mining carts for some reason. “Fine,” he said, “But it’s NOT a playdate.”

“Alright, alright,” Lucy said, digging into her ice cream. “Just a regular date then.”

“I--” Damian started, his head exploding with so many protests that he ended up just short circuiting. Lucy continued chowing down on ice cream like she didn’t say anything of importance. So, Damian just sat beside her, and ate his own.

#lucy quinzel #damian wayne #batman #harley quinn #dc fanfic

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writer-panda · 3 years

Text

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 3/Leaps in logic (and over the edge of the rooftop)

Chapter 1 -|- Previous -|- Next

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Adrien’s day wasn’t good at first. Okay, it was straight-up terrible. For most, their wedding is supposed to be a happy day. Or at least a reason for celebrations. Adrien? He couldn’t even hope for a cake since it would ruin his model body.

For the last several months, his father was working him into an early grave. The extra photo sessions, harder classes, new exercise regime… and Lila. The last one was terrifying.

Adrien tried to hold onto hope that his father would in the end cancel the whole affair. That he would drop the ridiculous notion of wedding or at least push it back. The young model wasn’t sure exactly why was his father so insistent on pushing for the wedding. He repeatedly asked himself if Lila was blackmailing his father, but it was hard to think of anything that his father possibly could be blackmailed with. Adrien spent countless hours wondering if his father had some dark secret, but it didn’t fit the man.

Did the designer have an affair with Nathalie? No… he already got angry about the suggestion once. And even if so, it wasn’t something that he would be so ashamed about.

Was his father doing some illegal business dealings? It was somewhat possible, but what? It would need to be something big. Something extremely big.

Thinking rationally, he had no idea what could it be…

What could be so big that it was worth more than the happiness of his only son?

--------

When one looks at all that, being kidnapped right at the altar was almost… nice. Sure, Adrien had been dragged by a sentient pile of mud into the sewers and then carried to some unknown location. Sure, his beautiful suit was ruined and all the hard work Marinette put into her work was irreversibly wasted.

But, he was not married to Lila.

The pile of mud dragged him deep into the sewers until they found a ladder leading up. It appeared to be grievously damaged, with several steps in the row removed. Adrien didn’t protest much when he was lifted up and into the place above.

The place turned out to be a quite comfy flat. It was overall smaller than Adrien’s room back in Paris, but it felt more welcoming. It only had one big room, divided in half with a plywood panel. In the first ‘room’, there was a couch, a small table with three chairs, a tv on a cabinet, and two armchairs. It all appeared to be old and worn out. The second part held two beds (one without any mattress), a desk with an old computer, and a kitchen annex. It was… nice. Adrien almost liked it better than the big, sterile manor.

The pile of mud seated him on one of the chairs before condensing into humanoid form. Slowly, his body turned human and in the end, he looked almost exactly like the wedding officiator. The man pulled his phone and sent some text before turning to Adrien.

“Do you want something to eat?” He asked, walking over to the kitchen annex.

“Um… anything would do.” Adrien hesitantly spoke up. He was only slightly scared. Honestly, first, he is saved from the wedding and now he is given free food? Yes, purr-lease!

“Vegan or non-vegan?”

“I would kill for a fat, juicy steak…” Adrien remembered his last photo session, which was advertising the summer collection. One of the photos had him standing over the BBQ grill. The smell of the food being prepared almost made him salivate back then.

“Ah… The actor’s diet?” His kidnapper/savior asked, giving him a knowing look at the same time.

“Yeah… I’m a model, but I heard it’s the same” Adrien corrected.

“I’ll get you something. We need to wait anyway.”

Adrien chose not to speak to the man while he was cooking. It was still a bit awkward. He was being kidnapped.

It didn’t matter. The meal was too good to complain. Who cares about kidnapping when one is given some meat. It was a light meal, probably not to upset his stomach, but it was still more than he hoped for that day.

Of course, it couldn’t be that pretty.

The moment Adrien finished with the first piece of meat and was reaching for another, the doors were violently kicked and a man entered. He was dressed in a red bodysuit with silverly metallic elements. His helmet had one eye replaced with a red… monocle?

The explosion was quickly followed by a single gunshot. The moment it sounded, Clayface (because that was the name of the ‘pile of mud’) became frozen in place. Literally. He was covered head to toes in ice.

“My steak!” Adrien cried as he was being dragged away by the newcomer.

They were already away when Clayface managed to break through the ice. He wanted to pursue them, but his phone rang suddenly, giving him a pause.

“Who is this?!” He snarled, irritated at the interruption.

“I was led to believe you have what I wanted.” The voice on the other side growled and Clayface paused. It sent shivers down his figurative spine. His employer sounded dangerous.

“Ah… Yes… There’s been a… complication.” He stuttered, hoping it wasn’t too apparent. Whoever was on the other side made a terrifying first impression.

“What do you mean ‘complication’?” They hissed. Clayface stumbled and almost dropped the phone. He knew the employer was someone powerful, but it was a whole new level of scary. Sure, he was technically a mercenary, but until today his biggest job was some light security gig. This was supposed to be his way of reinventing himself into part of the major league. But this was being much more overwhelming.

He quickly got to the point where his employer should’ve been somewhat satisfied and hanged up quickly. He had to get the boy before he became the target himself.

----------

Elsewhere, Adrien was starring into a pair of curious sea-green eyes.

When his new kidnapper brought him to the apartment and tied him to the chair, Adrien was still bemoaning the loss of his steak. He disliked the lack of freedom, but he was still feeling safer than with Lila and his father. Objectively looking at it, he knew it was wrong, but he preferred to be kidnapped.

To his surprise, the kidnapped tossed him and the chair into some spare room of the flat they were in when the doorbell rang. There were also some curse words, but Adrien chose to disregard them.

It took a very energetic girl (about two years younger than him) all five minutes to figure out he was in that room. Not that the man made it particularly hard, leaving the doors half-open and all that.

She leveled her head so that they were on an equal level and stared into his face with an inquisitive glare.

“Daddy! You promised not to work on our day together!” She turned to the man and complained. “You clearly kidnapped him!”

“I’m really sorry, cupcake. I didn’t plan it. The time zone changes can really mess up with the calendar.”

“If it helps, this is better than the alternative.” Adrien smiled shyly.

“How is being tied to the chair good?”

“It’s better than being forced to get married.” The boy deadpanned.

“Fine.” She then turned to her father “But you will untie him. He can join us in our board game evening.” She declared imperatively.

“You won’t try anything, right?” The man glared at Adrien, who shrugged (as much as the binds allowed him).

“I quite like it here. I could do with some water, but it’s really better than how the day was supposed to go.”

The man sighed and walked over to the boy. The rope fell to the floor and Adrien could move freely. Yet, he didn’t immediately move. He did try to get up, but the world swirled and blackness consumed his consciousness.

----------

When he woke up, he was once again faced with a set of sea-green eyes. The girl apparently liked to stare at faces in close quarters. Not that Adrien complained much as long as she didn’t actually touch him. He was used to the attention.

“You must’ve been really tired. Daddy said he almost wanted to get you to a hospital.” That woke Adrien very quickly.

“No hospital!” He launched himself to sit straight up and almost crashed with the girl. Luckily, she moved out of the way. Otherwise, her father might’ve actually sent him to the hospital. Probably in pieces too.

“Don’t worry.” Speaking of the devil, the man entered the room with a platter full of fast food and a glass of water. There was a hamburger there!

“Zoe. Please leave us alone for a moment. I need to discuss some things with Mr. Agreste.”

“Sure. But remember you promised not to hurt him. And we promised him board games.” She reminded her father before happily skipping out of the room.

Once she was out, the man handed him the platter and Adrien practically leaped to devour the food.

“So…” His kidnapper/temporary caretaker started awkwardly. “If it’s any help, I’m sorry for kidnapping you.”

“Dot wowwy” Adrien dismissed him with a mouth full of burger. His father would lock him up for months if he saw him, but the boy was way past caring about it. He gulped before continuing though, as it was a shame to waste anything of the tasty goodies. “Seriously, you guys are making me a favor.”

“Huh?” The man raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah! If not for this,” he gestured vaguely around the room, albeit it was clear he meant kidnapping, “I would’ve probably been married already.”

“Ah… And I guess the wedding wasn’t your idea.” It wasn’t a question. Deadshot (because he was the kidnapper if it wasn’t yet obvious) had some experience with runaway brides. Grooms escaping arranged marriage were rarer, but not unheard of. He used to take those tasks without remorse. At least until one time, when he tracked the bride, instead of an adult woman like usual, he found a pre-teenage girl. She couldn’t have been older than his own daughter at the time.

Let’s just say that he failed to deliver that contract. Or any similar in the future.

“Sir?” Adrien asked once he finished the meal.

“Yeah?”

“Could I get some more?”

“In a moment. Let what you ate settle down first.” He scolded him lightly, his parental instincts kicking in. “So, do you have any idea who might’ve wanted you kidnapped?”

“Not really… Only Marinette and Gerard cared about my opinion on this matter. And neither is the kind that would arrange a kidnapping.” He did his best not to think about his past as Chat Noir. No one but Ladybug knew, but his Lady wasn’t someone that would get involved with criminals. And even then, he doubted she could afford mercenaries. He always thought they were expensive. Could someone else figure out he used to be Chat Noir?

“Hm…” Lawton focused for a moment. “And what about The Seamstress? She is a completely new player that came out of nowhere. I suspected she might’ve had a personal connection to you. What about your father? Could someone want to get back at him? Especially someone with that name?”

“You do know what my dad does for the living?” Adrien deadpanned.

“Yes, but did he anger someone? Enough that they would want to ruin him?” The man pressed.

“It would be easier to list people he didn’t anger. My father is not… not the easiest to be around.” The light that was in the boy’s eyes just moments ago dimmed slightly. “Why are you asking all this?” He suddenly perked up and met the gaze of the mercenary.

“Honestly, I really dislike the jobs involving kids. I thought that you were just another bratty teenage star that got his way with the wedding. A kid wanting to be treated like an adult. Now… now I can’t with clear conscience return you or deliver you.”

Adrien held back any witty remarks about hired gun having a conscience. “So… I’m living with you?”

“Sadly, no. I’m not around often enough and there is still a price on your head.” Lawton pulled out his phone and carefully read through something. “The more I think of it, the more it looks like you are not the most important part.”

That got Adrien’s attention. His own brain started to work overtime to get the meaning. “What?”

“The wording of the contract. ‘Grab from the wedding’, ‘possibility of further assignments’, ‘very public’… and the price is unreasonably high for such a simple task. It appears as if whoever The Seamstress is wanted a show. Like she wanted to recruit whoever brought you in. It appears as if she was setting up some sort of competition over who brings you to her.”

“But why me?” Adrien ran through ideas, but only him being Chat Noir would make sense in the long run.

“Publicity. Your old man made sure the wedding was the event of the decade.” The merc simply shrugged. “If they wanted to announce their entrance to the big league, they would pick the biggest, most prominent target.”

“Figured father is to blame…” Adrien grumbled before reaching into his pocket. “I… would like to call a friend of mine. To reassure her I’m safe.”

“She won’t run to the police?” Lawton was hesitant to allow it but also didn’t have the heart to tell him no. The kid was emotional wreck. And if his appetite was anything to go by, it was possible physical abuse was also there.

“Marinette wouldn’t do anything dangerous. She… I think she was trying to stop the wedding. Or delay it.”

“The girl that stood up shortly before the panic?”

“Yeah… She used… She’s a friend of mine. Probably the last true friend I have left.”

“I see… Okay, call her. But make sure not to mention anything about me. Just in case.”

There was a moment of tense silence while Adrien waited for his friend to pick up. Finally, after the fifth signal, there was a rustle on the other side.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng speaking. Who do I have the pleasure with?” She spoke almost mechanically. To someone who never met her before, it might’ve sounded sincere. To Adrien, it sounded like she was exhausted both physically and emotionally. He almost blamed himself, but at the last second shifted it all onto Lila and his Father.

“Marinette!? Are you okay?” He asked, wanting to make sure there was nothing truly wrong.

“Adrien!? Adrien!” She immediately seemed to cheer up. “Where are you!? Are you okay? What happened? Did they hurt you? Are you safe?” She finally paused to take a breath.

“I’m okay, Marinette. I might’ve sorta gotten myself kidnapped,” he realized how bad that sounded as the words left his mouth, “but it’s all okay! It’s better than it was!” He rushed to reassure her, albeit his method was not a hundred percent successful.

“Are you safe?” Was the question she repeated. It sounded almost… guilty. To Adrien’s tired brain though, such subtle details were second to the question.

“I’m probably good. Someone put a bounty on me, but it’s all about me being alive. It’s like whoever did it accidentally saved me from the wedding.” He chuckled a bit darkly, thinking about how much of a temper tantrum Lila must’ve been throwing since his disappearance.

“Call me back later, okay?” There was a sudden urgency that Adrien did pick on. “I have something that needs to be sorted out.”

“What’s happening?”

“Just my Maman is coming. She is knocking right now.” With that, she hanged up. Adrien relaxed. There was no danger. And even if there was, it probably just ran away to hide as Sabine Cheng came to town.

“Kid, you done?” Deadshot walked back into the room with another hamburger.

“Yeah. I feel much better now. Thanks for the opportunity.”

“Don’t sweat it. Listen… I can’t just keep you, but I called some friends of mine. They’re willing to help you. Well, she is. Her girlfriend is just going with it for her sake.”

Lawton carefully studied Adrien to see his reaction to mentioning the couple, but there was no visible reaction. He just watched the hamburger with a hungry gaze.

-------

Elsewhere, an exhausted kwami flew out of the jewel. Hawkmoth was one step from tossing the jewel at the wall.

“I don’t understand! He should be terrified by now! He was kidnapped! They wouldn’t kill him after going so long to kidnap him!”

“Maybe your powers aren’t as good as you’ve thought?” another voice spoke from the shadows. Lex Luthor walked into the center to join Gabriel Agreste.

“They didn’t have time to move him out of the city before I started the search. Not without magic and he said there was no magical travel to or from Gotham so far.” Gabriel paced around the room.

“While you were playing with your precious jewels, I actually used some of my contacts. It appears that someone ordered a hit on your son. They wanted him kidnapped from the wedding.”

“What?!” Gabriel paused and glared at the other man.

“While I can’t stop it or even try to outbid them, I do know of one person I can convince to take this task. And she just happened to be coming to Gotham this very moment.”

“Fine. I want my son back, or our deal is off, Luthor.”

“Don’t worry. He will see the Light soon.”

#maribat #fanfic #fanfiction #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #villain marinette #batman #DC comics #dcu #MLB #mlb x dc

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akatsuki-shin · 3 years

Text

REVIEW: 山河令 Shān Hé Lìng (Word of Honor)

Note(s):

(Very) long post ahead

Contains spoiler

This is my personal review and does not represent the entire audience.

This review is written by someone who has read the original novel, hence there will be reference and comparison between the two works

Summary:

After the sudden passing of his beloved master, young leader of the famous Four Season Manor, Zhou Zishu, brought his brothers and loyal followers to serve the Prince of Jin whose family had been the master of his predecessors, creating a secret organization of capable spies and assassins known as "Tian Chuang".

His decision later proved to be the downfall of his sect, however, for they were quickly swallowed into ruthless political conflicts and battle for power within the royal families, causing his brothers and followers to die unjustly one after another.

Ten years later, Zhou Zishu, now the sole survivor of the Four Season Manor, resigned from his position as the leader of Tian Chuang. In exchange for freedom, he bestowed upon himself the fatal punishment that is the "Nails of Seven Apertures for Three Autumns", a torture device created by Zhou Zishu himself that would gradually numb one's five senses and ultimately took their life within three years.

After several months passed, the now free Zhou Zishu had disguised himself as a wandering vagrant, enjoying his remaining time sightseeing, drinking, and sunbathing to his heart's content.

As fate would have it, however, his unshackled days abruptly ended when he saved a young boy, the only surviving descendant of the Mirror Lake Sect, one of the renowned Five Lakes Alliance, that was destroyed overnight by the mysterious ghosts of Mount Qingya. He was soon pulled into a conflict of the pugilist world dating back to twenty years ago, revolving around a legendary "Glazed Armor" said to hold the key to a secret armory filled with the secret techniques of martial sects from all over the world.

To further complicate matters, he somehow caught the interest of a strange young man of mysterious origin, Wen Kexing, who pursued him relentlessly with unknown motive.

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Before we get into it, I feel that it is worth to mention some of the major differences between the novel and live action because they do affect my impression and judgment over several points in the drama.

While there are always bound to be differences between an adaptation and its original works, most of these differences seem to have been made to avoid censorship, also in order for the drama to be able to become a "stand-alone" story (since the original work is a sequel to another novel).

1. Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing

In the drama, they are later revealed to have once been martial brothers of the Four Season Manor due to the fact that Zhou Zishu's master saved Wen Kexing's parents when they were pursued by both the righteous sects of the jianghu and the ghosts of Mount Qingya over the key of the Glazed Armor.

In the original story, they were strangers to each other that have no relationship whatsoever prior to their coincidental meeting at Jiangnan.

2. Prince of Jin and Tian Chuang

Word of Honor is based on the novel "Faraway Wanderers" by Priest, which is a sequel to her previous novel "Lord Seventh".

Originally, the master that Zhou Zishu and his Tian Chuang served should be the Emperor himself, Helian Yi, an important character from Lord Seventh - in which Zhou Zishu also made a major appearance. After Zhou Zishu punished himself with the nails and left Tian Chuang, Helian Yi and the Tian Chuang never pursued him. The story follows Zhou Zishu's journey in the jianghu and he never once went back to the capital city where Helian Yi was.

In the live action, Zhou Zishu and Tian Chuang served the Prince of Jin, a royal family tangled in internal strife for power. From what I understand, Prince Jin seems to have an ambition to overthrow the ruling Emperor to become one himself. After Zhou Zishu left, he kept an eye on him and later managed to capture Zhou Zishu, briefly bringing him back to the Jin as a prisoner.

3. The Scorpions

In Word of Honor, the Scorpion King Xie-er was portrayed as the adopted son of Zhao Jing, the main villain of the story. All the plots he devised, most of them were made with Zhao Jing's interest in his mind. There were also four remarkable assassins working under him (I don't remember their names, but you know who I mean, right?).

Originally, the Scorpions are an independent assassin group. Their relationship with Zhao Jing is that of client and service provider. The Scorpion King had his own plan to benefit himself and his organization with only his own interest in mind. There were no particular members of the Scorpions featured in the story other than him. Specifically, the Phantom Musician Qin Song was an independent assassin hired to kill Zhang Chengling, and he was believed to be dead after being defeated by Zhou Zishu on his very first attempt.

4. The Ten Ghosts of Qingya

Although the novel did mention the existence of the Top Ten Ghosts, only 4 (four) of them actually appeared in the story:

Xue Fang the Hanged Ghost (who was secretly killed by Wen Kexing in the beginning of the story, both in the novel and drama)

The Long-tongued Ghost who was also killed by Wen Kexing when he and Zhou Zishu were trapped underground in the graveyard (Zhao Family's Funeral Home in the drama)

Sun Ding the Delighted Mourning Ghost, one of the strongest ghosts who wanted to overthrow Wen Kexing's position as Ghost Valley Master; he was later killed by the Scorpions

Lao Meng (I forgot his title), also one of the strongest ghosts who wanted to overthrow Wen Kexing, but he was more lowkey and calm; he worked together with the Scorpions to first kill Sun Ding (his rival) and later to kill Wen Kexing when the jianghu heroes came to attack the Ghost Valley (although he didn't know that the Scorpion King had his own plan, hence meeting his demise during the war)

Wu Chang and his two henchmen, the Tragicomic Ghost, the Laughing Ghost, etc do not exist in the novel.

Additionally, Liu Qianqiao is also not part of the ghosts in the novel. She did have an affair with Yu Qiufeng and was manipulated by him until she died horribly in the hands of the two old couple (whose names I also forget).

5. The Ending

I think this is probably the biggest difference between the novel and the live action.

Originally, Zhou Zishu's nail wounds were removed and healed completely by Wu Xi AFTER the final battle at Mount Fengya (yes, the mountain's name is slightly different). He, Wen Kexing, Zhang Chengling, Jing Beiyuan, and Wu Xi lived temporarily at the top of Mount Changming because they need cold temperature for the healing method to work.

Wen Kexing did not sacrifice his life to restore Zhou Zishu's meridian and they did not become immortal.

Also, the Scorpion King was killed by Zhang Chengling and Gao Xiaolian after he got his hand chopped of by Zhou Zishu for trying to murder the already dying Wen Kexing (after he took his revenge on Mo Huaiyang).

There are of course, still many more differences, including when and where Cao Weining died, but the five things I mentioned above are probably the biggest ones because they directly impacted the entire plot.

---------

STORY: 8/10

Despite the changes and adjustments, the main plot of SHL amazingly remains loyal to the original story. The things they could not show, they would include it in the characters' dialog or tried to incorporate it in another way. Some examples:

Cao Weining and Gu Xiang's reincarnation story was included in Cao Weining's dialog (his dream and his wish to grow up together with her in their next life)

Wen Kexing's confession about wanting to build a grave for his parents from the Extra Chapter (where he cried and caused Zhou Zishu to let him top out of sympathy) was included in Wen Kexing's dialog when he got drunk and hugged Zhou Zishu after he defeated Zhao Jing (prior to Cao Weining and Gu Xiang's marriage)

In fact, I feel that most of the adjustments made to the story were able to deliver much better emotional aspects and intensity of the characters and important scenes.

Although more than half of the Ten Ghosts were made up solely for the drama, their existence was able to better portray Wen Kexing's image as the supreme leader of the Ghost Valley and why they all fear him.

Although many interactions between Zhou Zishu, Zhang Chengling, and Wen Kexing were either added or changed from the novel, here we could see them as a real, close family which is so much more heartwarming than the original.

Zhao Jing's pretense, evil deeds, and downfall were all arranged neatly from the beginning. If I hadn't read the novel, I probably would've been (pleasantly) surprised when it was revealed that he was the one plotting everything behind the scene.

The romance and relationship development of the main pairing (Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu, although it was masked as brotherhood as always) and side pairing (Cao Weining/Gu Xiang) were especially well done. It allows me, as the audience, to get to know them, sympathize with them, and ultimately rooting for them (despite already knowing how Cao Weining and Gu Xiang would end up).

Gu Xiang's anguish and fury after Cao Weining died were shown so clearly. Her final fighting scene until her death was particularly moving.

Explanations and plot twists were spread evenly so there was no info dump. The plot development was enjoyable to follow from the beginning, even if the ending felt a bit rushed.

This was a bit difficult to describe, but even if sometimes I feel like "hmm, this character did not do this in the novel", when I was following the drama from the first to the last episode, everything flows smoothly and does not feel out of place. So I realized that even if what the characters did was sometimes different from the original story, it is still loyal to the plot and circumstances of the drama, which is why their adjusted words and actions still felt natural to see.

Also, when reading the novel before, I have one critic about the Glazed Armor and the armory itself being the center of everyone's fight, but in the end they didn't seem to have much importance, especially because the armory was never found and opened. At the very least, although it was due to ending change and pretty much rushed, in SHL the Glazed Armor was actually used and the armory was shown.

Though there were indeed a few things that I do not quite agree(?) with:

Tian Chuang is supposed to be a secret organization that does their job secretly, but why is it that they always light so many lanterns when launching their attack?

The bond shared between Zhou Zishu and Prince Jin was pretty clear, but I don't think it's detailed and deep enough for Prince Jin to consider Zhou Zishu his soulmate. Furthermore, from the beginning we've never been told about Zhou Zishu's family, but in the last few episodes suddenly there were talks about his father being branded a traitor because of some secret hidden in the armory. While the story makes sense, to put new information out of the blue when the plot was about to end feels somewhat strange.

Lastly, I understand that danmei adaptations always face a lot of restrictions, as in they were not allowed to have a blatant happy ending - so most either resort to tragedy or open ending (cmiiw). However, I still feel that Wen Kexing faking his death without telling Zhou Zishu was......kind of silly.

After their life was spared by Ye Baiyi, Zhou Zishu had already warned him not to act without telling him again. When he wanted to fake his death, Wen Kexing told almost everyone except Zhou Zishu, the reason being they shouldn't make Zhou Zishu fight since he was in the middle of recovery.

Zhou Zishu is a rational person, I strongly believe that he would understand if Wen Kexing explained clearly. Him not telling Zhou Zishu led to:

Zhou Zishu actually ended up fighting to save him

Zhou Zishu thinking his soulmate is truly gone and proceeded to choose a suicidal move in order to avenge his (fake) death

Honestly, while I still enjoy following this drama until the end, I feel that the cause of Zhou Zishu dying when he could've been saved by Wu Xi, and Wen Kexing ended up sacrificing his life to save Zhou Zishu, was a bit ridiculous because really, Wen Kexing brought it upon himself.

In regards to this, even if I'm happy the two of them ended up living happily ever after as immortals on the mountain, it makes Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi's existence almost pointless. They were literally included in the story of Faraway Wanderers to save Zhou Zishu's life from the nails. But here, other than providing shelter after the Four Season Manor was burnt down by Duan Pengju, I don't see any reason why they should be there.

CHARACTERS: 9/10

Perfect casts and perfect character portrayals, both from visual aspects and acting. Some may or may not necessarily look 100% similar to their novel description, but they managed to bring out the characters to life so well.

I've said before that most adjustments made to the drama were able to deliver much better emotional aspects and intensity, and this is especially true for the characters.

Honestly, when reading the novel, other than the few main characters, others did not leave a lot of impressions on me. I don't even remember what Zhao Jing was like when he was revealed as the true villain. Gao Chong's introduction was pretty good, but then we didn't hear much about him until he was finally declared dead. Shen Shen appeared only for one chapter and the next time I heard of him, he's already dead, too.

I love the novel, but really do have so many complaints about the characters in there. Fortunately, all of these flaws had been fixed in the drama, and boy they did it so well.

Some that I found amazingly written and shown:

Wen Kexing's emotional instability and his protectiveness whenever Zhou Zishu got hurt (good job, Gong Jun)

Zhou Zishu's rich emotions to those he hold dear (good job, Zhang Zhehan)

Zhang Chengling's character being more detailed and "alive", especially his diligence, growth, and occasional mischief; he was no longer just a useless dumb kid who can't do anything

Cao Weining and Gu Xiang's dynamic is so lovely

Zhao Jing's change from the seemingly weak guy to an ambitious, manipulative mastermind

Gao Chong, Shen Shen, and many other side characters were given enough screen time + sufficient important scenes so they weren't easily forgotten

Special shoutout and kudos to the actor who played Duan Pengju. I heard he was actually the Assistant Director, but because they didn't have much budget, he was casted to play this character and he did great 🥺 Thank you for helping the team to save hundred thousands yuan!

I don't really have any complaints about the character except when Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing have just delivered Zhang Chengling to Zhao Jing, Zhou Zishu clearly didn't want to mention his name (Zhou Xu), but Wen Kexing went ahead and introduced the both of them. Somehow I feel that Wen Kexing's character wouldn't disregard Zhou Zishu's opinion so lightly.

TECHNICAL ASPECTS: 9/10

Although this drama did not have much budget to start with, literally the only complaints I have about it is so minor, like:

A few scene transitions don't look smooth

Repeated use of sets, e.g. Gao Chong/Zhao Jing's residence is the same as Prince Jin's Palace, the Secret Armory Interior is the same as Tian Chuang's prison - but this has been mentioned in an interview with the Director(?) that they indeed use similar sets for multiple scenes to save budget

Other than that, I only ever have good things to say about this drama.

The fighting scenes should be given million kudos. Save for the flying and gliding part (which still looks kinda awkward, but better than some other Chinese dramas I've seen), the actions were just so cool and intense??? From the angle, the slow motion, to the techniques that are unique and different for each character. They even perfectly showed Zhang Chengling's awkward yet correct implementation of Zhou Zishu's teaching.

Costume designs are top notch. The visual of the seven nails on Zhou Zishu's body looks so real. His disguise was also very well done, I almost couldn't tell it's the same actor.

Some CGI and animations could've done better, but overall everything looks nice. I'm especially amazed at the visual of Longyuan Palace.

OVERALL SCORE: 8.7/10

At this point, I don't even know how to end this post other than saying please watch it, guys. It's a really well done job despite their limitations and restrictions. I've watched several Wuxia/Xianxia dramas before this and Word of Honor surprisingly exceeded every single one of my expectations. I enjoyed watching it so much, and I believe you guys will like it, too.

An additional kudos from me personally, because you can tell how the team creating this drama knows and appreciates the original author's works. It's a pleasant surprise when they incorporated a few things from Priest's other novel:

From Sha Po Lang: Zhi Liujin (the fuels used for the puppets in Longyuan Palace) and the Mechanical Birds used by Tian Chuang + Ping An Manor to deliver letters

From Silent Reading: The puppy that young Zhou Zishu and Zhen Yan played with, it was named after the cat owned by the main character of Silent Reading (also, fun fact, the name of Silent Reading's main character is "Wenzhou")

From Lord Seventh: Wen Kexing faking his death was exactly the same as how Wu Xi fooled the Emperor in order to "kidnap" Jing Beiyuan out of the capital.

Conclusion: Please watch it, guys.

#Word of Honor #Shan He Ling #SHL #Tian Ya Ke #Faraway Wanderer #Zhou Zishu #Wen Kexing #WenZhou #Review #Danmei #Priest

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

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alright ok real request how about ciel sebastian claude and alois fighting over a a modern reader like they get trandsported to the black butler world and the four boys fall in love with them cause there so weird ya know? like gen z weird anyways sending my love ❤️

When those four men here clash together all hell shall break loose. Ciel and Alois Are aged up in here.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, paranoia, clinginess, manipulation, sabotage, desperation, stalking, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of killing

Fighting over a modern reader who got transported into their world

☕️🐈‍⬛Ciel and Sebastian were the first one to find you. You were stumbling around their mansion, confusion visible on your face whilst you mumbled something from where the heck you were and why everything looked like you were somewhere in the nineteenth century. Your clothes were really something else. Both of them had never seen something like this before. And when you saw both of them your eyes suddenly widened and in the next moment you were suddenly all over them, yelling excitedly something about that they looked in real life so much more cooler and handsome then in the Anime.

☕️🐈‍⬛Ciel labeled you at first as insane, telling Sebastian to remove that lunatic from his manor. Sebastian on the other hand sensed that there was something off about you. Your soul...It was almost like it wasn’t from this world. But this wasn’t enough to convince Ciel. That was at least until you pulled some weird object out of your pocket. A glowing box you called a “phone”. This was evidence enough for Ciel and Sebastian. There was nothing like this in their world.

☕️🐈‍⬛You had nowhere to go so Sebastian offered you to stay with them for the time being. Ciel was at first against it. He wasn’t too keen on the thought of having a dimension traveler in his house, but Sebastian has a silver tongue so it didn’t take much to convince his master otherwise.

☕️🐈‍⬛The objects you had were hidden somewhere where only Ciel, Sebastian and you had access to. You needed to dress yourself properly even though you strongly refused. No wonder, you were used to wearing stuff like “jeans” and “hoodies” and a lot of other stuff. You did possess some knowledge about how to act normally in their time, but Sebastian took it still upon himself to teach you everything.

☕️🐈‍⬛Both of them made sure that your secret was safe with them. So whenever the servants or other people asked you questions that would be a bit difficult to answer both of them talked for you. They even went as far as creating a fake identity and background story for you.

☕️🐈‍⬛They were also fascinated when you told them about your world and things like “airplanes”, “phones” or “TV”. You possessed more knowledge than Sebastian and were very well informed about the history and the upcoming war.

☕️🐈‍⬛The fact that in your world their life was an “Anime” brought very different reactions from them. Sebastian was amused at that whilst Ciel felt annoyed as well as embarrassed. Their faces when you told them that they were shipped in your world were priceless.

☕️🐈‍⬛You were weird and unique and both of them became quickly overprotective over you, simply because they were scared what would happen if someone would find out about you. And the more you told them stories from your world and showed them your really special character the more you fed them with their obsession. Ciel became obsessed because you knew so much he didn’t. Sebastian became obsessed because of your one-in-a-kind soul and because of the fact that you weren’t from this world.

☕️🐈‍⬛Both of them were quick to notice the interest that they both had in you and started to see it as a game of cat and mouse, using all tricks and manipulations to become your favorite. If one of them was already your favorite he would tease the other endlessly about it. Ciel had of course control over Sebastian, but he what kind of butler would Sebastian be if he wouldn’t find ways to get his private time with you?

👅🕷Now to how you met Alois and Claude. News spread about the new person who lived with the young Earl Phantomhive, catching Alois interest quickly. Rumors had it that this person was precious to Ciel. So why not annoy him a bit? He invited all of the Phantomhive household to a ball he held. Claude’s job was it to somehow isolate you from the others so Alois could have you for himself.

👅🕷When Claude saw you for the first time he knew that you couldn’t be a normal human. Your soul seemed somewhat different from all the others. He noticed also how Sebastian kept throwing warning glaring a at him, a signal to stay away. Ciel on the other hand noticed Alois eyes drilling into you and the mischievous look on his face told him everything he had to know. Sebastian and Ciel tried to stick together, but with 5 demons working under Alois one thing led to another and before you knew it you were suddenly in a more isolated area with Alois and Claude.

👅🕷You honestly didn’t know what to do, knowing how both of them were. Alois tried to talk with a sugarcoated voice, asking you who you were and what you were to Ciel. But he needed to admit that he found you very cute. Claude on the other hand stared intensely at you, not being able to wrap his finger around what exactly made your soul so special. You had no other choice, but to talk to him, careful with not spilling from where you really were. But both of them sensed that you were lying and Alois got more and more persistent with you until you felt like you would break. That’s when Ciel and Alois suddenly stormed inside to take you back.

☕️🐈‍⬛👅🕷There was terrible tension between them and quickly a heated argument started, with Alois and Claude demanding to know what you were hiding and Ciel and Sebastian trying to get you out of this tricky situation. Out of fear that a fight would interrupt you just told them the truth, silencing all four of them. Ciel and Sebastian out of shock because you had just told those two guys your biggest secret. Alois and Claude in the other hand were stunned when hearing that you came from another world. That would at least explain why your soul seemed so special.

☕️🐈‍⬛👅🕷But now you had the problem that you had Alois after you who desperately wanted to hear more from you and the world you came from and Claude who had formed a huge obsession over your matchless soul. Ciel and Sebastian both were against it, but you found that now that you had told them anyways it would be only fair if they would know as well. It took you days to convince all four of them to meet up and discuss some special rules.

👅🕷Just like with Alois and Sebastian they enjoyed when you told them what existed in your world and it didn’t take long for both of them to become obsessed with you as well. Alois fell hard for you and the fact that you were from another world gave his delusional mindset even more to feed on. You were truly an angel from another world. Claude was at first only obsessed because of your soul. But the more he got to see from your weird character, the more he became obsessed with you as a person.

👅🕷Alois didn’t even notice that Claude had fallen for you too and by all means, Claude hoped it would stay that way. Alois was a brat and whenever you were visiting him he spent the whole day with you. But Claude was a demon and had his ways to sneak you here and there away to spend time with you.

☕️🐈‍⬛👅🕷But this could only work that long without the other pair noticing. And then there was war. Because all four of them were incredibly possessive and wanted you for themself. Now you were stuck and needed to choose. Not like it would matter anyways. If you would choose one, the other pair would just kidnap you and vice versa. There will be blood spilled for you until one of the pair is eliminated.

☕️🐈‍⬛👅🕷If they should ever find a way to get you back then there’s a good chance that they would accompany you since you woke their curiosity. But if it’s only possible to send you back they’re gonna crush that chance in their hands. You won’t go anywhere if they can’t come with you. However, if you should find a way to travel back without them knowing then they will forget their grudges temporarily and will search together for a way to either get you back or travel to your world. Preference to the latter.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere ciel #yandere ciel phantomhive #yandere sebastian #yandere sebastian michaelis #yandere alois #yandere alois trancy #yandere claude #yandere claude faustus

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

Text

Guns, Glamour, Goodfellas - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Make You Feel My Love

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Amnesia, Sadness, Language, Fluff, Dialogue, Typos

-Words: 6.6K

A/n: Sorry this chapter is long. Heads up, always a lot of dialogue. I get tired of only writing imagery lol. Thanks for reading, I love all your comments so dearly.

Chapter 12: Make You Feel My Love

Words: 6.6K

Everyone’s faces stood emotionless. More than a deer caught in headlights, there was no expression. Tom’s jaw slacked open, standing heartbroken in front of you. How could you not remember him?

After everything he couldn’t even hold you in his arms. No words could describe the room. You had just woken up and said 3 measly words that rewrote history.

“Who are you?” You questioned.

“What?” Tom gasped, his eyes starting to water.

“I don’t know who you are. Where am I?… Who are you people?” You fretted, confused to why you were lying into a hospital bed surrounded by strangers.

“Mom? It’s me. Roo,” Rosie stammered, moving to grab your hand but you just flinched away.

“Harry go get the doctor,” Nikki called out.

“No, I don’t know who you people are. Please get out.”

“Y/N it’s me?” Tom pleaded.

“Who’s Y/N?”

“You, darling,” Tom whispered. Was this all real? It had to be some sick joke.

“No, no! I suggest you all leave. Please, just leave me alone,” you asserted, pressing the nurse call button.

“Mrs. Holland what seems to be the problem?” asked the nurse.

“Who’s Mrs. Holland? I don’t know where I am or why I’m here or who these people are,” you fretted, heart rate starting to spike.

“You don’t recognize anyone here?” Pestered on the nurse.

“No, maybe the young boy and girl, but no,” Tears flooded Rosie and Parker’s eyes.

“Mrs. Holland you’re awake,” called the doctor, Harry brought in.

“Why do people keep calling me that?” You questioned angrily.

“She can’t remember anyone, doctor,” explained the nurse.

“Why don’t we clear out the room and I’ll speak to you all privately outside,” the doctor announced.

“It seems she is suffering retrograde amnesia. It is possibly temporary. You need to talk to her but be careful not overwhelm her. She will feel like her entire life passed her by because she can’t remember it. For now, only a few people in the room. May I suggest her husband and her kids,” explained the doctor.

“What do you mean it might be temporary? She might not ever remember her entire life?” Tom inquired.

“It is uncertain, but yes. Mr. Holland, we are very hopeful that her memory will come back. For now take it slow, showing her photos of you together can help greatly,” concluded the doctor.

“Dad, will mom ever remember me?” Rosie asked teary-eyed.

“I don’t know, baby.”

“Now, come on. We just have to be patient with her.”

“Ok, dad. I’m ready,” said Rosie, trying to hide her tears.

“Parker? Are you with us?” Tom inquired.

“I know she doesn’t remember me but, I don’t want her to see me and not know who I am. If she doesn’t remember me then who am I? I owe my entire life to mom. I don’t understand how she just forgot 16 years of my life,” Parker lamented.

“Hey, we just need to patient. One thing you need to have is faith. That’s all we had waiting to be rescued. Hope, hope that we would see you and your sister again.”

“I’m scared, dad.”

“I know me too. But we have to do this for mom. Ok?” Tom admitted. Parker just nodded in response. They made their way into your room, standing by the foot of your bed.

“Hi, let’s start over. I am Tom. You are Y/N. I am your husband. Your name is Y/N Holland,” Tom began. “This is our son, Parker. He is 16 years old, along with his twin sister. This is our daughter, Rosie….We just want to let you know we will be here for you. Through everything, we want to help you remember if you will let us.”

“Okay,” you whispered. That was the first step, having people to support you.

You were soon discharged a few days later. All set to travel back to London, the home you once knew. Back to the life you shared little to no importance for. All the things you once loved, lost in translation.

The plan ride was painfully long. Tom had yet to hold you in his arms. After watching the life drain out of you, waiting for someone to come, he just wanted to hold you and love you. Let you know you are safe.

He watched as you sat there a few seats away from him. The spark in your eyes non-existent. He didn’t know how to call you over there his when you couldn’t remember him. Almost 20 years of being together, down the drain. He just wanted you back.

Not being able to hug you or hold you or whisper sweet nothings in your ear was killing him. He felt like a recovering drug addict experiencing the process of withdrawal. Everything hurt inside, knowing you forgot him. It was so unfair. How could you survive the helicopter crash but not recognize your own family? You were a shell, a husk of the person you used to be.

Jared, was the one to pick you all up from the airport. The plane ride was nothing compared to the awkwardness of the car ride. You had always been very close with Tom’s staff. William and Jared specifically because you’d see them the most. Jared used to be more your driver but, Tom snatched him up after he saw how close you two were getting. He couldn’t help but be jealous.

You sat next to Tom, almost like a statue. You didn’t know how you were supposed to act. Pulling up to the manor, you were a combination of terrified and astounded. Terrified and astounded at the sheer size and security measures taken.

“Tom, did you pay for the cab?” You asked, hopping out of the car.

“Darling, this is our car. This is our driver, Jared. You two are close,” Tom explained.

“Oh, sorry. Jared it’s nice to meet you,” you waved to him.

“We’ve met before, but it’s nice to see you Y/N,” Jared said, trying to address the elephant in the room.

“Right, sorry.”

“No need to apologize, ma’am.”

“Love, why don’t I make you a cup of tea and you can relax in the living room? The plane ride probably wore you out. However, I know Parker and Rosie have something planned,” Tom interjected.

“Ok, tea would be good,” you responded, walking to the mansion.

“Where’s the living room?” You questioned, afraid you will get lost.

“Oh, it’s ok darling. I’ll take you there,” Tom said, leading the way.

Being here, seemed like an out of body experience. The only thing you knew about yourself was what people told you.

“Here mom. I-I mean Y/N. Please come sit. These are a bunch of photo albums and scrapbooks about our lives. Maybe showing you them will bring something back.”

“Ok… You could call me mom. I don’t mind,” Rosie just nodded in response.

“Look this picture is of your wedding day. It was at this really pretty garden. I wish I could’ve been there,” Rosie reminisced.

“You weren’t?” You asked, confused at her remark.

“No, Parker and I weren’t born yet.”

“Oh, is that you?” You asked, gently raising a finger to a picture captured a perfect moment in time. Parker had just gotten out of a bath and was running naked through the house, he had to be about three or four years old.

“No, that’s Parker,” Rosie remarked.

“Here’s a photo of me. It’s the first day of kindergarten.” Rosie pulled out a photo of her dressed in a blue dress with pink bows in her hair, one on each side hugging her pigtails.

She stood in front of a large gate along with Parker, holding their tin lunch boxes high. Rosie’s lunchbox was a homage to My Little Pony and Parker’s was Transformers. They were all grown up, no longer spending the days with you while Tom worked.

“I’m crying, why?” You questioned, seeing yourself adorned with red puffy eyes in the photo.

“I don’t know, maybe you didn’t want to leave me or Parker,” Rosie explained but was soon cut off by a large clash coming from the kitchen. CRASH, CLANG, THWAP.

“What was that?” You asked, a little startled by the noise.

“I don’t know, I’m going to go check on something. Feel free to keep looking at them.”

You flipped through the countless pages adorned with family photos that documented the milestones. It killed you that you couldn’t remember. You were said to be their mother and if you were anything like your mother, you loved them till it was too much and kissed them and held them. You loved them more than life itself but couldn’t remember why.

About 12 pages in, there was a photo of you in the hospital holding a baby. The caption read “my little Roo.” It was of you and Rosie shortly after she was born. She looked so small, so delicate. Her skin was pale with a hint of rose colored cheeks. The little baby girl in your arms was wrapped in a pink cloth with a pink colored beanie on her head.

She was sleeping so peacefully and you just had the biggest smile imagined on your face. You brought this little girl into the world and couldn’t remember that moment. What own mother can’t remember her baby? Tears pricked at your eyes as you gazed into the picture.

“Dinner is almost ready—Love, what’s wrong why are you crying?” Tom said, coming out of the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to any of you,” you cried, letting the tears fall.

“Hey, it’s ok. We are here for you,” Tom whispered, grabbing a hold of your hands.

“I’m still sorry, I don’t remember anything.”

“It’s not your fault. It will come with time,” Tom said, only holding your hands. His main goal was to not overwhelm you and pulling you into a warm embrace may be too much too soon.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. What’s for dinner, smells great?” You said, quickly changing the subject.

“Your favorite and specialty so we can’t guarantee it will be as good as you make it but, spaghetti and meatballs,” Tom joked.

“Ok, I’m sure it will be lovely.”

Everyone was dealing with your amnesia differently. Parker would take you on special outings to places you loved and Rosie could barely stand to be in the same room with you. Your sweet and affectionate girl couldn’t as much give a real smile. The only time you spent with her was when she showed you the photo albums. Something clicked in her when you didn’t recognize her in the photo of you holding her a for the first time. Rosie proceeded to cry herself to sleep that night, she couldn’t handle you not recognizing her.

As time progressed it had gotten too hard for Rosie to be around you. Looking at you just reminded her of all the things she had lost. She would stay in her room from dawn till dusk, refusing to see or talk to anyone. Rosie shut everyone out, including Henry. He’d come by quite a lot, begging to see Rosie.

“Hi, can I help you?” You said, answering the door.

“I’m Henry, Harrison’s son and Rosie’s boyfriend,” Henry explained.

“Oh. Sorry I can’t remember anything. Were we close?” You inquired, yet another person you have disappointed by not knowing your own life.

“Yeah, you and Tom were a big part in raising me, aside from my dad. I love you like a son would loved his mother.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll work on it. But I believe Rosie is upstairs, come in,” you responded, inviting the boy in.

“Thanks,” Henry said, quickly making his way upstairs. “Roo, it’s me. I’m coming in,” He said whilst knocking on her door.

“Henry what are you doing here?” Rosie asked, trying to hide her tears.

“You weren’t returning any of my phone calls.”

“There is a reason for that,” Rosie snapped, building a wall that Henry was bound to knock down.

“Hey, I’m here. Talk to me. Talk to me about your mom,” Henry whispered, coming to Rosie’s side.

“What’s there to talk about? She doesn’t remember me. She was my best friend and she doesn’t even know who I am!” Rosie yelled. Needing to let out all her emotions in one single blow.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’m here,” Henry assured.

“Henry, I just want to be alone right now. Could you please leave?” Rosie begged.

“No, I won’t let you push me away. I’m here to help.”

“I want you to go,” Rosie demanded.

“No.” Henry said, holding his ground.

“I’m serious Henry, leave.”

“No, Rosie you need someone to talk to.”

“Can you get out and leave me the fuck alone?” She screamed, this time being pushed over the edge. Flailing her arms back and forth in anger.

“No. I’m not leaving,” Henry knew she needed him, he couldn’t leave anytime soon.

“Really? I’m here screaming at you and you are still here. Why?” All her anger drifted only leaving her sadness. She fell into his arms, breaking from the weight of pain, sobbing.

“Yes, because I love you and I’m staying for you,” Henry reassured. He knew Rosie would need this. Someone who promised to never leave.

“Henry, what do we do if she never remembers? I’m not ready for that. It’s like losing my mom even though she is still alive. All those fun memories of shopping or baking or just talking, gone. I don’t know who I am without her.”

“Rosie, you have to look on the bright side.”

“What’s the fucking bright side? There is none. We took her to all her favorite places today and she still doesn’t remember. There is no fucking bright side!”

“Roo.”

“I lost her. I lost her but she is still here. I’m lucky right? She’s still here living and breathing, but she doesn’t know who I am,” Rosie lamented. “Henry, I love you to pieces but I just need to be alone right now.” Pleading for him to leave, she wished he could stay and comfort her but nothing could do that right now.

“Baby, I don’t want to leave you so upset,” Henry whispered.

“Please. I’m begging you, just go.”

Rosie, didn’t mean to push Henry away. But she couldn’t help it. She needed to release her frustrations out on someone, but there was no one. There was no one to blame for the crash or the loss of your memory. It was all an accident. Henry knew her well enough, where he knew what she needed before she did herself. He already lost Rosie once and promised himself he wouldn’t again.

Parker was the opposite of Rosie, not consumed by his sadness, he was looking for a solution. Anything that could help bring back your memory. He had been taking you to your favorite places around the city. The beach, the library, a coffee shop, and a park you always you took Parker and Rosie to as kids.

To no end, he couldn’t and wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t leave you stuck in that misery. He approached Tom with something that might work.

“Dad, I have an idea. I thought we should create a memory for her.”

“Ok, that might work. Any memory in mind?”

“I was thinking your wedding day,” Parker explained. Tom just nodded in response with a smirk strewn across his face.

Tom was willing to try anything to get you back. It a been a few weeks from the crash and he’s so scared of terrifying you or being too forward. He won’t even lay a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, in case you get scared.

Even though he had yet to hold you once again, Tom refused to leave your side, in case having him around so much would bring your memories back. Have them all come flooding back.

Tom just wanted you by his side. You were sleeping in your bedroom and Tom was in the guest room. Feeling like nothing had changed. It was the same before the accident, you barely acknowledging Tom and Tom sleeping elsewhere. Granted it wasn’t because you were mad at him, it was worse, you couldn’t remember him.

The nights were different, half way through the night you would wake up. Scared wide awake from nightmares that plagued your mind. One night you found Tom taking down a big bottle of scotch by the fireplace.

“What are you doing up?” You asked,

“Drinking,” he said rather harshly, you just brushed it off though.

“Oh, the fireplace is really lovely. I could just read a book out here for hours.”

“You used to. I’d find you asleep in front of the fireplace all the time.” Tom chuckled, reliving those memories.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Y/N! It’s not your god damm fault. STOP FUCKING APOLOGIZING!!!” Tom screamed, chucking his glass at the wall. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces much how his heart was now.

“Ok, I’m sor—, I just came down for some water. Good night,” you said, trying to mask the tears about to fall. Reverting back to the catatonic emotionless person you’ve been lately.

“Y/N wait!” Tom called after you but you were already gone. This was a side of Tom you’d never met. The old you had and learned to deal with it but it was completely different now.

It was scary, Tom reacting like that. You quickly got your water and made your way back upstairs. If he had that much pent up anger, you were worried he would take it out on you. You didn’t know what to think, everyone were stranger to you and you were a stranger to this life and family.

Coming back to bed, you locked your door and tried to fall back into blissful sleep but it was hard. You stared at the ceiling for quite a while. Begging to go to sleep and wash away this entire night. Tom came to knock on your door about an hour later.

“Y/N. I’m sorry, let me explain myself,” he said, through the thick wooden door.

“I guess you’re asleep by now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, sweet dreams sweetheart,” Tom whispered, going back to his bed in the guest room. You couldn’t find the will to get up and talk to him.

You came down for some morning coffee, hoping you wouldn’t see Tom. You were scared of the man presumed to be your husband. In truth, you didn’t know anything about him. Only what people had told you. It took you hours to fall asleep after his outburst.

“Oh, you’re up. Y/N could I talk to you?” He asked, coming into view.

“Sure,” you responded. Who are you to say no?

“I’m sorry for my outburst last night. Everything is just so frustrating, nothing you did, ok?” Tom apologized.

“Ok.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m really sorry. I know you don’t know it but I love you so much and at a time, you loved me just the same. I need you to know that I have never physically hurt you or will in the future.”

“Ok. Thank you. I know you don’t like me saying it but I really am sorry. This shouldn’t be happening, you should be able to love your wife.”

“I do love you,” Tom assured.

“Tom, I’m not the same person and you know it. There’s nothing I can do, it’s just the way it is and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not the person you fell in love with,” you exclaimed.

“You don’t have to be sorry. You are here, trying to remember for all of us. That’s all that matters,” Tom said, made at himself that you even thought those things.

“Thank you….Could you tell me more about me, I mean the person I was before?” You asked.

“Yeah, darling. I’d love that,” Tom agreed.

“Ok, start with how we met.”

“Well..” Tom started and went on to tell the story of how you met.

Tom was set to meet someone new, a future contact possibly. He was supposed to meet with their assistant to take him to them. He was given strict instructions on what to look for, she would be dressed in a gold mini dress, hair down. Unbeknownst to him, you were the person he was meeting. The most feared mob boss, next to who you had a meeting with, the one and only Tom Holland.

“Hey doll face, I’m here to meet with your boss. Someone they call the Ace of Spades,” Tom said, cornering you at the bar. “Oh, really. Do they know what this is concerning?” you said, smirking. “I should hope so. Can you just take me to him?” Tom demanded. “Certainly, right this way.” You were so ready to eat this guy alive. You lead him to a back room with a bar and large round table. “Wait, there’s no one in here. We’ve been set up,” Tom yelled, alerting Harrison behind him. “What do you mean? There’s you and me, also your consigliere I presume. Why don’t you tell him to back off?” “Alright enough with your games. Where is he?” Tom barked, growing more frustrated by the second “I’m right here, doll face,” you said, in a mocking manner. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, I’m Y/N Y/L/N or do you know me as the Ace of Spades,” you sneered, holding out your hand for him to shake.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was misinformed, well they’re dead. Why don’t I buy you a drink after to make it up to you?” Tom said, he has never been caught off guard before. Barely keeping his cool.

“How about we finish our business here and then you and I go get something to eat, just you and me without your puppy dog, then we call it even,” you smirked, referring to Harrison who always stood so close to Tom.

“How could I say no to having dinner with the most gorgeous woman in the room,” Tom grinned.

“Smooth talker I see, but I’m the only woman the room,” you pointed out

“Doesn’t matter, doesn’t change what I said,” Tom chuckled.

He was starstruck just being in your presence. You were a force to be reckoned with. For him and you it was love at first acquaintance. Couldn’t of been sight because he thought you were a completely different person.

But once he formally met you, he was whipped. The rest is history.

You and Tom talked the day away. Living through your life like you were reading a book or watching a play. The night soon fell and you bid good night.

It was a regular night, but ever since Tom exploded you started to have nightmares. Being jolted out of sleep, trying to catch your breath. One night Tom heard you screaming, he rushed in to check on you.

“Y/N? Darling, are you okay?” Tom asked, concerned after being woken up by your screams.

“I keep having these horrible nightmares,” you choked out, shaking with fear.

“What are they about? You can talk to me.”

“One where I was trapped inside a huge room, tied to a chair. There were scary looking men saying they were gonna kill me, however I couldn’t speak. Like it hurt to speak,” you explained. Tom knew about your common theme with nightmares, unable to make any sound.

He just believed it was because you tried to repress thoughts like that. However, this wasn’t a nightmare, it was a memory. He was trying so hard to suppress his smile. Knowing you were starting to remember things even if it was trauma. It made him hopeful.

“Shhh, it’s was just a dream. It’s ok. I’m here now… can hug you?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded having him pull you into his warm embrace. “It felt so real though. Didn’t you say we were in a helicopter crash?”

“Yes, we were. Do you remember that?”

“I don’t know. My nightmares feel more like memories. I remember the feelings I had, like I felt pain and weak.”

“Well, try and go back to sleep. Just remember they are only figments of your imagination,” Tom said, he was torn between wanting you to remember everything and not scarring you.

“Tom, could you sleep with me tonight?” you asked, not wanting to be alone.

“Yes of course, darling.”

Tom climbed into bed and you moved closer to him. Snuggling right into his side and nuzzling your head by his neck. He rubbed soft circles into your arm as you dozed off. Feeling your soft breaths on his neck as he fell into deep sleep. He finally got to hold you.

Just for a moment, everything was right again. You were his and he had no intentions of letting you go. You felt safe with him, like you were home.

You woke up to a blinding light from the crack in the curtains.

“Tommy, the blinds it so bright…. Screw it. I’m up, can I bring you some breakfast?… What?” You asked, confused as to why Tom was gazing at you with a puzzled expression.

“You called me Tommy,” Tom croaked out.

“I did,” you said, confidently.

“Y/N, do you remember me?”

“Is this a weird game? Of course I remember you, you’re my husband,” you chuckled, playing off his antics.

“Quick, what happened last week?”

“Our helicopter crashed, but we were rescued. I don’t really remember how we got home but, here we are. You were right, we made it. I remember the moments leading up to being rescued, you holding me.”

“Kids come quick!” Tom shouted, loud enough to wake up the entire house.

“What’s going on?” Rosie came in, scared something happened.

“Tom, what are you doing?” You queried.

“Ask her,” Tom said.

“Who am I?” Parker asked, hoping you were his mom again.

“You guys are so weird. You’re Parker, my son. And you are Rosie, my daughter.”

“Mom, I’ve missed you so much,” Rosie shouted, throwing herself into your arms and sobbing.

“Oh, honey. I never left,” you signed, caressing the back of her head.

“I know, but the helicopter crash, I was so scared,” Rosie sniffled.

“Tom, why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned, catching a glimpse of pure adoration streaked across his face.

“Oh, nothing. I just love you, more anything.”

“I love you too…. Parker you’ve been awfully quiet.”

“I missed you mom,” Parker chimed in.

“I missed you too. Ok, I’m really confused, did I go somewhere? Someone fill me in,” you proclaimed.

“Well darling, our helicopter crashed on our way back from Barcelona—” Tom began.

“Yeah, and we’re ok,” you nodded.

“You are now. We were both badly injured and didn’t know if we would make it. You lost your memory. You didn’t know who any of us were,” Tom finished, his tone growing softer.

“What? I-I forgot all of you?” You gasped, your voice breathy.

“It’s ok, love. You’re back now, that’s all that matters,” Tom encouraged.

“Parker? Rosie?” You exclaimed.

“You looked at us and didn’t know who we were,” Parker mumbled.

“Oh babies, I’m sorry,” you whispered on the verge of tears.

“Y/N listen to me, it’s not your fault. Love, it’s ok. You are here now,” Tom reassured. “Kids why don’t you go make mom some tea,” Tom said, needing to talk with you alone.

“Alright dad,” Parker agreed, taking Rosie along with him.

“Y/N? Darling, talk to me,” he said, watching you beat yourself up inside. You head hanging lowly in your hands.

“How could I not remember them?” You cried.

“It was just your mind playing tricks on you. It’s ok.”

“It’s not okay. I put you through all of that.”

“Not on purpose darling.”

“Tom, I have something to get off my chest.”

“Yes, love.”

“I really thought I was going to die. But you were there and you saved me. You brought me back to them, thank you,” you recounted.

“Oh, baby. I was never going to just let you die. There was a moment where I looked over a battered body leaning against me after the crash. Your eyes were closed and I had accepted that you were gone. At that moment, I vowed I’d go too,” Tom concluded.

“Tom, they couldn’t lose both of us.”

“I know, I’m just glad they didn’t lose either of us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, darling?”

“For everything. Our fight. Giving in you a hard time in Barcelona. I love you so much, Tom. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you cried, letting yourself be completely vulnerable with him once again.

“Hey, you're not going to lose me. I believe it’s the other way around. I can’t live without you and I don’t want to, ever,” Tom said, smashing his lips on yours. God, how he missed you.

And with that, Tom had got his girl back, you. Your lips entangled with his was exactly what he needed. You were back. The love of his life and mother of his children. You were you again with the same spark in your eyes.

Something flipped in your head like a switch during the night. After falling asleep in his arms you dreamt of your life. Almost like a movie played in your head showcasing all the greatest memories.

Parker and Rosie’s first steps, the kids’ 5th birthday, the day you told Tom you were pregnant with twins, Tom’s proposal and so much more. Your memories are what made you who you were, even the bad ones.

All the fights and near death experiences came flooding back. But it wasn’t a feeling of drowning or being held down by the weight, begging for air. It was a feeling of renewal like the water had washed away all the pain and sins. Leaving faint stains of bad memories to be remembered for another day but never forgotten.

Tom brought you back. He was your anchor to the life you once knew. Resting in Tom’s arms felt like home. You knew you were safe.

“It’s so good to have you back in my arms,” he said, savoring every moment.

“I never want to leave,” you said, coming in for another kiss. Shorter this time but still full of longing and unconditional love. Tom broke away as he remembered something.

“Wait,” remembered Tom.

“What?”

“Come on, let’s go downstairs.”

“Why the kids are bringing us tea in bed?” You questioned.

“Just trust me,” Tom concluded.

“Okay,” you said, letting your husband lead the way. Descending the stairs and once reaching the bottom he asked for you close your eyes. You hesitant at first but agreed. He pulled you to the backyard for a much needed surprise.

“Ready. Open your eyes.” You just stood there in complete awe, speechless.

“We had a plan to bring back your memory. We set up the backyard to look just like our wedding,” Tom explained.

The backyard was full of the wedding essentials, an archway at the end of the aisle, chairs for the guests, and so many flowers. Flowers that decorated every pillar and fence, blooming with beautiful shades of lavender.

“Oh my god, it’s as beautiful as I remember it…. Tom I have an idea,” you smirked.

“Yes, darling,” Tom acknowledged.

“What would you say to us renewing our vows?” You asked, hoping he’d say yes.

“I love that idea, sweetheart. When would you want to do it?”

“Today.”

“Today?” Tom asked, stunned by your response.

“Yeah, it’s already all set up like our wedding. Why not?”

“Ok, yeah. Yes. I’m going to re-marry you today. I love you so much,” Tom exclaimed.

“And I’m going to re-marry you today. I love you too,” You grinned.

“Alright we need guests, just family,” Tom beamed.

“And I need a bridesmaid. Rosie?” You cheered, excited to share this day with you daughter.

“You serious?” Rosie asked

“Of course, honey. Now come on, I need a dress,” you said, pulling Rosie upstairs. Even though you were already married you wanted it to be as much as a real wedding as possible. So for the next few hours, you couldn’t see Tom.

Tom was tasked with inviting everyone. Sure it was last minute, but all the family would be there. He found it pretty awkward because he had to tell everyone that you got your memories back and getting married again in one phone call. He called Nikki, Dom, Harry, Sam, Paddy, your parents and Harrison and Henry.

“Haz, come quick. I need you at the house.” Tom left a message on Haz’s voicemail.

“Tom? What happened? I came as soon as I got your call,” Haz screamed, running through the mansion.

“Y/N got her memories back,” Tom cheered.

“That’s amazing. You called me all the way down here for that?” Haz asked, slightly annoyed.

“No, you div. I have a favor to ask….Will you be my best man?” Tom asked.

“Ok, I was already you best man at your wedding years ago,” Haz sneered.

“We are going to renew our vows. I wanted to know if would be my best man?”

“Are you serious?”

“No, you’re only my best friend aside from her. Yes, I’m serious,” Tom remarked sarcastically.

“I honored mate, of course. When is it?”

“In 3 hours,” Tom said stone faced.

“In 3 hours?” Haz screeched. It was so soon.

“Yeah, we set up the backyard to look like her and I’s wedding to bring back her memory.”

“Wait.. who’s officiating?” Haz wondered.

“Harry,” Tom said, trying not to burst into laughter.

“Oh, I’m so ready to watch him fuck that up.”

“Me too, mate. Now come we have a wedding to put on.”

The house erupted in wedding central. Tom had tasked his cook with cooking for 15 people for the reception, he had ordered a cake and called his personal tailor for two matching suits preferably black, just like at your first wedding.

Tom made his way upstairs to tell you about Harry officiating but was stopped by the maid of honor, Rosie.

“Why is this door locked?” Tom asked, angrily shaking the door knob.

“Dad what do you think you are doing?” Rosie asked sternly.

“Wow honey, you look beautiful,” Tom admired his daughter dressed in a light blue dress that dragged on the floor.

“Thanks, dad, it’s mom’s dress.”

“I remember, you look just like your mom.”

“Thanks, but I ask again what are you doing here?” Rosie interjected, not letting his endearing comments distract her from the more important matter. Tom wasn’t allowed to see you before the ceremony.

“I need to talk to your mother.”

“You can’t see the bride before her wedding it’s bad luck,” Rosie exclaimed.

“Please, I don’t believe in stuff like that. Plus we’re already married and happily might I add,” Tom interjected.

“Oh really, no bad luck? How do you explain all the bad things that have happened,” Rosie reminded.

“Umm, that’s not important right now. I need to talk to your mother.”

“Too bad, now shoo,” Rosie said, shooing him away with her hands.

“Fine, I guess she’ll never know THAT HARRY IS OFFICIATING,” Tom shouted as he left.

“Rosie, what did dad want?” You asked.

“Umm, nothing. Just to tell you that he found the most amazing officiant on short notice,” Rosie sneered, trying to keep it secret from you.

“Oh, good. Now, come here and let me do you hair,” you said, motioning her to the restroom.

It was now time, to remind everyone of a vow you once made.

You were dressed in a white floor length gown, not as near glamorous as you actual wedding dress but it was still beautiful. Your wedding song played again, Make You Feel My Love by Adele, as you came out from behind the corner.

All eyes turned to bask in your beauty. You could see Tom stop breathing, made you laugh a little. You noticed Harry up at the altar and wondered what had Tom done.

Rosie went up first, slowly gliding through the aisle. You followed behind her. Everything was once right with the world. You were about to re-declare your love for your best friend.

“Friends, family and Sam,” Harry said, taking a jab at his brother only to be returned with Sam sticking his tongue out. “We are gathered here today, to celebrate and re-marry Tom and Y/N Holland. If anyone has any objections please speak now or forever hold your peace,” Harry announced.

“I have problem. They’re already married,” Sam yelled from the audience.

“Sam, sit down you div. It’s a vow renewal,” Tom called out from the altar.

“Harry, they don’t ask that at actual weddings,” you whispered to him.

“Well, fuck,” Harry whispered.

“I’ve just been informed that I’m not supposed to say that, my apologies, I’m basing my entire speech on TV. Now I will continue with the proceedings. Can you believe this div, needing two weddings. Two fucking weddings when I haven’t even had one. Can we skip the vows? You’re probably going to say the exact same like thing you said 17 years ago,” Harry announced.

“Absolutely not, that’s the whole purpose. I’ll go first.” You started, taking a minute to breathe and share your heart with everyone there.

“Tom, these past 17 years being your wife have been a dream come true. You are my best friend and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know it is fucking cheesy but, I can honestly say I found my soulmate, my better half. You make me be a better person and mother. I owe you everything and promise to give you all my love. What do you say, still want me as your wife? Please say yes, because I’m choosing you for then rest of my life. Couldn’t dream of anyone else. I love you, a thousand times over.”

“Y/N, just thinking about everything our love has survived and I’m amazed you have stuck with me through thick and thin. I want to thank you for the beautiful life you have given me and my two beautiful kids. This a declaration of my love for you but also a promise. I promise you will always be appreciated, that I will make you laugh and cry sometimes, appropriately. Falling in love with my best friend and marrying her has been the best decision of my life, I love you and I promise to always keep you safe and always stand by your side.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. But that one I know you’ll keep,” you cheered.

“By the power vested in me by a shitty website online, I now pronounce you still husband and wife. You may kiss your wife. Children avert your eyes,” Harry concluded as Tom pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss. Nothing will ever be more perfect in that moment.

“Who else needs a cootie shot? Or some booze?” Harry called out, while you and Tom pulled apart.

“Fuck off, Harry,” Tom said, pulling you back in for another kiss.

“Where are we going on our honeymoon?” Tom whispered to you.

“I vote somewhere, we don’t have to fly,” you remarked.

“I second that. God, I love you.”

“You’re just lucky I said yes, Holland.”

“God damm right, I am.” Tom said, his lips getting caught in his smile.

There are moments where words have lost all their meaning and this was one It wasn’t full of sadness, quite the opposite. Nothing could ruin this perfect day. You were his once again.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @dummiesshort @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom #mob tom #mob!tom #dad!mob!tom holland #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x mob!reader

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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Back, finally, with Word of Honor, Episode 11, which involved a lot of waving my hands around over precious button Zhang Chengling and his concern about whatever ridiculous argument between his Murder Dads left his shifu in a snit and must be solved right this minute. I really think if he could’ve just pushed their heads together like two Ken dolls to make them kiss and make up, he would have. Didi, I could eat you up with a spoon, although not in the creepy way that Du Pusa threatens. I promise.

First, though, due diligence: Spoilers, possibly likely for the entire show, not just this ep, so scroll away and come back later if you are still, at this point in the game, trying to watch the whole 36.5 eps unspoiled. Also, this is hella long. Strap in. Hashtag long post (remorseful).

First thing I actually want to do is point out a couple of scenes that I found particularly striking for various reasons. The first one is not quite the opening scene - which is super-brief and involves Yueyang’s prep for the Heroes Conference, Gao Shan (AKA Chengling’s bully-in-chief) being smug about Yueyang’s upcoming ascendance (oh boy, are you in for a surprise, you little schmuck), and Gao Chong’s extreme weariness at the idea of Yueyang’s upcoming ascendance. Gao Chong is very tired, y’all. It’s been a long 20 years. There’s also a ginormous sword on display, like Yueyang is now having a dick-measuring contest with who they think is the disciple of the Changming Sword Immortal (and oh boy, are you guys in for another surprise. I’m not sure what part of “immortal” y’all don’t understand). But I digress - as I said, this is a very brief scene, and then we cut back to Luo Mansion, where we left Ghost Valley and Lunatic Wen at the end of the last ep. Everyone is gone except for Wen Kexing, who’s still plotting, Beauty Ghost, who’s trying to stay tf out of this current shitshow as much as possible (good luck with that), and Tragicomic Ghost, who is totally and completely Done With This Shit. She berates WKX for acting crazy, he gets snappy back – I feel like their relationship is maybe a little bit fraught at this point – and Beauty Ghost attempts to soothe the waters, leading to an eyeroll from Tragicomic Ghost with a directive to stand the hell up and stop being scared of this idiot child throwing his weight around. WKX dismisses Tragicomic Ghost so he can plan a Very Secret Mission for Beauty Ghost in secret. WKX is … he is super-tired at this point. Painfully, achingly tired. I would almost say weary. We can see it in Gong Jun’s face. It’s a nice subtle bit of acting, and it definitely says something about WKX’s relationship with these women that he’s willing and able to show it in front of them, even as he’s still throwing his weight around.

Anyway, Liu Qianqiao proves her smarts by showing her hand just enough for WKX and us to see that she’s seen through the Lunatic Wen act to the utility of chokin’ out a dude as a warning, to try keeping Changing Ghost in line (good luck with that), but she also assures all of us that she only wants to serve the Ghost Valley Master and has no agenda of her own. WKX assures her that he has everything under control (Uh … huh. OK, my dude) and tells her he has a task for her, before detouring into a quiz about her disguise technique (learned from Qin Huaizhang, Zhou Zishu’s shifu at Siji Manor, and this is probably a tipoff that the Very Secret Mission will involve disguising herself), about Siji Manor, and about why she never visited there. We get some interesting vague hints about her past, including the fact that she met Qin Huaizhang when she was “little” and he took pity on her “disfigurement,” according to both the Youku and Netflix English subs. @coralcoloratura pulled out 童年时 (tóngnián shí) from the Chinese subs for me, which does mean “childhood.” Given that the going story is Yu Qiufeng’s wife threw acid in LQQ’s face over their affair, this opens up some questions about how old LQQ actually was when all that happened. Viki subs, per @janedrewfinally, add that she says she treated Qin Huaizhang to a meal, so she couldn’t have been too young. But Qin Huaizhang dies when ZZS is just 16, and LQQ can’t be any older than ZZS, and is likely younger (good lord, I just checked actor ages, and Ke Naiyu is 7 years younger than ZZH, so that’s probably not a good age gap to port over to the show, because just. No.). All this leads me to place LQQ at somewhere between Zhang Chengling’s age and Gu Xiang’s age (at most) when this whole tragic backstory happened, which is still pretty freakin’ young, and I can see why she would consider herself a child, at least metaphorically, in terms of naïvete, if not literally. I don’t know how much exploration has been done about this, on the fannish side of things, but it seems like an area rich for exploration. Also, I CANNOT TELL YOU how much I now want to read the AU of WKX and LQQ both actually being brought to Siji Manor at various times by Qin Huaizhang and staying there. I suspect that with those two shidi backing him, ZZS might never have had to go to Prince Jin in the first place. (Clearly this makes some things problematic, including A-Xiang, but I keep thinking about ZZS, WKX and LQQ growing up together … And anyway, I’m ALSO willing to read the AU(s) where WKX’s storyline stays the same, but LQQ does come to Siji Manor – both the AU where she and ZZS together manage to save the sect, and the AU where she goes with them to Jin, and the kind of weapon she could be for ZZS there, as he runs Tian Chuang. Who’s writing all this? Anyone? Anyone?) Anyway, when WKX asks why she didn’t visit Siji Manor, LQQ tells WKX that she’s a ghost now and doesn’t want to think about the living world anymore, which is probably a way of saying she wishes she had gone there and doesn’t want to talk about her many and varied bad decisions back in the day; it also acts as an unknowing reinforcement of that bright line WKX is desperately trying to maintain for himself between the world of ghosts and the world of humans. Plus it gives him the chance to speak the very portentous line that “Yes, we’re ghosts, and ghosts disappear in the light,” pulling the theme of light back in, again and giving us all kinds of foreshadowing. Cut away as he leans in to whisper her mission to her.

The other really striking scene, for me, happens near the end of the ep, when Gao Chong visits the shrine room, with the memorial tablets of his various brothers and friends. This hit me not just because of Hei Zi’s acting (which is great, don’t get me wrong) but also because this is a scene that reflects both backward and forward in the show - back to ZZS in Ep 1 and forward to the two scenes that Zhao Jing will have in this same room – as well as giving us all sorts of subtle clues about relationships throughout the show. So first of all, we see, in a shot that will mean more the deeper we get into the show, tablets for Zhen Ruyu and Gu Miaomiao (or, “his wife,” as the Youku subs call her, and this is me, rolling my eyes), who were apparently close enough to Gao Chong that he keeps memorial tablets for them on his home altar - which helps explain why WKX is so incensed that none of these Five Lakes Alliance assholes helped his parents when they were turned out of the Healer’s Valley, although that’s not something we would have known yet on a first watch through the show. Gao Chong lights some incense and apologizes to the tablet of Zhang Yusen for letting Zhang Chengling get kidnapped. He talks about waiting 20 years to learn the truth – which is kind of cryptic, but probably means the truth about who poisoned his sword before the spar with Rong Xuan, which we hear about in a later scene this ep – and gets a little bit salty about the fact that it doesn’t matter if everyone else doesn’t believe him, but why didn’t Zhang Yusen believe him? Again, I’m assuming this is about Gao Chong’s protestations that he’s not the one who put poison on his sword. We also learn in this same ep – from Chengling – that Zhang Yusen’s break with the Five Lakes Alliance seems to have at least started that far back, and that Yusen would have been at Mount Qingya to stand with Rong Xuan against his other Alliance brothers, if Yusen’s shifu hadn’t broken his legs so that he couldn’t travel there. (Yusen clearly had some strong feelings about this, if that’s what it took to get him to sit still for it. Also, it makes me wonder how Ye Baiyi’s feelings about Chengling might change if he ever learned that Chengling’s father intended to defend and stand with a guy who Ye Baiyi considered his own child, as well as his disciple.)

Gao Chong then proceeds to have a little crisis of faith – he’s very tired, y’all, it’s been a long 20 years – and talks about how no one understands him, and he’s old, and everyone’s dead. He also yells at Rong Xuan’s tablet, calling Rong Xuan da-ge but also saying he’s sorry he ever met him, but then there’s this brief little moment after, when he seems a little bit shocked at himself for saying it out loud, which reminds me, honestly, of the moment in CQL (we’ve all seen The Untamed, right, I don’t have to put spoiler warnings for it, right?) when Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are in the Yunmeng Jiang memorial hall and Wei Wuxian talks about Yu Ziyuan’s punishments back in the day, then pats his own mouth and says “My fault, my fault, my fault” before bowing to her tablet. Like, yes, their relationship was multiple levels of fucked-up, and his reaction is not out of place given some of his continuing neuroses, but also, this is just not a thing you do, speaking ill of the dead to their faces. I’m sure Gao Chong does regret ever meeting Rong Xuan, and the way that led to the building of the Armory and the Five Lakes Alliance to guard it, and the position that ultimately put Gao Chong in - not to mention that if he never met Rong Xuan he never would have accidentally killed him. But you can’t say things like that OUT LOUD to the MEMORIAL TABLET. Then contrast this to Zhao Jing, who literally takes a piss on the tablet in one of the later episodes. Because he’s the worst. And THEN, Gao Chong kneels and talks to the tablets of Zhang Yusen and Lu Taichong, his dead Five Lakes Alliance brothers, saying they must have met again in the netherworld, and that they’re probably swearing about him right now, and this is the point when I sit straight up and exclaim, out loud, “Fuck. Me. This is Zhou Zishu’s breakdown at the mirror in Episode 1.” When he talks to Jiuxiao about how Jiuxiao and Jing’An must have met again in the afterlife by now and are probably discussing what an awful shixiong ZZS is, right? And then Gao Chong even laughs bitterly like ZZS, and cries like ZZS, and I just. OK. FINE, show. I’ll try to go a little easier on Gao Chong, because you’re clearly linking him to ZZS, here, and I’m willing to forgive ZZS for anything. I suppose I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t try to extend just a little bit of the same grace to Gao Chong.

So, that’s a lot of verbiage, and I haven’t even gotten to Wenzhou yet, but trust me, I have some things to say about them. While WKX has been terrorizing the troops, ZZS left Han Ying’s place and immediately started drinking again, because that continues to be the best way – in combo with his Nails – he knows to kill himself by increments, but so sad, he’s run out of wine as he wanders the marketplace, alone and zhiji-less. Inside Yueyang, Chengling finds a note purporting to be from “Xu,” instructing him to meet at the North Gate that night, and like the little idiot they keep calling him (he really is too pure for this world), he takes it at face value. On his way that night, he runs into Gao Shan, who inadvertently almost saves him by interrupting his sneaking around to try to bully him back to his room. Something something food as bonding, because the lie Zhang Chengling comes up with is that he’s hungry (he’s not eating Yueyang’s food, and it’s not nourishing him), and he’s on his way to find something to eat (because he and his Murder Dads are in a mutually nourishing relationship, and that’s who he wants to be with). Also, no, he would prefer going to find something to eat for himself and not eating whatever Gao Shan will bring back to Chengling’s room. (A little bit, I’m sad there’s never any place to fit in some canon-complicit long-form enemies to failboats to lovers fic for these two. I have to admit, I would read it. Someone should do something with the tension between them, although I don’t really want it to be anything that will make Best Boy permanently sad.) Anyway, A-Xiang shows up just as Gao Shan is about to frog-march Chengling back to his room, and Gao Shan never sees her coming before he’s knocked out on the ground. A-Xiang is confused about the note but nevertheless helps Chengling get to where he’s supposed to meet “Xu,” whereupon she gets beat up and gets her didi took by the Scorpions. (There’s an interesting moment here where Pretty Arhat is fighting with A-Xiang and asks what her relationship is to Beauty Ghost, which whaaaaaat? THERE’S some backstory I need more on. I’m assuming this is based on A-Xiang’s hand-to-hand fighting style, which I think is the only thing Pretty Arhat has seen at this point, and exactly WHEN has she gotten so familiar with Beauty Ghost’s fighting style? Also, I like the apparent nod to Beauty Ghost’s influence in raising A-Xiang (and we’ll see more of this).) Meanwhile, ZZS has been inexorably drawn to the place he left his child disciple child and is moping right outside of Yueyang, so he sees Pretty Arhat fly away with Chengling. Murder Dad 1 springs into action.

Yueyang disciples run around like ants whose hill has been kicked over, looking for Chengling in town, and two of them encounter Wen Kexing, out for a midnight stroll in a fetching pastel blue and green combo. They ask him about seeing a guy. With a pipa. Or maybe without a pipa. So maybe just a guy. Wen Kexing correctly deduces they’re asking about Phantom Musician Qin Song, who covered Pretty Arhat’s getaway by incapacitating everyone with his magic music. YY disciples are excited and tell WKX yes, this dude was involved in kidnapping Zhang Chengling! Y’all. WKX’s face when he hears that. He is not happy. Almost immediately, he spots Qin Song on a rooftop. Murder Dad 2 springs into action.

So, WKX the Ghost Valley Master finds Qin Song, asks him where Chengling is, crushes his playing hand, threatens to break every single bone in his body one at a time (meanwhile dropping the tidbit that he learned the number of bones in the human body from his dad), and tells him a little story about a time when – apparently – he asked another guy the same question (about WHO? has A-Xiang been kidnapped in the past, because that’s about the only other person I can imagine him being like this about?) and only had to break 80 bones before he got an answer. Meanwhile, ZZS actually finds Chengling, in the Scorpion lair where Du Pusa and Pretty Arhat have variously been molesting him (srsly, I feel like I should probably say something to a trusted adult Murder Dad), torturing him with unpleasant magic pixie dust, smacking him around (he loses a tooth, y’all), and waterboarding him. During all this, Pretty Arhat says she’s yet to meet a man who can stand up to waterboarding, and I’m kind of reminded of WKX’s scene threatening Qin Song, and I don’t know if that’s on purpose or not. Chengling literally spits in her face and proclaims that he’s the son of Zhang Yusen, none of whose sons are cowards, and about then, ZZS busts down the door like he’s WKX (by throwing Monster Jiang through it), tells the Scorpions he’s their daddy, and gets into a big fucking fight with all three of them. He flags a little bit somewhere in here as he starts having some Nail pangs (which, yeah, it must be getting about midnight, which is when that’s supposed to happen) and spits some blood, but he reassures Chengling and then tells the Scorpions no one can stop him from killing who he wants and getting what he wants (OK, Wei Wuxian …). Then he shoots some projectiles from some little contraption up his sleeve that we get a quick look at that I did not remember AT ALL from my first watch of the show but is literally like the gun hanging over the mantel in the first act. Huh. Anyway, he kills Monster Jiang, and Du Pusa (who didn’t give a shit about Monster Jiang OR Qin Song earlier), wants to capture him alive, supposedly so she can get revenge for them by teaching him how it feels “to want to die more than live.” Joke’s on you, lady – too late! That’s literally his constant state of being!

About this time, Qin Song comes flying through the doors – or what’s left of them – gasping his last breath as WKX makes his dramatic entrance. Chengling not only calls him “Wen-shu” but also has already figured out exactly how to manipulate Murder Dad 2 and tells him that in addition to kidnapping him, they also hurt ZZS. WKX is predictably murderous, and Du Pusa and Pretty Arhat run away and hide behind the skirts of Xie Wang’s robes as the Zombie Drug Man Army approaches. WKX tells ZZS to take Chengling and leave, ZZS refuses, and Xie Wang LITERALLY SAYS “IN LIFE AND DEATH YOU WILL NEVER PART. WHAT A TOUCHING MOMENT.” and I am DYING. Also, this will not be the last time ZZS/WKX will exhibit what Xie’er wants from his Awful Yifu. Anyway, Xie’er calls ZZS “Leader Zhou,” then tells WKX that he’ll tell them who he (Xie Wang) is if WKX tells them all who he is first. ZZS is Very Done with all of this and smoke bombs the Scorpions to escape. Xie’er shows he actually does know who both of them are – even though each of them doesn’t know everything about the other’s identity yet, and won’t for a while – by telling Du Pusa and Pretty Arhat that they’re the leader of Tian Chuang and the leader of the Ghost Valley and wondering “How did these two devils end up together?” Like calls to like, I guess.

OK, this is getting super-long, so I’m going to attempt to wrap up with the actual Wenzhou material. We cut to Murder Dads and Chengling sitting in the forest, around a campfire, and Chengling is in heaven, back with his family. He’s super-emotional, and ZZS is all, come on, be a man, don’t cry (OK, crybaby). WKX gives some campfire-cooked rabbit? maybe? to ZZS, who starts a precedent by passing it to Chengling. Please, A-Xu. WKX wants to feed his laopo, will you eat something, ffs? Chengling, still emotional, tells them that he knows they’re the only ones who are sincerely kind to him, that Five Lakes Alliance has all kinds of agendas and none of them care about him, and nobody has asked him what he wants. (I know, bb, they were awful.) ZZS asks what he wants, and Chengling says he wants to learn martial arts, to get revenge, and to not be a useless child anymore. Oh god, the cut to WKX here. His face, y’all. He is not cool with the fact that Chengling thinks he can’t be a child anymore, and probably with whatever role he (WKX) had in it. He is so sad. It’s killing me. However, it’s not as if WKX has lost his edge, and he also pounces, asking Chengling if something happened that made him suspicious of the Alliance. Chengling spills that his dad already didn’t trust them and also told him not to trust anyone ever, but he trusts his Murder Dads! This kid, I tell you. He tells them that his dad hid the Mirror Lake Glazed Armor in his stomach and starts getting ready to cut it out for them before ZZS stops him. He tells them Yusen gave him a letter for the Changming Sword Immortal detailing Rong Xuan’s injury (and we get our first iteration of the story of the battle between the Five Lakes Alliance brothers and Rong Xuan, the poison on the sword, and how that turned Rong Xuan evil). Per Chengling, the original argument was about the Combined Six Cultivation Method. Also per Chengling, the Alliance bothers should have been responsible for Rong Xuan after that, but no one stood up for him – I mean, Zhang Yusen would have, but his legs were broken. We learn that the poisoned sword that injured Rong Xuan belonged to Gao Chong. ZZS looks taken aback, but this all just CONFIRMS WKX’s SUSPICIONS.

Cut away for another scene. Cut back. ZZS has suddenly remembered that he’s pissed off and that someone (else, not him) is sleeping on the couch tonight. Earlier, they were sat in order of Chengling, ZZS, WKX. Now Chengling has been put between them. WKX asks for wine, A-Xu is being passive-aggressive and ignoring him before finally handing the wine gourd to Chengling to pass to WKX. He won’t even look at WKX. It is hilarious, particularly as he only remembered he was mad after they’d all eaten dinner, which WKX cooked, and the pair of them made sure their child was OK. Chengling wants to know if they fought and tells them there’s nothing confidants can’t resolve. He’s in full puppy mode. He tells WKX to hurry up and comfort ZZS, because you know he looks tough on the surface but he’s got the softest heart! Didn’t you teach me that tough women can’t resist clingy men? ZZS’s indignant little face at this is a picture. Chengling offers to apologize for WKX. WKX’s face is all fondness for Chengling, except for the eyebrows, which are doing the Tragic Sadness Eyebrows at ZZS. ZZS is all, OK, fine, although he immediately changes the subject and starts talking about the kidnapping attempt. He tells Chengling that the world is dangerous right now, and the safest place for him is Yueyang Sect. ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS? Chengling sadly nods. My little dude, c’mon. ZZS’s Nails are bothering him and WKX takes the chance to feed him qi, which ZZS accepts – might I note - without complaint. WKX waxes rhapsodic about A-Xu’s shoulder blades, and says he once saw a dead body with beautiful shoulder blades. Smashcut to a flashback of two people who we don’t yet know are Zhen Ruyu and Gu Miaomiao dead on the ground. Although this takes place immediately after the scene of Gao Chong at the altar, when the first tablets we see are Zhen Ruyu’s and Gu Maiomiao’s, we also don’t know yet to connect those names to these bodies. Tricksy, show. We see Zhen Yan place his hand on Gu Miaomiao’s back, and WKX’s voiceover talks about how he could tell she was a beauty despite the blood everywhere. ZZS interrupts this morbid tale to say they should let the past stay in the past, and then tells WKX, “My condolences,” even though WKX hasn’t actually mentioned anywhere in the story about this dead body that it was even anyone he knew, let alone someone he was related to. Because A-Xu isn’t stupid. Immediately after this - after saying they should leave the past in the past - ZZS asks WKX who he is. WKX goes into his Philanthropist Wen evasion spiel. ZZS shakes his head, visibly steels himself, and apparently comes to the decision to model the behavior he’s trying to encourage by coming clean about his real name, his relationship to Siji Manor, all of his bad decisions, his choking guilt over the deaths of all the Siji Manor disciples, and his reign of state-sanctioned terror as founder and leader of Tian Chuang. Notably, the very first word Chengling speaks to ZZS after hearing this rundown of supposed and actual crimes is to call him “Shifu” again to get his attention before asking for more info about the Scorpions. THIS CHILD. MY HEART.

ZZS tells them both, “I spent half my life alone, doing things I didn’t want to do and killing people I didn’t want to kill,” and I literally want to reach into the screen and shake WKX, because OMG LAO WEN. You are reflections of each other, and he’s baring his soul, and you’re going to continue to be so afraid that he’s not going to accept every part of you that it’s going to be episodes and episodes before you open up, and even then, only after he figures it out on his own. :hands: To make things even more OBVIOUS, ZZS then asks Chengling if he still wants ZZS to be his shifu after learning all of this, and Chengling doesn’t even hesitate, he says “Of course,” and ZZS and I are both about to cry. UGH. Zhang Zhehan, your face. It’s killing me. This is a man seeing the hope of resurrection for the sect he was convinced he had ground into dust. ZZS and Chengling are both so busy being emotional at each other that WKX has to take matters into his own hands, encouraging Chengling to bow, and we get a real bow to shifu this time, in a scene that once again mirrors the later scene when Zhen Yan makes his bow to Qin Huaizhang to become a Siji Manor disciple.

ZZS tells Chengling, all right, then. You are the first disciple of the sixth generation. (SHIXIONG. NO PRESSURE.)

End ep.

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #zhang chengling #beauty ghost #liu qianqiao #gao chong #gao shan #du pusa #pretty arhat #qin song #gu xiang #xie wang #tragicomic ghost #luo fumeng #qin huaizhang #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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lillotte17 · 3 years

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Tomorrow

Got hooked watching Word of Honor and Zhou Zishu's Sad Face Journeys in episodes 33-34 came for my life, so I wrote a little scene set after the whole Heroes Conference Thing. ...And then Wen KeXing showed up and just...*gestures vaguely* I don't know what happened here. XD

Zhou Zishu sits quietly beside the bed, watching Wen KeXing's sleeping face with an ache in his chest that has nothing to do with his failing body, and everything to do with the fact that he is about to die.

When his shidi had made a miraculous reappearance at the Heroes Conference, his first reaction was gut-wrenching surprise. It felt as though the ground had suddenly dissolved beneath his feet. His heart leaping so high in his throat that he forgot how to breathe. Dizzy with the overwhelming rush of joy and confusion. Uncertain whether to laugh or cry.

But once the shock had subsided, the anger had been hot on its heels. And he wanted to be mad about it. Wanted to take Wen KeXing by the shoulders and shake him so hard that his teeth rattled around in his skull. Wanted to scream and sob and rail against the now inevitably fast-burning candle of his fate. At the unfairness of losing his life just as he had found something worth living for again. Someoneworth living for. For a few moments, the fury had burned so brightly in him he thought it might be enough to kill him then and there. That the fire between his lungs would simply burst his chest open and engulf everything around them in a sea of red.

But when they had caught each other’s gaze, he had seen the apology roiling in Wen KeXing’s dark eyes, raw and miserable, even without a word being said. The apology, and the fear. That same fear Zishu had seen flicker across his face every time he had tried to coax him into confessing that he was from Ghost Valley. The same fear he had seen in him the night Wen KeXing had snuck out of the Four Seasons Manor to intercept Ye BaiYi and tried to prevent him from reveling his identity. And yet again, when Han Ying had died, and he had nearly killed himself in a blind panic trying to fix it somehow. The fear whispered that death was preferable to his hatred. That his blade would be kinder than his revulsion. That Wen KeXing would sacrifice anything to avoid being abandoned once again.

Zhou Zishu was helpless in the face of it; as he always seems to be. The look that passed between them had been fast and fleeting, there and gone again with barely a blink, but it was enough to douse the flames of his anger with a tide of chilling and fathomless grief. The rest of the Heroes Conference passed before him in a daze. Vengeance, and justice, and pride. Wen KeXing blazing in the brightest and truest version of himself for all to see. Dazzling and mesmerizing and impossible to look away from. He does not know if he has ever loved him more, even as he felt his heart slowly sinking down into the pit of his stomach. The numbness of acceptance settling into his bones.

There will be no escape from death, this time.

He had been quiet on the way back to Jing BeiYuan’s Manor. Quiet enough to worry both Wen KeXing and ChengLing, who always seems to see more than he understands. He had listened to their reasons and excuses, and he had done his best to reassure them afterwards, but his own words sound hollow in his ears. The best he could do was to get Lao Wen hopelessly drunk, and pray that it made him less intuitive. The suffusion of elation and hope in the air had nearly been enough to choke him, though. He did not want to rob them of it, but he found he could take part in it either, no matter how much he wanted to. He could not bring himself to celebrate a future he can no longer share with them.

Zhou Zishu understands Wen KeXing. He understands that he is just as abysmal at properly conveying affection as he is himself, if not more so. The man only knows how to protect people he cares for by either sending them away from him or drowning them both in blood. It is how he had managed to survive all those years surrounded by madness and chaos and death. Zishu had done much the same, while he was working in the capital. Hiding all of their softer places far away from where the light could reach them. Playful banter has always passed easily between them, but tenderness is heavier, and vulnerabilities almost impossible to speak aloud. They are both trying to do better, struggling to pull their own humanity back into their hands where it can be shared freely, but Wen KeXing’s hurts are older and deeper. His path back to the world of the living inevitably more winding and complex. He still has not mastered the art of articulating his fears and concerns.

Zhou Zishu’s health was tenuous even before he had been kidnapped and tortured. As much as he hated to admit it, he had been in no fit state to fight an angry mob. Wen KeXing hid the truth from him because he knew that he would chafe at being told to stay out of harm’s way; that they would have argued about it until he was either allowed to participate in the scheme or he was spitting blood and passing out on the floor. Zishu cannot even say that this assessment of his character was a bad one, but it still stung to be kept in the dark, and the hurt was lingering. And yet, however deep the barb of this secret may have landed, however misplaced the caution may or may not have been, he knows without a shred of doubt that Wen KeXing’s deception was born of love, and he can hardly hold that against him.

Especially not now.

Wen KeXing turns his head slightly, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like an extremely slurred version of his name. His expression is smooth and peaceful, his hair a dark fan across the bed behind him. The rosy glow of happiness and alcohol still pinking the apples of his cheeks.

Zishu smiles despite himself. It is much easier to find traces of the little boy his master had planned to take for his second disciple when he looks like this; safe and sleeping and completely at ease for the first time in who knows how long. He wishes he could recall those few precious days they had spent together as children with more clarity, but the memory of it is like a silk brocade left to sit too long in the sunshine, its delicate patterns fading as the colors wash away in a flood of light. Zhou Zishu had been too young to fully comprehend the weight of death when his master had returned from his trip to collect the Wen family without his shidi or his parents in tow. That his master had been sad about it was enough to impact him, but in the grand scheme of things, the wounds to his own heart had been minimal.

What would have happened if they had kept looking for Zhen Yan, he wonders. If he and Wen KeXing had grown up together as best friends and martial brothers and soulmates? Would their master have found a way to soothe Zhen Yan’s rage before it consumed him? Would Zhou Zishu have made the same mistakes with the Window of Heaven if Wen KeXing had been at his side? Perhaps they could have saved each other before things had reached the place they were now. Or perhaps Wen KeXing would have died under Zhou Zishu’s leadership with the rest of their sect, and his failures would have tasted that much more bitter.

He sighs quietly. There is no sense dwelling on things he cannot change. He had been a child, and just as powerless to save Wen KeXing from his fate as the boy himself had been. Feeling guilty about it was meaningless at this point. It was enough to have him here and now. Enough that they had had any time together at all. Enough that Wen KeXing had fallen off of that cliff and somehow still managed to walk back to him.

It has to be enough, because it is all they have. All they can have. Even if he wants more.

“Ah Xu?”

The voice is thick with sleep, but marginally less inebriated than before.

“Mn,” Zhou Zishu hums in acknowledgement, his gaze shifting slightly to watch Wen KeXing blink himself back into wakefulness.

“You didn’t go to bed?” he asks, bleary and swaying slightly as he attempts to sit up.

“There is someone in my bed.” Zishu points out archly.

Wen KeXing looks murderous for a few seconds until he realizes that the person in question is, in fact, himself. When the clouds break, his expression immediately shifts to one of insufferable satisfaction. He leans precariously off the side of the bed, robes and hair both hopelessly askew.

“I am always willing to share everything I have with Ah Xu,” he declares with feigned sweetness.

“How kind of Philanthropist Wen to make a present of what he stole from me,” Zhou Zishu snorts, “Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“Ah Xu!” Wen KeXing objects. “How is it stealing when you gave it to me freely? You think I would come to your bedroom with the intention of sleeping?”

“I’m sure I don’t know anything about your intentions.” The reply is given with a smirk, but his eyes dart away from him. “You asked me to drink with you, but the jar you brought was empty. Besides, I am thinking about giving it up. I have been told that it is bad for my health.”

“Aiya, first Ah Xu accuses me of being a thief, and now he tells me such scandalous falsehoods!” Wen KeXing shakes his head, attempting to seem wounded despite the grin on his face. “I already accepted your punishment earlier, there is no reason to be cruel.”

“Who is a liar here?” Zhou Zishu inquires laughingly, gesturing back and forth between them. “Which one of us is the most scandalous?”

“It’s me, it’s me,” Wen KeXing acknowledges, his head bobbing up and down in agreement, “But Ah Xu, you cannot expect me to ever believe that you would willingly give up drinking good wine with me? And as for not understanding my intentions, well…I believe that even less.”

“Was your intention to make sure I could not get any sleep?”

Wen KeXing only smiles at him widely.

“…I regret asking such a question,” Zhou Zishu chuckles, reaching out to lightly slap the side of Wen KeXing’s face in both fondness and chastisement. “Ask a shameless man a question and you are sure to get a shameless reply.”

Wen KeXing grabs hold of his hand before he can pull it away, leaning into it with a sigh.

“What is so shameless about it at this point?” he wonders, something soft and shining igniting within his gaze. “Living together. Dying together. Watching as our hair turns gray with old age. We’ve already promised to share these things, haven’t we? Why give me your bed when we could share that, too?”

Zhou Zishu takes a long look at him. At the dark hair spilling across his shoulder in disarray. The front of his robes just rumpled enough to expose the elegant line of his throat as well as part of his collar bones. The flush of his cheeks and the promise burning in his eyes.

He cannot deny that he wants it. Even knowing it might make things more painful later on. He wants to be selfish. He wants to be greedy while he still can. While he can still hear Lao Wen calling for him and feel his skin beneath his hands. His sense of taste and smell have gone already, but can still see him, and that could be enough. More than enough.

But will it be enough for Wen KeXing?

This is the last thing they have to give each other. The last pieces of themselves they have been holding back. Mostly because there simply had not been time for it amidst the chaos swirling around them. It always seemed as though either their lives were in danger or one of them was injured. Up until now, even Zishu had been optimistic enough to assume they would have time for it later, though. Time to use physical intimacy as an almost second meeting. To learn how they need each other in the quiet and the dark. To learn the ways they can be gentle, and the ways they can be fierce. To burn each other up in desperation and desire.

It seems too heartless to have it be a farewell instead.

Zhou Zishu lets out a long breath.

“…Not when you are drunk,” he says quietly.

Wen KeXing blinks at him in astonishment, eyes blown wide and round as saucers, clearly expecting a flat-out rejection.

A moment later, the blankets have been hastily flung aside, and he is staggering off of the bed has fast as he can. Which, as it turns out, is not very fast at all. Zhou Zishu easily catches him with one arm, lightly pushing him back into a seated position.

“Lao Wen, where do you think you are going?” he laughs.

“I need to sober up,” Wen KeXing explains, looking so serious about it that Zhou Zishu cannot help but reach out and pinch his cheek. Lao Wen slaps his hand away, his expression mulish.

“Don’t pout,” Zishu scolds, still chuckling, “It is too late to be staggering around someone else’s house. With my luck, you would drown yourself in the fish pond, and then BeiYuan and Wu Xi would be terribly put out.”

“But Ah Xu, if you won’t let me leave, and you won’t share the bed, just what do you want me to do?” Lao Wen complains. “Even if you don’t want to have sex, you should at least lay down and rest properly. I want you to get well as soon as possible.”

Zhou Zishu’s mouth stiffens slightly.

“I know.”

Wen KeXing’s brow furrows in concern. He reaches out a hand, long fingers hovering just above his heart, when Zhou Zishu catches them tightly in his own. He is not certain if Lao Wen could glean the truth about his condition from his pulse while still tipsy, but he is not about to run that risk tonight.

“Are the nails bothering you again?” Wen KeXing asks, doleful this time.

“No.”

It is not a lie.

“Then come to bed,” Lao Wen cajoles, using their joined hands to tug him closer, “I promise not to molest you unless you ask me to.”

Zhou Zishu makes a sound of grumbling disbelief, but still allows himself to be pulled down next to Wen KeXing. The bed is big enough for two, but only just. Lao Wen retrieves the formerly discarded blankets from whatever corner he had toss them and bundles them up together like two caterpillars in a single cocoon. His face is close beside him on the pillow, warm breath fanning the side of his neck. An arm drapes loosely about Zishu’s waist, and he turns his head slightly, intending to shoot a warning glare in the other man’s direction.

This is a mistake.

Wen KeXing’s eyes are dark and intense in the moonlight, half closed with either sleep or desire, it is hard to say. His lips part slightly as Zhou Zishu turns to him, and the hand draped around his waist clutches faintly at his robes as if on instinct. Both of them seem to have forgotten how to breathe.

“…Ah Xu, you can kiss me, if you like,” Lao Wen whispers finally, so soft it almost seems like a dream.

“What makes you think I want to kiss you?” he means it to sound teasing, but it comes out in almost a sigh.

“Because I want to kiss you,” Lao Wen replies matter-of-factly.

“I never thought of you as a pillar of self-restraint,” Zhou Zishu huffs.

“I promised to be a gentleman.”

Zishu closes his eyes and lets out a deep, soul-rattling sigh. He is almost glad he cannot smell the oils Wen KeXing uses in his hair or the trace of alcohol on his lips. The proximity is staggering enough all on its own.

“…It would not stop with a kiss,” he admits aloud to both of them.

He does not open his eyes again, but he can feel Wen KeXing’s body tremble slightly as he laughs, and that is almost as bad.

“Ah Xu, I would hardly complain,” he replies, testing his luck by shifting close enough so that their foreheads are lightly touching. “But you want to rest, and I want you rested, so it is no great loss, either way. You will still be here with me tomorrow, after all. There is no need to rush these things. Sometimes, a slow spring is sweeter.”

“Yes,” Zhou Zishu manages to reply around the lump lodged in his throat, “I will still be here tomorrow.”

#Word of Honor #Wenzhou #wen kexing #zhou zishu #fic #this was supposed to be all angsty #but they are SO EFFING FUNNY #it's so fun writing their banter #askdjghasdfgk #i am sorry #i have no idea what emotions this actually conveys at this point #i just work here

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

Spider Vs Bird

I worked a long time on this fic. I really liked working on it though and I hope you enjoy it

Peter met Marinette when they were six-years-old. She had been sent to camp in New York. She had been scared to be so far away from home, and while fluent in English spoke with a heavy accent that made other kids look at her funny.

Peter had never been away from his parents for more than a few days, ever. He wasn’t happy. He was miserable in fact. Peter had been sitting alone behind a tree, having escaped canoeing, face hid in his knees. His wanted nothing more than to go home. He sniffled.

“Don’t cry,” A soft voice said next to him. He looked up and saw a pretty bluenette with big blue eyes and a kind smile on her face looking at him. She looked about his age. “It’s okay. Do you miss home too?”

Peter nodded, and tried to make it look like he was crying. The other boys could be really, really mean. “I want my pops and dad.”

“I miss my mama and papa too,” Marinette said. “I’m really far away from them.”

“Where are you from?” Peter ask curiously. He hadn’t met many people from different countries before and never a kid his own age.

Marinette played with her hair, “France. Where are you from?”

“New York City,” Peter smiled. “It’s far but not as far as Paris. Do you miss it?”

“Yep; a whole a lot,” Marinette opened the care package from her Mommy and Daddy. It just made her miss them so much more. Her grandma Gina went to this camp when she was small, and so did her dad, so they sent her there too. “Chocolate, Vanilla, or Strawberry.”

And just like any kid, Peter didn’t ask why she was asking. “I like vanilla.”

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.”

Marinette nodded and pulled out two cupcakes from her care package. It had been sent overnight. “Here you go, have one.” She handed him a big vanilla cupcake.

Peter’s eyes went wide and he gave her a toothy grin that showed he was missing one of his front tenth. “Thank!” He bite into it. “This is really good,” he said with his mouth full.

“My parents made them,” Marinette smiled then bit into her own chocolate cupcake. “They’re bakers!”

Peter blinked at her with wide-eyes, “That’s so cool! So they cake cookies and cake and like everything right? You must get to eat as much as you want. I wish my parents were bakers!”

Marinette just laughed. It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Steve and Tony would get letters from his son all about the new friend he made. And get a picture of their little boy with his arm around a blue-haired.

“Her name is Marinette,” Steve read the letter. “She’s French. Her parents are the best bakers in the world who send her weekly goodie packages. They have the coolest job ever!”

Tony blinked, “We’re superheroes.”

When they picked up Peter a month later from camp, he was ran up to him holding Marinette’s hand, “Dad, Pops; this is Marinette! She’s the best. She really smart and funny and cool. She’s my best friend ever! And-”

Tony laughed, “Easy there, squirt. Take a breath. Hi Miss Marinette.”

Marinette blushed but grinned big, “Hi, Mr. Stark, sir. Peter’s really nice. Like really nice. He even stopped a big kid from killing a poor little spider. He was really brave!”

Peter grinned, “You’re really brave. You’re the one who pushed him when he pushed me the ground. You even made him apologize. It was awesome.” He told his parents. “Can I got to Marinette’s? Please. I want to see her bakery. Pretty please.”

“Paris is a long ways away bud,” Steve teased. “You didn’t even want to leave for camp remember.”

“Not without your Ameri-bear,” Tony added with a chuckle. “You’ve been sleeping with that old teddy bear ever.”

They stopped laughing when they saw Peter giving them a wide-eyed look, his mouth dropped opened, with his face a bright red. Before they knew it, Peter was shoving them towards the car, “Be right back, Mari.”

Peter glared, “Don’t blow this for me.”

Tony snorted, “Blow what? Do you even know what they means?”

“Yes,” Peter huffed indignantly, though it was a lie. “Marinette’s really, really nice. And smart. And funny. She doesn’t think I’m weird. Or too smart or anything. And she’s so pretty. Like really, really pretty.”

Steve cooed, “Aww, you have a crush on Marinette.”

“NO!” Peter shouted. His face back to a bright shade of red.

Tony smirked, “So I shouldn’t send out the wedding invitations then?”

They were there for every milestone of Peter’s life; the day he was born, the day he crawled, his first word, his first steps, his first lab explosion, his first missing tooth, and his first day of school. Now they were baring witness to the first time Peter visibly looked to be contemplating murder. Unfortunately, it was at them.

“Mari’s parents are really cool,” Peter stated. “Just be cool like them.” Then he ran back to Marinette.

“I’m Tony Stark,” Tony said incredulously.

“I’m Captain America!” Steve said at the same time.

Still, they ended up meeting the rest of the Dupain-Cheng family, and found them delightful.

It was from that summer on that the Avengers got used to seeing Peter and Marinette running around the tower together. Peter also got used to be teased for his supposed crush on his best friend. Natasha ended up taking Marinette under wing and training her in combat and the art of spying.

However, it was only two years later, when the Avengers responded to an intruder alert and found Marinette standing over a hogtied Nick Fury, with a fierce look on her face and Peter looking proud, that Tony said two magical words:

“I ship it.”

Damian Wayne met Marinette when they were ten-years-old. Damian had only been living with his father for five years but still had trouble acting like a normal kid. The life of a league of shadows member was hard to break from; especially if it’s ingrained from a young age. He had been chastised more than a few times for leaving off on his own, especially in a place like Gotham.

When Alfred informed them that an old friend and business associate was coming to visit with her granddaughter, a girl Damian’s age; it was to no one’s surprise when his father took him aside and made him promise to be polite.

The woman Gina had showed up in the beginning of summer. She arrived on a motorcycle that had been so loud they heard as soon as she pulled up to the house. Alfred had answered the door with a chuckle.

“Penny!” The woman exclaimed and jumped at him with a hug. She had short silver, nearly white, hair and dressed mostly black and had a studded black leather jacket on and boots. “Ugh, still as boring as ever, I see,” Gina said once she pulled back from the hug.

“Gina,” Alfred smiled. “You haven’t change a bit.”

Gina just laughed, and turned her attention to Bruce, “Brucie; I heard you took my advice to go exploring the world. How’d you like it?”

Bruce smirked, “It was… educational.” He had known Gina since he was a boy, having spent a few summers with Tom, even gone to his and Sabine’s wedding. The woman hadn’t been to visit since Bruce adopted Tim and Cass. “You remember my boys?”

“Dick,” Gina said pulling the oldest Wayne boy into a tight hug. “You get more handsome every time I see. So sorry to hear you and Barbs broke up. I know some amazing girls I can introduce you to.”

Dick just laughed, “I’m fine flying solo for now.”

“Jason,” Gina said crossing her arms, with a raised eyebrow. “I haven’t seen you since I let you steal my last motorcycle.”

Jason smirked, “let me?” The only reason he’d happily come to the Manor was because Alfred told him Gina was on her way. She was the coolest lady he knew growing up.

“Oh please,” Gina waved him off. “You drove it to the Barnes and Nobel’s on 4th, and it sat there for like three hours. I have a tracker on my stuff, kid. I let you. Now give me a hug.” Jason laughed and hugged her.

The same went for Tim and Cass. Cass excitedly told Gina in Chinese all about her adventures in Hong Kong. Tim told her about his trip around the world. Then finally it was Damian’s turn.

Gina smiled softly at the youngest of Bruce’s kids, “And who’s this?”

Bruce put a hand on his son’s shoulder, “This is Damian.”

“Nice to meet you, Damian,” Gina said.

Damian nodded stiffly, “Pleasure.” He wore a black tailored dress pants and a high collard green turtle neck.

Gina rolled her eyes, “God, Bruce, he’s nearly as uptight as you were at his age.”

“I was not uptight,” Bruce defended, despite knowing he was bratty little shit when he was Damian’s age.

Alfred snorted but smiled, “And the young guest you brought with you.”

Gina grinned and held out her hand to her granddaughter who had stayed close to the motorcycle, “She’s a bit a shy.” She told them. “This is Marinette.”

“Hi!” Marinette waved shyly, blushing a bit.

The family cooed at the sight of the little blue-eyed, bluenette, in a baby blue shirt with a yellow happy face and dark jean short, with her hair in pigtails and big smile on her face. So innocent, so sweet. Bruce, of course, had been acquainted with Marinette. He had gone to the baby shower for her and stopped by the bakery whenever he was in Paris. The girl was the sweetest little thing.

When Damian and Marinette got sent off to play together, only Alfred, Gina, and Bruce thought it was a good idea. Damian didn’t know why he was being punished. And certainly there were more fitting punishment than spending time with some little kid.

He sent a cold glare at the bluenette, once they arrived in the entertainment room, “There are video games and movies over there,” Damian pointed to the TV. “Amuse yourself. Or perhaps you would prefer a coloring book and a teddy bear,” He said sarcastically.

Marinette crossed her arms, “First of all, I would love a coloring book, thank you very much. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He snorted. “And Bruce said we should play together; get to know each other. Or do you frequently disobey an order?” If Damian was a rebel, Marinette needed to know. Because there was a fine line between rebel and troublemaker.

Damian huffed, “Fine; let’s play a game then. How about… Mortal Kombat.” He sent her a cruel smirk. “Not the video game. Real life. It’s simple. We fight and the first person to die or cry,” He said with distaste. “Loses. Up for it?”

“What weapons do we get?” Marinette asked. Bucky and Natasha had taught her for the last four years on a variety of weapons. Though she knew it was only because of Steve’s doing that they hadn’t taught her how to use a gun yet. They even got a shield agent assigned to Paris to train her throughout the school year.

Damian raised an eyebrow, curious. He had expected her to run screaming from the room in sheer terror, crying to her grandmother. “What do you prefer?”

“Bo staff.”

“Same,” Damian said. “Let’s take this to the backyard.”

When Marinette yelled to her grandma that she and Damian were going to play in the backyard, Damian marveled that no one came out with questions filled with suspicious. Granted the first time Damian said he was going to go play in the backyard, he ended up in Watch Tower going over surveillance footage.

Marinette and Damian stood ten feet apart on the grassy field, each held a long black bo staff. It was quiet. Damian had set an alarm on his phone to begin the fight. Marinette set hers to play music.

When the loud beeping sounded and Carrie Underwood’s champion started playing, they charged at each other.

It was a mix of attacks and dodges. Their staffs met; each putting their full force behind it.

“It is not wise to meet a Wayne in Battle,” Damian growled at her.

Marinette rolled her eyes, “If all Waynes are as big of a jerk as you are, you must all be used to be called out to fight.”

Damian attacks. The two kids stand in one place, trading feints, thrusts and parries with lightning speed, almost impossible to follow. The youngest Wayne was reluctant to admit, even to himself, that Marinette had no trouble matching him. “You know what you're doing, I'll give you that.”

“Not too bad yourself,” Marinette nodded.

The two slow walked around the length of the imaginary circle. Until they were in the exact opposite of their initial positions.

“Your taste in music is terrible though,” Damian added on. Marinette let out an angry hiss like a cat and attacks,

Their duel continued. Their staff flash and ring. Suddenly, Damian swung his staff, partially letting go. Marinette seeing the staff free sailing, ducked quickly. Not seeing Damian catch it at the last second, and then send a kick flying at her chest. Her weapon flew out of her hand. Marinette crashes to the ground, and with a quick swing her legs, sweeps Damian’s feet from under him, losing his weapon in the process.

Marinette and Damian jumped up, right back in the fighting position. What happened next was a mix of punches and kicks, and headlocks. Until they found themselves once again across from each in their imaginary circle.

Marinette’s hair was a mess, pigtails having come lose. She was covered in welts and bruises from the staff. There was blood on her shirt and dripping her nose. Damian didn’t look any better. His well-groomed look was gone. His turtleneck had torn. His lip was busted. There was bruising around his neck from when Marinette had wrapped her legs around it and held him in a chokehold, like Natasha had taught her, until he managed to maneuver out of it.

Giggles burst from Marinette before she could stop them, “You look ridiculous,” She laughed.

“Shall I show you a mirror?” Damian said with a smirk. He chuckled.

They both shook their heads, looked at each other again, and they each fell over laughing. They only stopped when the sound of applause reached their ears.

Damian and Marinette looked up and saw the entire Wayne family and Gina watching them.

Alfred nodded approvingly, “I see she takes after you Gina.”

“That she does,” Gina grinned. “You’re grandson could give a young you a run for your money.”

“How long after you been there?” Marinette squeaked.

Bruce fought not to smile. “Just as the music started to play. We were going to invite you both in for ice cream.” He had been furious at first at his youngest child for deciding to spar with a civilian but the fury had faded as it became clear that Marinette could keep up with his son. There were times when he was sure one was trying to kill the other but they always held back; even if only just.

He looked at Gina, “It’s nice to see Damian getting along so well with someone.” He would regret those words soon enough. Very soon.

Damian and Marinette spent the next few days running after each other and trying to one up another in best surprise attacks. Bruce’s older kids took bets. Jason and Cass voted that Marinette would eventually win. Tim and Dick sided with Damian.

One day, after lunch, Damian commented on his field trip his class was taking, “The zoo,” he wrinkled his nose. “It’s barbaric. Animals trapped in cages while less human beings gawk in amusement. There’s a new wolf exhibit my teacher is dying to see. It’s all terrible.”

Marinette agreed. While she liked the zoo, she always thought the animals looked really sad. She took a sip from her juice box, “So let’s do something about it.”

That night, after midnight, the two kids climbed out of their windows, onto the roof, and quietly raced into the darkness. When they made it to the Zoo, they wasted no time in disabling the security cameras and breaking in the wolf exhibit. Damian, dressed in his the Robin costume he wasn’t supposed to have yet, managed to calm the wolf down as Marinette, dressed in mostly black with a red mask on, stole a truck (something she learned from Clint.) By the time security managed to get the cameras working again the kids and wolf were gone. All without a trace.

The kids, and wolf, ditched the truck about a mile from the manor and raced home. They snuck back in through the tunnels of the Batcave that let the batmobile move securely without anyone seeing it.

However, when they finally got to the Batcave, they were met with the exasperated looks of Batman and Alfred and the highly amused looks of Gina, Nightwing, Redhood, Blackbat, and Robin.

Damian nodded slowly, not even bothering to try to hide the giant wolf, “Father, I decided that Marinette should stay for summer. She is much more pleasant than I originally thought. And don’t worry, Marinette figured out you were batman her third day here. She even found the cave all on her own.”

Batman narrowed his eyes. He took of his cowl. He had been alerted that his son and Marinette were missing from their rooms just seconds after he was alerted about a break in at the zoo. He knew his son well. And it didn’t take a genius to be two and two together. “Grounded! One week.” He looked at Gina who nodded in agreement, though the smile was still on her face.

The kids huffed but nodded.

“And wolf is going back!” That was met with loud protests.

Marinette stayed at the Wayne Manor for another month. Not long after the grounding was over, Damian came into the living room where his father and siblings were and informed his father that he was leaving, “Alfred is taking Marinette and I to the movies. There is a showing of the new Little Mermaid movie she desires to see.”

Bruce closed the book he was reading, “Very well. I’ll tag along. We can make a family day out of it.” Dick was the first to agree followed shortly by the others, who wanted to see the havoc Marinette and Damian tended to create.

Damian visibly froze, “No, father.” He stated firmly. “I had… hoped it would be just Marinette and I. We can be trusted, I assure you.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” Bruce started but Jason interrupted him.

“No! Way!” Jason yelled, his eyes wide with a sudden realization, and a grin his face. “You like her.”

It was the entire room’s turn to freeze. All eyes on Damian who had blush slowly creeping onto his face. “Marinette has proven herself to be a strong and intelligent ally. She is worthy of my regard.”

Jason shook his head, “No. You like her, like her.”

“I have come to value her friendship highly,” Damian said but the deepening redness of his face told a different story. He went to elementary school, he knew what like-like meant.

Dick cooed, “Baby bird has a crush.”

“I do not!” Damian hissed.

Cass snickered, “It is alright. Marinette is quite lovely.”

Tim smirked, “And she has rather nice green eyes. A bit dull though.”

“Blue!” Damian corrected quickly. “She has marvelous blue eyes. They are not dull. They shine brighter than the sun. They sparkle when she laughs, you dolt.”

Silence filled the room. Damian looked horrified at his words. Bruce looked at his young son with raise eyebrows and a small smile on his face.

“I am leaving now, father,” Damian stated. “I will return as soon as the movie ends provided we do not stop for frozen yogurt. Good day.” And then he swiftly left the room, leaving his siblings snickering in his wake.

Bruce opened back up his book, “I ship it.”

The declaration caused the room to fill with shouts.

Marinette would spend half of every summer for the next few years in Gotham; training with Damian under the guidance of Batman himself. Eventually going onto meet the rest of the Justice League. She and Damian used the zeta beams to hang out as much as possible.

The other half of her summers, Marinette spent in New York City at Stark Tower with Peter and the rest of the avengers. Learning under the tutelage of The Black Widow and The Winter Soldier, two out of four of Peter’s godparents (the others being Rhodey and Pepper of course), while Peter learned under his parents.

Damian officially became Robin at 12. Peter became Spider-man at fourteen. And Marinette became Ladybug at 13. It was to no one’s surprise the two boys were the first ones she told about being a superhero. And it was not to her surprise when they couldn’t keep it from their families for long.

“Aww, look you two match,” Tony said upon seeing Marinette transform. “Couples costumes.” The genius would later admit he had that mouth webbing coming. He still ship Peter/Marinette so hard.

Three weeks later, Bruce had said, “A little bright, isn’t it?”

“Do I even need to mention the first Robin costume?” Marinette snapped back. Though she was secretly glad that as soon as she saw the original Ladybug costume she had Tikki teach her out to change it. Gone was skintight onesie. Now she dressed in a more armored uniform. That was mostly black with bright red polka dots everywhere.

Bruce smirked. He was proud of the girl who had become his son’s closest friend, and obvious crush. He really hoped his son would ask out Marinette soon.

Then the Avengers and Justice League found out. Marinette found herself defending Paris with a league member or an Avenger for like six months before she finally told them where to shove it. She would call them if she needed them. Though she didn’t mind Robin or Spiderman dropping into help every now and then when their secret identities were in town.

Chat, who had grown become a brother to Marinette once their identities had been revealed to each other, had fanboy’d so hard the first time Robin came to help. And then again when Spiderman appeared, after catching Ladybug in a web after she’d been knocked from the top of the Eiffel tower. Then Marinette had to reveal that she knew the Avengers and the Justice league.

It took Adrien five seconds with Peter Stark-Rogers to know he had a crush on Marinette. And he cheerfully told Peter, “I’ve got the god of destruction in my pocket. I’ll feed you to him if you hurt her.”

It took Adrien three days to realize Damian Wayne liked Marinette. And he braced himself, held his ground, and told the teen, “You like Marinette. She’s my sister. I just want you to remember: Cats eat birds.”

He thought it was really menacing until Damian sprayed him the face with a water bottle, “Bad kitty.”

Adrien hissed.

As good as Marinette’s superhero life was going, so was her fashion career. MDC was slowly become well known high-class designer and household name thanks to Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Bruce Wayne, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Natasha, and even Lex Luther wearing her clothes.

her normal life had gone in the opposite direction.

Lila had come to class and lied her way to the top; she went on and on about all the celebrities she knew. She promised all the students great chances and opportunities. Only a few didn’t eat it all up. Marinette, Chloe, Nathaniel, and Adrien called out her lies relentlessly. This caused the class to think of them as jealous bullies and had them ostracized to the back at Lila’s subtle behest. Unfortunately for Lila, Adrien had been quick to join them. And nothing she, or anyone else in class, could say to convince the blond boy otherwise.

Marinette had thought of most of the students as friends but hadn’t been too surprised when they turned against her. She had never been to close to any of apart from the ones who joined her in back. For a while she had considered that maybe Alya would become her best friend but decided against it once she learned just what type of journalist she was. The glasses-wearing girl was always out for the next big scoop and didn’t seem to care how she got it; even if it meant putting herself in danger.

Alya had also been adamant for a long time that Ladybug and Chat Noir liked each other romantically despite both heroes denying it repeatedly. She only stopped when Chat Noir told Alya that Ladybug was his sister.

When Lila came, like the rest of the class, Alya ate up her stories and promises of a future at famous newspapers like the Daily Planet or the Gotham Gazette.

And when Marinette claimed Lila was lying, Alya was the first to accuse Marinette of being jealous. The girl never seemed to get the message that Marinette and Adrien didn’t like each other that way and only thought of each as siblings at best and best friends at worst. Alya didn’t listen or care. Whenever Lila gave a tear-filled eyes saying that Marinette was being oh so mean to her, Alya was the first to defend her new bestie. The rest of the class following suit.

It didn’t take long for Marinette to be voted out of being class president. This made Fearsome four, as Nathanial had nicknamed them after he and Chloe were given permanent spots as heroes, snickered as Marinette had pulled several string to for the annual class trip; so much for the class staying at Stark Tower with the Avengers or visiting Gotham and staying in luxury hotels. Oh well.

Once she wasn’t class president, all the little things that Marinette had done in addition to the positon had stopped as well. She stopped planning dances, fundraisers, and birthday parties (mostly because she was never invited to go to anyone’s in classes anymore.) No more free sweets from the bakery for anyone but her three friends. No free commissions. No babysitting. No banner designs. Nothing. Squat. Zero.

This of course caused anger from the other students in class as they had gotten used to all the free Marinette provided and tasks she did.

Alya huffed, “You’re just getting back us because we’re not your friends anymore.”

To which Marinette replied coldly, “Your point being?”

It was suffice to say when Marinette fifteenth birthday rolled around and Marinette’s mom forced her to give invitations to the entire class, the students were quick to rip up the invitations in front of her face.

Lila smiled, “Sorry, Marinette. Everyone’s throwing a party for me that day. No one can come.”

“Thank god,” Marinette said to their shock because it was obvious the girl was sincerely relieved. “My mom forced me to invite you, and I had no idea how to politely tell you I didn’t really want you to come.”

On the day of Marinette’s birthday, Saturday, while the class was enjoying their own party, Marinette just finished setting up a mock carnival with rides, games, and concession booths, and an area for bands to play. Adrien had even gotten his dad, Nathalie, and Gorilla to come on the threat of shaving his head bald.

Then Marinette’s guests started to arrive. Marinette’s schoolmates, the ones she had started to befriend after being made an outcast in class arrived first; the drama club, the art club, the fashion club, cooking club, and the world Travelers’ club had turned out be made up of some great people.

Adrien, Chloe, and Nathaniel stayed close to Marinette side; each wearing an earpiece.

Jagged Stone in all his rock and roll glory arrived first. Clara Nightingale practically danced her way in. Lois and Clark and the rest of the Kents were a bit more subdued. Though Cat, Nadja, and Lois immediately located rivals and the three could be found gossiping and sharing stories with each other. The same could be said when Style Queen Audrey, Wilhelmina Slater, Gabriel Agreste, and Miranda Priestly. Then it was just a slew of people; from friendly neighbors Marinette grew up with to famous models and actors and chefs.

She immediately greeted Damian with a hug, and thanked him for the perfectly wrapped green present. A second later, Marinette did the same to Peter, and thanked him for the blue present.

The two boys eyed each other.

Marinette looked confused, “Damian I told you about Peter, right? I talked about him all the time. And the same for Damian, Peter.”

“You didn’t mention he was Peter Stark,” Damian stated.

“Peter Stark-Rogers,” Peter corrected. “And you’re Damian Wayne.”

And Marinette finally realized she had forgotten to do one major thing; tell the Avengers and the Justice League that Marinette worked with both of them. Or at the very least Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne who looked ready to bring out the big guns.

Both superhero teams were very much aware of the others superhero identities as the Avengers never hid theirs and Tony hacked into the Watch Tower.

Lex Luther and Oliver Queen, the third and fourth richest men in the world, looked highly amused. While Gabriel looked like Christmas had come early. He had no idea Miss Dupain. He knew allowing Adrien to befriend the girl was smart idea.

The other heroes subtly watched the two for any signs that a fight might break out. Bruce had never forgiven Tony for hacking into the watchtower and uncovering Batman identity.

“Brucie,” Tony grinned and held out his hand. “You’re looking great today. No idea you’d be here. Or that you knew Marinette.”

Bruce shook his hand a bit too firmly, “Her grandmother is an old family friend. I was at her parents’ wedding. I was at their baby shower. I’ve known Marinette for years.”

“We met Marinette when she was five,” Tony said. “She and Peter met at camp. Aren’t they adorable together,” He nodded to the two.

Bruce forced a grin on his face, “Not as cute as she and Damian. They’ve been nearly inseparable since they were ten. Wouldn’t be surprised if hear wedding bells in the future.”

“Of course you will,” Tony laughed. “I’m sure Marinette will invite to her and Peter’s wedding.”

The two glared at each other.

Their significant others just shook their heads. Selena, aka Catwoman, looked amused. While Steve looked so done with this world.

“As one of Peter’s godfather’s,” Bucky said. “Should I be offering to fight Damian’s godfather?” He joked.

Clark glared, his eyes turning a bit red, “Anytime you want.”

Rhodey slapped Bucky on the back, “That’s all you man.” He was not fighting Superman over a case of puppy love.

Diana looked a bit confused, “Should I engage in mortal combat with Peter’s godmother then?”

Pepper crossed her arms, feeling last of the extremis still pumping through her blood.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, “It’s not required. But I wouldn’t mind a friendly spar or two.”

“You are the Black Widow, yes?” Diana asked. “A most excellent fight it will be then.”

“Where is Shazaam?” Thor’s voice thundered. “I wish for a fight as well.”

Billy Batson had never been so happy that he wasn’t in his superhero form before. Quietly, he made his way to the Ferris wheel. He was going to avoid the god of thunder for as long as he possibly could.

The magic users found each and decided to compare their abilities. It didn’t go well. Clint got turned into a frog… again.

When Fury arrived he eyed the superheroes that were there; avengers, justice league, and the ones (dare devil, Jessica Jones, the Xmen) who were mostly unaffiliated. And briefly wondered if the kid who had hogtied him was planning world domination. He wouldn’t doubt it.

The rest of the part went really well. Chloe, Adrien, and Nathaniel watched the superheroes in attendance like hawks. And were forced to break up more than one fight, or arm wrestling match that got out of hand. It ended up trending on social media, as various celebrities had posted pictures of themselves at the party. And then suddenly the world was asking wanted to know just Who Marinette Dupain-Cheng was. Marinette took that moment to announce that she was MDC. Which blew up the story even more.

The only downside was that Peter and Damian seemed to have entered into a competition of some sort, the same with their fathers.

At the end of the party, when sayings the goodbyes, Marinette swore she distinctly heard, Tony hiss, “Spiderbug forever!”

“Daminette!” Bruce snarled back.

And she had vocally asked why Bucky was giving Superman wary glances but no one would tell her. Adults were weird.

Monday came and the entire school, and all of Paris was buzzing about Marinette’s party. When she got to class, she was met with unhappy faces of her ex-friends.

“They wouldn’t let us inside,” Alya was quick to complain the moment the bluenette stepped through the door.

“We even told them we knew you,” Nino frowned. “The Bouncers didn’t believe we were invited.”

Marinette shrugged as she went to her seat between Adrien and Chloe, “its invitation only. What happened to your invitations?”

All the students frowned. They had been told the same thing at the door. And had been miserable when they remembered they destroyed the invites. Even Lila had nearly shed real tears when she saw just who she had missed meeting for real.

Alya crossed her arms, “We tried calling you. But you changed your number! How could you not tell your bestie you changed your number? When did you change your number?”

“When I realized you still had it.” It was a cold response. One that Damien would’ve been proud of. “And I’m not your bestie. We’re not friends, remember? Why did you even try to come to my party, you were too busy last I checked.”

“That’s before we saw how awesome your party was!” Kim said honestly. “Dude who knew you knew so many celebrities.”

“Prince Ali was there!” Rose said excitedly. “I really wanted to see him.”

“Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Lex Luther,” Max whined. “I was so close but so far.”

That was pretty much how the rest of the morning went, with a side of her ex-friends trying to question Marinette about being MDC and all the celebrities she knew. Marinette didn’t answer a single question.

Just before the lunch bell rang, there was a knock on the door, “Hello, I’m here to pick up Marinette for lunch,” Damian Wayne smiled charmingly as he walked in. “My father’s waiting.”

The class gasped. Lila’s mouth dropped.

A second later Peter Stark-Rogers walked in the classroom, “Marinette, you want to go to lunch,” He said excitedly. “Dad’s waiting outside.”

Again the class’s mouth dropped.

Outside of the school, Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark glared at each other.

Marinette looked confusedly at her friends, “Sorry, I didn’t know you guys wanted to go to lunch. Or that you were still in town.” She told them. “It’s okay, though.” She said brightly. “You can join me and Roy.”

As if on cue, Roy Queen walked into the classroom, a big smile on his smile, “Hey Mari, you read-Oh shit!” He said upon seeing Robin and Spiderman. The two heroes sent the Red Arrow twin glares.

Two minutes later both Tony and Bruce’s phones pinged. They opened it and read the texts they got from their sons.

They looked up, and met each other eyes. “We kill Oliver together,” Tony offered.

“Agreed.”

The Green Arrow watched through binoculars from a safe distance, “Long Live Roynette!”

#ml fic #ml salt #daminette #damian wayne #marinette dupen chang #class salt #alya salt #the avengers #justice league

4K notes · View notes

enha-woodzies · 3 years

Text

➸ CHAPTER 8 | " AFIRE LOVE "

starring: enhypen ft. i-land daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

word count: 3.8k

warning: very mild swearing; brief arguments

taglist: @serendipitysung (betareader) @angeljungwon @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @gyeraniee @fluffi @stxrryemxlys @jungwon-luv-bot @lost-lepord-beanie @hyunsunge

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a/n: this has been the longest chapter in the series so far and i'm loving it. grateful for taylor swift's songs that helped me through this chapter also,, please listen to exile as it ideally expresses the ruination between jungwon and y/n (and also an addition to the burning feels,, ㅋㅋ)

Daniel paid a visit to the Royal Garden to fetch his brother, Jungwon, a few Catalpa flowers that were freshly scattered on the royal lawn. In hopes that his brother could still mend the book’s soul by giving a home to the fallen blossoms, Daniel obliged to help when he saw Jungwon’s crestfallen state the moment he got home from Kielder Forest the other day.

The tall, plump gent hums a tune, oblivious enough to the presence of the pair that were roaming around the garden prior to his arrival. He peeks through the side as he noted the familiar voice, gently tiptoeing through the crisp, dried leaves and twigs sprawled along the ground. He soon realizes it was the marquess and the young miss, sharing careful whispers that made him eager enough to eavesdrop.

He could hear everything but dare not open his eyes. Daniel knew he must keep still while he waited for the perfect opportunity to run back to their manor, bearing the newfound knowledge he grasped.

If it was Sunoo, he wouldn't have second thoughts. Though Daniel's ordeal prevented him the first time, he soon remembered how menacing Sunghoon was and grew concerned for the young miss’ innocence, all the while hiding among the shrubs for a determined snoop.

“So long as Jungwon keeps his emotions repressed, this ruse shall continue on.”

Daniel’s eyes widened in horror upon hearing the young miss’ affirmation to Sunghoon’s statement.

Without wasting any more of his time, he cautiously bore the silence until he reached the Park’s manor to apprise Niki of such mischief.

“Niki! Niki! Niki”

“What?!”

“Y/n’s made a deal with the devil himself.”

START OF YANG JUNGWON's POV

I sat and observed you reading with your head bowed. The world was quiet and peaceful that night, and your small hand was wrapped around my finger. Your touch brought forth an omnipresent coolness, sending electric tingles throughout my body. My longing for you fitted perfectly in the palm of your freezing hand. We quietly sat there, your head on my shoulder, in a perpetual moment of tender affection; beautiful and serene. The silence was wonderful, and it was utterly a whole different level of ecstasy.

We were ten, and you were starting to doze off.

I was awake and I watched you breathing with your eyes closed and parted lips. You held my Austen book closer to your chest where it can feel your thumping heartbeat. Your newly untied braids were all over your face. Wavy locks everywhere. I gently stroke them away from your cheeks that were of rosy hue due to the chilly night’s air. And because you were dreaming, your little eyelids fluttered. I noticed that. So I tucked you inside our self-made fort, and positioned us in front of your favorite night light— the moon. I sat and observed you, taking note of everything you did and did not do.

Do you recall how we were sitting by the lake that morning? It was the first time I draped my arm around your shoulders. The golden sun reflected on your tinted cheeks just perfectly, gradually seeing them come to a blush. I don’t know if it was a color of a burn from the summer heat, or just simply out of shyness from the flirtatious gesture and dialogues we had shared over time.

That was something I'll never forget. And because it's all I've ever known, I prepared myself for the anticipated goodbye. You caught me off guard, "I'll never depart from you," you said.

We were ten, and I was foolish enough to take those brief moments for granted.

Three years flew by right before our very eyes and the parting of ways came upon us. You begged me not to leave because If I do, you’d curse me for the rest of our lives. But what am I to do? It was university, it was my future… our future, if not dubiously relevant. I may have only been thirteen at the time, but I was certain of you.

But I didn’t listen. I never did.

I left.

And it was then that I realized, my future wasn’t there. It was sitting among the grassy lawn, reading poesies and verses to each other under the incandescent glow of the sunny daze. It was sharing silly whispers and passing secret notes of flatteries, tucking Catalpa flowers behind your ears, or making a beautiful crown out of it for the beautiful princess that’s been hopelessly sitting right under my nose this whole time.

I said, “I won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay.” But you did ask me. And I was never ready, so I watched you go. Selfish as I was then, I knew you’d come back to me.

So there I was, sitting in my new room in the dormitory in a big city. I remember I couldn’t sleep the first night. All I did was toss and turn; sheets were shuffling on and on for hours. Like a typical little boy who was taken away from his family. Homesickness as they call it. But I guess mine was sickness for an undeclared love left hanging like our sheer fort on the hopeless branch of the Catalpa tree.

It was colder than I thought it would be. I kept recalling myself leaving. You gave me a yearning look, your gaze bore into my eyes, I swore I heard my heart break into little shards. But the deafening echoes couldn’t be compared to the shattering of yours, and all I ever gave you was goodbye.

I bet you were still up sitting on your chair by the window overlooking the majestic moon, wondering about me. So I tried the hardest to tuck myself in and face the window where your favorite night light was. I kept whispering empty wishes. I wished that I could run back to you.

Many days I thought of writing you letters. It took everything in me not to, as a string was tugging me back, telling me that the little notes I tucked in between the pages of the Austen book that I lent you could suffice for my five-year-long absence. The said string being the educational pressures that were gradually sucking the memories I had left of us.

I hope you know that every time that I didn’t, I almost did.

You embodied many, different ways of every emotion that crept through me. Though I knew it was going to hurt me, I went ahead and did it anyway.

Five years flew by so fast. Or maybe just for me. I finally graduated from university together with your brothers and mine. So much has happened while I was there that I almost didn’t notice the changes in me. There were several fooleries that the boys and I went through just to have a taste of the uncivilized life we weren't raised to have. There was this time I even helped your brother, Niki, with a gruesome fight against some kid who was foretold to be the next duke of our country. Those may be silly times to ponder now, but the damage it did to us and mostly to Niki was inexpressible.

I was eighteen, and the last memories I had of us were from we were ten. Maybe I tried to forget that day badly. That day where I stood and watched you hide behind the trees from afar, keeping those tears to yourself without me anywhere near you to wipe them all away like I always do.

I vowed to not hold myself back and not be held by the agonizing memories of a thousand yesterdays. I never realized how much it still pains you even upon my return.

Both our families held a welcoming back dinner at your place. There we were, after five long years of separation and silence, traipsing down the halls that we once ran through, forcing laughter and faking smiles just so we won’t ruin the genuine delights in our dear mothers’ eyes.

I was only eighteen, I didn’t know much but I knew I missed you. I’d tell you but I don’t know how. I do, however, know where it all went wrong. I just couldn't find the courage in me to approach and ask you for an apology.

Where was I? Where was the boy who’d throw a mantle over your braided locks, pretending to be the wizard to your witch?

Do you still remember? The notes I shamelessly tucked between the Austen book I lent you just to get my silly feelings across? Do you still have these little memories of us collected inside your imaginary heart-shaped locket?

I left many notes there, and though you possibly forgot most of them, they still hung around me, and I could vividly recall them like it was yesterday. From the flirtatious dialogues and striking remarks to the underlined phrases I wholly dedicated to you, the following parchments started to become like an entire page of paper with my inconsistent handwriting.

I vented out my daily adventures and mundane activities into those stained parchments that I stole from my late father’s study. Until suddenly, all the letters were about you. It collected all my immature yet genuine emotions. It was always about you, seldom me, and hardly ever us.

For the many years that I’ve hurt you, left you hanging, and witnessed our promises get constantly broken, I could only hope for better days waiting ahead for us. If not to me, at least to you. You deserve more than I could even offer. You always have, and I'm afraid I may not be a potential candidate to meet you halfway.

A year has passed and we’re now about to be offered for marriage. Not to each other though. There we were, standing in a crowded room under the bedazzling chandeliers and along with the tunes from the people eliciting them.

I felt my hands trembling in fear that eventful night. We exchanged brief and stolen glances and I was desperate to know, was the yearning killing you too?

I saw you nervously pulling your dress in an attempt to look busy, while I was doing my best to avoid you. I’ve never heard silence quite this loud.

Jay gave me the chance to redeem myself. You had no idea how much I desired to secure you in a long and firm embrace the moment you walked closer to me in that library. But you said those words. Yes! Those words were made up of aching memories that lingered around my soul for a while, but I dared not to give any of my attention to.

My deepest apologies for leaving you behind, again.

I dropped your hand while dancing and left you standing there in an awfully eerie room in such a woeful state. I let you slip beyond my reach, and I fear I can't give you any reasons in the aftermath. I was nowhere to be found then, and I hate the crowds, you know that. But I wanted to return to you after I'd composed myself in the powder room, though it utterly shattered me the moment I ran back to the hall.

I saw you dance with him. With the boy who was now a man. The man who was chosen by Niki’s old flame. The old flame that caused the gruesome fight between the two boys several years back. And the man who’s now trying to take you away from my reach; the unreachable string I couldn’t ever pull passionately close to me.

I heard my heart smash to smithereens. I was hopelessly wishing in the back of my mind that you wished it was me. You wished it was me you’re holding firmly in those little, flimsy fingers, lovingly waltzing you to your wildest dreams.

While I just stood there, under the dimly lit corner of the court, dreadfully gazing upon the sight that gave the entire ton heart-shaped eyes and promising prophecies.

My dearest, Y/n. For dearest you will always be. I want you to know that I’d wilfully live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time.

Because I held my pride like I should've held you.

END OF YANG JUNGWON's POV

The hot topic immediately spread among the Yang and Park siblings the following morning, excluding Y/n’s awareness of such matters. The boys were determined enough to keep their knowledge unsuspected to the mischievous pair. Although Jay and Niki were aggravated by the news, they saw it best to confront their sister in a more fortunate time.

On the contrary, Jungwon is enraged enough to retreat from their manor to give the young miss an impulsive lecture. He sets off with his horse, speedily galloping to the heart of the Kielder Forest.

“Y/n! I know you're here! You and I need to talk!” Jungwon aimlessly calls out as he takes quick steps to where her fort was situated, “Y/n!”

“What?!” The lass crawls out of her sheer fortress, looking utterly pissed with the boy’s sudden commotion.

“Have you lost your wits?!”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Jung.”

“You made a ruse with Sung- god, Y/n! What were you thinking?!” Jungwon runs his fingers through his ebony locks with definite frustration plastered all over his face, making Y/n flinch from his sudden whine.

“How did you-”

“How I discovered such a ridiculous act isn't of concern right now. Goodness, Y/n, I expected more from you!”

“Well, you should've expected less then!” She fiercely retorts.

“For god’s sake! You don't even know that man!”

“More like I know you? I couldn't even recognize you anymore!”

“That man has set his record with your brother-”

“Do not put Niki into this so as to protect your dying ego.”

“Then what’s all this? What's in it for him, huh? What did you offer Sunghoon that got your mind twisted?”

“A piece of my fucking mind because you were too dumb to even care! And don't you dare speak of him like you're mighty enough to reproach the man whose only desire was to help me!”

“Tell that to your brothers who feel shamefully betrayed right now by your reckless behavior!”

Jungwon heaves a sigh the moment Y/n goes quiet. The atmosphere suddenly went numbingly silent for a while. What with all the nonstop outbursts they both threw at each other, they forgot to stop and catch their breaths in the maddening heat of the moment.

Y/n breaks the deafening silence with light sniffles and soft sobs, tilting her head away from Jungwon’s sight. He witnesses her tears again for the first time in a very long while. It pains him to see her like this, but what shatters his soul, even more, is that he's the reason why her tears keep falling… and he couldn't take a step closer to wipe them away knowing they hadn’t resolved their previous fight.

So he stands there, mere inches away from her, hands so close yet so far, fists clenched tightly to stifle the urge to touch her, until Y/n feels a sudden rush of electricity through her entire body; Jungwon pulled her into a comforting embrace, making her snurfle into the warmth of his chest.

“Forgive me, I… I’m just very disappointed. For the longest time I’ve known you, not once did it ever occur to me that you would go this far to get my attention. I’m just worried for you.” With a hand holding onto her waist tightly, and the other, resting on her nape, Jungwon softly whispers against her ear while stroking her hair gently until her breathing calms down.

Y/n couldn't help but gradually crawl her arms around his slim waist, crumpling a handful of his jabot shirt from the back in desperation to suppress further sobs from embarrassing her. All of her raging thoughts suddenly came to a halt the moment their bodies connected with each other.

It was as if she's meant to be in this moment with him, to bathe in his comfort, to be in this dreamy embrace. It would be a lie for Jungwon to say he didn't want this. He was, after all, anticipating for such a moment to hug her like now. It's quite unfortunate that it had to be under such circumstances.

“Why does my involvement with Sunghoon bother you so much? Is it only because of Niki?” Y/n looks up to Jungwon, making the two merely inches apart from brushing their noses. Jungwon knew that he'd get lost in her compelling eyes, so he stared down at her parted, pinched lips-- though he wished he didn't at that moment, but he was too late. He finds himself running his tongue across his lips, all the while parting it as he tries to think of any far-fetched reasons to answer her question.

He lifts his thumb and grazes it over her flushed cheeks. Her tear-filled eyes still glisten as Jungwon leans closer, making Y/n shut them in an instant. Although she’s quite in a chagrin in their current position, Jungwon finds her unshakable figure as a sign that she's relaxed in his presence, making him feel less deterred from keeping her in his arms a little longer.

The chap plants soft kisses on her closed eyes that made Y/n inhale sharply. The fleeting, feather-like touches on her eyelids were more than enough for the lass to bathe herself in such momentary bliss. The moment she flutters her eyes open, her gaze meets his as he rests his forehead on hers.

“I hate seeing you cry. These beautiful eyes aren't meant for such miseries.” He whispers to which his breaths fan against her exhales.

“You always make me cry.” Jungwon softly chuckles at her slightly pouting lips, simultaneously thinking how lovely would it feel to have his lips locked on hers.

“Jay would genuinely torture me if he sees us right now.” Jungwon scrunches his nose as he playfully bumps it with hers.

“What would he do if he found us out? Let me go then.” She teases. Her hands find their way from his waist, to his nape, while playing with the little mullet he outgrew since the summer.

“I could never.”

Y/n sighs. His words had two meanings and fortunately, she's smart enough to know what he really meant. To answer her previous question, he wanted to tell her how much he loves her-- but his tongue is tied, and he can only let out gentle breaths and husky whispers. He couldn't find any words that would perfectly encompass his brimming emotions to her.

So he fails himself again with a shrug of his thoughts.

“Do you ever think we should just stop doing this?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“All these silly banters and stolen, longing stares. Could you be happy here with me?”

“The past few weeks have been nothing but emotional for me, Jung. You shut me out, then you take me back. You anger me lots yet in one swift move, you knock the wind out of my lungs. I’d be lying if I told you I’m not on top of the world sharing this moment with you right now. Because I am. I am happy. I don't think I would be if not with you.”

Then let’s run away right now. Let’s leave everything behind and run away together. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. That was what he wanted to say. But he gulps down all other thoughts and lets out the opposite.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home.” He says.

The trip home was merely nothing but laughter and barbs as Jungwon shares embarrassing stories of her brothers while they were in university; trying their very best to ignore the desperate elephant in the room.

With hands constantly brushing against each other as they take their every step, Jungwon was downright close to seizing her hand completely and interlocking it with his.

“To be fair, this has been the only thing that's made the past agonizing weeks bearable.” He concludes the uplifting momentum as they walk closer to her humble abode.

“I'm ready to try again if you are?” Y/n mutters under her breath, but Jungwon clearly caught every single word. He slowly pulls away from the almost closed gap between them, looking at the ground like he always does when he's conflicted.

“What is it, Jung? Have I said something wrong?”

Jungwon shrugs his head in disapproval, though he wishes she hadn't said those words.

“I… I’m sorry. It's just…”

Jungwon thought there should've been a time and place, but this wasn't it. He doesn't want to take advantage of her vulnerability right now especially when Jay's trusted him enough to not fuck things up. With Sunghoon in the way and Niki's emotions in turmoil, he couldn't bear inserting himself in the middle of chaos, insinuating confusions any further when he could've been a better friend to Y/n rather than putting her feelings in silence.

Y/n was expecting this. Every time she and Jungwon would share a rather momentous moment, he’d chicken out and ghost her for however long he desired until he felt the need to pop back into her life again and tug at her heartstrings.

She stares at Jungwon's figure almost disappearing into the wild night. He ran away with deafening thoughts, while she stood there with a crushed heart… again.

With sadness, she realizes they need some time apart.

It's been a long, dragging week for the ton. Tranquil for some, as not many revelations from the Daily Tattle have been uncovered as of late.

The Park siblings have yet to talk about the matter of Y/n being a quisling to Sunghoon's endeavors. As of the moment, the young marquess continues on with his dilly-dallying courtship with the young miss, obliviously promenading her with genuine intentions this time around.

Jungwon and Y/n had only been apart for a week and already, he had a new lover hanging off his arm.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, Jungwon was having troubles with his thoughts and feelings as he saw her, yet again, traipsing around the park with an arm comfortably hanging onto Sunghoon.

With Y/n, he'd had some wonderfully stable times. But seeing how her smiles go from cheek to cheek and echoing laughter with the marquess’ presence makes her genuinely happy, Jungwon thought it’d be best if he stops himself from holding her back and enjoy her liberty without the past binding her like a prisoner of what could’ve been.

Sunghoon looks at her the same way he does. It churns his insides just thinking about it.

Yet he fears this might have to be his time to back away.

That week-long separation seemed to last forever for Jungwon as he finally concludes that he is no longer deserving of her hand anymore. Now that it's apparent that it’s about to be promised to another.

*send me an ask or a message if you wish to be added on this series' taglist!

#kpopscape #enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #of lords and mischiefs #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fics #enhypen series #enhypen jungwon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen niki #iland daniel

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the-crows-typist · 3 years

Text

Time for the 3rd installment of our Valentine’s Event with none other than, Vil Schoenheit and the word: Kiss requested by @twstdaydreamer This was very fun to write and I hope all of you enjoy this as much as I did.

CW: Alternate Universe: Cinderella and The Beast, OOC, Dark past, and discussion of the death of a loved one.

This ficlet features characters singing certain songs so links will be provided for added experience.

While some lyrics are gendered, the reader still remains gender-neutral.

Word count: 7843

Other works: Chocolate Feat. Jade, Cards Feat. Floyd

A Heart from Me to You

There once was a house as beautiful as those who lived in it. Its Lord and Lady produced a beautiful heir who, at a young age, strived for beauty unequaled to anyone in the mortal plane but at the price of the beauty of his own heart. One day, an old woman with a face aged approached the manor to seek shelter from the blistering snow…Only to be turned away with looks of disgust. This angered the lady, removing her form to reveal herself as a powerful goddess who cursed all who lived in that house with an enchanted rose.

This selfishness was what brought upon the family’s curse that when night fell should the family follow. The beautiful boy suffered from the curse the most, in his transformation did he end up killing those loved.

Now, cursed and alone, the beautiful boy lived in a husk of his own home waiting the days for the earth to take him whole.

“How tragic.” You whisper, sitting by the fire with a book on your lap. You enjoyed break times by the fire and being able to read by your lonesome especially when the winters became bitter in Pyroxene. You closed the book just as the head maid came in.

“Oh look at you, you’ve got cinder marks in your uniform. Come here. You must be careful, dear. The cinder marks are harder to wash off than you think.” She said and wiping the still fresh marks off your sleeves. “It was getting cold,” You explained. “But I’ll be careful next time, I promise.”

“Please and thank you.” She smiled at you the way a mother would to her child. “Come along, Vil will be coming home soon. We should go ahead and greet him.” You follow her towards the door just as you thought about Vil. His father was a famous actor that traveled but it wasn’t often that the two of them were in the same house at the same time.

“Welcome back, Vil.” Said the maid and you, bowing your head. “How was the trip?

Vil Schoenheit stood before you, his winter coat shining with fresh snowflakes and noise a sore red. “It went as it should. May I ask for some hot tea with honey?” You could hear the pulled-back shiver in his voice. “Bring it to me in the bath.” His footsteps were quick even in those high-heeled shoes.

“Can I leave it to you?” The head maid asked. “I still need to finish cooking dinner.”

You nod your head and smoothing out your uniform, ready to take on another task as well as the scrutinizing eye of one Vil Schoenheit.

Three knocks on the door and Vil halted in his actions. “Come in.” You opened the door, pushing the tray carrying tea and small biscuits carefully into the warm room. Vil had already exited the tub and dressed in a robe. Just as you had been taught, you poured a cup of tea mixed with honey and presented it to him.

“Thank you.”

Vil was a beautiful being, he really was. The way his body was sculpted and toned made you think he was carved out of fine marble by the finest artisans. His gaze towards you made you realized you were staring too long. “I-I’ll be on my way, Mister Vil. Please enjoy the night.”

“You’re the new one here, aren’t you?”

Vil set down the cup and stood up, the robe seemed to act like a flowing dress that flowed at the floor as he drew closer and closer to you. “I believe you’re the one whose mother passed last autumn.” You nodded your head with a sigh, remembering the stressful days after your mother was laid to rest.

Times were hard for you and your family, after the sudden passing of your mother, all of you had to make ends meet whenever and wherever possible. Your step-father, Mozus Trein, got a position as a professor in a known school while your step-brothers, Angelo and Donovan, set for the Rose Kingdom.

Angelo became a baker’s apprentice while Donovan became a tailor for an apparel shop. You stayed behind in Pyroxene, snagging yourself as a position as part of the staff of the well-known Schoenheit family. While the pay was good, appearances needed to be kept at all times thus why the head maid was often uppity with you especially on your first days.

“Yes.”

“I offer my condolences to you and your family.”

“Thank you…” You say and you look down at your shoes, your chest feeling heavy and empty at the same time. “But the tears have already been shed. All I want to do now is take care of my father and help my brothers.”

There was a smile on his face and he reached over, patting your shoulder with a damp hand. Up close he smelled of clean soap with a hint of citrus. “You have a strong foundation to keep yourself stable. That’s what I want in the people who work here.” He pats your shoulder again with eyes of judgment. “But these marks on your uniform…”

Ah, crap.

“I stay by the fire during my break times.” You admit quickly and Vil only shakes his head. “It would do you good to stay further away. These cinder marks are unsightly.”

“I will keep that in mind, sir.”

He pulled back his arms and turned around as you were about to take your leave. “By the way, I would like to reiterate something while you’re here because I know the other staff will neglect to tell you this one important detail.”

The mirror before him reflected his serious expression, you gulped feeling as if you broke a rule. “When the sun begins to set. Don’t go to the second floor.”

“What’s so special about the second floor?”

All of you ate on a table, the head maid serving up some warm cream stew. “Ah, that.” You gave your bowl to ask for seconds and she much obliged you. The old lady smiled to herself. “Nighttime is the only time Vil can rest,” She explained. “He’s quite the light sleeper so even the softest of sounds will wake him up.”

The look in her eyes was distant and smile knowing as she handed the bowl back to you. “Do you need anything else? We still have some sweet corn and roasted chicken,” she asked, pushing some more food for you to take. You sip at the hot morsel of food after shaking your head. “No, I’m fine.”

The howling winter winds that rattled your window was something you could never shut out of your mind. For as long as you could remember, you had always sought refuge in the beds of your family whether it be your annoyed yet caring brothers or the understanding tiredness of your parents.

Your mother was the best at calming you, though. She always knew exactly what to do…She was your first teacher, your first friend, your primary protector after the split and she became all the more lively after meeting Mozus, your step-father. And while life adjusted itself perfectly for you and your new family, it didn’t hesitate to strike tragedy at the calmest of times.

Your mother, after all the years she had been fighting and keeping her sickness at bay, succumbed one day in front of your step-father. Even with all the magic remedies and medicines in the world to keep her alive, there was no reversing what had already been done.

“I love you.” She said on her death bed, Trein’s hand never leaving his wife’s. “I love all of you very much. I’m sorry I had to leave so early.”

You and your brothers dealt with the grief differently, all three of them going off to their little corners for days and never showing their faces to you. It was days after the funeral when you saw your father cry, holding a picture of your mother close to his chest.

Since then, you and your brothers always needed to remind each other that they needed to be strong for their father’s sake. Angelo and Donovan spared no time in snatching every opportunity that they could while you stayed behind.

Vil’s words to you repeated like a record in your head, reminding you of how he viewed you. “You have a strong foundation to keep yourself stable.” The winds rattled and you brought your knees to your chest. Was your resolve, your foundation as strong as Vil saw??

Cutlery colliding against each other broke you out of your thoughts and startling you back to reality. Slipping out of bed and into your shoes, you made your way into the kitchen with your hands holding your coat tightly for warmth. The plates clattered amongst themselves and you hear the tap opening and closing.

You listen in the dark, waiting for the next noises. The footsteps were erratic and almost cobbled, the clicking of plates loud and sudden as if something was trying to walk. Had someone tried to break in? You hear the door to the living room open and shut and you poise yourself to follow but grabbing a nearby frying pan to defend yourself.

Opening the door, you hear the pair of footsteps climb up the stairs and you begin to panic. Vil’s room was up there! Whoever it was, was targeting Vil. Your movements hesitated, remembering the rule Vil himself told you.

“When the sun begins to set. Don’t go to the second floor.”

The dead of night had already come and everything around you was dark save for the lamps that provided little help in the snowstorm. You hesitated to move, weighing the options and their potential consequences. Should you stay and let Vil rest knowing a thief was roaming the halls or should you break the rules and protect him with all you had?

You bolted up the stairs without a second thought and the frying pan clutched tight, panting as you got to the top and looking wildly and trying to listen for the familiar intermittent footsteps. You turn to your side with you hear another door opening and closing and suddenly all the lessons you’ve learned grappling with your stepbrothers come back to you in a flash.

You inch towards the room in the door, turning the knob to open the door with a soft creek that makes your insides cringe. In the middle of the room was a floating flower protected by a glass dome, it was red-pink petals shimmering and lightings its vicinity in the same color.

It was mesmerizing to look at.

Setting the pan down to your side, you walked towards it with your hand stretching out to touch the dome that protected it. You dropped the pan entirely to take the dome off the rose, its glow, even more, hypnotizing up close. Just as your finger touched its soft petals, the window to your side blew open in a torrent of cold wind and unfurling the curtains that moved like the waves of a dark sea.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”

From the darkness within the room, a pair of purple orbs glowed and a growl preceded a warning voice. The intermittent footsteps of a convulsing mannequin were not far off and its happy face brought a lick of terror to your heart.

The creature of the night crawled forwards, its sharp teeth jutting out of its mouth and form menacing and mangled. The windows were soon closed and the curtains dropped to the ground with your foot stepping on the soft fabric.

“Give me the dome.” The monster’s long claws reached out for you and before you stepped back, you slipped; hitting your head on the soft material behind you, the howling winds and the piercing orbs fading to black.

“…I told you not to come in here.”

You stood by the door of your step-father’s study with eyes facing the floor. Angelo and Donovan standing on either side of you. The yellow light gave off a sleepy and exhausted feeling in the realm of books and writing materials. In the very center was a diorama of your family, toys he wanted to surprise the kids with.

And now, the surprise was ruined.

You could feel shame boil in you, it had been only a few months since your mother remarried and you had new brothers to play with…And now your new dad was upset with you. “Come here.” He said, the man suddenly on one knee, your brothers coming over to him in a hug and you followed soon after.

“All of you, such curious little mice.” He said, patting each one of you on the back. “Next time, I want you to ask for permission before you enter the study, alright?” There was a laugh behind you, your mother smiling to herself while she leaned against the doorframe with a blanket over her shoulders. She never got used to the cold she was born in.

“Promise me that.”

“Yes, daddy.” All the children say.

And as you relished the warmth of your new father, something wet trickled down your cheek. Your brother, Angelo, was always the sensitive one of your step-siblings and would not hesitate to stop the sibling tomfoolery the moment things go awry. He held you close, his tears accidentally running down your cheek when you moved, while Donovan sat in the corner with shoulders hunched over. What was once your father’s sleepy study was now the empty hallway of a hospital.

The wind rattled against the windows of the hospital, your mother had succumbed to the sickness on a cold day. And your father was getting everything ready for the eventual end.

“Kids.”

Trein came out of the room, looking older than you remembered. “Your mother would like to talk to you.”

When you turned away from your brother’s embrace, you were seated on the side of your mother’s bed. Her body was sickly and the cold messed with what life remained in her. She smiled at all of you and your eyes began to sting.

“I love you.” She says, her eyes looking so tired. “I love you all very much.” And soon the tears began to fall from her face. I’m sorry I had to leave so early.” You blinked at the hand you held, your mother’s hand soon replaced with Donovan’s as he pulled you from your seat. In his suit, he looked more solemn and his usually long and wild hair was tied back with a ribbon.

“Let’s say goodbye.” He told you and tugged you to the coffin where your mother laid. “Where’s dad?” You turned your head, your hand now vacant and the space behind you a void of nothingness. The door of your father’s study slightly ajar and the familiar yellow light spilling through.

Your steps were echoed and slow, approaching the room slowly. When you were by the door, you peaked through the cracks; your father kneeling on the carpet and holding a figure to his chest. The diorama you once played with in your youth was set up on his table, your mother’s figurine nowhere in sight. There was a held back sob, Trein’s body shaking under his mourning robes.

You took a step back, letting him grieve in his own time.

You knew better than to come in there without permission.

You woke up with a start and a sudden sting to the back of your head. Above you was a chandelier you had no memory of seeing in your quarters and a bed your hands never recognized. Your chest heaved when you pushed yourself up the bed only to be pushed down by the head maid.

“Stay down.” She says, holding your shoulders. The light of the new day filtered through the large window of Vil’s room. Vil stood by the rose with his back facing you, holding the dome to himself just as your breathing leveled and normalized. “You hit your head pretty bad last night,” She explained and felt for the bump that made you hiss.

Last night…

“Was last night real?” You asked, your sudden burst of energy was off-putting especially when you remembered the events leading to the memories you wished to never relish again. “That rose. Was it really glowing? A-and that monster—!”

The dome was placed onto the rose with a loud clack, the glass roughly hitting the marble surface. “T-that’s beside the point!” The maid scolded. “Vil warned you never go to the second floor after the sunsets! Not only did you disobey one of the rules given to you, you hit your head while doing so.”

You bit back a hiss of guilt and opened your mouth to try to retort at your apparent rebellion.

“Elena.”

Vil’s voice was soft yet strict, eyes calm yet sharp. He regarded you for a moment while leaning against the marble table. “Let them be for the day, they’ve hit their head too hard.” You felt yourself shrink under his gaze. “See to it that they have little heavy activities as possible and prioritize that the bump is given care immediately.”

Elena bowed her head, her upset anger still very much apparent.

“Yes, sir.”

Elena’s nimble hands making quick work of dirty dishes. Your head had been bandaged with a compress pressed to where you hit your head. You stared at your meal with little appetite before poking at the grilled fish. “Miss Elena, why does that rose glow?”

The clattering of cutlery stopped and the head maid only sighed, shaking his head. “Always the curious one, aren’t you?” She turned around, leaning against the sink with arms crossed. “That’s one of Vil’s most treasured possessions. An heirloom that came directly from his grandfather then to his father then to him.”

Elena’s eyes looked to the side as if to remember. “I should know. I was there for every passing down. Vil is highly protective of it.”

It might have just been a coincidence, you thought to yourself, that the story you read by the fire had mentioned a rose but that was all there was to it. You ate your breakfast quicker after that. “I’m sorry for my behavior.”

“Next time, listen to your instructions.” She said, taking the plates from you before you could even move an inch to help her.

The feather duster slid against the books, your toes tipping to reach up for the shelves above your head. From there, you took your damp rag and swiped it across the polished wooden table. Yup, this was pretty much not so labor-intensive but it would get painfully boring unless you had some entertainment to go with you so you sang a small song taught to you in your youth.

“A dream is a wish your heart makes when you’re fast asleep.” Your mother loved to sing this song to you and soon, to your new family. Trein especially loved it when they danced together in the living room when the children were ‘seemingly’ asleep. “In dreams, you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep.” You closed your eyes, feeling the memories of the past come with the melody of your song. You remember the first time you snuck out of bed with your brothers to see your parents slow dancing together. “Have faith in your dreams and someday your rainbow will come smiling through.”

You’ve never seen your mother smile so peacefully nor did you ever see her hug someone so intimately before Trein, in fact, you’ve never seen her do any of those things with your old dad. She was happy. “No matter how your heart is grieving...”

You only wished to see that happiness last longer than it should have. If only things stayed the way they did. “If you keep on believing…”

You envisioned your mother holding you close, singing to you one last time. Just like how she did when could still hold you to your chest. Just one last time…

“The dream that you wish…will come true.”

Sighing, you leaned against your broom saddened by what you made yourself remember. “Oh, I’ll never get my work done at this rate.” You say, taking your equipment with you and almost running out the library with a huff. Next to the fireplace, Vil lay on one of the long couches away from sight. It was only when you went out that he rose from his seat and hunched forward to let his hair cover his face.

He stayed silent, relishing the sound of your voice in his head.

During your break time, you decided to stay outside with a group of mice that decided to keep you company. You never understood why but the small animals around your area always seemed to be kind and almost human-like. When one mouse decided to sit by you while nibbling a small piece of leftover cookies did you begin to speak your thoughts.

“Is there something being hidden from me? Or am I being too nosey?”

One mouse approached you, listening to you at your feet. “I know last night wasn’t a dream, I know what I saw.” You say then feeling for the bump on his head. “It was real, I just know it.” There was a small squeak, one of the female mice touched your hand with her small paw as if to say words of reminder.

‘You’re stressing yourself out.’

Grimacing, you pushed yourself up and patting your uniform off the crumbs and dust. “I know.” You tell them and the mice look up to you in curiosity and concern in their beady little eyes. “I’ll be fine, don’t you worry. I’m a strong mouse just like you! I’m sure I can get to the bottom of this, I just…Need to find a better opportunity.”

The mice squeak in affirmation which makes you giggle. “Ahah, I’ll have to figure it out as I go along.” You tell them and look to the house, knowing that you had to get back in quickly. “I should get going, I’ll come back with some good food tomorrow.” You wave at the mice who give sounds of greeting as you leave.

What you saw on the second floor was real. You know it is. And you were going to prove it. You stopped by one of the mirrors, fixing your appearance quickly. “Huh?” Your hand touches the surface, small cracks brushed by your tips as if someone had driven something sharp into it. Looking up at the sky, you smelled frost in the air. Strong winds would accompany the night again, it seems.

The accompanying snowstorm was as fitting as it ever gave you a feeling of stealth. You always wanted to be a kind of spy when you were younger and here you are living the dream, though some nice gear and some goggles would have helped greatly. The wind blows and rattles the windows harshly when you brought yourself up the stairs.

“Tale as old as time, true as it can be. Barely even friends then somebody bends unexpectedly.”

You walk to the door you saw the beast. Placing a hand on the door to listen. “Just a little change. Small, to say the least. Both a little scared Neither one prepared. Beauty and The Beasy” Hesitantly, you open to turn the door to hear more of the beautiful voice. The room was dark and only the glowing rose giving light to the room around it.

“Ever just the same, ever a surprise,”

A mannequin hunches over a familiar huddle of fur and purple light. The movements of both almost unearthly yet the voice passionate and real…And so familiar. “Ever as before and ever just as sure as the sun will rise.”

The winds rattle harshly again and the beast bundles into a ball in Vil’s bed, the mannequin’s hands shakenly placing its hand on the shivering being. “Tale as old as time, tune as old as song. Bittersweet and strange, finding you can change; learning you were wrong.”

You open the door a little wider and watch the scene unfold. Somehow, it wasn’t your place to interfere at such a moment so vulnerable. “Certain as the sun rising in the east, tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme. Beauty and the Beast ”

The shaking beast’s form calmed itself and the mannequin leaned down, its monotonous face pressing against the mass of fur. A kiss goodnight. The cold of the wind blew through, the mannequin looking at you with its painted eyes. The silence was light and your eyes never leaving each other. Taking a step back, you pulled the door with you until it was shut. Everything was finally coming together.

Vil was the beast.

Breakfast was quiet and the wraps on your head were taken off. Elena made no move or sound to acknowledge you as you ate. “So the beautiful boy cursed by the goddess.” You could hear her hand grip the wet plates tightly and you knew what was coming but, at this point, you didn’t care if you got scolded. “It was Vil, wasn’t it?”

“You were given specific instructions never to go up there at night.” She said sternly.

“It’s him, wasn’t it?” You press again.

“Why are you so pressed on this? What good will it do for you?”

“The mannequin was you, wasn’t it? You were singing to that beast.” Elena fuming, slammed her hand onto the table and that was what made you pull back. “Don’t call him that.” She says and sighs, pulling away from you and straightening her back. “The next time I see you on the second floor, you are out of this house. Do you understand me?”

She takes your empty plates and splashes them into the water. Her breath was harsh and her skin almost sickly looking. A cough leaves her lips and her shoulders shiver. “Would you like some tea?” You ask softly and her shoulders hunch over.

“Yes, dear. Please.”

Just as you took the teapot from the cabinet, she spoke to you again. “Please follow that rule this time. Don’t make this harder for Vil than it has to be.”

You open the kettle and reach for the leaves, hearing the old lady cough.

You were back in the library before the sun began to set and adding wood into the fire for warmth. The snowstorm hadn’t let up since the last night and you were afraid that your quarters was not enough to warm you through the night. Using the heating pair of tongs, you adjust the wood in a way that it would burn properly and not caring if the cinders would cling to your uniform.

During the coldest of nights, you and your mother would love to cuddle by the fire and sleep until the morning. It only became a festive event with the addition of your brothers and your father. She loved the heat, the sleeping feeling it gave her and she loved it the most when Trein held her close.

Your shoulders sag, that was probably the only time you’ve ever seen him at peace. After that…Shaking your head, you push those memories away. You had to be strong, you had to be for the sake of your family. Reaching up, you swat the tears from your face. Your tears had already been wept the day she was buried.

“Stay too close to the fire and your uniform will get singed.”

Vil stood behind the couch, a warm blanket over his shoulders and hair despite being messy made him look immaculate. “I have a request.”

“What is it?”

“You can sing, correct? And sing well.” Ah, you’re not sure if you could answer that one wholeheartedly. Gulping, you nod your head. “I can sing, yes, but well, not really—.” Vil’s huff was hard and eyebrows furrowed. “Do not hide what good you have. It will not grow unless you expose it.”

“O-of course.” You nod your head and Vil closes his eyes. You noticed bags, his skin slightly paled. “Are you here because of the storm, Vil?” Nodding his head, Vil sank down next to you with a sigh. “The windows become too loud at night…I don’t like the sound of it.”

“I understand. I’m not much a fan of it myself.”

“We’re veering off-topic.” He looks to you, “Can you sing for me? At least for a moment.” The windows rattle and he closes his eyes again. You move, patting your lap for him to rest on and he gives you a look. “My mother used to do this to me. It beats having to lay down on flat ground.”

He is hesitant at first but follows after a few minutes of pondering. He lays on your lap, getting himself comfortable and you adjust the blanket on top of him. “Any requests?”

“Anything that will help me sleep.”

The winds rattle and his shoulders hunch. “Alright.”

“Oh, sing sweet nightingale. Sing sweet nightingale high above me.”

Vil’s eyes open ever so slightly, his violet eyes staring in the fire. Any moment, he would transform into the beast of the night. A curse passed down from generation to the next and yet, you stayed to sing. “Sing sweet nightingale, sing sweet nightingale high above.”

Elena had not been feeling well recently, her old age and the blistering cold made for one bad fever that she needed rest for. And while Vil was understanding of that, the winds that rattled the windows never ceased to let him sleep.

“Oh, sing sweet nightingale, sing sweet nightingale.”

But that soon changed when he heard you sing in this very library. It reminded him of the soft coo of a dove and the warmth of a wool blanket. “Oh, sing sweet nightingale sing…” His eyes felt heavy and soon his body became weightless, he yearned for the days he could walk out in the sun without fear of the night that was to come.

He yearned for the day he would no longer be afraid…

He yearned deep within his heart.

“Sing sweet nightingale…”

A black beast laid in the place where Vil once was, its gnarly teeth the same purple as Vil’s eyes. Your hands brushed the black fur as the fire crackled and spat cinders from within. The beast, no, Vil’s body laying peacefully on your lap. You move, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek and his body only moving to keep warm against you.

“High above me…”

The enchanted rose glowed dimly, its first petals beginning to fall to the countertop beneath it.

Your eyes open and the wood that once fueled the fire was reduced to ashes. Elena stood over you while Vil, in his human form, slept peacefully on your lap. The two of you shared glances and you immediately opened your mouth.

“I didn’t go upstairs this time.”

She knelt, adjusting the blanket over the sleeping boy’s long figure. You noticed how his body looked in this position, not too lanky and not too toned…but skin so pale from the days he never went out. Come to think of it, he never usually went out unless he needed to. And when he came back, he would stay in for long periods before taking his leave again.

Suddenly, you thought about his parents and wondering if they knew of his situation. Where were they? What happened to them??

Were they affected by the curse as well?

“I’ll bring the breakfast here,” Elena says. “You stay here and watch over Vil.”

Vil had no qualms about eating in the library, given that the fire was warm and the meal was hot. It helped after the bad snowstorm that passed the house for days. You noticed he had a small appetite and a big penchant for drinking lots of fluids. Well, he is a model so you don’t blame him for following the strict regimens.

“You have a nice voice,” Vil says, putting down his cup. “Thank you for last night. I hope that my beastly form wasn’t much of a problem to you.”

Shaking your head, you quickly swallow the stew you were eating. “No, no, it’s quite alright. I’m happy you think that but…About that form.” You feel Elena’s gaze on you and you force yourself to bite back a lingering question.

Vil himself was also silent. “If they’re going to stay here then they should know.” Elena’s shoulders relaxed but her expression remained unsure. “Vil, are you—.”

“I know a person with ulterior motives when I see it.” He looks over to you with a small smirk and boy does it match the messy hair and too droopy clothing. “What we have with us is nothing more than a curious little mouse.”

And you don’t whether that was an insult or a compliment but your squinting eyes only fueled his laughter, those shoulders of his bopping under the protective blanket. “Then what I saw…”

“Everything you saw was real, down to the very last petal of the rose.”

You knew it! You were right!! A smile graced your lips and you sat back against the chair you sat on. Vil took a sip and proceeded to ask more questions, some of which you didn’t have a direct answer to. “Now that you have all the information you need, what will you do with it?”

You looked down at your plate, mulling it over. “Nothing.” You answer. “You called me a curious mouse with no ulterior motive so I’ll do nothing with it.”

Vil hid his smile behind the cup of tea and Elena only sighed, a small burden lifting from her shoulders as the two of you spoke casually.

Vil was moved to the second floor, letting him rest on a real bed. You look around the room, seeing it with proper lighting for the first time. All the mirrors were covered in cloth, some cracked. The paintings that hung on the wall looked immaculate, beautifully painted…Except for one figure whose face was splashed with black. Your brows furrowed, trying to identify who this person was.

“I assume you still have more questions, little mouse.”

Vil sat up, motioning you forward to sit on the edge. “Who is he?” The family’s portrait hung as a centerpiece, you could identify a baby Vil, and his parents sitting across from each other…But that one person standing over them; you couldn’t make heads or tails of it with all the black paint in the way.

“My grandfather.”

A long sigh left Vil, his finger tucking a hair behind his ear. “Before my father went into acting, he was part of the family business led by my grandfather.” He closed his eyes, imagining the warm shop that housed many items and the many people coming in and out to buy supplies. A small Eric would clumsily put grocery items into a paper bag and wrap it, his father looming over him as he collected payments.

“He was strict when needed but his anger knew no bounds when it was released.” Vil slid down onto his bed. “Running a business is difficult, I understand that, but these fits were often quite scary to witness.” Staring into the rose’s glow, the light formed shadows of a figure hunching over a screaming beast. “It led him down a path of ruin, they went out of business and struggled during the bad brunt of the storm season.”

“He wasn’t the best at controlling his emotions, was he?” Vil shook his head at your question. “Not by a long shot. That was the very same anger that led to all this in the first place.” He looked up at the painting with contempt as if the painting stared back at him the same way. “Try as he may, my father could never outrun the curse…Even after I saw born.”

You remembered the book, the story you read by the fire. “Then…”

Vil’s hummed a laugh, eyes blinking slowly. The shadows formed by the glow of the rose moved to a scared family and a shaking figure holding a shadow of the rose. “He yelled at the wrong people, made enemies of those with magic far stronger than anyone could ever imagine.”

The shadows drew dimmer, the beastly form taking shape, roaring at the rose with all its fury and behind it was a weeping family. It all dissipated like a breaking film tape under Vil’s sigh.

Now, cursed and alone, the beautiful boy lived in a husk of his own home waiting the days for the earth to take him whole.

Your heart felt heavy, remembering the last line of the story. “I’m sorry.” That was all you could say to him but he hunched his shoulders with a dismissiveness. “What happened has passed. As you said before: the tears have already been shed.” The rose’s petals fall to the floor below it.

“Is there a way to reverse this?”

“An open heart.” he looked over to you with a smile unable to be read. “That’s all.”

You hung your head, unable to say anything. Vil only wraps his blanket around himself tighter while you stare at the glowing rose until its ethereal color was seared into your memory.

There was a splash of water, Vil sits in the tub with you preparing his robe and other items. “The snow should have receded by now. We could take a walk if you’d like.” As days passed through the house, you and Vil had grown closer. Now that either of you had nothing to hide, the tension that once felt between you was almost nonexistent.

“It has been a while since I’ve gone out. Some sunlight would do all of us good.” He said, leaning back on the tub with eyes closed. “A day in the sun…”

“Indeed. It would be nice to feel some warmth.” You learned that you and he weren’t very different. Both of you loved music, loved the theatre, just anything to dance to. And you also found out that Vil himself had a wonderful singing voice, almost like velvet.

“All those days in the sun, what I’d give to relive just one. Undo what’s done and bring back the light.”

You found out that his mother passed when he was young and his father, Eric, raised him all on his own after his mother was out of the picture. He was Vil’s first teacher, first friend, his support clutch in understanding why he was the way he was. “Days in the sun will return. We must believe—.”

“As lovers do…”

Your voices mingled together and while embarrassed to admit it, you had listened to it to his movies while cleaning. He may have caught you a few times, though. “That days in the sun…Will come shining…Through…” His deep beautiful voice echoed through the chamber, you imagined hearing it in a large theatre. Oh, you were certain Vil would love to do that.

“I always wondered why you never tried theatre.” You didn’t need to turn around to know his expression. “Do you think I’ll make it there, little mouse?”

“You’re Vil Schoenheit, son of Eric Venue. Of course, you will!”

A comfortable silence followed his laugh while you continued to face away from him. The Zen between you two almost unbreakable in the warm bathing room. The flower’s glow dimmed in the emptiness and losing more petals that piled beneath it.

With the music playing in the back, Vil watched from the balcony after getting his fair share of sunlight after the storm had passed. The voice of his father was rich and melodious as his role of a man finally falling in love after years of isolation.

He watched as you trudged around the snow before going back to his room, not once looking at the dimming rose and straight to his television. “I was the one who had it all,” His father sang. “I was the master of my fate. I never needed anybody in my life. I learned the truth too late.” The first time he had transformed into the beast he knew today, he had scared the recently hired help.

“I’ll never shake away the pain.” They were very cruel with their words, to the point that it was Elena, of all people, who told them to leave the house. Though the terror had left, it left Vil with uncertainty and fear of his appearance.

Eric’s character peered out the window just as the heroine pulls out a horse, the determination not hidden from even the viewer. “I close my eyes but she’s still there. I let her steal into my melancholy heart, it’s more than I can bear.” And now you took that place. From the get-go, Vil knew you have gone through hardships of your own. He could see it just by looking at your steeled expression and the aura you held on your shoulders.

“Now I know she’ll never leave me even as she runs away.” Not only had you defied the rule twice, your curiosity only spurred you further on with your investigation. And even when you had all the information you needed and cracked the code, you did nothing with it. “She will torment me, calm me, hurt me, move me…Come what may.”

Vil stands up just as Eric’s character runs up the stairs, the spiraling staircase almost hypnotic from above. “Wasting in my lonely tower, waiting by an open door.” He comes back to the balcony and opens the door, seeing you and Elena hauling in the bag of chestnuts. “I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk right in…” The two of you catch each other’s line of sight.

“And be with me for evermore.”

As the two of you smiled at each other, the rose begins to wilt and hunch over with each petal falling from the stem. The smell of spring drew close, Vil took a deep breath in then sighed it out. When he closes his eyes, all he ever sees are the days he’ll spend with you.

And the envisioning of a grand theatre, the same one he first saw his father in. He begins humming a small tune, thinking of the harmonizing violins, the beautiful costumes, and designs. The rose wilts more, only one petal remains on its dying stem.

The days had passed all so quickly, the winter giving its way to spring them to summer. You stood in front of the theatre, your family next to you. Trein takes you by the hand “Shall we?” entering the grand theatre, you and your sibling marveled at the beautifully crafted designs, the plush seating, and the long curtains.

“It’s beautiful.” Said your father, his smile soft. “Thank you for bringing us here.”

Angelo and Donovan pushed along, overly excited for the play. “Come on, come on.” One of them says. “It’s about to begin! Let’s sit down.”

The lights dim and the curtains open, droves of characters coming in their beautifully crafted costumes. You see Vil in his costume, waltzing with another character in yellow. The horns placed onto him were just as beautiful as him yet, after seeing his breast-like form…It never stood a chance.

The stage dimmed when he took the stage, a single rose in hand. His voice was loud, pure, perfect as he sang the song of a man who found love after years of isolation. His expression perfectly encapsulating the sadness he had felt.

“I rage against the trials of love. I curse the fading of the light.”

You remember the very first moment he bore his heart to you, the moment he asked you to sing for the very first time. “Though she’s already flown so far beyond my reach, she’s never out of sight.” Gone were the days he hid within the confines of his room and gone were the days he needed to hide out of fear.

“Now I know she’ll never leave me even if she fades from view!”

He twirls, his eyes searching the crowd until he finds yours in the crowd. “She will still inspire me, be a part of everything I do.” The background behind him changes, the spiraling staircase he walks one moved at his every move until he reaches the balcony, leaning his hands to sing his heart out with a hopeful look. The both of you stare at each other as he sings his heart out, saying the words he wanted everyone to hear with a voice he no longer feared. “Wasting in my lonely tower, waiting by an open door.”

He breathes, the wind and strings instruments beginning their strong ascend in a crescendo of harmonizing and accenting melody. “I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk right in.”

The rose glows in his hand and he hunched his back, readying himself. “And as the long, long nights begin.”

Vil looks up into the light, his expression one of pure passion and love. “I’ll think of all that might have been.” And the grip on the rose tightens but only for a moment.

“Waiting here…For ever—.”

Vil lets the rose float out of his hand and ascends up to the center of the room.

“—More!” The flower burst into a rain of petals that add to his last note and accompaniment of the instruments.

The last petal of the glowing rose falls, the stem falling on a pile of dried rose petals following the applause of the crowd. Vil regains his breathing, his eyes listless as he stares up at the ceiling when the music ends, the curtains fall, and the lights go out.

You pass through the crowds of colors and thrills, looking for the familiar mop of blond and purple hair. “Vil!” You yell out to him just as he comes to view in the sea of people. His arms are ready to take it in, “You were amazing out there!”

The sun begins to set during the embrace, Vil’s face continued to smile at you and soon giving a solemn bow to your father and brothers. “Mr. Schoenheit, it’s a pleasure to meet you. That was a wonderful performance.” He says, smiling at him with eyes trained to your hands holding the actor’s. Ah, gets it.

“Thank you, Mr. Trein. I’m glad you liked it.”

“Vil Schoenheit, you’re needed for a picture.” Says one of the stage crew and Vil reluctantly pulls away. “Coming. I’ll see you later?” He asks you and you tip your toes to him, pressing a light kiss to his lips. “I’ll wait outside. Bye Vil.”

You run out of backstage and yet he had a feeling that finding you won’t be that much of a problem. He touches his lips. “So this is love…” He whispered to himself and made his way to his troop, readying himself for the pictures.

#works from the typewriter #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #g/n reader #valentines event

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themaribatpit · 3 years

Text

Jasonette July Day 3: Grave

Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event

Prompt: Grave (EDIT : trying to make it look consistent)

Rated: T

Side note: Tikki and Plagg being the ones who created the Lazarus pits is my favourite bit of Maribat crossover lore.

Marinette had only known Jason for about a year, ever since that day he commissioned her for a new suit and leather jacket design. She had seen news reports about the Red Hood, but she had never seen him in person ever since she came to Gotham. That was until he visited her just as she was getting ready to close up shop. Marinette needed to know why her mysterious client was asking her to work with a great big bolt of Kevlar. It seemed like a challenging task for the young boutique owner. It wasn’t necessarily being used for nefarious purposes. He was a crimefighter, one of many that tried to keep Gotham safe. Tikki felt like there was something strange about him, but she couldn’t quite put their finger on why.

She didn’t think she’d ever see him again, until one night when there was a loud banging on the boutique door. Marinette was about to say something about people having no manners when she saw a redhead in a red suit and a green cap…with someone’s arm slung over his shoulder. Marinette rushed to the front door to find the Red Hood, with his helmet cracked to reveal a part of his face. She could make out some matted dark hair and a red domino mask around his eye. “Please, do you think he can lay low in here for a while? At least until we can get him fixed up,” the redhead asked, “we can’t take him to the hospital”. Marinette looked around before hurrying them inside.

She got to know more about Jason, the person behind the red mask. There’s only so much you can hide from a person after they end up cleaning and stitching your wounds in their apartment. He told her that he slept on the streets of Gotham before being taken in by Batman when he was 13. He told her that, when he was 15, he went on a journey to find his birth mother and he was never the same since. Jason would say that the old him died that day. Marinette assumed he meant that he was so drastically changed by the experience, that he was unrecognizable from his old self. Still, she got to know the person he was in that moment, and that was what mattered. The two became close and started dating shortly after, and Marinette told him that she had been a superhero since she was 13. Marinette remembered seeing a worried look on his face, before assuring him that she was up against very different villains from what he was used to in Gotham. Marinette wondered if he was worried that she could have ended up like him?

Marinette knew that there was a roguish charm to him, possibly a remnant of the young boy he described from his past. She would occasionally help him as Ladybug, and he became impressed with her quick thinking in a fight. Marinette told him about the time she got a rocket launcher as a lucky charm and discarded it because she only needed the targeting laser. She was certain that she saw a tear in his eye at that moment. Marinette also knew he was someone who cared about those close to him, a group of people who now included her. She got the chance to meet the rest of his adopted family, that is when he wasn’t at odds with them. Dick reminded her far too much of Chat Noir, Damian was a lot colder and more standoffish, Tim told her he’s like that with everyone. Though he wouldn’t admit it, Marinette knew Jason would put his life on the line for his adopted brothers. She came to know Roy as the more optimistic of their dynamic duo, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t battling demons of his own. As the year went on, Marinette went from being unsure about him, to feeling safe and warm with him by her side. Even Tikki came to see that whoever this person was, he made their Guardian happy, and that was what mattered most.

Today, however, Marinette had been worried sick. Jason had left for a mission in a rush, barely able to say goodbye. That was days ago, he had not answered any of her messages or her calls. She paced around the apartment in a panic, “why isn’t he answering? Is he hurt? Captured? Worse yet…dead?” She slapped her cheeks, trying to snap out of it.

“Jason’s strong, he can handle it. If he’s in trouble, I’m sure Dick or Tim would help him. If he’s really in trouble, Bruce would certainly help him,” Tikki assured her as Marinette paced around the room.

Marinette decided to take a trip to Wayne Manor, having some of Alfred’s baking would calm them both and she could ask him about Jason’s whereabouts. Ladybug sets off to Wayne Manor, changing back before she arrives at the front gate. When she arrives in the kitchen, she is greeted by Alfred wearing an apron. "Welcome Miss Dupain-Cheng, you're just in time. I'm doing the finishing touches on the ginger biscuits. Why don't you take a seat while they cool?"

Marinette smiles at Alfred, she could smell the biscuits from the front door. "Thanks, Alfred, I came to ask about Jason. I haven’t heard from him in a while,” she asked.

Alfred scratched his chin, "Master Todd? It would be best to ask Master Bruce then if it's related to work. He is currently asleep and should wake up in an hour or two"

“Thanks, Alfred, mind if I have a few biscuits to go then? I'd like to have a walk in the gardens, " she asked.

Alfred nodded and handed the biscuits to her in a paper bag.

Marinette took a stroll around Wayne Manor, walking past Damian drawing something, whilst a large dog was curled around him. She came across the private Wayne cemetery at the very edge of the estate. She was drawn in by the Gothic architecture and design of the area. Curious about the history of the Wayne family, she tentatively wandered into the graveyard. She saw the graves of Thomas and Martha Wayne. Everyone knew the story of how Bruce watched in horror as they were killed in Crime Alley.

She froze in shock as she saw one grave in particular, tears began forming in her eyes. “Here Lies Jason Peter Todd: Gone But Not Forgotten” in large bold letters. She felt her heart breaking, many questions raced through her mind. How did he die? Why didn’t anyone tell her? Did no one at least think to invite her to the funeral? She was too stunned to move, Tikki floated down to take a close look. Before she could utterly break down in tears, she heard a voice behind her.

“Hey, Pixie Pop” Marinette whipped around to see Jason standing before her. He was casually eating a chilli dog, acting as if standing in front of his gravestone was the most natural thing in the world. Marinette didn’t know if she should feel happy, distraught or furious. At first, she slammed into him, hugging him tightly. “Hey, Pixie, did you miss me that much?” He was about to return her hug, and maybe finish eating the chilli dog over her shoulder, when she softly pounded her fists into his chest.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She asked, her fists punctuating her words, Jason was trying to make sense of what she meant. He had told her that he had died before, or at least tried to. Even he didn’t like to talk about it, the events leading up to it and how he was brought back. Eventually, she stopped, and just curled into him with tears streaming down her face. Right now, the last thing she needed was dumb jokes as he held her close to him.

“I’m sorry, I” Jason tried to explain, only to be interrupted by Tikki.

“Marinette,” Tikki called, Marinette looked back at the gravestone to see the date written on the tombstone. The year was 7 years ago when Jason was around 15.

She turned back to Jason “so when you said that your old self died…”, Tikki finally realised why she always felt there was something strange about him. The Lazarus pits, the result of a wish that she and Plagg were forced to grant long ago. Tikki could sense her magic on him, and a faint hint of Plagg’s magic that would consume him if left unchecked. In the time he’d known Marinette, he had managed to keep it under control, for her sake.

“So what happened? These last few days I mean,” she asked as she pulled away, wiping her tears on her sleeves before crossing her arms.

“I was gonna call you, Roy and I were in Paris fighting killer mimes when one of them fried my phone,” he explained. “I tried to get you something to eat from your parents’ bakery on the last day we were there, your parents said ‘hi’ by the way”, he told her.

“Then what happened?” she asked, he wasn’t holding any paper bags or boxes with their logo on them.

“Roy ate them all is what happened, right after his little talk with Killer Croc,” he told her.

“So why didn’t you just drop by for a visit when you came back?” she asked.

“We tried to, but Roy was craving chilli dogs and I was just ready to crash,” he replied. The look on Marinette’s face told him that if he didn’t do something, he might be back in that grave a lot sooner than he thought. “Look, I’ll make it up to you, starting with taking you to that little craft store you love…” he suggested, the corner of her mouth pulled into a slight smile. “I’ll buy you as much silk, satin and tulle as you want. Paid for with money we got from kicking killer mime ass”, he promised.

“You mean I’ll get a chance to sew something that isn’t Kevlar, leather or your flesh? Who are you and what have you done with the real Jason?” She asked jokingly. As the two of them walked away, Jason wrapped his arm around her. He glanced back at his tombstone, that boy had been gone for quite some time now. Right now, he was just trying to be a better man.

#jasonettejuly2021 #jasonette #maribat

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secret-engima · 4 years

Note

I concur. The last option is the best. Maybe a few headcanons or snippets on how Angeal got roped into being a Braincell again? (Bonus if he originally refuses the call because *cough* Genesis *cough* but still ends up bundling up Ardyn and giving him some calming tea while in complete denial)

Hmmmm finally up for rambling this ask so buckle up!

-Angeal has no desire to be anyone special. He has had a good childhood this time around, with two loving parents and no scientific experimentation whatsoever. His father is one of the gardeners for the Oracles themselves and Angeal is perfectly content to follow in those footsteps once his father retires. He hopes for a peaceful life and carefully hides his lingering guilt and trauma from another life under the mental carpet, and refuses to admit he still dreams of the people he failed (Sephiroth who he abandoned, Genesis who he couldn’t save, his mother who committed suicide because of her guilt at what he’d become, his son apprentice Zack whom he forced to kill him).

-He is befriended by the young Princess, who smiles at him and is content to talk for hours about the flowers and plants he helps maintain. She follows him around sometimes, both asking for advice and giving it impulsively, and even though she is just a child, she has an impressive green thumb and an even more impressive kind heart. He knows that everyone says the Princess is ... odd. And she is. She is too old for her skin sometimes, too wise and too silly by turns in the way only someone who has seen it all and come out the other side can be.

-Privately, Angeal thinks she might be like him. Someone who remembers another life. But he never asks. He never admits. It doesn’t matter anyway. They are both content in their respective new lives, there is no need to drag up ghosts.

-Then one day Fenestala Manor ... burns. A lot of people are killed. A lot more are terrified and grieving and angry. There are whispers of rebellion, of defiance, but none dare when the late Oracle’s children are within Niflheim’s grasp.

-Angeal (who now wears the name Theseus like a suit he refuses to admit doesn’t fit right) keeps his head down and makes no moves to step out of line. He played hero once and he became the monster instead. He will not make that mistake a second time. He does, however, try to make his garden a sanctuary for the poor Princess. He can’t imagine how she must feel, to lose her mother so young, to be held captive by her mother’s killers, to have a brother who rages and cries and pulls bitterly away because he cannot see that his sister is grieving, just in a different way.

-Then the Chancellor of Niflheim visits for the first time, and Angeal only knows because he spots the Princess leading the bemused, sharp-tongued man around the garden, smiling and gentle and welcoming, like she is speaking to an old friend and not one of the leaders of the nation holding her hostage. Angeal keeps his head down, but the Princess trusts him and seems to think he makes fine company for a princess and an enemy politician, and she drags him over to talk about the flower crown she is making their guest.

-The Chancellor smiles and verbally cuts open Angeal in only the most veiled, politest ways. It’s almost impressive, if it didn’t remind him too much of Genesis. So Angeal pretends to not notice and hopes the man goes away and never comes back.

-He goes away.

-He keeps coming back.

-And Angeal keeps finding them in his garden, the Princess and her dangerous, half-mad guest (and Angeal knows madness, he has seen it in faces of friends and mirrors alike, he knows what the Chancellor hides behind his flowery words and indulgent smiles it is not anything nice), and he keeps getting dragged into the conversation, and somewhere along the way he notices that it’s almost always raining on the days the Chancellor visits. A pleasant, faint sort of rain that is almost as nice to be out in as sunshine. If it’s not raining before he arrives, it is within the hour he appears, and it always leaves within the hour the Chancellor does. And that the rain itself whispers against his skin like magic, like the faintest, most persistent of cure spells that Angeal hasn’t felt since he woke up as Theseus.

-Its a coincidence until it’s not. It’s happenstance until Angeal spots the glimmers of something quieter and saner appearing in the man with each visit and flower crown and long, rainy day conversation with the young Oracle.

-It’s not his problem until he stumbles on the man in question vomiting his guts out behind the gardening shed while the Princess has briefly been called away by nervous servants who make up any excuse to keep her away from the Chancellor she seems set on befriending.

-And Angeal has no desire to take another self-destructive, sharp-tongued, venom-fanged, art-loving, idiot redhead under his wing, but he likes to think he isn’t a horrible person in this life, so he gently rescues the man’s hat before it can fall into the smoking black (???) bile and gently steers the man to the nearby plastic chair Angeal sits on when maintaining his tools. He steps into the shed and comes back out with the thermos of tea he was saving for his own lunch and gently pushes the cup into the man’s hands while gold eyes stare at him and toy with his murder (Angeal has seen this powerful man in a moment of weakness, if Angeal disappears in the next two weeks, he won’t die surprised).

-“You should drink,” Angeal tells him softly, “It will help your stomach settle.”

-“Oh will it now.” Ardyn Izunia drawls even as he takes a slow sip of the herbal blend and makes the tiniest face at the taste. They stay in silence for a while, with the Chancellor recovering his breath on the chair and Angeal debating what to do with the patch of very dead ground where black bile was moments ago and healthy grass had been long before that. In the end he covers it with a piece of old tarp and decides to brave the potential radioactive spot later. Once the man who apparently had that stuff inside him has calmed down and hopefully left.

-“You’re taking this very calmly,” Izunia drawls, and Angeal can feel the barbs on the other man’s tongue, waiting to be unleashed at the slightest provocation.

-“You’re hardly the first man to get an upset stomach,” Angeal deflects calmly, “It’s perfectly normal.”

-A scoff that is startled enough to count as a genuine laugh, “Normal, he says.”

-Angeal ignores the question in there and instead turns around to look thoughtfully at the Chancellor. Without his hat to hide his face and his venomous smiles to discourage scrutiny the man looks ... exhausted. Rung dry. And very, very thin. Like he hasn’t eaten a good meal (or anything at all) in days.

-A workaholic maybe? Or something worse. The Princess is an Oracle after all, her duty will be to heal the sick of the otherwise incurable. It isn’t that much of a jump to say she could sense that Ardyn Izunia was sick and was trying to help even while untrained. Either way it’s not his problem. He’s just a gardener. He has no business interacting with this man beyond the times the Princess insists he does.

-He keeps telling himself that as he disappears back into his shed and comes out with another thermos, this one of soup (it’s a good thing it’s chilly weather, otherwise he would have brought a sandwich and that might be too hard for this man to stomach). He offers a cup of still warm soup to the Chancellor, who stares at it like he doesn’t remember what it is. Angeal keeps holding it out until the man takes it from him, “...You have no idea what is going on do you,” Izunia rasps as he sips almost experimentally on the soup.

-Angeal shrugs, “No. But you look like you could use a sit down, some tea, and some food, and my mother would kill me herself if I refused to share what I had with someone who might need it more.”

-A sneer and a flicker of something furious in gold eyes, “Pity then.”

-Angeal turns back from where he had been about to wander off and resume gardening, because he knows that tone and he knows where it leads and it hurts too much to walk away (this lifetime), “No.” He snaps and the Chancellor blinks in surprise at Angeal’s sudden fire. Angeal picks up the tools he needs for the next hour and says more quietly, “Kindness.”

-“Are they not the same thing?”

-Angeal thinks of a blinding smile from a boy in another life who didn’t know the darkness of the world and made it better in the process, of the Princess who welcomes a leader of the enemy into her home and gives him flowers like he is a long-lost friend. He thinks of another redhead who once said something very similar before the end. He dares to meet golden eyes again, “No,” he tells the Chancellor, “they aren’t. But you’re a smart man. I think you knew that already.”

-Ardyn Izunia stares at him and is, for once, speechless. Angeal turns and hurries away before he can give in to the urge to grab a spare picnic blanket out of the shed and drape it on the man’s shoulders.

-That man is dangerous. He is broken and mad and feral and good at hiding all those things which makes him even more dangerous than he otherwise would be. Angeal cannot (will not) get attached. Not again. He won’t fall into that trap. He isn’t a good friend for anyone, let alone a good moral compass or shoulder to cry on. He’ll just make things worse. He knows that.

-Yet somehow that doesn’t stop him from packing a thermos of soup whenever it starts to lightly rain, and passing out cups of it when the Princess and the Chancellor inevitably wander into his corner of the gardens.

-(And maybe, weeks later, Ardyn Izunia corners Angeal where the Princess cannot see and stares at him for a long time. Maybe Izunia’s face shifts and pales as black blood weeps from his eyes and mouth until he looks not like a man but like a ghoul from a nightmare. Maybe he smiles like a predator looking for a kill and asks “Theseus” if he is frightened. If he is horrified.)

-(Maybe Ardyn is left stunned when the simple gardener looks him in the eye and with painful, gentle honesty says no.)

-(”Why not? I am a monster. You should be afraid.” Ardyn growls, his Scourge on display, his monstrous nature bared for this strange, mild-mannered man to see. And he is stunned when the gardener gently touches his pale, purple-veined hands and guides him down to a familiar plastic chair, as he disappears into the shed and comes back with a familiar thermos of soup and presses the cup into his hands.)

-(He is left speechless when this gardener, this human, this mortal, foolish man, finally answers his question, “This,” the gardener taps one of Ardyn’s deathly pale hands, “doesn’t make you any more or less human, or more or less a monster than me.”)

-(“Then what does?” Ardyn asks in a whisper, not sure if he is curious or insulted or ... desperate.)

-(The gardener just smiles, and in the expression there is something unnervingly old and sad and knowing for someone who has not lived two thousand years and not seen his own humanity crumble before his eyes, “You’re a smart man, Chancellor” he hums, “you tell me.”)

-(And Ardyn finds that he is, once again, speechless.)

#SE asks #dreamer-under-the-moon asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Clouds and Moonlit Skies verse #long post #i have many feelings about angeal in this verse apparently

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mediocre--writing · 4 years

Note

Hi! I love your writing and your blog, I was wondering if you would write a second part for "and he loved you back" following the rest of events + a little epilogue when they are already married with kids? But just if you want! I just loved those headcanons so much, thank you! ❤️

Harry Potter x Gryffindor!Muggleborn!Reader

Summary: You and Harry are officially together (ish) but war can get in the way, though it can’t stop your happy ending

Word Count: 4367

Warnings: mentions of scars, torture, starvation, and war

I may have gotten carried away again, and I also may have added a few tweaks on the storyline because I believe in second chances and people being alive :)

Part I: And He Loved You Back

after you went back to school for the rest of 6th year, you and harry were back on your bullshit

joking around and being together

but in the happiness of the moment

you never really discussed

what

exactly

you

were

so you were in that weird gray area of bf/gf or just flirting???

everyone thought you were just getting over an argument because this is how you always were with each other

then

after a spectacular quidditch win

right in the middle of the common room party

you kissed

every

single

person

watched

but it wasn’t like it was an important kiss, you’d been stealing kisses here and there since your night on the couch so it wasn’t anything big

though little colin

(who wasn’t very young anymore)

snapped a quick picture

he gave copies to you both that morning in the common room

yours was put in your pocket every day, no matter where you went

it was your favorite picture ever

the year remained pretty neutral

until

dumbledore died

you, ron, hermione, and others that were in dumbledore’s army were trying to fight off death eaters with the order of phoenix

it was terrifying

you were cornered by a wild woman with even wilder hair

she looked deranged and it wasn’t until she was standing over you with a wand pointed to your face that you realized

that was bellatrix lestrange

you knew she was at the department of mysteries with you all

but you never tried to remember her face

neville blasted her off you

you almost cried in relief

you hugged neville really tight when the hallway cleared out

he was so awkward but it was ok

then you sprinted off to find harry

he was crying over dumbledore’s body

you’d never been emotionally close to the headmaster

so his death wasn’t too life-altering to you

i mean nobody was safe anymore

but you didn’t feel like you were losing a friend

you were dragging harry away from him

when he saw snape

who he chased after

and got knocked down

multiple times

then bellatrix decided to make matters worse

and use the cruciatus curse

and we can’t have that now can we

so while she was being yelled at by snape for trying to get harry

you shot your own little curse at the mad woman

and you

sort of

kind of

maybe

used the cruciatus curse right back at her

oopsie

her screams of agony were what brought the other death eaters to turn around

and even though you were the one to cast the spell

you were the most shocked that you did it

your anger at her for hurting harry had controlled your feelings

you didn’t even know you knew how to do the spell

you just did it

and then one by one the death eaters started disapparating

and one whispered into snapes ear before disapparating himself

and snape strolled up to you and harry

you were defensively standing in front of harry, who was still in a great deal of pain

snape grabbed your arm tightly and disapparated

with you

harry screamed your name

but you weren’t there to hear it

you were being dragged into voldy’s headquarters

the malfoy manor

you were sick of those dumbass blond boys

utterly sick of them

you were oh so kindly greeted by a variety of death eaters, including, but not limited to:

snape

bellatrix

big malfoy

little malfoy

a man you assumed to be fenrir greyback

two other scary looking men you’d seen on wanted posters a time or two

and

the man of the year

old voldy toes

your wand was taken out of your hand with more aggression than necessary

and you were trying to stand up with the best posture you could muster

but you hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning and had gone through a lot in the past two hours

so it was a bit hard to maintain confidence

and consciousness

when you were being swarmed by scary adults

and you just got the ability to use magic outside of school

it just didn’t seem fair

but you didn’t have much time to dwell on it when there was a creepy, snakelike voice

“go on, bella”

then a high pitched giggle was heard before the world went fuzzy

you felt like there were a million pins sticking into every pore on your body

and you heard screaming

it sounded distant

but it was you

you were writhing on the floor screaming louder than gryffindors after a quidditch match win

after the third round of her torture,

you were laying on your back

clutching your head

trying to bang it on the floor

as if that would stop the pain

bellatrix stopped after because what was the point in torture if they died before it began?

so you were aggressively carried/thrown down to the cellar

it was dirty and gross and was barely lit

but you didn’t regain consciousness long enough to really survey the room

and that’s where you stayed for the next few days

you could barely stand the first day

your head was bleeding and your muscles felt more worn out then ever

blinking seemed like too hard a task

your vision still felt fuzzy

after the third day, you could move all your fingers individually at will again

which was more of an accomplishment than you would think

and then you realized

there was an odd bulge in your jean pocket

it was a crumpled piece of paper

but not just any paper

it was a picture

an amazingly wonderful picture

the wonderful gryffindor common room in all its glory

and right in the center

drawing the most attention

was you and harry

sharing your first public kiss

and you wondered if he was looking at the picture too

you wondered if he was looking for you

a part of you didn’t want him to find you because you didn’t want him to be subject to the same torture you had

and you cried quietly that night

you couldn’t stop

you were slumped against a dirty cement wall, tired and hungry and thirsty and you couldn’t stop crying

apparently your sobs were louder than you thought

because you could hear the stomping of someone’s feet on the stairs

you tried to stop crying and tried to hide the photo back in your pocket before the person got to the creepy door/gate thing

but you were still sniffling and you couldn’t get the photo back in your pocket while sitting down

and when you saw the platinum blond hair outside the gate, you tried to shove it into your pocket faster

he opened the door quietly and made eye contact with you before slowly walking towards you

you looked back down, not wanting to look him in the eye

until you saw a shiny, green apple to your left

slowly, you looked up and saw draco handing you an apple, pity in his eyes

you took it cautiously and he turned and walked away, back to the entrance

he looked over his shoulder once again

you were staring at him, eyebrows scrunched together

he mouthed two words before locking the door and going back upstairs

“i’m sorry”

the days went on

every once and a while, when bella was feeling particularly aggravated or thought you looked a bit too happy, she would torture you a bit

the day when she found the photo in your pocket was the worst

she craved the word “mudblood” into your arm

so now you had a werewolf scar and umbridge’s “i must respect my superriors” on your left arm and the messy carving of “mudblood” on your right

it went on for almost seven months before you finally gained a bit of hope

you were with the company of luna lovegood, ollivander, and a particularly crabby goblin

but one day, when you expected the same routine of one of you guys being pulled from the dungeon to be questioned or tortured

(though those were basically the same thing)

you heard bellatrix’s cackling before anything else

then some yelling

then a name

harry potter

your heart twisted in both longing and regret

he was here, but at what cost?

there was no telling how this would play out

voldy has been trying to kill him since he was born but harry had a knack for getting out of sticky situations

meanwhile, upstairs, harry was on his knees, ron and hermione were being held back, and draco was more conflicted then he ever had been

he knew it was harry

it was more obvious than the fact that he, himself had platinum blond hair

but he got flickers and memories every time he blinked

he saw the way you would clutch onto your picture when he would bring you an apple or a small piece of chicken from dinner

how sad you looked when you were writhing on his living room floor while being tortured

how, after christmas break during sixth year, you both looked absolutely unbothered by any upcoming war or disaster when you were in one another’s company

so he stalled

he knew that granger was smart

he knew that ron and harry had a strange way of getting out of trouble

so he waited for any of them to make a move

to do something so he wouldn’t have to

but the distraction came from the snatchers, though it did buy some time regardless

and as harry and ron were struggling to resist against being pushed down the stairs, draco felt a small pinch on his heart as he knew that harry and you would be reunited

you were laying against the wall, tired but not sleeping

sleeping during the day was like insulting bellatrix right to her face, and sleeping at night was almost as terrifying

but suddenly, you didn’t feel so tired anymore

because you saw it

the bright red hair that could only belong to a weasley

and with the mention of potter you heard echo through the house

it could only mean one thing

so the second the door was shut and nobody was left on the stairs, you stood up as quick as you could, not that it was very fast with the lack of food and sleep you’d had

but the sound of your footsteps caused harry--

who, no offense to him, looked hideously deformed--

to turn around

and he swears to this day that he could have cried in that very moment at the sight of your thinning body wobbling towards his, tears in your eyes, and arms reached out to him as he ran faster than when he was being chased by snatchers, just to hold you tight as possible in his arms

the sweet moment, however, was interrupted by hermione’s screaming, pulling a pitiful whisper of “no” from your lips

ron was banging on the gate and screaming for hermione, so was harry, but he was also switching between looking up the stairs and staring at you

it took a while, and a little help from dobby, but you all got out of the cellar and were in a kind of battle with the death eaters upstairs

you were barely able to do anything, given your wand was in the possession of one of the death eaters since you’d been there, and there was no way you were any good at wandless magic

but nothing seemed to hit you

and then you realized

while everyone was fighting each other

without the other knowing, both harry and draco had been taking turns sending defensive spells to whoever targeted you

hermione was in bellatrix’s grasp and there was a squeaking sound before dobby had released the chandelier, and you had sprinted to hermione to push her away

you both barely made it out from under the broken chandelier, and your legs were on fire from using them so vigorously after barely standing for the past few months

but you were all safe, and dobby had gotten you, hermione, harry, and ron into a cluster to disapparate, when two things were thrown at you before you could get away

a knife, thrown by bellatrix, was lodged into dobby’s stomach when you got away, sadly killing the sweet house elf

the second object, a wand, your wand, was laying on the sand beside you all

draco had had your wand and thrown it to you before you escaped

that night was rough

you were helping hermione, because you knew that the pain didn’t really go away after the spell stopped,

it lingered and it didn’t feel like you were in your own body

you also made light of the carving that now graced both of your arms, yours was more healed over, of course, but the discoloration and raised skin still stuck out like a sore thumb

hermione fell asleep quickly that night, the mental and physical exhaustion and having a comfy bed again mixed and she was out like a light

you, however, were in the living room with harry, each of you talking about how your past seven months had been without the other

you sat with your back pressed into harry’s chest as he ran his fingers along your arms and shoulders

you were freshly showered for the first time in a while and you were in one of bill’s classic weasley sweaters and fleur’s sweatpants and fluffy socks and couldn't have been anymore comfy than you were in that moment

harry held you tighter when you talked about bellatrix

he loosened his grip when you talked about luna and ollivander

he felt a pang in his heart when he heard that you had looked at the picture frequently, just as he had done while with hermione and ron

he wasn’t sure how to feel when you talked about how kind draco was, how he was genuinely scared

he didn’t like draco but he was also glad that he had given you food and a bit of company or hope while you were stuck there

he felt happier than ever when you had fallen asleep in his arms, steady breathing lulling him to sleep as well

you weren’t allowed to go to the ministry with them, because you were still too malnourished and bill, who was more like his mother than he cared to admit, outright refused to let you do anything but eat homemade soup and lay on the couch with a book

you were grateful for his kindness but also anxious to know how harry was

you’d felt good as new after a day, thanks to fleur, who was really extremely talented at healing potions

the order was called to hogwarts to aid harry, and of course you weren’t technically part of the order, but you were good as

so as you all made your dramatic entrance, harry had a gleam of pride in his eyes as he looked at you, standing tall and with a dangerous glare that made him feel lucky you were fighting on the same side

the fighting began before you could realize

you had gone with fred, george, and percy to the courtyards, protecting any younger students who were still there or anyone else on their side

while fighting, you and george had taken one end of the courtyard and percy and fred had taken the other end

you had a twisting feeling erupt in your stomach, not the one that was there before, but now it was worry for something about to happen

and that’s when you saw the wall start to collapse right over fred and percy

“aresto momentum!”

the words came before you even realized, and the bricks were hovering over fred and percy as they ran towards you and george, then the bricks fell as you took your wand away

you felt more relieved than ever, until everything died down a bit and you made your way back to the great hall and saw the true destruction

you saw professor lupin and his wife, tonks

you saw poor colin creevy who, albeit being a little annoying, had a soft spot in your heart after he gave you your favorite picture

you saw lavender brown, who annoyed the living hell out of you, but never deserved to die

you grabbed harry’s hand when he came into the hall, scared he would all of a sudden drop dead too

and when harry said he was actually going to meet voldemort in the woods, you were going to be the reason he dropped dead

but you couldn’t truly stop him because it was his choice, so you told him everything

“i love you, and i know you know that, but it’s important that you go into this knowing that everyone here isn’t getting hurt because of you, they’re getting hurt because the cause is important, and you may not believe it, but everyone here cares about you. i care about you and i can’t lose you, too, h. please be cautious and safe and, if you can help it, don’t leave me.”

“marry me.”

“excuse me?”

“when i get back, marry me. that’s how i want the rest of my life to go, so marry me and we can live in a small house, or a big house if you want, and we can have a family-- or not, whatever you want-- but i want to be with you forever, so when i get back, let’s get married”

“of course, when you get back, i will marry you, harry”

“i love you”

“i love you as well”

so harry set off with a light ignited in his heart as he walked to what would surely be his last breath

and it wasn’t until students and order members were standing around the courtyard watching as voldemort and his army were walking with hagrid, who was carrying something

that something turned out to be a dead harry potter

you were standing in the crowd between with the twins to your left and draco malfoy to your right

your heart broke and you decided that nothing would feel as dreadful as this moment

as voldemort was making his official speech as if it would encourage everyone who had just been fighting him that they wanted to do a full 180, a certain long-haired blond began calling over draco

draco looked close to tears as you inched closer and closer to him

his dad was begging him to come across the courtyard to the death eater side and draco took a single step forward before you grabbed his elbow

he hadn’t been paying attention to anything but his father and the stares of the students

your grasp on his arm startled him

you raised your eyebrows at him as if saying “this is your choice, not his”

and that was all he needed

draco needed someone to see the good in him, to tell him that there were people who cared for him beyond whatever use he may serve as a weapon or soldier

he needed a real friend

he needed you

and so he didn’t move

and neville made his grand speech

and harry potter lept out of hagrid’s arms

and the war commenced, ending quite sooner than anyone had thought

once their leader was dead, the death eaters seemed to realize it was a losing battle

so the order and the students were all rallied in the great hall, the hallways, and sparsely in the courtyards

narcissa, who seemed to be the only one dressed in black robes at the castle, was looking for her son when she ran into you

“i’m sorry dear-” she apologised as she ran into you

“you’re fine,” you stopped when you realize who it was “draco is in the great hall, had a scratch or something so he’s getting checked”

“thank you” she hugged you as tight as she could, and you could feel the tears on your neck as she held you close “i’m so sorry and i couldn’t be happier that you stopped him from coming over, i couldn’t bare-- i don’t want him to be hurt--”

“i understand, mrs. malfoy”

“narcissa”

“ok, well he’s probably waiting for you, so,”

“oh, yes, well thank you darling,”

“it was no big deal. everyone deserves a second chance,”

you had made your way to harry, who was standing with the weasleys, and you kissed him like you had never done before

it was almost better than your first and almost as magical as the one in the common room

“so…” harry blushed

“so… i guess we’re getting married!”

you embraced once more, holding onto each other for dear life

it was barely two months after the war when harry finally told you about remus and tonks making him the godfather of their son, edward remus, and that he’d been staying with tonk’s mom, andromeda

harry wanted to make the young boy’s life better than his own

not that he had any doubt of adromeda being an amazing mother, but she had already raised a child, and didn’t need to start over again

you both relieved andromeda of her duties and kept young teddy with you full time

neither of you were too eager to get a job just yet, as harry could do basically anything he wanted, and you, while not being the best student or anything, were insured a job at weasley’s wizard wheezes once you felt like it

you both got married in the fall, outside the burrow

you wore a simple, lacy gown, and harry wore a simple set of dress robes

everyone wore casual clothes, as it was a very, very small wedding, including only the weasley family, ron, hermione, a few other gryffindors from school, and the malfoys

just draco and narcissa

who had only showed at the reception, as they didn’t want to intrude, even though they were invited

it was a little tense

but everyone knew that draco was on their side from the little thing at the battle of hogwarts

you and harry were happier than ever

you had two more kids besides teddy, who you loved like your own son

(and how that boy ended up being exactly like remus without ever truly meeting him, you both will never know)

your other children, twins, were james sirius and lily minerva

of course you don't name them after a teacher who bullied his students and a headmaster who didn’t do what was best for anybody

who would do that?

it’s just stupid???

ron and hermione had rose and hugo and lived close to the burrow

fred had never married, claiming that he was built to be the fun uncle to every niece and nephew

which he did flawlessly

a little recklessly...

but that was good ‘ol uncle fred

george and angelina had two children, fred and roxanne

the entire weasley family believes that george named his son fred just to cause a little more chaos during holidays

luna and ginny had gotten together about six years after the battle, living together for three of them, and molly wondered how she didn’t figure it out sooner

neville, along with harry, worked at hogwarts teaching

neville taught herbology and became gryffindor’s head of house after mcgonagall had decided that being both transfiguration and head of house was too stressful

harry took up the post of dada professor, in which he taught with remus in mind

you had gone on to work with fred and george in the joke shop when you could, along with working on products at home when you had to watch the kids

you still kept in close touch with draco malfoy, who had married a girl in the year below you, astoria, and had a son, scorpius

you made sure to meet up as often as possible, especially since your children were close in age

draco had become the potions professor at hogwarts, and was actually a favorite to most students, given he was an amazingly intelligent man and held kindness and compassion to the younger kids, making sure they all knew they had choices on who they were in life

you would visit the castle frequently once your kids all got out of the house

while you still had fred and george at work and the others to talk to sometimes, it got lonely in the big house that was usually filled with noise

you would go to the castle and sit in a student’s desk while mcgonagall taught, waiting for her to notice you

which she did, every time, as it seemed age never brought her personality down a bit

you would chat with neville and draco on their breaks, and you always went down to see hagrid when you were there, enjoying his big, bad, teddy bear persona

and you loved to watch harry teach, because he was so in his element that it made you feel a deep-rooted sense of happiness just being around him

and you made sure to come around every year, around the week before christmas break started, and you and harry would share stories of the war with the sixth and seventh years who were curious

but your favorite part of the trips to hogwarts was embarrassing your children, just as god intended

you would wave to and sit with teddy at the hufflepuff table and share stories that made his face turn as pink as his hair

you would go up to the twins, who had both been sorted into gryffindor, and pinch their cheeks and somehow mention the fact that you had baby pictures of them in the bath together

life was peaceful now

you still had the scars from your teenage years

and harry still had his lightning bolt scar on his forehead

but he was never mentioned as “harry potter: the boy who lived” anymore

he was now “cool professor potter”

and, occasionally, if a student was annoyed, they would call him “y/n l/n’s husband or whatever” (a nickname started by teddy lupin himself)

their life was small, and filled with gory details, but they wouldn’t change it for the world

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